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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.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
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
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
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