Heads Up - Twice As Nice

So after two months, one snapped humerus bone, three hours of surgery and four loser's bracket victories, I finally found myself as one of the last two left in a yearly heads-up tournament. Having come through the loser's bracket, I now had to defeat my opponent twice heads up as this was a double elimination tourney. A dubious prospect, since this was a guy who had rather handily dispatched his opponents thus far, a guy I knew to be unafraid of making moves with any two cards and with an uncanny skill for reading his opponents' hands. Plus, the guy had had his arm broken in an ill-fated arm wrestling match during the day the tournament was originally supposed to conclude. Fate should reward that kind of suffering, no?

Well, fate might, but I won't.

Starting even in chips but at a disadvantage strategically since my opponent could play as loose as he wanted to with a match in hand, things didn't quite get started as I hoped. I made some raises, forced a few continuation bets in and folded, folded, folded when I didn't connect and was re-popped. I've detailed before that one of the things I like best about heads up is playing each and every hand, the action aspect of it all. What's not so fun is a succession of god-awful hands like 2,8 where your raise is called, a deuce flops and your c-bet is tripled. Not exactly the kind of sweet action I enjoy.

Fold, fold, fold.

Pretty soon, I was down to about 1000 chips (5000 in play) and in serious chip envy. You know, the kind where your lone big chip has about five friends, where each and every smaller denomination chip has left town and made the deficit seem insurmountable from sheer stack size alone. That's where I was.

Well, heads up is its own beast, layered with skin ready for discard. All it takes to adjust is to slide out of one mode and into another. Add that to the chipleader's inevitable desire, once ahead, to never double up his opponent and give him life and aggression is often well rewarded. I began firing at pots with pot-committing raises and saw the glances at the few chips I had behind. My opponent ceded the small pots, not willing to commit the chips to get me back in it all at once. In fairness, he probably had garbage hands, like most are. But while he was conceding blinds and small pots, I was listening to the most delightful sound of new chips clacking on top of old. Slowly, I rebuilt. Five hundred more. Seven-fifty. Soon enough, my double up to 2000 was complete, albeit done in a grinding fashion.

And patience was finally rewarded. After a pre-flop raise into me, I peeked at JJ and pushed. My opponent made a crippling call with K,J and I seized control of the match and a few hands later, it was over. We were even.

As we began the second match, I felt that the pressure had shifted the other way. No one wants to lose two in a row, especially a confident, competitive player. This match was therefore less aggressive, more cautious on both sides, as we both now had the opportunity to win the whole thing. Small swings on either side of level were the norm in the early going, as pots hovered around 10% of the overall chip count (500). And then, cautious as things had been, it exploded.

In my favor.

And again, it was a monster for me. KK. My opponent raised preflop (25/50) to 150. I re-raised to 450, he called. Flop came Q high, all diamonds. He shoved, I called. Neither of us had a diamond. He had QJ. I held up and he had a scant 600 chips. It was that quick. Again, a few hands later the match ended, when I drew out a flush against his all in.


A long time coming, and it felt good.

More poker coming this weekend, I'll keep you updated.

Big River/Bonanza/No Need To Worry

For those of you who are savvy to the songs of the man in black, you're already onto the theme of this post - cash, cash, cash.

I've been long overdue on a post as a couple of personal matters have occupied all of my time the past five or so weeks. I've managed to squeak in a few local tournament sessions however, as well as the long-awaited conclusion to August's heads-up tournament (see a previous post from August about the ugly delay in this one.) And despite the inactivity, my game hasn't suffered too much, exactly the opposite in fact, as I managed to work some modest cashes through some tough local fields.

Backtrack a bit and I was playing in my regular monthly rebuy tournament. It happened to be the same night as the Marquez/Mayweather fight and there was enough interest among the 30 or so players to order it up, so we had that going and I was half-distracted during the early stages until it became evident that Mayweather had Marquez dominated. So back to the cards and I got a little momentum going, but needed to really chip up if I wanted to make some noise, the quick blind structure and levels make rebuys almost useless after a certain point. So when I failed to connect on a draw and gave away my stack and had to rebuy for 1500 chips at 200/400, I didn't expect much. Even less did I expect to go on a tear the way I did. Pocket pairs held up, draws got there, bluffs were respected and as we consolidated to the final table I was one of the top three stacks.

While the timing of that run was much-needed, as always when it cooled off, it cooled quickly and I scrambled to make moves. In the next few levels I ran 88 into AA and doubled up a short stack, then folded a flopped top pair again to AA where I could have been felted. Later, I folded a 66 into a bad flop but then a couple hands later moved in with that same holding and one of the two overs my opponent held spiked on the river and I was out for a min cash. Cash #1.

So, even though it was five hours deep into the night, I moved right over to another table and played my delayed semifinal match in the heads up tourney. Winner hit the cash, loser was bubble boy. I had been ahead about 3500 to 1500 in chips when the break occurred but that quickly flip-flopped and I found myself on the short end of that margin. Slowly I ground my way back within 600 chips (2800-2200) when I looked at JJ. I raised, he re-raised all in with AK and I called. It held and I finished him off shortly thereafter when I drew a 3 outer, when all in blind. On to the finals, time/date still to be determined, but I was in the cash, my second of the night. Cash #2.

Flash-forward two weeks later and another home tournament, again a rebuy affair. Bigger buy in and rebuys but a smaller field and fewer places cashing. I arrive late, fold a bunch of garbage hands until about the end of the second level, attempt an ill-advised triple up with a mediocre holding and rebuy. Again, however, I go on a bit of a hot hand tear and take advantage. I three-bet preflop and get two other guys to shove behind me. The initial raiser folds and I shove with AA. Shortstack turns over A10 and big stack turns over QQ. I hold and rake a big pot and am on my way. Shortly thereafter, AK flops a K, a big stack reraises all in over the top of me and I call. He flips J,4 suited with a pair plus the flush draw but I ice the draws and bust him. Now I have a giant stack and I start raising everything in sight and smaller stacks topple quickly. Queens were good to me as I twice hit top pair and got it in for the win against small stacks. Then I made a fairly loose call of an all in with Q10 suited and my opponent showed his 8,9 sheepishly. We got down to heads up shortly after I made a bad read of a nicely disguised AA when I again flopped top pair and doubled up a good player. A bit of bad luck kept me from perhaps winning when I checked my option with 5,7 and the flop came J, 5, 5. We both checked the flop and a J came on the turn and we again both checked. The river was a blank and I don't remember the exact way it went in, suffice it to say it all did and my opponent turned over a J to best me. Oh well. Another good cash, #3.

Unfortunately I haven't been able to play at all since but it looks as if my other stuff has been straightened out and I'll be back in the mix, both on the tables and here documenting it, beginning right away. Thanks for reading and I'll keep you in the loop, as I'll fill in the details of the conclusion to the heads up tournament.

The Question Is How Fast, Pt. 2

Continued from previous post...(road trip theme being abandoned)

So I have just doubled my short stack and my table has broken. I'm not too upset with this, as that table had begun to eyeball my stack and take shots at me.

My new table, however, is a dream. Three ultra tight older guys, check. One insane old guy who will play and continue any hand at full speed and never slow down if he misses a flop. A couple of guys in their thirties and forties who play straightforward. One girl with a healthy stack who seems to be mixing it up pretty well. And one guy who loses a huge pot as I settle in when his top two gets shoved upon by crazy old guy's flush draw (which was for crazy old guy's whole stack, not insubstantial) who I get an immediate suspicion had been the table boss prior to that hand. He now is on a shorter stack than I and I watch him closely, as we are going to make similar plays with our short stacks.

I feel okay about it and my first hand is AcJc and I sweep the blinds with a preflop raise. Bingo, hope this continues.

It doesn't.

Neither the cards nor the plays got there for me. It was really frustrating watching the play at this table and then having to peek down at J,3 off and fold. As I got shorter and shorter, I just wanted anything that would give me a shot because I really felt as if I could make a run if I could even get a semblance of a normals stack.

Limp, limp, limp, limp to me in the small blind, ready to shove. 8,4 off. Muck.

Frustrating.

I wonder if I should shove anyway but such thoughts are nixed when a multi-way limped pot (about 4 or 5 players) that I can't enter gets shown down and the crazy old guy has pocket kings. Pocket kings.

Finally, under the gun (literally and figuratively) I get 9,9 and in it goes. I get looked up by crazy old guy who has A,8 off. Here we go.

'No ace, no ace, no ace,' I think.

Ace on the flop. I mentally check out about 95%.

'Nine on the turn. Nine, nine, nine, NINE,' I think.

Ace on the turn. I mentally check out the remaining 5%.

I stand.

Four on the river.

I walk away. I get about 10 feet from the table when the girl calls over to me. "Where are you going?"

I walk back over. She points at the board. "You made a flush."

Holy shit. It's true. I hit runner, runner (including his third ace) and provided one of the dumbest displays ever. I didn't do anything out of line, I was just that donkey who didn't even bother to consider the board or the options.

So back to it, after an apology to the table. The old guy doesn't even seem to have noticed, as I really didn't dent his stack too badly.

Unfortunately, I can't capitalize on this gift. I am ice cold and can't enter any pots. I get short stacked and shove. Everyone folds. Over and over and over. Four hours I play my short stack like this. Four hours I have zero pocket pairs, perhaps punishment for my inattentiveness with my nines.

Finally, I get it in again with a caller. The BB looks me up with AK off to my Qd9d. He looks slightly ill at my holding, one of the worst ones for his hand to be ahead of.

I flop a queen in the window!

But there's an ace underneath! An ace on the turn (deja vu?) I scan for diamonds--not this time. I need a queen. Two outer. Two outer. Two outer.

Out. Two hundredth.

(or so. top 70 got paid)


My assessment of my play? Too tight, mostly. Too aggressive with middle pairs. I think I did a good job managing my short stack in particular. I got it in against the right players, the ones who would fold when I didn't have it, and the ones who would call if I did. I tried not to let it get down to 10 BBs, preferring to move with about 13 or so to keep the gamblers at bay. I had a good feel for people at my tables and, while my starting hands limited my action, felt like I had a decent read on how people were playing. It was a good experience, good to get a big tournament feel, one I haven't had in a long time. If things go well in the next couple weeks, I might hop to Borgata to see about their WPT event coming up.

The Question Is How Fast

I've never been a speeder. Owe it to my first automobile being a late 80s Chevy Sprint, aptly named since it could go dart forward about fifty yards, only to hit a max velocity that could get swallowed up by a John Deere special. That was followed by an '85 Chevy Impala, a lumbering workhorse that caused criminals to duck for cover when I rolled by due to its resemblance to the plainclothes detective car of choice during the period. Once I sold that one, I've been without a four-wheeled mode of transportation for a number of years. Speeding has not been much of a worry.

But maybe it should be. In my poker play, at least. Fire up the engines, I'm taking you for a ride through the $550 Mega Stack at Foxwoods.

"Metaphor's the worst/Are you being driven or do you drive?" -"Art Class", Superchunk.

My day began alongside 644 other dead-eyed hopefuls, including 2002 WSOP champ Robert Varkonyi and his wife Olga. The structure was why I chose to play this particular tournament, having not played anything but small rebuy tournaments for a good while. 20k in chips to start, 50 minute levels, including 75/100 and 100/200 followed by the elusive 100/200 with 25 ante. Just a good structure that allowed for a ton of action and plenty of patient play, something I pride myself on. I determined that it was not going to be a sprint and settled in, knowing that some people wouldn't, that they would get addicted to the big action they have seen/heard/read about and spew chips in efforts to be uber-aggressive. All done while elaborating on the intricacies of poker in a sonorous Massachusetts/Boston/New England accent that never gets old for me because I can picture each pontificator as Cliff Claven. "It's a little known fact..."

Sure enough, about 20 minutes in, the first player busted from the table next to me when his two pair ran into quads. 30 minutes left in the 25/50 level seems like a must-shove with two pair, no? See ya. Not ten minutes later, another yahoo from the same table made a flush on a paired board and guess what? He shoved into quads...against the same player! This guy was now up to over 60k in chips and had his table shaking their heads. "It's a little known fact that a flush is no good on a paired board," the Claven next to me puts out for the table to absorb.

Meanwhile I was having a pretty good level myself, opening pots and hitting flops. Even caught a couple wired pairs and by the first break had chipped up to about 22,500. While not avoiding big pots, I was determined to keep myself out of any kind of crippling danger. Just no need at this early stage, particularly with at least four players that I could target at my table.

"Do not pass me/Just to slow down/I have precision auto." -"Precision Auto" Superchunk

Feeling pretty good about myself, I get a little overeager with some raises and give back my chips from the previous levels and then some but don't panic. And sure enough the predictable guy next to me pays me off when his hand gets into my nut draw but I manage to back into two pair when my flush misses and he makes a terrible call. Good to go, I'm right where I need to be, though my starting hands have begun to cool.

Then things go awry. I flop top pair on a ragged board against a call station in the big blind and decide to make some ground. It's exactly the situation I have been waiting for and he's more than happy to oblige, calling me on the flop and on fourth street. I realize on fifth street that I must have missed a yield sign a ways back and pull up with a check and he checks behind and turns over a full house, made on the turn. I could only laugh, and the low hum of table antennae dipped to a brief silence as we all stared at him and his monster. Checked the river? God bless him.

So I'm a little below my starting stack now but still in fine shape with regard to the blinds. Except that I pick up pocket 8s and my raise is called by the same guy. Nine high flop misses me and he leads and I raise, hoping to take it down right then. Only he calls. We both check the turn and the river and he flops over pocket aces. Again, I can only laugh as this guy fails to even attempt to extract any value while playing from way ahead. Unfortunately, I can't hear my own laughter over his stacking of my chips, as I have now put myself into a semi-short stack situation and need to get on the road to Healthysville asap. Checking the map I see that it's a long way there, approximately 150/300 miles away and getting further. A short time after I check and it's already 200/400 and I've obviously gone down the wrong road.

Luckily, there are shortcuts. I pull a quick U-turn in the big blind when the small blind apologizes for having to raise the unopened pot but apparently doesn't see my 18 wheeler of KK about to run him down. More folding for a good while longer leads me back to the same spot and I need a GPS before I have to make a blind turn. Not quite blind but I decide that Exit J8 suited in the hi-jack in an unopened pot might be my only hope for a cup of coffee and a shot of energy. The big blind looks me up and Holy Johnny Chan, I flop the nut straight, 7,9,10. He checks, I decide to continue since I'm so short there is no point on letting anything get there if he has some sort of KQ hand. He check-Seidels me all in and I of course call. He has 7,9 for two pair and I fade his boat and double. The table, sensing my imminent dominance or demise, is at this moment broken.

-TO BE CONTINUED

Brass Ring

I have another writing career separate from this blog and in it I find myself exploring a few of the same themes over and over. What it is that draws me to them is not very difficult for me to figure, without delving too deep into my subconscious. One is existence and the other is work. Often I integrate these themes together for I find their relation is more than superficial. Why do we exist? Why do we work? Are our lives, our existence, validated by the work we do? If so, how does the connection affect the way we live, the choice of what we spend our lives doing, the path we stumble down? And how, upon further reflection years later, do those choices, of work, of lifestyle, look with the benefit of hindsight? More often than not, survival becomes a skeletal connector, as we alter our ideals and continue to work at jobs for necessity, for practical rather than idealistic reasons.

I, for one, have taken a roundabout route to where I am at the moment. While I have altered my worldview and the rosy-eyed view I had of my career goals, I still maintain them, persevere and sacrifice where necessary. I haven't been beaten down by less glamorous aspects of the written word, the written work and constant hum of reassuring rejection. In fact, poker has helped me a great deal in the last half year or so, giving me something outside of my regular realm to analyze, ponder and twist around in my head and on these nonexistent pages.

Perhaps my musings can be best summed up by this exchange from an old script of mine.

INT. UNMARKED POLICE CAR NIGHT

Detective Carver knifes the car through the industrial district. Detective Breaux sits in the passenger seat, eyeing the scattered individuals they pass. He cracks his window as the hot air from the dash blows on him.

CARVER
So something has to come after, huh, Breaux? After death?

BREAUX
Thats right.

CARVER
What about before?

BREAUX
Before? What do you mean?

CARVER
I mean before. If there is something that comes after life, doesnt that mean there had to have been something before it too?

BREAUX
There is no before. Life is the before. Were granted life to experience mortality so that we can try to achieve divinity.

Carver pulls up to a red light. He looks at Breaux.

CARVER
Alright. So, let's say that there is a heaven and let's also say that you're going to get there. How long are you going to be there?

BREAUX
How long?

CARVER
Yeah, how long? A week, a month, what?

BREAUX
Forever. Eternity.

Carver laughs. The light changes and he throws the car in gear.

CARVER
Now, to me, that sounds like a pretty uneven plan. Eighty years as a mortal and just like that, eternity as an immortal.

BREAUX
It fits. See, all of life is a prelude to the one time, the one day, the one minute that salvation is in your grasp. We all face it. How we respond in that moment is what ultimately determines the fate of our soul.

CARVER
And you'll be ready?

BREAUX
My faith will get me through.

Carver looks at Breaux.

CARVER
I'm not much for religion, Breaux. I'm more of a believer in balance.

BREAUX
Balance?

CARVER
Balance. Like a see-saw.

Carver tilts his hand up and down.

CARVER (CONT’D)
Nothing before, nothing after. Life exists to sustain itself, nothing more. Sometimes it can't even do that.

BREAUX
You're way off.

CARVER
Am I? You ever hear of the seventeen year cicada?

BREAUX
No.

CARVER
Sounds just like its name. It's a type of cicada that lives as a nymph underground sucking on tree roots for seventeen years. Then, it makes its way to the surface, molts into an adult and spends six weeks trying to reproduce. Then it dies. The newborn nymphs burrow into the ground and the process repeats itself again seventeen years later.

BREAUX
So?

CARVER
So what do we, as humans, do that is so different from the cicada? Instead of burrowing down into the ground we do stuff. We play golf, we go to the beach, we shoot two guys in the back in an alley. Seems a bit of a waste doesnt it? We all end up in the same place as the cicadas.

BREAUX
Why do anything then? Why do you do this?

CARVER
I'm no good at golf and I cant swim. But youre missing the point.

BREAUX
I'm missing something, that's for sure.

Breaux shakes his head.

BREAUX (CONT’D)
Your theory doesn't make sense. If life only exists to sustain itself how did it begin in the first place?

CARVER
It's a fluke, a series of coincidences, luck.

BREAUX
You think life is luck?

CARVER
I think you're lucky to be sitting there next to me and I'm lucky to be driving this car.

BREAUX
I think you're full of it.

CARVER
I'm sure you do. But you're evidence of it yourself.

BREAUX
Me?

CARVER
Your wife is pregnant?

BREAUX
She's in labor right now.

CARVER
Congratulations, Breaux. You've succeeded in replacing yourself. Existence for the sake of future existence. Just like the cicada. Balance.

Breaux looks at him, seething. Carver glances at him.

CARVER (CONT’D)
No need to get angry, Breaux.

BREAUX
How do you expect me not to be? You ridicule my religion, you ridicule me and you expect me to just take it with a smile?

CARVER
I'm not ridiculing you, Breaux. You've got your beliefs, I've got mine.

A small smile grips Carvers mouth. Breaux sees it.

BREAUX
You get off on this, don't you? This is why you like rookie partners, so you can boss them around and give your goddamn lectures.

CARVER
Careful, you're blaspheming.

BREAUX
Fuck you.

Carver nods. He pulls up to another red light and looks at Breaux. His smile disappears.

CARVER
You've got it wrong. I don't like rookie partners, I request them.

BREAUX
What the fuck does that mean?

CARVER
It means that when shit goes down, I know what I'm doing, that I'm not the one whos going to make the mistake and get my ass shot.Life is luck, Breaux, but death isn't. In our line of work death is intentional, not accidental.

Carver smiles.

CARVER (CONT’D)
You are my balance, Breaux.

The light turns green and Carver pulls forward.


Aaaaaand Scene.

I haven't read that in awhile, just popped into my head with some existential thoughts the other day.

Why all this existential babbling? Perhaps it comes on the heels of having the privilege to see a band, an unbelievably talented band that sings songs that make your guts twist, that sings songs that you feel like have been with you forever the first time you hear them? A band who never made it. Maybe they will, someday. Maybe. But in the meantime they work. They play on regardless, over two hundred shows a year, withstanding the barren nights of five people in a bar in the middle of nowhere for a show, for the pleasure of that elusive night when there is a full club, people singing along. They put out albums full of songs dripping with the scars they've suffered, the same bloody knuckles, torn hearts and raspy whispers that you and I know all too well but have never been able to describe.

Here's a taste.



I was able to catch a couple of their recent shows and it only reinforced the decisions that I have made. Watching these guys do something they love, in defiance of society's rules and ideas of what a person has to be by a certain age, flaunting the conventions of what the limits of one can hope to achieve by doing things a certain way, it all struck home. It all became personal. Which is what good music is supposed to do. Good writing too. I hope I can not make it as much as they did.

TWO COW GARAGE TOUR DATES

Aug 21 2009 8:00P
the brass rail Ft Wayne, Indiana

Aug 22 2009 8:00P
Mac’s Bar lansing, Michigan

Aug 23 2009 8:00P
Schuba’s Chicago, Illinois

Aug 24 2009 8:00P
The Triple Rock Minneapolis, Minnesota

Aug 25 2009 8:00P
The High Noon Saloon Madison, Wisconsin

Sep 9 2009 8:00P
Off Broadway St. Louis, Missouri

Sep 10 2009 8:00P
The Bottleneck Lawerence, Kansas

Sep 11 2009 8:00P
Suburban Home Anniversary @ Three Kings denver

Sep 12 2009 8:00P
Suburban Home Anniversary @ Three Kings Denver, Colorado

Sep 13 2009 8:00P
Urban Lounge Salt Lake city, Utah

Sep 14 2009 8:00P
The Badlander Missoula, Montana

Sep 15 2009 8:00P
Tractor Tavern Seattle, Washington

Sep 17 2009 8:00P
Sam’s Bond Garage Eugene, Oregon

Sep 18 2009 11:00P
MusicFestNW- Ash Street Saloon Portland, Oregon

Sep 20 2009 8:00P
Thee Parkside San Francisco, California

Sep 21 2009 8:00P
Cranes Hollywood tavern Los Angeles, California

Sep 22 2009 8:00P
The Radio Room San Diego, California

Sep 23 2009 8:00P
Yucca Tap Room Tempe, Arizona

Sep 25 2009 8:00P
Emo’s (inside) Austin, Texas

Sep 27 2009 8:00P
Double Wide Dallas, Texas

Ready or Not

Just a quick poker update after three more sessions - two tournaments, one cash game - and one misread. Busted out of both tournaments early on, couldn't get anything going and was mostly card dead for both. No real hands to dissect from either since I mostly folded or swept blinds with my raises. Cash game was more successful as I had been playing a little sloppily in past weeks and wanted to tighten up a bit. Luckily for me I was able to catch some decent starting hands early and build up a little bit of a stack when my biggest hand of the night came through. I raised from middle position with 9,9 and got a call from the button. Flop came 8,9,9 and I had a pretty good idea that my quads would be good. I checked and my opponent led out. I called. Turn brought a blank. I checked and my opponent bet out, a pot-sized bet. I thought about the last film I had seen in order to seem like something was on my mind and when sufficient time had passed, called. River was meaningless to me, of course, and I led out for half the pot. He thought and thought but then laid it down. Poker is easy.

Until you misread an opponent, that is.

One of the last hands of the night, I limped with AQ, hoping to trap a late position raiser. No raise came and the flop was good to me, A,K,x rainbow. I bet out and got one caller, very quick call. Turn was a club, now two on board. I bet again and again my opponent called. At this point I had him squarely on A,x, definitely not AK, not his style to limp from late position with it. I began to think about my river bet. Then it came with another K so I downsized a bit to around half the pot. My opponent thought for a couple minutes (during which time I relaxed, if a raise was coming it would have come quicker) then called. I confidently flipped my AQ and he showed a K for trips. We talked about the hand after the game and he said he thought that I had been playing bottom set on the flop. He had also picked up the nut flush on the turn (which surprised me even more because he didn't raise me on that street) to go with his pair of kings, and was worried I had filled up with his third queen. As I had him covered, he was worried about getting stacked late in the night, so he just called it and took it down. It was a very surprising result and threw me off for the rest of the game (only about another 10 minutes.)

I'm looking at playing the $550 deep stack event at Foxwoods on August 22nd. If I do, I will obviously post the lead up and results.

Bad Liver and a Broken Heart

I'm old. I'm not gonna lie. I aged out of the bar scene a few years ago by any reasonable measure, yet it somehow always draws me back in. In that way I can sympathize (on an obviously lesser, more pitiful scale) with the athletes, actors and others who refuse to give up the spotlight, hoping for one more run of glory, one more rush of adrenaline when the eyes of the world focus squarely in their direction. Being in bars is kind of looking at a past life, when I was new to everything and all was new to me. Every turned corner brought excitement, new possibility and an introduction to the great equalizer, disappointment. When you're young, disappointment is a piercing shiv to the gut, the cruelest imaginable twist to the purest of plans. Broken hearts, broken dreams. The stuff that make up life when it's new. When you're young, you recover quickly from such cruelties. Years later, however, these things just make you feel tired and, well, old.

But there's always hope.

And the hope always looks similar because the hope is fresh-faced, exuberant and idealistic. The bastards of young, indeed. The sip from this fountain of youth, as well as the sip from a decent beer, are what brought me out of hiding, hoping to find something to catch me up in the swirl of my ancient youth.

What I found was The Stranger Waves. A three piece from Chicago, they pounded a couple certainties through my head: 1 - yes, I'm old 2 - rock and roll still has the power to instill an infusion of energy unparalleled to almost anything else. It stirs a re-kindling of emotional cues from our lives, for what is a love of music if not a back beat, and at times a sharp relief, a primary focus, for the events we embark upon? Why do we spend hours figuring out the songs to play at our weddings? How many times has every single song that played after a heartbreak been solely written for one's own situation? The themes of music are universal but individually interpreted, the best of which can be enjoyed on many levels, from a pure pop aesthetic to a primal, immediate response which we might not even understand.

So it was with the Stranger Waves. Jangly guitars, reverberating vocals and harmonies, a vicious, unrelenting percussion all held together a Buddy-Holly-on-amphetamines sound recorded at 33 1/3 but played at 45. Undeniably catchy, unmistakably talented and furiously eager to serve up a memorable string of songs, they banged out a set that left me in a strange spot - basking in the glow of a remembered glory, of a needle full of sound building to a few minutes of ecstatic revelry in support of a trio of guys barely more than half my age. It was a high worth the effort of making the scene, even after mine has long gone.

Check them out if you can.



www.myspace.com/thestrangerwaves

Blister In The Sun

A quick recap as this is a continuation of my previous post: So I had withstood a combined avalanche of my own bad play and a decidedly mediocre stretch of cards to break even at the Borgata and managed to snag the last seat on the bus to get me back home in time to my heads up poker tournament. This tourney is an offshoot of my monthly one, run by the same guy and usually featuring many of the familiar faces from those tournaments, albeit far fewer of the newcomers to the game. Not a tournament for which I should have been operating on two hours sleep and caffeine and expected to sail through. Stranger things have happened, though. And stranger things did...


Heads up is always an interesting time. Playing virtually every hand is an anomaly unless you are heads up. It's also fun as hell. Who doesn't want to be involved in each deal of the cards? More often than not it is with just two god-awful cards in hand, so the play is contingent on the player, not the cards. Because of this aspect it also allows terrific opportunities to set up an opponent who makes a lesser hand after you have pushed him around a bit.

So it was in my first match. Playing aggressively and raising, c-betting and re-raising nonstop, my opponent finally made a stand and shoved preflop when I re-raised him. Unfortunately for his AJ, this was a legitimate hand and my AK had him dominated and took him out. Bang. Fifteen minutes, one victory.

My second match saw me against a very, very aggressive player so I decided to mix it up a little bit, play a little slower and let my re-raises and other moves convey a little more power, all the while hoping to catch a big hand and disguise it, knowing that my opponent would likely make a move into it.

And it worked.

Kind of.

He raised (with 7,7 as it turns out). I peeked at Q,Q and re-raised. He didn't believe me and likely figured he could get me to fold anything except a premium hand, and shoved on me. Perfect. I called, of course. But the flop came 5,6,8. Ugh. The turn was a blank and he had 10 outs to get there. He got there the hard way, by flipping a river 7 to make trips.

So now I was in a quandary, left with only about 10% of chips in play. But I did have one slight advantage and I began to use it.

All in. All in. All in. All in.

Finally he called, and I was behind. We both made pairs on the flop but he made top and I made middle, until the river brought a beautiful, redemptive 7, making me trips and getting me healthy again. But then he took the initiative again and started popping each pot and I got whittled away, chip by chip. Finally, I made a move and got it in what I thought was in great shape - top pair, open ended. But he had a set and I was looking at 10 outs, same as he had earlier. And same as he had earlier, the 7 came on the river. Straight for me, double up.

On it went, back and forth like that. Any time the shorter stack went in, their hand held. Finally, at the 90 minute mark (playing 30 minute levels) with blinds about to go to 200/400, which would have been ridiculous for my stack, and basically made it an all-in each hand either way, I made a stand when the board threw out three nines. My opponent boated up and I was done, for now. For this was a double elimination event and I merely proceeded to the loser's bracket.

Once there, whether it was caffeine, adrenaline or the mid-afternoon sun, I perked up and played some pretty good poker. I made a tough call of a post-flop all-in holding 4,4 in my hand and it held against my opponent's ace high. I battled back in my next match from a 3:1 chip deficit, rallying to take it after over an hour. Then I went on a true rampage in my next match, winning in fewer than ten hands as the cards found me quickly and I took it right at my opponent with a barrage of raises that he had no answer to.

The tournament, however, was not completed. And it was an ugly reason why not.

A couple months ago, the host of this tournament had purchased a professional-quality arm wrestling table. At the events since then, people have taken shots at each other on this table, always for fun, and always entertaining. That day? Not so much. At one point, there was a sickening "CRACK" similar to if you had a thick tree branch and you somehow snapped it clean. I had thought that the table leg had cracked. Not so lucky. I turned to find one of the tournament players holding his arm where it had sickeningly broken, in the middle of the humerous bone (the large bone in your upper arm). Just a sick accident, but apparently not one uncommon to arm wrestling, as Wikipedia notes http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arm_wrestling (see the "Avoiding Injury" section and the two pictures to the right of it, exactly what happened.) Straight to the emergency room he went and he awaits surgery in a few days. Just an ugly few minutes and we all felt awful for him.

Anyway, he was one of two guys left in the winner's bracket, while I had made my way to being the only one left in the loser's bracket. So play was obviously postponed and I await the loser of the other match to see who will advance to the finals against the winner. To win I'll need three straight wins, one against the loser of that match and two against the guy who advances from the winner's bracket, thus far unbeaten.

By this point it was about 8 pm and another full day of poker had been played. I was beat and needed to crash and crash I did. I will update the tournament results once it finishes.

Prove It All Night

Had a rather unreal 26 hour stretch of poker on Friday and Saturday, which I felt needed a couple days to breathe before I put it down. Honestly, I may have forgotten half of it already since the 26 hours were virtually one, with only a minor two hour nap thrown in between the first fifteen and the next nine.

Backtracking to the beginning, I got an email that immediately piqued my interest from the subject line alone. "AC?" it read.

Um, yes please.

Turns out a couple of the regulars from my weekly cash and monthly tournaments were driving down to the Borgata in Atlantic City and had room available in their car. I confirmed my interest, grabbed some essentials and we were off. Friday afternoon traffic being brutal to the Jersey shore, it took a good four hours to get down there but we sauntered into the Borgata's poker room and were all immediately seated at separate 1/2 NL tables.

For anyone who hasn't been to the Borgata, the room is absolutely immense. 85 tables but it seems like even more when it's crowded, just a mammoth space teeming with players of all styles, all abilities and all attitudes, with basically any game you could want available to spread.

Back to my game, the first pot I enter gets limped to the button, who pops a raise. From the SB I see KQ off and come along, as does one of the limpers and the BB. Flop comes Q, 4 3, just about as good as I can hope for in this spot. I lead for half the pot, the BB raises me, the limper goes away and the button re-raises. Ugh. I get out of dodge, however reluctantly, and the other two mix it up, with the button eventually taking it down with his Q,3 two pair.

And a pattern is set.

For the next six to eight hours any pot I entered with a decent holding (middle pairs, A,10 or above, good suited connectors) might allow me to see a flop but was immediately bet or raised right out of it after whiffing. Nothing was working for me, raising, calling, limping, re-raising, it all was going awry and I began to spew some chips in frustration. One particularly awful hand was flopping second pair on a flop of all spades, putting my opponent on AK with the nut draw and craftily (so I thought) let him bluff at it for three streets when no other spades fell. Of course, my read was half correct, he did have the A of spades but he also had another in his hand and was value betting the donkey the entire way. Hee-haw.

Two add-ons later and I had been resigned to the ugly fact that when my last fifty bucks got swallowed by whomever played the next hand with me, I was going to hit it and call it a night. Defeatist attitude was in full swing, bad posture, the head-shaking, bitter folding, I had all the plays in the loser's handbook working hardcore.

And then, strangely, things changed.

How, I don't know. Maybe I had indeed just had a stretch of tough beats, bad cards and players not conducive to my style but in a flash it turned. Welcome to poker 101.

I look at pocket queens and re-raise a raiser all in for my last $45. He calls with...JJ. Queens hold. Two hands later my A10 off flops trip aces and I get it all in again against...A6. From there, the drunks from the clubs rolled in, as well as a few players deciding to go on a bender right there at the table. Flush with new confidence from actually winning hands, I took a few more chances and when I hit a few more flops, I was on a legitimate heater. Then, I came tantalizingly close to making a truly memorable run. Probably 6 of 12 hands, I looked down at wired pairs. None hit sets, which would have allowed me to make the big score but several of them were enough to take down pots. So, so close and I could feel the table around me start to be wary of me, now it was their attitudes that were shifting when I played hands.

My last hurrah, now thirteen hours deep into it, was when I raised with AcQc and a kid sitting on about $75 re-raised all in from the BB. My first instinct was to call and I was a split second from doing so when I remembered how much he had been overplaying AK all night, way over-raising that particular holding. So I thought about it and decided to wait for a bit better of a spot. And funnily enough, the very next hand saw me with 10,10. I raised again, everyone cleared out, the kid from the previous hand again shoved on me and I snap called him. His face fell and he showed KJ off and I managed to avoid any trouble from the cards and felted him.

So at this point, I had come back to break even, a pretty amazing accomplishment after hours of terrible play, and felt the redemption of avoiding such a big loss flowing through me. However, I also realized that I had been playing for almost fifteen hours and in approximately three and a half hours from that time I had a heads-up tournament back home. So I clocked out, cashed out and hit up the bus station in a hurry. I got the last seat on the next bus, took it and immediately fell out. The ride home, just over two hours, went by in a matter of seconds for me and I was up again and navigating the trains to my heads-up tournament.

To Be Continued...(but enjoy the link until tomorrow)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEkyaoPdar8

Welcome to the Sticks - Movie Review

I used to date a woman, an attractive, successful woman, who had the attention span of a gnat. Conversations would be cruising right along and in the blink of a goldfish's eye, her focus would be on something else, be it a stunning sunset, a sideshow freak or a shiny new nickel on the ground. The conversation, having thus hit a snag, would come back on line when she, having lost track of her place in it, would inevitably utter "Wait, what?"

Today I begin a new aspect to this blog, one I hope to continue weekly with few snags, distractions and bumps along the way. This is the first of what I hope to be a weekly movie review. It's a relatively simple conceit - watch a movie, scatter some semi-coherent thoughts about the way it told its story and how successful I felt it was, and share.

Simple, no? Seemingly so, though I make no promises to the types of movies I will write about, what aspect of the film I might choose to dissect and whether it is even an actual review of the movie or more my personal reaction to it. My taste, similar to yours and the rest of the movie-going public's, is wildly diverse.

So what I'll do is start with a film that likely no one reading here has seen, but which most of you will in a year or two.

Wait, what?

I'll explain later.

This first film on the queue is the largest-grossing box office film in French history, a 2008 comedy called "Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis" (Welcome to the Sticks).

The whoosh you just felt was the vaccum of users hitting the "Back" button and moving on to a non-French-film-reviewing blog. For both of you who have stuck around though, here's the basic plot:

A middle-aged postal supervisor fakes a handicap in order to land a plush transfer to the French Riviera but it backfires and he is instead sent to the dreaded North of France, a province home to a presumed backwater people who speak in an almost unintelligible "Schticks" dialect.

A simple premise, really, and one that must be deftly handled by both director and actors in order to make the characters both human and comic while avoiding stock situations and thinly drawn stereotypes. While at first it appears to be headed for a film that makes the simple folk of the North seem foolish, soon enough we see that those same provincial attitudes of superiority are ripe for satirizing the Southerners and everyone in France is the true butt of the jokes for holding such notions of the other group, regardless of which character you best relate. While our hero initially lags into a depression for his unfortunate circumstance and falls victim to comic miscommunications with the locals in his new locale, his rocky relationship with his wife back home strengthens as she marvels at his ability to withstand the rigors of living in such a place, with such people. But what she doesn't realize, is that once her husband acclimates to his surroundings (and goes on a couple benders with his co-workers) he finds that the North is not such a bad place after all. He continues his charade with the help of his new friends, building to a climax when his wife decides she must move north and support his efforts. His attempts to hold onto his marriage, his job and learn a little about human nature are all tested as he figures out how he must come clean.

The central figure of the postal supervisor is obviously the key and, this being a French film, is played by an unassuming, middle aged man (think the French Larry David) who comes across perfectly as the put-upon everyman who only wants to do right by his family. It hits the mark in its slight, subtle humor mixed with some standard language-barrier jokes and a couple excellent moments of over-the-top and physical comedy. It doesn't try to overreach or get overly sentimental in its approach and while it occasionally asks the viewer to accept some scenarios that might seem questionable, it does so gently and moves on, never requiring a prolonged suspension of disbelief.

As for why I feel that eventually everyone will see this film, it is because the American rights have been bought by Will Smith and his production company, presumably so that it can be a vehicle for him. The fish-out-of-water premise and the themes of small town/big city, regional pride and acceptance of strange cultures are easily translatable to a wide American audience. Think "My Cousin Vinny" which explored all of them in the context of a comedic courthouse film, using the New York/Alabama juxtaposition. It will be interesting to consider the two regions (states, even?) that Smith might choose to set the film in here in the states. Any thoughts on what would be the best two? Alaska might have to be involved.

Trailer...

Cash Rules Everything Around Me

My regular cash game resumed after a several week summer hiatus and I pulled in a modest win, about 3/4 of a buy-in. It was one of those nights where I couldn't get in a normal pot so I had a somewhat interesting go of it. Early on, I landed two sets of 9s against the same player and more than doubled up, then ran wired jacks into wired aces on a 10 high flop and gave a bunch back. Flopped trip fives holding A5 off against KQ on a Q,5,5 flop only to have the river whitewash me with a two-outer Q to give my opponent the pot. Then a card dead period gave me a nice long stretch to keep an eye on the baseball game on the nearby television and grind my stack down to its starting point. A set of queens on a flush and straight draw-heavy flop (3rd time against the same player, who was a little shell shocked when I showed him, somewhat sheepishly, after he had folded) paid me modestly and then my biggest pot of the night came along. Under the gun in a straddled pot (1/2 NL) I look down at A,A and knowing that one of the next nine players is sure to raise the straddle, just limp. I get my wish immediately as the player to my left makes a tiny raise to 10. If asked, I couldn't have wanted anything more, since he is indicating a big hand with such a light raise and if anyone else peeks down at an interesting holding, they might pop it up again before it gets back to me. No such luck on that front, but two players do call the raise to 10 and it's my turn to act and I bump it to 55. Player to my left calls, the other two players clear way. Flop is perfect for me, 10 high rainbow. I lead out about 2/3 of the pot, $80 and my opponent shoves all in. I immediately call and he looks at me and says "Please don't turn over aces." I do, they hold against his K,K and I'm back to over double my buy in.

The hiatus of several weeks in this game has really shown me how familiarity with players in a regular game can be both good and bad. Not only do you have to know the ins and outs of the players and be wary of the deviation in their play based upon previously conceived notions of their moves, but the familiarity breeds a certain amount of complacency. I have more than a few times found my mind wandering instead of keeping track of preflop action or getting involved in lengthy conversations that distract from perhaps gleaning a little more information from my opponents. I'm not even talking about tells or betting patterns, but just certain styles of play from good, winning players that I could benefit from watching more closely and emulating.

It is nice to be back in the cash game though.

You Can't Sexy Dance To Punk Rock

You can't sexy dance to punk rock.

It's true, sort of. Being 6'5" I can't sexy dance, well, ever. It's just too much elbows, knees and feet to ever fit an acceptable definition of sexy.* But rare is the day you see me dancing and rare is the day that Superchunk plays a live show, so when I got word of the latter, I figured anything was possible.

The show being free was an added incentive to my sexy dancing potential, as it gave me that much more money to load up on drinks at the bar in the pre-show lead up. And in the crowd during the opener, Versus. And on the way back from a nearly-too-late run for the nearest bathroom, inconveniently located on the other side of the crowd, up a ramp, into a waterfront mall entrance, up an escalator and wound round a maze of stores. But with success (and more beer) in hand, I arrived back just as the 'Chunk finished their guitar tuning. Wasting no time in passing out beers to the crew that included DJ, L3K, the jaded scenester, Miss Annie and a couple others, I had one thought on my mind.

Sexy dancing.

Wait. No. Definitely no.

Superchunk.

Yes. Oh yes.

And the North Carolina quartet didn't disappoint. Setting the tone with "Throwing Things" to open, they pounded out hit after hit from their 20 year catalogue of rock and roll goodness. Heads bobbed, people jumped up and down, women swooned.** As the sun gently slipped down behind the skyline opposite the band and simultaneously illuminated the seaport pier on which the band was playing, the lights from the stage struggled valiantly to keep up with the spectrum of color before asserting their dominance as night came on. When the band played "Driveway to Driveway" it was enough to make a man feel like...well...like sexy dancing.

But alas, as everyone knows, you can't sexy dance to punk rock.




*Apologies to Kai Landry, who I'm sure could easily provide an acceptable definition of sexy.
**Apologies to the screenwriter of Dead Poets Society for the blatant rip-off.

Results follow up

Ran deep in both my tournaments this weekend. Cashed 4th on Friday night and bubbled out last before the money on Saturday after 6.5 hours of grinding. Results notwithstanding, I think my play Saturday was much better, I read well, didn't make many mistakes and was patient, a key to my game.

I'll come back with more details and thoughts later.

Sweet and Lowdown

I've got a double-header of home tournaments the next couple of nights, both of which I have cashed in but not won (2nd and 3rd) in the past few months. Both are rebuy tournaments, tonight's is my regular one and tomorrow's is one I first played in last month. Still working the transition mentally in the differences between my cash play, which surprisingly to me, has become more regular than my tournament play. So both tonight and tomorrow, with the rebuys out there, I am going to pick a spot early on, try to exploit even a minute mathematical edge in a hand, and send it in. Since I like to hold on to my second rebuy to rebuff a potential bad or tough beat later on in tonight's tournament, if my minute edge doesn't hold, I'll retreat into grinding/stealing systematic play and attempt to build a stack with the help of the deck and position.

I'll give a quick write up tomorrow of tonight's tourney and then hope to follow with the same Sunday for Saturday night's action.

Evil v. Good

I've been working in new aspects to my play lately, trying to evolve into more than just a straightforward player, particularly in my regular cash game and a couple of local tournaments that feature many of the same players. Anyway I figure it, if I don't mix up my play, the reactions to my playing a tight, simple (and predictable) style of poker will come at my expense, either via bigger hands or by bigger bluffs. The beatings will be swift, severe and painful.

As you might expect, the early results have been mixed. However, I am committed to working such plays into the fold of my game, short-term losses notwithstanding.

Let me document a couple of the literal misfires.

The first was more of a lapse in judgment than anything else. Relatively early in a 2 rebuy tournament I raised an unopened pot with 10,8 off and got 3 callers. I flopped trip 8s with 2 diamonds on board and led out. Two players folded and the last, a guy I often play against, called. The turn brought another diamond and I checked and after a brief thought about making a move, merely called a bet by my opponent. He's a solid, winning, tight player and doesn't usually make moves without good hands, so at this point I could have ditched, since at the worst I had him on a middle flush, but decided to see the river, hoping to boat up or represent that I had done so. When a fourth diamond hit the board on the river, I saw even more opportunity make a play at the pot. With about the size of the pot left in my stack and two rebuys in hand, I shoved, hoping my standard tight image would induce a big (if incorrect) laydown of the likely flush my opponent held.

It didn't. My consolation was that I was afforded the knowledge that I do indeed have a tight image, as he called with a somewhat resigned "If you boated up, you've got it" as he showed one of the big hands I hoped to represent, the nut flush. With two rebuys, he wasn't laying that down under almost any circumstance, a fact that I should have recognized earlier.

A consolation to this was that after rebuying, much later in the tournament I was able to make plays, hit hands and continuation bet my way to a second place finish for a tidy little cash.

My next ill-fated semi-bluff was in my regular cash game and the problem with this one was not so much opportunity or timing as it was some poor execution on my part.

After a small preflop raise from a player in early position drew a couple callers, I looked down at K,3 suited from the BB and came along. Flop came A,K,x with two clubs on board (I held no clubs) and I checked and the preflop bet out. Having been in many games with him, I was almost 100% that he had an ace but not A,K. My normal play here is to get out of dodge and wait for a better spot but the new me decided I would make a play on this hand if a scare card came on the turn (or if I happen to hit a 3.)

Well, a club did turn and I decided to spring the trap. I checked, my opponent kept his action consistent and bet out and I raised. And I made my mistake, and it was two fold. The first mistake I made was in not calculating my opponent's stack, which after his last two bets was dwindling somewhat. The second was because of his stack, I didn't raise enough. Granted, my check raise gave him pause for a couple minutes and I did have him thinking he was beaten but because it wasn't enough of a raise, he ended up making the call. The river bricked out and I was left with a basic tenet of poker: bet or lose. So I bet, enough to put my opponent all in because of his previous call, he was now short. Not automatic type of short, but still short. And again he agonized, and again he called and his ace was good. If his stack is bigger, he probably folds it on the river. If I raise more on the turn when his stack was bigger, he probably folds it right then. Duly noted.

On I go, waging the battles to improve. Whether it happens or not, we shall see.

God Bows To Math

So I had a three hour cash session last weekend and managed to play with the worst players in the world. Literally, not figuratively. I heartily recommend that if anyone is interested in winning buckets of money to stop what you are doing and immediately head for this venue...

But first a few quick asides:

I think that the United States men's national soccer team showed a lot of guts and heart in the past week. I'm as much a bandwagon follower of the team as anyone and I love to watch us play against the premier teams in the world. I thought we outplayed Italy for the entire first half of that game (US led 1-0) at the half, but that second half non-adjustments doomed us. Italy came out attacking in the second half and the US went back into a defensive cocoon. Unfortunately, we don't mark as well as we should in those situations and multiple times Italian players got free for chances and put some big ones in. I don't think it is a coincidence that once Altidore was subbed out that Italy's strikes soon followed. He's the kind of player we have been lacking. Not that he is a world class, top 5 striker or anything but he has a knack for the goal and he's a presence on the field. Opponents are always keen on where he is and leery of a big counterstrike by him. With him out of the game, Italy felt comfortable that no other US striker could counter and their pressure, already ramped up, came full on and we collapsed. Similarly, his goal in the Spanish match was exactly what other teams fear, that smaller defenders will be overpowered by his size and strength (and there certainly was no foul on that play, contrary to the Spanish defender's claim) and he showed that he knows how to finish, something lacking in past forward prospects the US has featured. And it would be remiss to not say that the player of the game was Tim Howard, who had every line and angle covered and played a superb match in goal against unrelenting pressure from the Spanish. The opportunities they created were plenty and he held fast, with a good deal of assistance from the defensive corps.

A couple of cash game hands to talk about, one involving me, one not, with a bit of stomach acid-inducing results. First one, cash game, I call a preflop raise from a tight player from the SB with 6h7h and we see a heads up flop of 8,9,A rainbow. I check, other player checks. Turn peels a 10 giving me the donkey end. I lead out, get raised and call. River is garbage, I again lead out, other player goes all in, I call and my straight tops the set of aces.

Next hand (I'm not involved) goes similarly: same tight player raises preflop, gets a caller, flops a set of Ks and gets drawn out on the turn by A,Q who makes broadway. What interested me about both hands was that the tight player would have won both had they not flopped the set. In the first, in order to string me along, it was a (proper) check post-flop with the nuts that cost, in the second it was bet at but the outs were available only because of the K on the flop. Kind of sick to watch the same player get felted in eerily similar situations two weeks in a row with legitimate monsters. It was also a great reminder of the chance that sometimes goes into big winning sessions from big losing ones and a good lesson for me about waiting for big hands.

Which I promptly had to realize in the action that immediately followed. I have been fortuitous lately with not taking such beats when I get my big hands, that is until that same cash session a couple days ago. Raising with KK preflop and getting heads up out of position, I check-called a board of Q,3,x and after a blank on the turn we got it in and my opponent held...Q,3. Suited, you know. I've kind of been due for one of those hands so took it in stride and rebought. Shortly thereafter I had my entire stack in again when I flopped a flush with Kd9d against the preflop raiser's set of 10s. My hand held but I gave back a chunk later on when I got AcKc and after check/check on the flop and a K showed on the turn, my raise was shoved upon. Only another fifty into a pretty decent pot and I called into a set of 6s and was dead. It was one of those up and down nights that is tough to make a decision on whether I was playing sloppily or if it was just the night of second bests (mostly). I think it was a mix of the two and I'm going to work on tightening a few holes that I spotted in my play during some of these hands.

Back to the worst (and I really do mean the worst, in a worst is so bad it's the best for anyone with a clue sort of way) poker room in the country...

The Seminole Hard Rock in Hollywood, FL. If you have the opportunity to go, drop what you are doing, whatever it may be, and GO. The play was so awful, the betting so terrible, the calls so light that I really felt like I could have sat daily and made a killing. Who knows, maybe that is something to consider. I was there on a Saturday night and the complex, which includes a slew of nightclubs, bars, restaurants and a casino was hopping. Distractions galore. Drinks flowing for most of the people. Cash too. One thing about Florida poker rooms, regardless of the game, players can max out at a 100 dollar buy in. So I sat at a 1,2 table with it and watched a parade of first-timers sit and buy the table minimum of...$40...and drop it within a few hands, calling themselves into oblivion. One moron sat/stood for five minutes and proceeded to go all in blind for $40 four consecutive times, losing all 4 times. I was the beneficiary of one of those donations when I had KQ against his Q5. He cheered lustily on a K,5,x board, not realizing. Then there was the guy who called two consecutive all-ins with 2,7 once when he hit a deuce and the other when he hit a seven. I later felted him consecutively when I flopped top/top and he kept calling me with third best pair. The following hand I picked up KK and his revenge strategy was foiled when he again flopped middle pair. Just brutally awful play. No need to bluff and it is actively discouraged at this game but don't fret, when you get the nuts, everyone will pay you at the Hard Rock Hollywood. Just be patient.

I've got some more play to detail but this post has gone on too long already, I'll hold them for the next entry.

Math is Money and Money is Math

"This ain't smart, dude, this ain't art, dude/This is sonic economics and I'll put it on a graph for you to prove" - Lifter Puller, "Math is Money"

I played the tightest eight hour session that is humanly possible at Caesar's yesterday.

Luckily for me, only two people at the table seemed to be aware of this fact. As a result I was able to make a couple moves on them while only playing premium hands against the rest of the table. The end result was a double of my buy in after having it closer to triple the entire time. Time after time, there would be someone who thought I was making a move on them and we would go heads up, I would value bet the river after inevitably making the nuts or clear and away the best hand and they would make crying calls. As mentioned in my previous post, the players changed but in contrast to that, their styles didn't. They kept coming and I was happy to fold, fold, fold and then make up for my time by pounding someone when I got a hand.

There was, however, one hiccup. The only hand that I lost at showdown the entire day.

And of course this hiccup is the hand that I'll cover here. It is also the one that kept me from walking away with a larger win since I made it the last hand of my day. And here was my first mistake: I had resolved to leave after playing my button but when that hand came I looked down at 6,8 off in an unopened pot and decided to limp in, thereby breaking trend with not only how I had played all day but my own philosophy not to play hands for $2 that I wouldn't play for $25. No one raises and the flop comes 8, 8, 5, two spades. Dude from early position bets out $10, mass folding ensues and Svetlana from Brooklyn calls the $10. Now Svetlana happens to be one of the two players at the table who has been aware of my snug play, showing me when she laid down a middle A on an A high flop a couple hours earlier when I raised her. She also is the only person at the table who has me outchipped, as she has about 1k in front of her. So it's action to me with about $30-$34 in the pot at the moment. I raise to $35. Both players call.

After the double call, the turn brings a 10, making the board 8,8,5,10. Early position guy again leads out, this time for $35. Now, this was a guy obviously new to poker, as he had consistently been looking to the dealer for assistance and been confused by raises and so on. So he bets and Svetlana calls, and under her breath I hear her say "This hand is really confusing." At this point I am 95% sure that she also has an 8. She was a good enough player to know that I wouldn't have raised without an 8 and wouldn't have raised with 5,5 if I had a boat on the flop. So if she is confused, it is because she has the case 8 and can't figure out why the other guy is still in the hand. She also has tipped that she didn't have 5,5 because if she did she wouldn't have been confused, as she would have suspected that both I and the other guy had an 8 in our hands. And she wouldn't have been concerned, which she obviously was.

It's at this point that I began to think that I was about to lose a big pot.

But I called anyway. Thinking I'm beat and with the math not supporting even a $35 call (slightly over 5 to 1 and me looking at a 3 outer if I'm outkicked and likely drawing dead if either of them happens to have 10,10, unless the case 8 somehow is still in the deck) I just couldn't get away. Perhaps it was the combination of it being my last hand of the day, the fact that I was tired and hungry or maybe I am just that guy who will pay you off.

River brings a 4, making the flush, albeit on a paired board. Guy from early position goes all in for his last $64 into a pot of about $210. Svetlana scopes me out and I can tell she's not happy with her middle spot in this pot and by the play of the early position guy and by the fact that I have shown the nuts probably five times in showdowns in the last eight hours. She makes the call and it's on to me and I take my time to review everything I can remember. When I do so, it looks more like the early position guy was probably misplaying a big pair the entire time, probably not aces or kings but maybe queens. Svetlana has the case 8 but she looks pretty nervous. Could she have a worse kicker than a 6 (and with a 4 and a 5 on board, only a 2 or a 3 can I beat). Unlikely.

And then I do the math.

$340 in the pot, $64 to call. I cut the $64 out of my stack and put it in.

Math is money, and money is math.

Swine Flu Poker

Ah, the swine flu. Like West Nile, bird flu and SARS before it, it is likely to be the end of us all. And no better place to meet up with it than a dirty poker room. Fever, headache, nausea, general discomfort. It all sounds familiar in the poker world.

What does the flu have to do with the felt? Mutation of course. Like any strain of the flu, a poker game mutates as it meets resistance. Plays that work for a few orbits become less successful as the game extends with the same cast of players. Check-raise early and watch your victim absorb the blow and then unleash it on you an hour or two later. Similarly, when a game goes from full to short-handed or vice versa, everything changes. I have been having some difficulty adapting to this back and forth dynamic and keeping my game in order, particularly from short-handed to full. I feel pretty good in six and seven handed tables these days but when it fills back up to ten, I have been making some boneheaded plays. In analyzing where exactly my problems begin, I think that I need more work on the dynamic of pots with more than three people in them. These pots are more likely to be raised, bluffed at, shoved, sometimes all in the same hand. Recognizing this fact, I realize I need to really focus on preflop reads so that I am better prepared when I find myself in such situations. One perfect example was when I came into a pot with a raise with 8,8 and we went to the flop with 5 players, me in middle position of the five. Two overs came and after checked to me, I followed suit when I should have fired out. The check held and from there the pot went downhill for me when an ace turned, while simultaneously turning my stomach. By freezing on the flop without good reads to fall back upon, I ultimately cost myself any chance of winning it.This example is a primary sticking point in where I'm at right now in my cash game, which is to say, improving but not fully there. I think I have a solid feel for how I play and with that understanding I think that it's time to mutate it a bit.

Excuse me now as I go wash the stench of that ill-played non-attempt off of my hands.

Cash games

I've been active in cash games lately and running fairly well. Let me throw an interesting hand from last night's $1/2 NL game at you all and I'd be interested to hear how you think I played it (or should have played). For the most part I play pretty tight, so factor that in for what it may be worth. The hand starts with me having about $300 and both the guys in the hand having me covered by a good amount.

I hold J,10 and call a standard raise to $6 from the cut off. 5 players in, I've got position on everyone. Flop comes K, 9, 7, giving me the double belly buster draw. The beauty of this is how hidden it is on that board. A lot of people will rightfully only consider the cards that make a straight work with the 7 and 9 as scare cards come the turn, so I like my spot here should the high end hit. So check, check, someone bets out to $8, guy to my right calls. While I'm contemplating my move, guy two to my left accidentally raises out of turn to $25 (after checking from the SB). Being a friendly enough game, he is allowed to draw it back in. At this point, I just call the $8, which makes everyone laugh and throws him off. "You knew I was planning to raise and you flat call anyway?" The reality was that I was cutting my chips for the call and missed his accidental action altogether but he didn't realize it. He thinks it over and finally just calls. Other hand mucks. 4 ways to the turn. Q ball hits. Board now K, 9, 7, Q and I have the nuts (2 flush cards on board) and because of the accidental action on the flop, my resulting bizarre play and the inside nature of my made hand, no one has me on it, of that I'm positive. Check, check to me. I bet out $40 and guy who tried to raise out of turn calls and guy to my right also calls. River brings another Q but the flush misses. Board is K, 9, 7, Q, Q. Inadvertent raiser bets $65, guy to my right folds.

What do I do?

Queens Boulevard

Please allow me to be the six millionth person to write about pocket queens. I offer up the lame excuse that I have been getting them often lately, so it made a natural, if often discussed, topic to cover.

Personally, I feel that some players are completely irrational in their beliefs about pocket queens - i.e. that they will definitely cost you more money than they will win back, that they always lose, that they would rather have pocket 10s, etc. I always love that last argument from players, that they prefer lesser pairs. Not lesser hands like suited connectors or something that might have better shot at cracking A,A or K,K, but lesser pairs, like 10s. The argument being that lesser pairs are easier to fold, I suppose. Well, go ahead and fold them preflop if you're so eager to get away from good starting hands and save yourself the decision and the few extra chips.

The thing that is precisely so interesting to me about pocket queens is that I feel it is a hand that is emblematic of what poker is all about. It's a hand that forces decisions, tough ones, ones that can separate winning sessions from losing ones. A made starting hand that can run into resistance in a variety of different ways and is often put to the test, forcing a decision, occasionally for everything. Not such of a no-brainer as aces, or a resignation hand as kings (as in "Well, I've got kings, if you've got aces you've got me") but a hand that forces a player to think, that allows his opponent a chance to make plays on him, and vice versa.

Twice I have lost recently with queens and I wouldn't have played either hand too differently in retrospect. One of the hands I didn't play at all, in fact. I folded pre-flop with Q,Q, after anguishing about it and almost giving myself a brain hemorrhage. The situation was actually easier than I made it to be at the time, but as anyone knows, at a table when things aren't going your way, it can be easy to just ship it and blame fate (see the resignation hand k,k note above). With my starting stack in a cash game whittled from $300 to $135, there was a raise to $10 and a call before me. I looked at Q,Q and bumped it to $35. Another guy behind me went all in for $37 total, then the initial raiser made it $135 to go, which set me all in. The initial caller folded and I stewed but in the end, something about his comfort level was too easy, so I released it and he showed A,A. Play, playback, decision. That is queens in a nutshell for you.

The other hand was slightly more interesting because of how it unfolded and the possibilities therein. Both my opponent and I may have misplayed this hand (so maybe I would have played it differently), or perhaps neither of us did. In a different cash game, with Q,Q I opened to $10 and got a couple callers, including a tight player who had position on me. Flop came all clubs, with my queens as an overpair and with me holding the Q of clubs. Checked to me and I led for $15, getting a call from the tight player and no other action. Turn was a rag and I went for $31 and again was called, after some deliberation. River was more garbage and I went for $62. Again she deliberated but then called and turned over a set of 5s, which surprised me somewhat. What I found interesting about holding queens in this situation is that the flush draw seemed to me to be no good throughout. Her style was tight enough that she wouldn't have necessarily raised with the nut flush draw if she hadn't paired the board and again, I was forced to think through all the different hands she might be holding and think about my play if the flush did hit. Would the Q be good? If it falls, how do I play it? What is my play if she then comes over the top of that play?

I'd be interested in hearing everyone's thoughts on how they like to play Q,Q against various styles of player.

Typecasting

While many poker dictionaries already exist, I hope someone eventually puts out some kind of Facebook for poker players. Not just an ordinary social networking of games and players in local areas mind you, but something that applies avatars to each member, one that is consistent with their play, bankroll, regard for the game, knowledge of how to play and experience. Some of the avatars could be things such as:

Old Sal - the old rock at the table who grinds away and plays only winning hands, yet still manages to get bet into on the river. He makes $53-$55 per session, like clockwork. He often mutters under his breath about how to play real poker.

Johnny Poker - A guy, usually in his 20s or 30s, who plays perfect poker 100% of the time. According to him, that is. He plays winning hands and sets others up for his big move later on. When people make moves on him and they work, show bluffs, don't respect his carefully cultivated table image, betting patterns or otherwise play non-perfect poker, he immediately goes into Self-Tilt. He often speaks (condescendingly) to his end of the table about how to play poker, then moves tables to find the Mecca of poker, the table that will treat him and his savvy play with proper respect.

Coach - Middle-aged guy who shows up in some sort of windbreaker with a High School logo on it. His son plays, or played, or perhaps he was the coach. And as every coach knows, hard work and dedication equal success, even when natural instinct or aptitude for a game aren't inborn. He'll play hard, win a few pots from some drunk guys and donate chips to the players he feels are better than him, often as a measure of respect for their ability, if nothing else. He often speaks to anyone who will listen about backing up the cutoff man, free throw percentage or making a textbook block on the free safety but never about poker.

Subway Joe - the crazy guy who appears to have come up right from the subway circa 1977 New York City. That is, he's crazy, wild and talkative. You might think he's drunk but he's not. He will play 50% of pots to the river and then fold or shove, regardless of the action. Subway Joe's stack varies between $12 and $1000 several times an hour. He speaks out loud to everyone but usually not anyone in particular about anything and everything possible before he mysteriously disappears from the table, leaving his stack behind and forcing the floor to bag it up for him after an hour or so.

The Corona Brothers - these guys, usually friends, always show up together, they don't care about playing as much as getting a free drink or two, usually bottles of Corona. They put the table minimum out there and play super-small ball. They talk only to one another, usually about finding the waitress and getting some more Coronas.

Russian Ivan - Russian Ivan is often German or Czech, it doesn't really matter. He plays a Vivid Video loose style and forces winning hands to fold for about the first five hands until the table realizes he is playing every hand and forces him to show down. He often turns over air but stays at it until he loses all his money. He speaks to the dealer, who explains how he can't take his cards off the table or string raise and also talks to his friend who hovers behind him, but since no one else speaks his dialect, no one knows if he cares about playing poker, making money or even if he knows the hand rankings. His presence at the table is desired until he does give someone all his chips and then both he and the beneficiary leave the table, taking a ton of money off of it. NOTE: he is not to be confused with Petr, the shrewd Nordic player who will actually take all your money. Sometimes it is difficult to make the distinction right off.

OK, I know I am stereotyping a liberal amount here, but I am just off of a 15 hour cash session at Caesars where I did run into multiple versions of all these players as the table turned over three or four times. I had gotten into the game at about 11:30 p.m. on Friday night and as the night/morning progressed it was interesting to see who would show up off of the craps table to donate some of their winnings back to others, which players had no interest in actually playing poker and the various styles exhibited by each, which were unsurprisingly very similar.

For instance, Coach, after never once raising, bluffed off his whole stack with a very hearty "All In!" obviously designed to scare off his opponent. The problem? His opponent had bet $50 into him and Coach only had $77 left, so the extra $27 didn't do its scare work. Coach did not rebuy.

Johnny Poker, after making some good reads, like laying down his 8,8 on a board of 8,Q,Q (Q) after a turn bet and raise, knowing the turn Q had just given someone quads, patted himself on the back for awhile before supremely tilting himself based on a hand he was not even in, after the B,B min-raised the UTG raiser, who of course re-raised, forcing the rest of the table out of the pot, which he would have apparently connected to, big-time. Then he attempted a play in which his opponent didn't respect his turn raise on a dangerous board after a flush card came on the turn after an ace high flop. "Doesn't he see the flush out there?" he asked me. Well, yes, Johnny, he does. He has the nut flush actually, which is why he called you and then bet back into you on the river. And you called him. Johnny Poker left the table for another, only to return with a big stack about 8 hours later, Tilt himself again and depart again. But we were all a little smarter for having sat with him.

Old Sal showed me pocket Qs on a J high flop as he folded them into a $17 bet. "I only got $2 invested in that pot, why do I want to risk it?" Good point, Sal. Gotta keep that profit range within the street's expectations or the markets will react poorly. Also, good job limping in with queens.

Ivan, well he forced me off of a hand the 2nd hand he sat, as he raised, c-bet and then bet big on the river as my A,K never connected. Then he doubled me up on a flop of J,Q,K when he had Q,4. Then he stacked up (playing roughly 27 of 30 hands) until his friend showed up and lost it all in 2 hands and left. I was card dead, unfortunately

I'm sure there are others that I've forgotten at the moment but should they come to me, I'll be sure to recount them. Be sure to keep an eye out as my new PokerFace project gets startup money.

Of Mice and Men

Well, my rebuy tournament didn't go as I planned. It went so poorly, in fact, that I can recap it in only a few sentences. Basically, I caught a brutal table draw of good players and add in 3 wild card players who redefined the term loose and it became a terror zone. Any pot entered was likely to become a decision for my stack after one of the wild guys tripled up and then subsequently doubled up again. He politely donated back to a few strong players around me but I had dreck to look at. He then busted me twice in quick order when I got it in with A,J against his 8,8 (8s played well for him in the time I was there) and then when I had As10s against his A4 off. An ace flopped for both of us and gave me a four flush to the nuts. Unfortunately, he turned a non-spade 4 to best me again and that was that. Barely played any hands, didn't make it out of the 3rd level, even with 2 rebuys.

Moving on to a more successful tale, I have run well in cash games for a couple weeks and had hands hold up in big pots. K,K in multi way action and no ace hit the board, a set faded a straight draw, top pairs have been good for small/medium pots. Only time I can remember even throwing a moderately bad beat on a guy was when I had K,J and the flop came K, 8, 4. I bet at it the whole way and the board threw a J on the river for me, which was enough to best a guy's 4, 8 two pair flop.

One hand that I lost for a decent amount is one that I question if there is any way to avoid losing the amount I did. I'll put it out there and see what everyone thinks. Preflop, I raised to $10 and was called by 2 players when I held AhQh. The flop came with an ace and one heart. I felt I was likely ahead and had just accumulated a few big pots so decided to mix up my play since my opponents were both playing a bit tight. I checked-called the flop for $15 with one of the players dropping out. Turn brought me the nut flush draw to go with my aces. I check-raised a $20 bet to $60 and was then set all in by my opponent for an additional $65 or so, an opponent who, again, was playing tight previously. I called and she had flopped a set of 7s. Now, I don't think that there probably would have been any way I could avoid doubling her up (I missed my flush on the river) since I'm not going anywhere on the flop or the turn unless she raises me out of the pot (likely on the flop) for some reason, but I have been running through various scenarios that might have allowed me to perhaps make a big laydown. I'm not saying that I believe that I could have or should have done it, as I had her easily covered at the time but am just speculating and wondering if there is any way that hand could have played out to allow me to scram.

Any thoughts?

Controlling Pot Size

As the title of this post suggests, I have been focusing on the aspect of controlling pot size, be it trying to play small ball or trying to maximize winning hands. I noticed that I tended to always make a continuation bet post flop after raising preflop and on the occasions that I missed the flop entirely, that is, almost all the time, I was getting myself into situations where the size of the pot was making decisions for me about my play, rather than my holding or my read of the situation and opponent. Basically speaking, I was forcing myself to play hands by creating bigger pots, whether or not I was ahead or behind, and in doing so, was systematically whittling my stack in the event of a no-draw/bluff only type of situation. Now, I am not saying that I am not a believer in making continuation bets, only that I realized that I was doing it systematically, as if by rote and as with any mechanical, repetitive type of play, it becomes obvious to opponents what is happening and they adjust and react. So in talking with a friend about my play, he suggested trying to control pots with check/calls and check/raises to mix things up, to make the 3-bet or 4-bet preflop to weed out speculative hands when playing from ahead and go back to playing a more fundamental game from position. He also suggested that in the rebuy tournaments that I play often, in trying to trap a lot more with the big pairs early on, as the structure is such that the starting stack size can get committed to a pot awfully quickly early on. In essence, using that to my advantage, as opposed to seeing it as a hindrance. The same with trying to play small ball and keeping pots reasonable when flopping something like middle pair or a decent draw.

In any event, I am playing one of these tourneys tonight and will report back on how it goes.

The Four Aces

I should have won, no doubt. The cards ran me down in the way that I always dream they will, in the way that I always complain that others always luck into, but never me, unlike every other card player in the known universe. The way that always leaves me assuredly stating that "if I had gotten run over like that, I would have won too."

But I didn't.

How good was it for me? Really good. Really, really good. I got pocket aces four times in the span of four and a half hours. And regardless of what else may have happened the rest of the night, that should be enough.

But it wasn't.

A brief description: forty-some person home tournament, 30 minute levels, two rebuys available. I won the first hand of the night opening standard 3x from mid-position with king high and getting no takers. A harbinger, perhaps? Just two hands later I look down at my first pleasant surprise of the night, A,A. Unfortunately, it gets folded to me in late position. I again make a standard 3x raise, certain that at the very least one of the blinds will look me up this early on.

But they don't.

And I again sweep only the blinds. This early on, it didn't really bother me too much. Sure, I always want action, lots of action, lots of big action, with aces but with everyone at the same stack and generally just settling into the tournament, it was easy enough to take it in stride and move on to the next hand.

And sure enough not twenty minutes later, still in the first 30 minute level, I look down again at A,A. This time, under the gun limps for 50, second to act also limps and third to act, I raise to 200. The button and the BB both call, as do the two early position limpers. Five to the flop, we see 8, 9, J with two spades. The BB checks, the initial limper bets 250 and the guy next to him calls. At this point, with 1500 in the pot and about 1250 in my stack, a standard raise could price in any and all draws and leave me pot-committed regardless of the turn card. So I put it all in, knowing that if someone has a made hand like Q,10 I can just rebuy and not really be shortstacked, as we're still at 25/50. But it gets folded around to the guy next to me, who chews on a call for a minute or two before finally pitching his hand and I drag a decent pot.

I win a few more before I run into some bad luck, when I raise preflop and my A,J hits a J high flop and I bet at it, get one caller and then shove for about 1100 when the turn brings a rag and again get a call. The caller turns over 9,7 for a pair of 9s (second pair on the flop) and I'm in great shape until the river brings a 7 to felt me. Arg. Rebuy.

I tilt a little and right away shove my stack in when I connect (perhaps middle pair, don't remember specifically) on the first flop post-rebuy. Luckily, no one calls and I remember feeling happy that no one did and recognizing that I had gotten away with an awful play. But winning that hand did settle me down a bit. It went a bit choppy afterward, as I again lost a good-sized pot to a river card but then immediately doubled back up when I lucked into a set with pocket 3s against pocket Ks.

I hover for a level or so and then the big guns come back. A,A on the button at the 300/600 level. Juicy, right? Well, not so much when everyone folds to me, I raise and the blinds (one of which was the chip leader) fold as well. Sweep the blinds, not insignificant, but unlike the earlier fold to my raise, at this point in the tournament, a big pot could indeed propel me to a cushy position, as there are only about 15 players remaining, so not being able to capitalize with them stings.

So not long after, I incredulously stare down at yet another A,A, this time from early position. Under the gun folds, I again raise, this time varying my raise a little, perhaps worried that I am tipping my hands, so I make it an even 2000 to go (still 300/600). No one takes my raise variation as a read of a middle pair or a weak ace and again, it gets folded to me and now I just am dazed. Four times with aces and no flops on three of them? Ouch.

My daze continues when the very next hand I see 9,9 and limp from under the gun, as the button is on a very good, aggressive player. And it folds to him and he shoves. I call, as his range is very big here but he has AcQc and he turns a queen to win a very big pot. I have him covered but now I'm a short stack and the blinds are moving to 400/800 momentarily. I shove shortly thereafter and lose but rebuy again in hopes that perhaps, just perhaps, I can pick up A,A one more time and get back in it.

But I don't.

Bombs away...

Been playing more frequently the past few weeks, mixing in cash games with home tourneys and generally feel like I'm getting back into step. Of course, I have made a couple of boneheaded plays in each game to go along with some quality moves so I feel like I have come out about even in terms of my overall play.

Here is a key hand to note from one of my cash games (home game, NLHE, 1,2 blinds).

From early position a player raised the $2 BB to $7 and got an early position caller, a mid-position caller and a call from the button. In the BB, I looked down at A,J off and raised it up to $21. Both early position players folded, the mid-position player called and the button folded. Now, I have played with the caller previously and know him to be a very good, smart player. I suspected that his call (both of the $7 and then of the $14) was a speculative one, as he is definitely the type who would have raised the early position raisers with any good holding and absolutely the type who would have come over the top of my reraise with a premium holding. Though out of position, I felt good about my read and all signs told me that I was ahead.

Flop brought out 9,9,x and I continued for $25 into $64. He immediately came over and upped it to $75 and I broke the play down. And here is where I needed to perhaps adjust my thought process a bit and I'll point out why. Having put him on nothing preflop, and based on our past playing history together, I felt he believed he could take the pot away with this raise, even with what I suspected was a nothing hand. He knows me to be a conservative player and figures that this raise will make me go away unless I have a 9. Well, let me out play him this time, is what I thought. So I called the $50, intending to scare him into thinking I had the 9 and was trapping. When an ace hit on the turn, giving me a pair of aces, I led out for $70 and he went into the tank and I thought I had him. My conservative style was paying dividends and he was giving me credit, convinced I had the hand.

Until, that is, he said the following: "I can't believe an ace hit" and my stomach lurched. Why would he worry about an ace? He didn't have an overpair to the board, he would have raised preflop with it. Which could only mean...

...that he has the 9 and is putting me, because of my tight game, because of my call of his $50 raise post-flop, on pocket aces and thinks he just got outdrawn by the ace on the turn. All the while I had him on nothing, because of my preflop read, and I was right, but I never varied my thinking to consider that his nothing may have included that 9. That he was playing off my style and using it against me, that I was the one being trapped. My only hope now was that he would consider himself beaten and fold to my $70 bet and $95 behind it, not wanting to toss $165 at a one-outer if he really had convinced himself I had the bullets.

So I wait for his decision, chagrined at my mistake, and eventually he called with a resigned "I have to see what you have." The river brought a blank and I checked, certain I was beaten and knowing not to put any more into the pot, as he would certainly call, and he checked behind, certain he was beaten, content not to risk any more money against what he felt I must be holding.

Only one of us was correct. And sadly, belatedly, it was me.