The Empty Bottle Was Half-Empty

Preface: I didn't mean for this post to be a story of bad beats but sometimes it's inevitable, like that brutal flush card on the river.

Losing money is never fun. Never. Sometimes, however, it is worse than others on the felt. I was victimized to the tune of a couple buy-ins in Atlantic City this weekend but came away shaking my head not in anger but in that semi-disbelief kind of way. (can disbelief be only semi? I'll have to check on that.)

Anyway, I sat at a 1-2 table with a 300 stack and felt like I had been put at the wrong table. From the 3 seat I watched and folded my first few hands as each pot was raised not to 10 or 12 or 15 but to 20 or 25 and then promptly reraised and called. The second hand I sat for was raised to 16 and the raiser got 5 callers. Immediately my thought was that this was a wiiiiiide open table and I needed to be patient and wait for a hand to slice and dice some of the loose action. However, watching everything go down I wondered if I would get the chance. A preflop re-raise (I had already folded) to 52 was called by 2 players and then one of the callers led out post-flop for about 125 and induced a fold, then flipped over a 2,7 off that had missed everything. The initial raiser who had folded under the bet was not happy and did some grouching about the call of 52 with such a hand. Me? I was salivating, just hoping to pick something up quickly while everyone was hot. Unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough. Two hands later, the same two guys tangled again, mixing it up preflop and clearing out the field. The flop came 3 diamonds and they tread cautiously, unusual for what I had seen thus far. However, once the river came with a blank, the fireworks started. Bet, raise, all-in, insta-call. The guy who had previously had the 2,7 had flopped the K high flush. His nemesis, however, had flopped the nut flush and not only raked in a 700 pot but threw in an unnecessary comment about the previous hand. The table rightfully pointed out that he should shut up about having been outplayed, particularly after winning a big hand right back.

Unfortunately, this left the pot-builder on a short stack and the other guy on a monster, which it became immediately evident he wasn't going to relinquish, as he went into hibernation and left the table about a half hour later. So things cooled down before I could heat up. As it turns out, I never did get the gas past about 3 on the dial. My position plays with marginal hands got raised and bet at post flop and when I picked up some monsters (A,A, K,K) I couldn't get the necessary action. And then the gods of the felt took some jabs at me. My A,Q ran into an A,K. My A,6 in position hit an A on the flop and my steadily increasing bets didn't force out a similarly suited A,8 and I was check-called down the whole way, culminating when we both made river flushes with our kickers. Pocket 3s when I was short-stacked and all in for 45 was called by Q,J off and a J hit the flop. In the BB, my Q,5 appeared huge when the flop came Q,5,3 only to actually be a massive dog, as my opponent had pocket 3s. Miraculously, he didn't bust me as he checked the river after rags on the last two streets. A,2 hit me for top and bottom pair on the flop only to fall victim to a flush on the turn when a flop bet couldn't chase out a chaser. Basically, the cards didn't fall for me. In any of these cases, a slight turn could have amounted to a big change in the course of my night. But they didn't. That's how it happens on occasion and I accept it.

I finally busted my second buy in (only 200 this time) when I had about 150 left and made a position call with Q,9 off in a multi-way pot. Flop came Q,3,2 rainbow and it was checked to me. I bet out and got one caller. Turn came with another Q and this time early position led out for more than the pot. Folded to me and I considered what could be. A few minutes I contemplated whether I could lay down three Queens in the face of only one big bet. The way I had been running all night was forefront in my mind, as was his check-call and overbet of the pot on the turn. Ultimately, I couldn't get away, though I suspected I had been trapped by a higher kicker. A blank came on the river and my opponent shoved. Now I knew I was beat but with only about 50 left behind, I made the call and sure enough K,Q was felted to best my kicker.

Running cold is one thing, running scared another. I left knowing I would catch up another day.