Jan 24
This morning’s tournament at South Coast went about as expected; neither Bill nor I made any money. Still, despite finishing in 13th place I left the casino feeling pretty good. I didn’t play terribly well, and was overall a bit disappointed with my game, but even playing like crap I managed to wade through over half of the field. I missed several big draws, not completing a single flush or straight all morning (I never made better than one pair in fact), and if even one of them had come in I would have likely finished in the top 5, at least.
My only serious criticism of my game, other than not getting lucky, was that I played far too passively. When I play tournaments online I am usually the most aggressive player at the table. At the WSOP I was thrown comments on an almost routine basis about how often I bet and raised. I joke around with my roommates that I must be the easiest person on Earth to trap; all you need to do is check your hand to me once. If a hand is checked to me in position I will bet at the pot somewhere close to 99% of the time. As a result I earn far and away more pots than I win or legitimately deserve. Today, instead of controlling the table I fell into step with the other players: checking and calling as a first resort, raising only rarely. And that my friends is what did me in.
The only other comment I have regarding the tournament is how amazingly bad at cards the other players were. One man was openly bragging about how he is getting ready to play in a $500 tournament next month, acting as though he already had it won. He was the first player eliminated from our table. Rather than simply take my word for it, though… I offer as exhibit A the following hand.
Blinds 50-100, Button limps, Small Blind completes, and Big Blind checks. (300 in the pot)
Flop falls K – 6 – 4 rainbow
SB checks, BB bets 200, Button calls, SB raises to 600, BB calls, Button raises all-in, SB calls, BB re-raises all-in, SB calls
The Button’s hand: K-10 offsuit (top pair, ten kicker)
The Small Blind’s hand: K-4 offsuit (two pair)
The Big Blind’s hand: K-8 offsuit (top pair, eight kicker)
The turn card is an 8, river is a blank. BB draws out and makes a higher two pair winning a monster pot
That was among the more bizarre betting cycles I have ever seen, each player managing to make both a call and a raise. Before the cards were turned over the rest of us at the table announced that the betting could only indicate a set over set situation. When the cards were exposed there was a collective gasp as we realized what was going on.
As for my key hands? There really weren’t any, though I can tell you how I lost. Before I was eliminated I showed down a grand total of one hand – which I lost. I won my chips entirely by forcing my opponents to fold. That in itself is actually a little funny. As you all probably know, I was blessed with a genetic gift that causes my hands to shake. The shaking becomes much more pronounced when I perform precision actions with my hands, in this case by selecting individual chips from my various stacks. One of the most basic and well known tells in poker is “never bet into the shakes”, saying that a person whose hands shake is suffering from a nervous release of tension, one that always indicates a strong hand. Everybody knows that. What they don’t know is that my hands shake regardless of whether I hold aces or 3-high. Incredibly, that shaking probably helps my game. This morning I raised a pot off the button against three people who tried to limp (please) and though I tried to subdue my shaking the other players obviously noticed it. Every single player folded their hand, and after I pitched my cards into the muck one man loudly asked, “So were your aces red or black?” as if he were some kind of Tommy Toughguy for reading my hand.
“I didn’t have aces, but that’s a good read.” I jibed back.
“Ah, well Ace-King is pretty good, too.”
I only shrugged my shoulders and truthfully told him, “Sorry man, all I had was king high.”
“Yeah, pocket kings maybe.”
Bored with the conversation I again truthfully told him, “Nah, it was just king high. But it was suited. Good laydown, though.”
I held my chip stack relatively even all morning until the blinds and antes climbed so high that I was left with very little play. In the small blind I looked down to an unspectacular 3d-9d and patiently waited to fold. Incredibly the pool of n00bs at my table decided that this was a good time to be n00bish and two of them limped into the pot from late position. I decided that this was as good of a time as any to double up and so I completed my blind and then smiled as the big blind checked his option. The flop fell an almost beautiful 8c-6d-2d. Naturally I checked, looking to check raise the rest of my chips on the draw. The n00bs all checked behind me. That was actually a bit disappointing to me. At that point I wasn’t scared of any hand they might hold. Any overpair would have been raised preflop. I didn’t imagine that anyone, aside from the big blind could possibly have made a hand off that flop. And even if the big blind had connected with the board I didn’t imagine that he would be comfortable enough with his holding to call off the rest of my chips. In my mind the big blind couldn’t call with anything less than two pair, and the only possible hands for the limpers would be a small pair turned set, all of which were very unlikely. I hoped that one of the players would bet their overcards and allow me to reraise all in, a bet which they would be stupid to call (which I suppose I couldn’t put past them). Sadly, they all checked. The turn delivered a black ten and my days of sitting still came to an end. I fired half of my chips into the pot, a bet around half the size of the pot. The big blind folded and one of the limpers then went all in. The action came back around to me, and when the raise was counted down I saw that it was almost exactly equal to the number of chips I had left. At this point I had nothing but a flush draw with one card to come, a hand I can expect to win only around 20% of the time. I was about to make a reluctant fold when I suddenly stopped and moved my attention to the chips already in the pot. My original bet was about half the pot, my opponent then raised me that same amount on top, leaving 5x the bet on the felt. I hated my hand, make no mistake about it. But despite my frustration I could still do math. The pot was laying me 5-1 odds to make the call (actually it was a bit better than that), my hand would win about 20% of the time, or 1 in 5, or 4-1 against. Facing 5-1 odds against a 4-1 long shot I was being offered what scrub players so often erroneously claim to have: pot-odds. Seeing that the odds were actually in my favor I happily made the call. Of course, I’m not very lucky and the diamond didn’t fall. After a few empty Good Lucks I found myself watching the game from the rail. I didn’t like losing, but I knew my decision had been solid.
As for Bill, he finished in 6th place when one of the donkeys called all-in against Bill’s pre-flop raise with K-8 offsuit. Bill held pocket jacks, but a king on the flop ended the hand. Two hands later Bill raised all-in with A-7 and was called by the same guy (who called off almost all of his chips in the process) with K-J offsuit. This time the man flopped trip kings and rivered quads to send Bill to the parking lot. What can I say; the dude really likes king high.
We celebrated our utter defeat with a two item combo from Panda Express. Orange Chicken never draws out on us.