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!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
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.
(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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
It’s been a while since my last blog but that’s only because I haven’t had anything new to say about poker and I didn’t want to force things and have you all thinking that my blog jumped the shark (if you don’t already think that). But after last night I need to unload a bit about a deadly game called seven-deuce, also known as 7-2.
As you may know 7-2 is the worst possible starting hand in Texas Hold- ‘em, and sometimes bored players agree to play a side game called 7-2. The premise is simple. If a player wins a hand with 7-2 he collects money from all the other players. Since a starting hand of 7-2 rarely wins, players often resort to bluffing in order to win the game.
So here it is Christmas Eve and I’m at the Parx playing at a table filled with Jews, Asians, degenerates and combinations thereof when someone who was way too bored to be at the game suggested that we play 7-2 for $25.00 a man. At first I objected, pointing out that the game is a form of gambling and that I don’t gamble, but when the rest of the table unanimously agreed to play I had no choice but to accede.
My buddy Peddie was at the table, and as we do whenever we are forced to play this ridiculous game, we related the story of Potter’s cousin Greg who lost $5500.00 trying to bluff with 7-2. At the end of the story I commented that although I was a part of the action, I would muck 7-2 in any event.
Approximately five hands later I looked down at my hole cards and of course there they were, 7-2 offsuit. Since poker is a game of deception and everyone knows that I won’t play 7-2, I raised to 40 dollars hoping that everyone would fold and I would win the $200 total bounty. In this situation it seemed certainly worthwhile to risk 40 dollars in order to win 200. To my dismay Sean called me. He is a solid player and in my mind I decided that I was done with the hand. Assuming I didn’t hit a favorable flop I would simply kiss the 40 dollars goodbye.
The flop came 4,4,6 with two diamonds and it was my turn to act first. Since there was now $80 in the pot I decided that there was a likelihood that Sean played two big cards and if the flop did not help him I could win the pot with a bet, so I bet $100. He instantly called. Now I decided that I was absolutely, positively finished with this hand and would accept my $140 loss as a lesson to avoid dabbling in forces beyond my control.
The turn card was a 2 of diamonds giving me a pair of deuces. There were three diamonds on board though and I didn’t have a diamond so I checked with the intention of mucking to any bet or just checking it down and losing to any pair. Sean reached for chips and bet $175. As I watched him carefully I thought I could see a moment of hesitation in his action. What if he had ace-king with a big diamond? I could actually be ahead with my deuces. So instead of throwing my cards into the muck I found myself reaching for raising chips and pushing $400 into the pot. To my great dismay Sean immediately pushed an additional $225 to the middle of the table, calling my raise.
OKAY OKAY OKAY I’M DONE! $540 to learn a valuable lesson. I watched helplessly as the dealer turned over the river card. It was a 6, making the board 4,4,2,6,6 with three diamonds. Now even if Sean was holding ace-king I would lose because my deuces got counterfeited (meaning that two higher pair made my deuces worthless and Sean would have a better kicker). Things couldn’t be worse. Or could they as I found myself pushing an additional $1800 into the pot. Stubbornness is a killer in poker. Stupidity is even worse. Apparently I had a huge abundance of both. In my mangled thought process I considered that maybe Sean had a small pocket pair, and that maybe he would think I had a 4 or a 6 or a flush. Or maybe the power in the casino would suddenly go out and I could grab my chips and run.
As I pushed the chips forward Sean stared into my eyes and said the words that took 10 years off my life (and I don’t really have 10 years to waste). He smirked and said “Do you have seven deuce? Why would you make this bet?” And then he took 10 minutes as he began to analyze the hand. My huge river bet made no sense to him whatsoever. As he talked he showed me his hole cards hoping for a reaction. He had pocket queens. At least five times he commented that the only thing that made sense was that I was playing seven deuce. And then of course I remembered that another friend had told me that Sean is a calling station and rarely mucks when he has a good hand.
Finally after an agonizingly long analysis (during which time I simply stopped looking in his direction) I could actually hear his cards hit the table. I turned quickly and saw them in the muck. I had won the pot and $540 of his money. I was almost embarrassed to turn over 7-2 but not enough to forego the $200 bounty. Sean just smiled as the internet whiz sitting next to him told me that he would have insta-called (information which I later used against him when I overbet the nuts).
So here is my vow. I will never play 7-2 again… well maybe just for a small bet.
As you may know 7-2 is the worst possible starting hand in Texas Hold- ‘em, and sometimes bored players agree to play a side game called 7-2. The premise is simple. If a player wins a hand with 7-2 he collects money from all the other players. Since a starting hand of 7-2 rarely wins, players often resort to bluffing in order to win the game.
So here it is Christmas Eve and I’m at the Parx playing at a table filled with Jews, Asians, degenerates and combinations thereof when someone who was way too bored to be at the game suggested that we play 7-2 for $25.00 a man. At first I objected, pointing out that the game is a form of gambling and that I don’t gamble, but when the rest of the table unanimously agreed to play I had no choice but to accede.
My buddy Peddie was at the table, and as we do whenever we are forced to play this ridiculous game, we related the story of Potter’s cousin Greg who lost $5500.00 trying to bluff with 7-2. At the end of the story I commented that although I was a part of the action, I would muck 7-2 in any event.
Approximately five hands later I looked down at my hole cards and of course there they were, 7-2 offsuit. Since poker is a game of deception and everyone knows that I won’t play 7-2, I raised to 40 dollars hoping that everyone would fold and I would win the $200 total bounty. In this situation it seemed certainly worthwhile to risk 40 dollars in order to win 200. To my dismay Sean called me. He is a solid player and in my mind I decided that I was done with the hand. Assuming I didn’t hit a favorable flop I would simply kiss the 40 dollars goodbye.
The flop came 4,4,6 with two diamonds and it was my turn to act first. Since there was now $80 in the pot I decided that there was a likelihood that Sean played two big cards and if the flop did not help him I could win the pot with a bet, so I bet $100. He instantly called. Now I decided that I was absolutely, positively finished with this hand and would accept my $140 loss as a lesson to avoid dabbling in forces beyond my control.
The turn card was a 2 of diamonds giving me a pair of deuces. There were three diamonds on board though and I didn’t have a diamond so I checked with the intention of mucking to any bet or just checking it down and losing to any pair. Sean reached for chips and bet $175. As I watched him carefully I thought I could see a moment of hesitation in his action. What if he had ace-king with a big diamond? I could actually be ahead with my deuces. So instead of throwing my cards into the muck I found myself reaching for raising chips and pushing $400 into the pot. To my great dismay Sean immediately pushed an additional $225 to the middle of the table, calling my raise.
OKAY OKAY OKAY I’M DONE! $540 to learn a valuable lesson. I watched helplessly as the dealer turned over the river card. It was a 6, making the board 4,4,2,6,6 with three diamonds. Now even if Sean was holding ace-king I would lose because my deuces got counterfeited (meaning that two higher pair made my deuces worthless and Sean would have a better kicker). Things couldn’t be worse. Or could they as I found myself pushing an additional $1800 into the pot. Stubbornness is a killer in poker. Stupidity is even worse. Apparently I had a huge abundance of both. In my mangled thought process I considered that maybe Sean had a small pocket pair, and that maybe he would think I had a 4 or a 6 or a flush. Or maybe the power in the casino would suddenly go out and I could grab my chips and run.
As I pushed the chips forward Sean stared into my eyes and said the words that took 10 years off my life (and I don’t really have 10 years to waste). He smirked and said “Do you have seven deuce? Why would you make this bet?” And then he took 10 minutes as he began to analyze the hand. My huge river bet made no sense to him whatsoever. As he talked he showed me his hole cards hoping for a reaction. He had pocket queens. At least five times he commented that the only thing that made sense was that I was playing seven deuce. And then of course I remembered that another friend had told me that Sean is a calling station and rarely mucks when he has a good hand.
Finally after an agonizingly long analysis (during which time I simply stopped looking in his direction) I could actually hear his cards hit the table. I turned quickly and saw them in the muck. I had won the pot and $540 of his money. I was almost embarrassed to turn over 7-2 but not enough to forego the $200 bounty. Sean just smiled as the internet whiz sitting next to him told me that he would have insta-called (information which I later used against him when I overbet the nuts).
So here is my vow. I will never play 7-2 again… well maybe just for a small bet.
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