Thursday, November 24, 2011

Response to comment

Sorry I can't figure out how to respond to the previous comment so I'll do it as a new blog. Here is the comment and my response:

"I've heard it posited that poker is a game of skill, not luck. Is it skill when you win and bad luck when you lose?"


Poker is indeed a game of skill infused with an element of chance. It is a game in which mathematical odds and probability play a key role. For example, let’s say that you flop a flush draw and your chances of hitting a flush by the river are about 1 in 3 and if you hit the flush your chances of winning are close to 100%. Good players know that as a general rule if your anticipated return is more than 3 to 1 it is a good play to try to hit the flush, and conversely as a general rule if the return is going to be smaller than 3 to 1, the cards should be mucked. Other factors come into play as well, most importantly who your opponent is. If it is someone who easily folds his cards then a raise may be in order as a semi-bluff (a hand which is the worst hand at the moment but has a chance to significantly improve) If however the opponent is someone difficult to bluff then there is much more of an incentive to stick with the math. Good players understand this. Bad players do not. Bad players often play for the flush when they are assured of not getting at least a 3 to 1 return. This is a recipe for long-term disaster. But let’s go back to the good player. He faces a guarantee of getting 5 to 1 if he hits his 3 to 1 longshot. Any mathematician will tell you that in the long run this is an absolute winner. And so the good player puts his money in with a 34% chance of winning a 60% return. But he loses – and he does it again – and he loses and he does it 5 more times – and loses each time. It is as if he makes a bet that he can flip a coin 10 times and if at least 1 heads lands he wins the bet. He is of course a more than 1000 to 1 favorite – and yet it is conceivable that he could lose in the short run. Call it variance or luck or whatever you wish but for good players who make mathematically and psychologically sound decisions the answer to your question is an emphatic yes.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Complaining

WARNING: This is a blog about complainers by a complainer with complaints

I have always hated complainers at the poker table and yet I now find that I have joined their ranks and I’m at my wits end about it. Usually the guys who complain the most are the weakest players, the guys who bemoan the fact that they spent $800 trying to hit a gutshot straight without success, or who spend a thousand bucks to chase and catch a nine high flush when the board is paired and another player shoves on the river with Kings full.

In my case I am convinced that I’m playing well and am simply the victim of continuing horrible luck, bad beats and cooler hands. And yet I stop and wonder whether I am fooling myself. Maybe it’s my fault. To thine own self be true and all that.

And when my loving and supportive wife (who knows nothing about poker) faithfully listens to me rant and then says “are you sure you aren’t playing differently or something?” I have to reflect and wonder whether she may be right.

This year I have played in a few different venues - home games and casinos, and I find that it has become impossible for me to win in my favorite casino where I aver that the laws of mathematics have taken a sabbatical. No matter how much one might love a particular poker venue, if it becomes impossible to win in that venue there has to come a point where you move on. I fear that I have reached that point.

Tonight I was at that casino and decided to take contemporaneous notes in the event that the roof caved in once again. Rather than complain, I am going to simply list the facts as follows:

Hand number 1 – I have pocket kings on the button. The last three times I had pocket kings in this casino someone else at the table had pocket aces. Another player raises to $50 and I reraise to $180. He flat calls and we play heads-up. The player bets out 300 to a flop of 9-5-2 with two clubs and I shove. He calls and turns up – guess what – pocket aces.

Hand number 2 – Seven way limp pot I play 3-4 of diamonds in the cutoff . Flop is 2-5-6 with two diamonds. One player bets out $80 and I make it $240. He shrugs and shoves all-in which of course I snap call. The turn is a queen of diamonds and the river a black jack. The player turns up the nut flush.

Hand number 3 – I play King of diamonds/Queen of hearts in a six way limp pot. The flop is A-J-!0 with two diamonds giving me Broadway. By the time the betting and raising is done there are three of us in the hand and just about all of our money in the pot. The turn is the Queen of diamonds putting three diamonds on board but giving me the nut flush (royal flush) redraw. We all check the turn. The river is a blank and when one player bets $1000 and the other snap-calls I muck my straight. Both other players reveal that they hit the flush.

Now before I get to the coup de grace I need to set the stage. I had been sitting in the one seat which was pretty much a dead seat and when Dave Limo showed up I moved to the five seat and he took the one seat. Dave and I play in the same home game, and we are competitive –AND WE DON’T EVEN CHOP WITH EACH OTHER! Dave had essentially played all the previous night and he kept dozing at the table. This brings us to


Hand number 4 - On the button I look down to see two red queens. Dave and the guy to his left limp in for $10 and I raise to $60. Everyone mucks around to Dave who now has his eyes closed as he dreams of cherry blossoms or whatever. The dealer pokes him and says “there’s a raise to $60” prompting Dave's eyes to pop wide open as he grabs an additional five peach chips, tosses them into the pot and then settles his chin back onto his hands allowing his eyes to close once more. The player to his left remarks “okay I guess you dragged me in,” and matches the bet.

The flop is 10-8-3 rainbow and when the dealer says "Dave it's on you," his eyes slowly open and he checks. The player to his left then bets $300 into the $180 pot. He has about $700 behind him so I shove my remaining $1500 in and to my utter surprise and dismay Dave looks at his hole cards and pushes his chips into the pot. The player to his left appears to be as surprised as I am, shows his Ace-10 and mucks. I stare with glazed-over eyes as Dave turns up 10-8 offsuit and sends me packing. He quickly pulls in the pot and settles back into dreamland as I contemplate throwing a chair so that they might forcibly remove me. Instead, dignity intact, baseball cap slanted in Bowery Boy fashion, I take a swig of my water, spilling some on the table - oops - and take the long escalator ride to oblivion once again..

Thank you for letting me get this of my chest and now I’m going to try some of that dreamland stuff, helped by some of this alcohol stuff.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

The Unknown Poker Blog

I know this is supposed to be a poker blog and I’ll get to poker in a bit, but right now I want to talk about movies. I am a huge fan of the Liam Neeson movie Taken. It is one of just a few movies I will watch over and over if I happen to run across it while channel surfing (the others being My Cousin Vinny, Working Girl and Prelude to a Kiss).

So when I saw the trailer for Unknown I was pretty excited. It looked like a Taken kind of movie - BUT IT WASN’T! It was a movie that was probably constructed around an intriguing idea and some inviting trailer scenettes (my word for portions of scenes) for the purpose of luring Taken fans into a potentially bedbug infested theatre under false pretenses.

If you haven’t yet seen Unknown but intend to, then perhaps you should skip down to the poker portion of this blog because I may inadvertently – or advertently - reveal some spoilers. But for those of you who have seen the movie some of what I say may cause you to think critically. (By the way, my wife thinks I’m being ridiculous because it is simply entertainment and for two-thirds of the movie I will admit to having been entertained. Yet I have written a bunch of screenplays and she knows I get very troubled by inconsistent writing – and even more so by stories that paint themselves into a corner and then paint a cartoon door by which to escape).

So where do we begin? Okay let’s start with something that occurs in Unknown as well as many other movies and drives me craaaazy. Someone is out to kill the hero. In this case some mysterious person or group is out to kill the Liam Neeson character (whom I will refer to as Neeson from this point on for brevity’s sake). At one point he is dazed and strapped to a gurney in a hospital. In order to get to Neeson an assassin kills an orderly and a nurse by simply snapping their necks. And now of course he is alone with Neeson. So what does he do? Does he simply snap Neeson’s neck as well. No of course not. Instead for some unexplained – and unexplainable – reason he shoots some liquid into Neeson’s I.V. allowing Neeson a chance to pull out the I.V. and survive. Why why why not just kill him quickly and leave? My wife’s response was “well if he did that there wouldn’t be a movie.” OH MY GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?

I’ll move on before I have a stroke. Okay let’s talk about another conceit of the movie. It turns out that Neeson is an assassin who, along with another assassin pretending to be his wife, has travelled to Germany to do what assassins do, assassinate someone. Unfortunately Neeson is the victim of a car accident rendering him an amnesiac unable to finish the job. But not to worry because the freaking assassination people have trained a backup IN ADVANCE to step into Neeson’s shoes just in case he were involved in a car accident rendering him an amnesiac. Luckily it was Neeson in the accident and not his fake wife because apparently they never bothered to train a fake wife backup.

And in one ultra-incredible scene both Neeson and the backup Neeson are trying to convince the target of the assassination that they are the real Neeson and are actually speaking the same exact words at the same exact moment like a couple of Doublemint twins.

Am I the only person who finds this ludicrous? Am I the only person who questions why everything else that Cinderella had turned to junk at midnight but the glass slipper remained a glass slipper till the end of the story?

Let’s move on for a moment to the accident. Neeson is in a taxi being driven by a beautiful young woman. Do we know instantaneously that she will have much more of a role in this story than just as his taxi driver? Even my wife admits to knowing that, and believe me she is not making my review easy. And thank God this beautiful taxi driver also happens to be an Olympic swimmer/diver/rescuer who is able to work effortlessly underwater to save an unconscious Neeson or else – yes you guessed it – THERE WOULDN’T BE A MOVIE.

Of course the cab itself drowns but not to worry about that either because an hour later THE EXACT SAME CAB (WITH THE EXACT SAME CAB NUMBER) is resurrected. Couldn’t the producers have sprung for another cab or at least changed the cab number?

Anyway, luckily for Neeson, late in the movie he regains his memory and recalls that he is an assassin whose profession it is to kill people. He certainly seems like a reliable, dedicated sort and yet as soon as he remembers everything he immediately sets out to thwart the assassination plan . WHY WHY WHY? I know – because if he didn’t.. etc etc etc.

This leaves one last “why” question. Why did I write this review? I’ll tell you why.

BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE WRITERS WHO TRICK PEOPLE BY LEADING THEM TO THINK THERE IS A REASONABLE ENDING WHEN THERE ISN’T. IT’S DECEITFUL TO LEAD PEOPLE ALONG LIKE THAT.

Oh by the way, there is no poker part to end the blog today. I just said there was in order to lead you along to get you to read the movie part. I hope you aren’t in some bedbug infested place as you read this.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

The Bluto/Brutus Conundrum

Suppose a friend suggested that you assemble a deck of thirty red cards and twenty black cards and you cut the deck 300 times at $5.00 each cut. If a red card is chosen you win and if a black card is chosen he wins. I suspect you would jump at the chance for two reasons. First, the total maximum risk you would be taking is $1500 if by some billion to one chance (ok it’s actually 2 to the 300th power and I’m way too lazy to try to calculate that number) black cards were chosen 300 times in a row, and secondly because as a 3 to 2 favorite to win, you should win 180 times while your friend should win 120 times, giving you a net profit of $300. Of course in the short run the results might not hold true to the actual odds and in fact you might reasonably come to the exact opposite result – yet all in all it is still a pretty good wager for you.

Now let’s change the rules just a bit. Suppose that instead of playing for $5.00 a cut you were playing for $2,000.00 a cut. Using the same logic you should win $120,000 but at the same time your potential risk would be $600,000.00. Is it still a pretty good wager for you? What if you reasonably came to the exact opposite result and lost $120,000?

If you were a multi-millionaire easily able to withstand a possible short term variance then it would certainly still be a pretty good wager for you. However if there were a reasonable possibility that it would wipe out your entire life savings then your point of view might indeed change.

Now let’s change the rules one more time. Instead of cutting cards let’s play ANY game in which the odds of you winning are 60 percent AT BEST.
Would you be willing to shove thousands of dollars into the pot hand after hand as a 60 percent favorite? Maybe you would. Maybe you are enough of a gambler to be willing to risk everything for this potential edge. I can tell you that I am not because the one thing that any successful poker player needs to do is survive short-term variance.

And yet…. I now find myself in just such a position as I have begun to play pot-limit Omaha on a weekly basis, a game in which it is so rare to become a huge favorite that it is not unusual for a good player to muck the nuts on the flop or even the turn. Think about it. In what other poker game – or for that matter in what other competition in life – would the frontrunner quit because he doesn’t like his chances of winning.

Many players love the excitement of pot-limit Omaha but I will admit to despising the game. So why do I despise the game, and why do I play a game that I despise, two issues that are at odds much like Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity and quantum mechanics, or much like the fact that in some Popeye cartoons the fat bearded bad guy is named Bluto and in some he is named Brutus.

While physicists have still not resolved the conflict between the General Theory of Relativity and quantum mechanics, in the case of pot-limit Omaha as in the case of the fat bearded bad guy I do have an explanation. (Bluto was the character’s original name but the studio changed it to Brutus to avoid a potential copyright problem, not that you care).

First, why do I despise the game? There are three reasons. To begin with as I have alluded above, luck plays a far more important role in Omaha than it does in hold ‘em. A simple way to illustrate this is to point out that often when a player flops the nuts in hold ‘em, he is a significant favorite to win the pot whereas in Omaha a player can flop the nuts and reasonably be an underdog. I am not a gambler. I play poker because it is a game of skill. If I wanted to roll the dice I would roll dice.

The second reason why I despise Omaha is that since each player is actually playing six different hands the permutations are so varied that it entices the true gambler to consistently up the ante. In the game in which I play it is rare that at least two players aren’t all-in by the turn. This kind of action (and thus this kind of risk) far exceeds that which is normally found in hold ‘em.

Finally I despise Omaha because you have to remember four cards and at least according to one annoying player in my game it is unacceptable to lift the cards off the table to look at them, and so you have some very difficult peeking to do.

Okay so I hate Omaha for two and a quarter good reasons. What then would ever possess me to play the game? In response I will tell you that the game I play in is a half and half game – alternating rounds of no limit hold ‘em and pot-limit Omaha. I will also tell you that there are three huge action players in the game who are only willing to play hold ‘em so that they can play Omaha. For this reason I am only willing to play Omaha so that I can play hold ‘em.

We have played for three weeks and I have been forced to readjust my strategy as I have found that these three players are using the hold ‘em rounds to smoke, eat, go to the bathroom and make phone calls. I don’t smoke, am on a diet, have excellent bladder control and have nobody to call in the middle of the night so I needed to find something to do during the Omaha rounds and then it came to me – bring my laptop and write my blogs.

Ooops time for hold ‘em. Gotta go!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

I was beating up a game at the Parx recently when a young internet player sat down and within a few minutes I could tell from his playing style and conversation that he expected to plow through the table. There’s a certain arrogance that some players have, a way of playing with their chips while they talk about poker strategy that sends a signal that they are forces to be reckoned with. I have seen many of these kids at work and have learned that the way to beat them is to let them beat themselves through overconfidence.

(As an aside I have heard that a good tell on a player’s poker skills is to observe his ability to handle chips – you know the riffling and fancy fingerwork with them. However as a contrarian I have concluded that generally a player’s dexterity with chips is inversely proportional to his playing ability. Now I’m not claiming to be a great player but I do okay and I am unable to riffle chips at all. While others were practicing the technique, I was concentrating on the game itself. Admittedly I did watch a You Tube video teaching the riffling technique but gave up after a few minutes of frustration).

In any event I saw the kid eyeing my rather hefty stack and I knew that it would only be a matter of time before he would try to raid the chicken coop.

Prevailing theory suggests that the strongest players are those who have a tight-aggressive style. I don’t fit this mold because I usually see a lot of flops which can send a signal to new players that I am a calling station and am generally a weaker player than the rest of the table. After about a half hour I was certain that this was the impression internet boy had of me.

I was involved in a few hands in this regard in which I called bets on the flop and turn only to muck the river. In each case I was on a draw at the right price and did not hit. Since internet boy did not see my cards he may well have assumed that I was flopping around, just to muck my cards to a large river bet.

After about an hour of play I found myself with pocket 7s in the cutoff seat. I would normally limp with a small pair but everyone ahead of me mucked and so I raised to 4 times the blind. The players behind me mucked except for internet boy in the big blind who called. I had a funny feeling that the call was the first step towards potentially making a move on me later in the hand.

The flop was K-J-7 with two diamonds and he checked. When I made a significant bet he made a significant raise. I decided that he did not have two pair because if he did my sense was that he would have smooth-called my bet to trap me on the turn. My reads are far from perfect but I decided that he either had a flush draw or was just going to make a play for the pot with air. I decided to smooth call his raise and peel a card. If it were a diamond I would check call the rest of the way and if not I would trap him later on.

The turn sealed the deal for me. It was another jack, giving me a full house. Internet boy made an overly large bet. I was now certain that he did not have a full house because the bet was too large. If he were holding something like KJ he would not want to push me off the hand at this juncture.

I stalled as I counted my chips, allowing enough time to pass so that it would appear that I had a very difficult decision to make. Knowing that internet boy was surely aware that a forceful call was an indication of weakness I confidently slammed calling chips onto the table as part of my triple-reverse psychology.

The river was a third diamond and internet boy moved another large stack of black chips to the center of the table. Now I was surely hoping that he was on a flush draw and this time I instantly raised, trying to look like a weak player who hit the flush. (I reasoned that if he were on a bluff he would muck anyway and if he were on a flush draw he would hopefully have high cards and call).

He seemed genuinely stunned by my action and responded to it shakily “You have pocket kings?” He then refused to act. He counted and shuffled and recounted. I knew for certain that he didn’t have a full house because the pot size would have demanded a call from any full house. Did he have the nut flush? I was hoping so because even the nut flush would be a callable hand to a player like me who could have chased a smaller flush.

Finally after an eternity he slowly pushed his cards to the dealer and I raked in the pot. And it was then that I knew that his play was totally a bluff. In an obvious attempt to save face at the table he muttered “I mucked a monster. I had pocket 7s but I’m sure you had pocket kings.”

Unfortunately I had to leave shortly after that hand but I’m sure we’ll cross paths again. At least I hope so.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

My buddy Peddie pointed out that since I wrote a poker blog about a disasterous day that I had last week I should write one about yesterday which was the exact opposite. I'll make it brief but the overriding theme is that poker is a never-ending game interrupted by sleep, food, sex, shoplifting, whatever - but it always continues in a marathonic (I invented a word) sort of way, and the only time to really tally up is when you are gone and your friends and relatives say "he did very well in poker," or "for his sake I hope they don't have playing cards in heaven."

I wasn't going to play poker yesterday but knowing that I had a lot of ground to make up would have led to a mentally draining weekend (and at my age I really need to conserve the few brain cells I have left) so I pointed the poker van southward on the New Jersey Turnpike and found myself in the nine seat, which as some of you may know, was THE seat that led me to fame and glory in days of yore. Symbolism aside, the seat played as it did in those yore days. At first it seemed as if the bad streak would continue as weak player Dave called my pocket 8s raise with A-10 to a flop of 10-10-2. But as time passed and I continued to muck, muck and muck unplayable cards I sensed that this could be a special day. Two hours into the game, with barely a hand to play I was close to even. Surely mathematics would kick in.

And then it did with a vengeance. Weak Dave raised on the button and I called from the big blind with pocket 6s. A strong Asian player (I don't know his name but he insists that he's half-Italian and half-Jewish) called as well. The flop was 8-6-2 with two spades. I bet out 60 and Asian guy called. Weak Dave then raised to 360. I stalled for effect and then seemingly reluctantly called the raise. Asian guy then shoved his stack of over 2000 into the center of the pot. Weak Dave agonized for quite a while before mucking pocket kings, and of course I insta-called. I have played with Asian guy many times and was momentarily worried that he might have pocket 8s but I dismissed that because he would have raised with them preflop in front of Weak Dave, so I essentially knew he was on a flush draw. When the fourth six hit the turn I coasted home free.

And then it became the sky's the limit as I began to run over the table, bluffing weak players out of big pots and revealing monster hands to players who dared get in the way of this steamroller. I pushed one young internet player off a better hand and when I barrelled through him on the very next hand making an unusually large river bet he said "you can't be doing this every hand," and pushed his chips into the pot only to be faced with the fact that I hit runner-runner flush.

The coup de grace came with a flop of J-9-4 to my pocket 4s. I bet and got one caller, a very aggressive new-to-the-table player who had started bullying people even as he was first settling into his seat. The player smooth-called my bet. An ace hit the turn and I made another modest bet hoping to induce a raise. To my delight he reached for a stack of green chips and pushed them forward, raising 250 more. I frowned and squirmed and counted my chips before pretending to reluctantly make the call. The river was inconsequential and he pushed half of his 1000 dollar stack into the pot. Again I hesitated, squinted and frowned before uttering the golden words - "I'm all-in." He couldn't get his chips into the pot fast enough with his A-J and when I revealed my set he just slumped back as if hit in the stomach with a cannonball.

Grabbing my water bottle under my arm I proceeded to the cage with my racks of chips. Cashiers and other players on the line congratulated me on a great session but I never for a moment forgot that poker never ends. I smiled and said thanks and went home to eat and sleep and... well the rest is none of your business.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

I’m writing this one for me. It’s not going to be interesting (not that any of my other blogs are) and it’s not going to be insightful (ntaomoba). It’s just going to be cathartic for me because when I realized that this was likely to be a disastrous day (I call it the real D-DAY) I started taking notes on my hands – well not ON my hands – on paper ABOUT my hands.

Some days you can just sort of tell that no matter how well you play you are destined to lose. This was one of those days. It doesn’t mean that you give up hope, it simply means that you continue to try to do your best not to start screaming and throwing cards at the dealer as you pray that the laws of mathematics kick in. They rarely do on days like this but if you’re going to pray for anything then you might as well pray for the laws of mathematics. After all, what could be more important in the universe than the laws of mathematics – and by extension the laws of physics – because without these laws our ipods would be too large to carry around.

If you are now thinking to yourself what the hell is he talking about, then you can see the effect D-DAY has on a stressed out poker player.

It’s a 2-5 no-limit game and for hand number one I sit down into the big blind and am greeted by pocket aces. Six limpers in front of me so I raise to 55. One caller to a flop of 9-3-3. Does he have 9-9? No! Does he have 3-3? No! He has 9-3 suited. 9-3 9-3
9-3!!!!! Rebuy.

Next big hand I limp with A-6 suited. The flop is A-A-6. Another player bets and I smooth-call. The turn is a 2. The other player makes a large bet and again I smooth-call. The river is a 7 and the other player goes all-in. Would Stu Ungar fold? Would Doyle Brunson fold? Would anyone who has ever held a chip in his hand fold?????? Of course not. I suppose you’ve guessed by now that the lucky b**tard (bastard for those of you who can’t read stars) held A7.

I’m getting tired (maybe because I’ve been playing online since I walked through the door) so I will summarize a bit. Five times I had big pocket pairs and five times players with small pairs flopped sets. Twice I flopped flushes (both times limping with Q-10 suited) and twice I was NEVER in the lead.

Twice I had pocket jacks on the button when everyone else folded to me and both times the big blind had pocket kings.

When Rod the floor guy approached and asked me if I wanted to lock up a seat in the big game that was starting I responded “sure if I have any chips left by the time it starts.” After the following hand I did not have any chips left. Ok I’m done. I hope you didn’t read this far. If you did I’m sorry for the abrupt ending. I warned you.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

I’m going to take a position here that is contrary to everything I’ve ever read or heard from the “experts,” and while I will be the first to admit that I might be wayyyy off base, I have come to truly believe that the importance of being able to read one’s opponents cards is extremely overrated.

This epiphany came to me during a recent hand at the Parx Casino, and to preface the story I am reminded of Richie the Hat, a young aggressive player from my Palm days who was the best reader of an opponent’s cards this side of Daniel Negreanu. Time after time Richie would make amazing reads. To a board of 9-7-6-4-2 he would say “you have 8-10” and he would be correct. And yet he would still call the all-in with 3-5. To a board of 4 diamonds he would say “you definitely have the 9 of diamonds” and then call with the 8 of diamonds. Sometimes with a board of Q-9-7-5-2 he would say “you have the Q-3 of clubs,” and still call with A-9. He was ALWAYS right and yet always lost.

The fact is that while I had often envied Richie’s amazing abilities and while I was rarely able to deduce my opponent’s holdings in any similar fashion, I was a consistent winner and he went broke and far beyond, which should have been a clue even way back then. (Okay your argument will be that if Richie trusted his reads he would have been a winner, thus bolstering the importance of being able to read opponent’s cards. Thank you for pointing this out but I’m not really interested in facts because they get in the way of conjecture).

In any event, the hand that brought me to the final realization was as follows: In a 2-5 no-limit game I played K-Q offsuit in a 5 way limp pot to a flop of K-J-10 with two diamonds. The small blind bet out 100 and I smooth-called. Everyone else mucked around to Hui who was on the button and moved all-in for 400. Hui is a very aggressive player with a wide range of possible holdings. The small blind who had about 700 left took a great deal of time and then smooth-called the raise. The fact that he didn’t shove all of his chips into the pot led me to believe that he was on a draw. If he had a made hand like a straight, set or two pair the proper move would have been for him to go all-in over the top in order to make it more costly if I were on a draw. His failure to do so clearly indicated to me that he was playing two diamonds. Since I was likely behind Hui I thought it would be a good idea to mitigate my potential loss by going all-in over the top since I had the small blind covered and he appeared to be pot-committed for 300 more. And this way if he missed his draw I would get a rebate of 300 if I lost to Hui. So I shoved and to my complete surprise the small blind showed K-10 and mucked.

The turn and river were blanks and Hui just shook his head and said “I have a jack,” losing the pot to my kings. Had I made the correct read I would have mucked my hand and the small blind would have won the pot with two pair.

I have come to believe that this is not an isolated incident but that it is a regular part of a game which is often played with weak players whose failure to make the proper moves lead the better players to false conclusions. And by the same token excellent players can often disguise their hands making it as difficult to deduce their holdings as with the weak players.

What is the lesson to be learned from this? Frankly I’m not really sure but now I’m going to start thinking about whether reading your own cards is overrated as well. After playing online I’m becoming convinced that this may very well be true. In fact there’s a story about Annette Obrerstad who won a 180 player online tournament while only peeking at her cards once during the entire session. I guess she’s a step or two ahead of me on this issue (but then again she was 15 years old when it happened). Anyway I can see the ultimate consequences of such revolutionary ideas. Can you?

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Some days are diamonds… some are hearts, clubs, or spades. Yesterday was a none-of-the- above day. Instead it was the kind of day that lives in poker player infamy.

I arrived at the Parx just in time to grab the last seat in a new 2-5 no limit game, the highest stakes game in progress at the time. I decided to post the $5 big blind out of turn in order to jump right into the action and as I gazed down at two black aces I smugly believed that I had made a wise investment indeed, once again failing to take into account the whims of the poker gods and their twisted senses of right and wrong. When the player in front of me raised to $30 I reraised to $100. Slow playing aces in a multi-way pot is an invitation to disaster and although I wanted one caller, I wanted ONLY one caller. With multiple callers preflop, pocket aces could go from a 65% favorite (or higher) in a heads-up situation down into the 30 something percent range.

As everyone after me folded back to the original raiser I breathed a slight sigh of relief, and when he reraised to $350 it was a poker player’s dream. I dawdled a bit for effect and then pushed the rest of my initial MAXIMUM buy-in to the center of the table. The other player had me covered and instantly made the call.

At the Parx there is no requirement to show your cards after an all-in bet and so we simply watched the flop. And by simply watching the flop of K, Q, 2 I knew that my 84% favorite position had shrunk to about 5%. There was no doubt in my mind that my opponent held pocket kings or queens and of course as the turn and river appeared to be irrelevant cards, much to my dismay my read proved to be correct as my opponent turned over two ladies and pulled the massive stack of chips to his bosom.

I rebought THE MAXIMUM again and that lasted almost 12 minutes when my big blind of J-4 of hearts in a 6 way limp pot met up with A-K-2 of hearts. Small bets and calls steadily built the pot and took us to the river where the three hearts had been joined by two black cards which also placed an inviting four card straight to Broadway on board. When this board elicited a bet followed by an all-in from a shoot from the hip bad, bad player I called with enthusiasm, only to watch him excitedly display the Q-3 of hearts which he played under the gun.

Two MAXIMUM buy ins gone in less time than it took to find a parking space. Suddenly however things quickly began to look up. – Or so I thought as the announcement came over the loudspeaker for the start of a 5-10 no-limit game, the big game at the Parx. I maneuvered quickly through the crowded poker room, grabbing my favorite seat du jour, the one seat, which allows me to have my back to the wall in case anyone were to go postal.

Before you could say cry me a river the cards were in the air and once again I found myself looking at a monster hand, A-K of clubs. I raised to $40 and a guy I’ll call John (because that’s his name) reraised immediately to $150. Now I have played with John many times. He has played in my home game and although he is one of those guys who travels to Las Vegas to play poker, he is actually a very weak inconsistently wild player who alwaysssss loses. Since I was familiar with his cowboy style of play I reraised to $400 and sensed that he was making a crying call. He then suggested we check it down meaning that we don’t bet any further. I took this as a sign of weakness and responded that I don’t play that way, But when the flop of 10-8-2 appeared and I knew that even if he had pocket threes I could not move him off the hand, I checked with a big smile as if to accede that we would check it down. This did save me a few bucks as a Queen hit the turn and his A-Q beat my A-K.

So now I was tilting. And this is where things can get way out of hand. All of the poker players who know me – and okay even my wife and daughter - know that with the possible exception of Jimmy D, nobody can tilt the way I do. Tilting has been the biggest detriment to my game, and yet has often proven to be the biggest asset as well. While the good players line up salivating when I am on tilt, many others run in fear, especially those who have played with me in the big Palm game.

Asian Kevin was playing at the table. Many players dislike Kevin because he is brash and often nasty to other players and especially dealers. As it happens I like Kevin a lot, primarily because back in the old Borgata days he was at my table when a dealer’s mistake cost me $600. I called for the floor and Kevin – who was not involved in the hand – immediately jumped up and started screaming that I had been cheated out of $600 and I always appreciated that.

Back to the Parx. I looked down at A-K once again as a player in front of me raised to $35. I reraised to $100 (which had nothing to do with the fact that I was tilting) and Kevin and the other player smooth-called, meaning to me that Kevin had a very strong hand. The flop was Q-10-2 with two clubs (I had no clubs). Kevin bet out $270 and the other player mucked. Normally I too would muck but since I was tilting I found a way to call. Maybe Kevin had two clubs and I was ahead. And after all I did have two overs to the board and a six-outer gutshot to the nuts. And so I pushed $270 very unwisely into the pot. The turn was a jack of clubs giving me Broadway but also putting three clubs on the board. Kevin moved all in for another $350 and when I called he said “do you have clubs?” I shook my head no and he smiled. “Then you lose,” he said turning over pocket queens for a set of queens. “Sorry Kevin,” I replied. “I hit a gutshot.” Kevin just stared at me for a moment. “You did me bad!” In the game of poker a tilt call is always welcome, except when it happens to hit.

So now I was off tilt. It only takes one suckout for me to do that and I was thinking it’s time to move up, up, up. So I played the rush on the very next hand, calling a raise with 7-8 of hearts from a chipped-up player who only plays kings and aces. When the player made a big overbet to a flop of 8-7-2 I appropriately moved all-in. He went into the tank as I took a swig of my lukewarm water. Finally with shaky hands he pushed his chips in. “NO ACE NO KING” I shouted over and over as the dealer turned the next card, but I forgot to add one other card to my mantra. I should have said “no deuce”as well. I forgot. The deuce on the turn sealed my fate as his aces up counterfeited my two pair and I understood the pain of a starting pitcher sent to the showers as I took that seemingly never-ending escalator ride to oblivion.

It’s going to be a long rest of the weekend.

By the way, I’ve played poker for a long time and have seen many crazy plays but I just saw a new one at the Parx 5-10 no-limit game. A player raised to $35 and another reraised to $175. There were two callers to the reraise. The flop was 9-6-3 with two spades and the reraiser bet out $400 attracting one of the callers. The turn was a red 4 at which time the reraiser shoved all in for $600 more. The other player insta-called prompting the reraiser to frown and comment “You called on a flush draw?” Apparently so because the river card was not a spade and the caller disgustedly mucked his cards forfeiting the pot to the reriaser who called for the chips but as is the house rule the dealer pointed out that he must show his cards in order to win. The reraiser sheepishly turned over 7-2 much to the chagrin of the mucker who surely had the better hand.