Posts
Ah, Sweet Sixteen. It brings back the memories of overdone, overwrought parties filled with anxious adolescents seeking that elusive teenage liberation. It recalls memories of a John Hughes movies jammed with longing, lust, angst, wild keggers and Long Duck Dong. (As an aside, has any lead in a teen comedy been more of a washout than Jake Ryan? He dumps his hot girlfriend, misses the best party of the year, at his own house no less, while he's upstairs looking through his yearbook, then spends Saturday outside the church on the off chance that he can make out with Molly Ringwald. What a waste.) It also brings to mind the crucial round of the NCAA basketball tournament. By now, most of the pretenders have been sent packing, along with the hopefuls and you're left with the teams that have a legitimate chance. At this point anyone can reel off 2 wins to reach the final four and 4 wins to the championship is not an unreasonable thought for any of them. Here are my picks for Thursday's matchups (and I'll stick with the John Hughes/Sixteen Candles theme):
North Carolina -8.5 against Washington State. This matchup is Jake Ryan's girlfriend Caroline, the hottest girl in school, against Samantha Baker (Molly Ringwald). On the surface it's a no-brainer, Caroline is the party-hungry prom queen who looks about 25, but if you remember, Molly Ringwald sneaks in and steals Jake while Caroline is busy partying. She lost focus. Carolina better not do the same. I think they'll recover from WSU's mind-numbing tempo in time and squeak out a victory, provided that they don't simply try to outscore WSU and actually put forth a semblance of a defensive effort. If they come to play on the defensive end, WSU will end up like Sam Baker in the locker room, wrapped in a towel and staring in envy.
Louisville -3 against Tennessee. The line tells you everything you need to know about this one. It's Anthony Michael Hall against Jake Ryan. One is the higher seed who peaked prior to everything getting started and has been looking sluggish throughout. The other has everything going for it at the moment and is trying to make big things happen. I like Louisville to wake up the next morning in a Rolls Royce in the parking lot with the prom queen.
Xavier +1 against W. Virginia. This is a little more interesting and you have to really look to find the right comparison, but eventually you realize that it is Bryce against Cliff, the two geek brothers who are Anthony Michael Hall's best friends. In the movie Cliff is the more confident of the two and seems to be the leader but in the long run you realize that it is Bryce, played by John Cusack, who had the staying power. W. Virginia is the sexier pick with Huggins, Joe Alexander and an upset win over Duke but I think Xavier, who has a better 6'9" inside outside player in Josh Duncan and tremendous offensive balance, will use its depth to its advantage and be standing at the end. Look for Xavier's stellar FT shooting to be the difference in the endgame.
UCLA -12.5 against W. Kentucky. This looks to be the least competitive game of the day, both in reality and spread-wise. I liken it to Joan Cusack vs. the water fountain. Joan Cusack eventually wins an ugly, comic battle and you feel a little guilty for laughing but you do anyway. UCLA advances.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
the Beats go on
The bad beat has been hovering all around me the past couple of weeks, not in the lowercase sense (i.e. "Holy crap, that was a bad beat") but rather in a bigger sense. A Bad Beat way, jackpot included.
Two weeks ago Caesars in AC had just paid off a table to the tune of 27k when someone's quad 6s got snuffed by a straight flush. Then, last Friday, halfway through my basketball/poker session, the excited voices rose to a new decibel and then exploded. Turns out that quad 7s were way ahead of trip Qs (or Queens full of 7s actually) until the river when the final lady showed up to the party and netted the loser a cool 20k. The winner pocketed 10k and the other 8 players split about 10k.
These Beats always lead to a discussion among players and dealers on the appropriate amounts to kick back to the dealer. In the latter instance above, the kid threw back a grand to the dealer, even though his buddies were telling him to tip half that amount. Personally, I think it is up to the discretion of the player, each case is different, each dealer is different, the player's personal circumstances might dictate a little more or a little less. Everyone has a different opinion.
Either way, it's a dilemma that I hope to be able to write about in a practical sense at some point in the future.
Two weeks ago Caesars in AC had just paid off a table to the tune of 27k when someone's quad 6s got snuffed by a straight flush. Then, last Friday, halfway through my basketball/poker session, the excited voices rose to a new decibel and then exploded. Turns out that quad 7s were way ahead of trip Qs (or Queens full of 7s actually) until the river when the final lady showed up to the party and netted the loser a cool 20k. The winner pocketed 10k and the other 8 players split about 10k.
These Beats always lead to a discussion among players and dealers on the appropriate amounts to kick back to the dealer. In the latter instance above, the kid threw back a grand to the dealer, even though his buddies were telling him to tip half that amount. Personally, I think it is up to the discretion of the player, each case is different, each dealer is different, the player's personal circumstances might dictate a little more or a little less. Everyone has a different opinion.
Either way, it's a dilemma that I hope to be able to write about in a practical sense at some point in the future.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Basketball and Poker
Went back to Atlantic City last Friday in order to play poker and watch basketball simultaneously. Caesar's was my poker room of choice, they have a lot of games going, the televisions are nicely placed in height and distance from the tables, the room is a little bit wilder than the average and you get the feeling that patient play might get handsomely rewarded.
Of course, that really didn't apply to me on Friday since all I really wanted to do was watch hoops. The poker was really a secondary measure to being surrounded by the college action. As a result, I chose a brand new 2-4 limit table and grabbed the 10 seat, where I could easily monitor three televisions as well as the cards being felted. My favorite game of the day was obviously Drake/W. Kentucky, it was one of the classic NCAA games that you'll see THE clip from for the next 20 years, and well-deservedly so. The kicker of that game is that the W. Kentucky guard who receives the inbounds pass and rushes the ball upcourt had more than 30 points and I along with everyone else was certain he was going to fire the final shot. Not so. He kicked it back for a 28 footer, the buzzer went off with the ball in midair, it found the nylon and W. Kentucky moved on. Just a great game.
What was not a great game was my 2-4 limit game. It was the exact opposite, in fact. NFHE was in full effect and in three hours I had some dream starting hands (aces, kings, queens twice) all lose as there was simply no way to get anyone off hands. And I don't mean draws, I mean hands, period. Like Jack/Deuce offsuit. Or 3,9. Soon enough, between the basketball and the best-hand-always-wins mentality of the table, I was down a decent chunk of money. But, luckily for me, there were more games on the tube. I settled in and sure enough, all that loose play sent my money right back to me over the next few hours during the late games. All in all, I think I ended up clearing a couple bucks and having a great day watching games, which was my intention for the day anyway.
Of course, that really didn't apply to me on Friday since all I really wanted to do was watch hoops. The poker was really a secondary measure to being surrounded by the college action. As a result, I chose a brand new 2-4 limit table and grabbed the 10 seat, where I could easily monitor three televisions as well as the cards being felted. My favorite game of the day was obviously Drake/W. Kentucky, it was one of the classic NCAA games that you'll see THE clip from for the next 20 years, and well-deservedly so. The kicker of that game is that the W. Kentucky guard who receives the inbounds pass and rushes the ball upcourt had more than 30 points and I along with everyone else was certain he was going to fire the final shot. Not so. He kicked it back for a 28 footer, the buzzer went off with the ball in midair, it found the nylon and W. Kentucky moved on. Just a great game.
What was not a great game was my 2-4 limit game. It was the exact opposite, in fact. NFHE was in full effect and in three hours I had some dream starting hands (aces, kings, queens twice) all lose as there was simply no way to get anyone off hands. And I don't mean draws, I mean hands, period. Like Jack/Deuce offsuit. Or 3,9. Soon enough, between the basketball and the best-hand-always-wins mentality of the table, I was down a decent chunk of money. But, luckily for me, there were more games on the tube. I settled in and sure enough, all that loose play sent my money right back to me over the next few hours during the late games. All in all, I think I ended up clearing a couple bucks and having a great day watching games, which was my intention for the day anyway.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Shaking off the Rust (in a mostly unsuccessful way)
Lessons learned. I'm good at remembering them but often learn them through trial and error rather than a more abstract approach, like watching someone else fail.
I’ve been getting in more play recently, after a few months of nothing and my inactivity has showed, as my play has been erratic and my decisions questionable. As always, I try to take away something from each game and making mistakes, in some cases huge blunders, always sears those scenarios into my head for future reference.
A few games and hands worthy of mention because they feature a couple of mistakes I made, one because I didn’t consider all the options and one because I did:
I played in a home game a few weeks back, 1-2 NL, $300 min buy in, rotating two rounds of NLHE with one round of Pot Limit Omaha. I tried to play tight/aggressive but in retrospect I played mostly tight, content to take down pots when ahead instead of milking them. Until the following boneheaded play, that is.
Hovering around even, I folded A,7 o/s in the face of a raise and a call and watched as the other three aces hit on the flop and turn. The pot was small as the two remaining players tread cautiously (pocket Js and suited connectors I believe) but my tightness cost me money and left me watching from the side. The very next hand, however, I pick up As9s and call a preflop raise. The flop comes 10,9,4 rainbow and I bet out and the preflop raiser comes over the top with another raise. Red flag, right? Right? Well, unfortunately my flagman had taken a coffee break. I call. The turn brought another nine, giving me a set and I make the worst possible play and move all in. In this instance I can only be called by hands that have me crushed. Everything else will fold under this bet and I will not make any additional money. Of course I am immediately called and he turns over pocket 10s for the top full house. Just an awful play on my part. I never thought about the bet, didn’t take the extra ten or fifteen seconds to think about the scenarios in which I could most make or most lose my money, just fired blindly. Attribute it to rust, poor decision-making or just stupidity, any way I slice it it is still an awful play. Lesson learned. Think.
The second hand that I want to recount was in Atlantic City. Got into a 1-2 NLHE game at the Tropicana with $300 and again was hovering around even but this time feeling pretty good about my play. I had lost a couple races against smaller all-in stacks where my hands and the pots dictated calls but then won it back by opening up a little and catching some big hands when I got in the mix with lower connectors and made good value bets. The hand that was the crucial one of the day unsurprisingly was when I looked down at pocket aces from the big blind. It was folded around to the old guy directly across from me who made it $22 to go and everyone folded to me. I popped it to $60 and he made a quick call, no hesitation. He was tight and I put him on a big pair. Flop comes J,7,2 rainbow and I led out for $50. He immediately goes all in and I go into the tank. I stare at him, which elicits some joking comments from the table but they give me the time to make my decision. I ask him if he has pocket jacks and he tells me that he will show me if I fold. I tell him that if I fold, I don’t want to see what he has. I’m 80% sure he has the jacks. He’s got me covered, it’s another (roughly) $190 to call into the pot, which is now at around $410 and ultimately, this is what did me in, that I figured I was getting better than 2 to 1 on my call and that I’ve got the edge on any hand he can probably be playing other than pocket jacks. And ultimately, I should have listened to my instincts because I called and he showed the pocket jacks and I didn’t catch my two outer. Again, lesson learned. Think, but trust instinct.
The one thing both of these cases had in common that I seem to have ignored is the strength of the hands my opponent was holding and telling me that they held, by the post-flop reraises. I got married to both hands and couldn't get away, wanting to believe that I was ahead and talking myself into it. But talking myself into it is not the same as actually being ahead, and I plunged ahead with my losing hands, instead of seeking a divorce, ended up busted.
(Well, only kind of, actually. As a postscript to both of these stories, I rebought and began grinding and ended up nullifying my losses by more than half. Not how I envisioned the two sessions but still better than a total washout.)
I’ve been getting in more play recently, after a few months of nothing and my inactivity has showed, as my play has been erratic and my decisions questionable. As always, I try to take away something from each game and making mistakes, in some cases huge blunders, always sears those scenarios into my head for future reference.
A few games and hands worthy of mention because they feature a couple of mistakes I made, one because I didn’t consider all the options and one because I did:
I played in a home game a few weeks back, 1-2 NL, $300 min buy in, rotating two rounds of NLHE with one round of Pot Limit Omaha. I tried to play tight/aggressive but in retrospect I played mostly tight, content to take down pots when ahead instead of milking them. Until the following boneheaded play, that is.
Hovering around even, I folded A,7 o/s in the face of a raise and a call and watched as the other three aces hit on the flop and turn. The pot was small as the two remaining players tread cautiously (pocket Js and suited connectors I believe) but my tightness cost me money and left me watching from the side. The very next hand, however, I pick up As9s and call a preflop raise. The flop comes 10,9,4 rainbow and I bet out and the preflop raiser comes over the top with another raise. Red flag, right? Right? Well, unfortunately my flagman had taken a coffee break. I call. The turn brought another nine, giving me a set and I make the worst possible play and move all in. In this instance I can only be called by hands that have me crushed. Everything else will fold under this bet and I will not make any additional money. Of course I am immediately called and he turns over pocket 10s for the top full house. Just an awful play on my part. I never thought about the bet, didn’t take the extra ten or fifteen seconds to think about the scenarios in which I could most make or most lose my money, just fired blindly. Attribute it to rust, poor decision-making or just stupidity, any way I slice it it is still an awful play. Lesson learned. Think.
The second hand that I want to recount was in Atlantic City. Got into a 1-2 NLHE game at the Tropicana with $300 and again was hovering around even but this time feeling pretty good about my play. I had lost a couple races against smaller all-in stacks where my hands and the pots dictated calls but then won it back by opening up a little and catching some big hands when I got in the mix with lower connectors and made good value bets. The hand that was the crucial one of the day unsurprisingly was when I looked down at pocket aces from the big blind. It was folded around to the old guy directly across from me who made it $22 to go and everyone folded to me. I popped it to $60 and he made a quick call, no hesitation. He was tight and I put him on a big pair. Flop comes J,7,2 rainbow and I led out for $50. He immediately goes all in and I go into the tank. I stare at him, which elicits some joking comments from the table but they give me the time to make my decision. I ask him if he has pocket jacks and he tells me that he will show me if I fold. I tell him that if I fold, I don’t want to see what he has. I’m 80% sure he has the jacks. He’s got me covered, it’s another (roughly) $190 to call into the pot, which is now at around $410 and ultimately, this is what did me in, that I figured I was getting better than 2 to 1 on my call and that I’ve got the edge on any hand he can probably be playing other than pocket jacks. And ultimately, I should have listened to my instincts because I called and he showed the pocket jacks and I didn’t catch my two outer. Again, lesson learned. Think, but trust instinct.
The one thing both of these cases had in common that I seem to have ignored is the strength of the hands my opponent was holding and telling me that they held, by the post-flop reraises. I got married to both hands and couldn't get away, wanting to believe that I was ahead and talking myself into it. But talking myself into it is not the same as actually being ahead, and I plunged ahead with my losing hands, instead of seeking a divorce, ended up busted.
(Well, only kind of, actually. As a postscript to both of these stories, I rebought and began grinding and ended up nullifying my losses by more than half. Not how I envisioned the two sessions but still better than a total washout.)
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Floyd Mayweather is a bad man
There are few opportunities to see the best athlete in a given sport perform at their absolute peak level. This past Saturday night was one of them. For three minutes, the world was treated to the best that boxing has to offer.
Floyd Mayweather, Jr. took on Ricky Hatten in a title fight at the MGM in Vegas and I duly invited my fight friends over and stocked the fridge with beer. Having seen the snooze-fest that was Mayweather/De La Hoya back in May, I was merely hoping for a few punches to connect, hell, for a few punches to be thrown. The May fight offered only a glimpse at any action, so the thought of a brawler like Hatten taking the fight to Mayweather offered more promise than that of De La Hoya doing anything, including not fighting, to avoid being hurt in his last pro fight. And Hatten did his part. He went after Mayweather. He wasn't landing consistently but he was dictating the pace of the fight. Prefight, he had said that he was willing to take two or three punches if he could land one of his own, figuring his would pack more power. What he didn't count on was Mayweather's defensive skill, his hand speed and his own inability to land his power punches once he got inside. What he really didn't count on was anything like Round 8.
Quite simply, Round 8 was as good a statement round I have ever seen a fighter have. It was not the best round of boxing, for nothing can top Hagler/Hearns round 1, but it was the moment when Floyd Mayweather, Jr. solidified his place in history. His decision over De La Hoya was a dull affair against a past-his-prime opponent and left more doubters than believers. This was different. He had an opponent who sported a 43-0 record, one with 31 KO's, one who was taking the fight at him. He had an arena of screaming, singing, cheering Brits urging his opponent on. He had a legion of disbelievers, myself and 8 others around me, wanting to see him get put on his butt. And he did what true champions, the true elite, do.
He shut us up.
Quickly.
Three minutes of absolute devastation, absolute domination. As good a three minutes as any fighter has ever had, he showed why he talks the way he does, why he thinks himself above the rest, above all of us. Give Hatten a shred of credit: he stayed on his feet. Most wouldn't have. As Mayweather was pummeling him (and there is no other real way to accurately put it) he took it, literally, on the chin. Again. And again. But when the bell rang to end the round, it rang for all the Hatten fans, all those of us who hoped he could shut Mayweather, Jr. up. This fight, while not yet done, was over. The nine people in my living room knew it. Hatten knew it. And more than any of us, Mayweather could smile because he had known it all along.
Hatten succumbed two rounds later, as vicious lefts from Mayweather, Jr. left him tumbling into the corner and then to the middle of the canvas, but that was merely an epilogue to the best chapter that Floyd Mayweather, Jr. has ever given us and probably ever will.
Floyd Mayweather, Jr. took on Ricky Hatten in a title fight at the MGM in Vegas and I duly invited my fight friends over and stocked the fridge with beer. Having seen the snooze-fest that was Mayweather/De La Hoya back in May, I was merely hoping for a few punches to connect, hell, for a few punches to be thrown. The May fight offered only a glimpse at any action, so the thought of a brawler like Hatten taking the fight to Mayweather offered more promise than that of De La Hoya doing anything, including not fighting, to avoid being hurt in his last pro fight. And Hatten did his part. He went after Mayweather. He wasn't landing consistently but he was dictating the pace of the fight. Prefight, he had said that he was willing to take two or three punches if he could land one of his own, figuring his would pack more power. What he didn't count on was Mayweather's defensive skill, his hand speed and his own inability to land his power punches once he got inside. What he really didn't count on was anything like Round 8.
Quite simply, Round 8 was as good a statement round I have ever seen a fighter have. It was not the best round of boxing, for nothing can top Hagler/Hearns round 1, but it was the moment when Floyd Mayweather, Jr. solidified his place in history. His decision over De La Hoya was a dull affair against a past-his-prime opponent and left more doubters than believers. This was different. He had an opponent who sported a 43-0 record, one with 31 KO's, one who was taking the fight at him. He had an arena of screaming, singing, cheering Brits urging his opponent on. He had a legion of disbelievers, myself and 8 others around me, wanting to see him get put on his butt. And he did what true champions, the true elite, do.
He shut us up.
Quickly.
Three minutes of absolute devastation, absolute domination. As good a three minutes as any fighter has ever had, he showed why he talks the way he does, why he thinks himself above the rest, above all of us. Give Hatten a shred of credit: he stayed on his feet. Most wouldn't have. As Mayweather was pummeling him (and there is no other real way to accurately put it) he took it, literally, on the chin. Again. And again. But when the bell rang to end the round, it rang for all the Hatten fans, all those of us who hoped he could shut Mayweather, Jr. up. This fight, while not yet done, was over. The nine people in my living room knew it. Hatten knew it. And more than any of us, Mayweather could smile because he had known it all along.
Hatten succumbed two rounds later, as vicious lefts from Mayweather, Jr. left him tumbling into the corner and then to the middle of the canvas, but that was merely an epilogue to the best chapter that Floyd Mayweather, Jr. has ever given us and probably ever will.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Satellite Rides, part 2 - Heads Up
Who plays heads up poker?
Let me restate that. What I actually mean is, who practices playing heads up?
Tournaments, cash games, home games. All feature similar scenarios, the most common being that you're playing against a table full of players. You're playing pot odds, you're preying on weak opponents, you're playing position. Even if you're down to three handed, you can muck garbage in the face of a raise and call, you can pick a better spot, you can play your opponents' fears of the third player against them.
Heads up, however, there's no one else to scrap with, no one to juice up a pot out of position, no time off from the blinds and antes. I liken it to playing blackjack against the dealer in a six-deck shoe. Any card is possible at any given time. You can't figure that the raise you're staring at is not made by an oppenent holding eight high. It doesn't take a genius to figure the pot odds and most pots will end after the flop if not earlier. But still, after weeding through a table or a tournament of players, selectively picking spots to make moves, heads up forces you to mix it up, no matter your style of play. You're in every hand. Loose is not even the proper word for it. It's the blackjack dealer firing you five straight ten-deuces while the house shows an ace each time. How are you going to play?
Back to me.
After flopping a boat and subsequently whittling the table to two, I had a slight chip lead, perhaps 25k to 20k. Blinds were at 300/600 and my opponent was a good one. Last year he had won both my super-satellite table and the following "winners" table of all the super-satellite winners to punch his ticket into the WSOP Main Event. Last year, he fought back from an improbable chip deficit to whip me heads up.
And so we began.
Things started well for me. We quickly established the standard pre-flop raise and I took down a few pots, incrementally increasing my advantage. A potentially disastrous hand for me was salvaged in the following way. I held 10,5 off and the flop came J,10,x, with no flush draw. I bet and he called. Turn brought an A. I checked and he checked behind me. River brought me a 5 and I made a 3K value bet. He made a reluctant call telling me that my bet was the perfect amount and he had to see the ace that I held. He turned over J,x and went green as he realized he was ahead until the river and his check had allowed me to hang around long enough to win on fifth street. He started muttering about how poorly he had played the hand. I just smiled and went all in the next three hands, which he mucked. Now he was shifting back and forth and telling the guys we had busted that he was getting leaned on. And he was. I put the pressure on even more, hoping to lure him into shipping it on my terms, and not allowing him to wait for a hand. Somewhat questionably, I pushed all in with A,J off preflop hoping he would wake up to a smaller ace or perhaps something like J,10. He didn't and folded. All the while, however, I was keenly aware that a single double up would shift our spots and give him the chip lead.
A,K. In a normal situation, it's longed for, overbet, cursed and cherished. Heads up, it's a monster. I drew it for the first time all day and raised on the button (small blind) up to 3k (blinds now 400/800) and got a call. Flop was all rags and my opponent pushed all in. My thoughts were as follows: He called my 2200 raise. He's making a stand. But did he hit the flop? Did he need to hit the flop? It was a perfect flop for a small wired hand. I thought about it for a minute or so and tossed it. A double up at that point puts me down. I didn't need to make the play, right there, right then. He showed bottom pair. A,K is, after all, only ace high.
Back and forth we went, trading pots, grinding each other. And then the momentum swung. I had another Q,10 off. I raised, he called. Flop came 10 high. He checked. I decided to get tricky. He had been pushing in whenever he sensed weakness and I wanted to give him some. I checked behind him. Ace came on the turn and I got what I wanted as he pushed all in. The only problem now was the ace. Did he check a low flop with ace high? I thought about it and called. He flipped over A,Q. I could only smile at my misstep. The river brought a Q, giving us both two pair, his higher.
Now he had the chip lead. He began leaning on me, grinding me down. Seemingly any raise he pushed in. The cards that I was raising with and betting post-flop kept coming but now they looked different, weaker. Did I really want to risk everything with them? After a few lost pots in a row and my stack shrinking, I knew that I would have to or exactly what I had hoped to do to my opponent would happen to me: being forced to move in on his terms.
So I battled back with the best weapon at my disposal, the all-in. Four of five hands I went in pre or post flop, three of them with total junk. Not wanting to relinquish his advantage, he folded.
And on we went, firing away at one another. An hour had passed and only two hands had made it to the river when I looked down on the button and saw 8s,10s. I raised the 800BB to 2400. He re-raised to 6000. I counted out my stack and found it at about 11,600. His raise was unusual and enough to elicit suspicion. He wanted me to push. Perhaps I should have laid it down and I don't think I was getting the right odds to call (2.3 to 1) but I did. The flop brought me some help: K,J,9 with one spade. And here is where heads up play is unique. My first thought upon seeing the flop was "All in." Unfortunately, he was first to act. His thought: "All-in." I could only smile. With 20k in the pot and 8k in front of me I was getting 2.5 to 1. I figured my 8 and 10 were live. If all my straight draws were live, I would have 14 outs, roughly 31% to win IF he didn't already have an over pair to my 8 or 10. More importantly, I only had 8k left. I fold and his 37k stack is going to put me in every hand. I went for it.
He looked at me, dismayed, and said something I wanted to hear "You got me." I looked at him and said "Not just yet." We flipped and he showed A,3 off. My 14 outs were all live, all I could hope for.
Turn came Ks, giving me the flush draw. I now had 20 cards to win against his 24.
But it was not to be. The board paired again with a red nine, making Ks and 9s with his ace playing.
And again, he got the better of me heads up.
Could I have won?
Sure.
Did I play well?
Mostly.
Am I comfortable heads up?
Definitely not.
After all, who practices heads up?
Let me restate that. What I actually mean is, who practices playing heads up?
Tournaments, cash games, home games. All feature similar scenarios, the most common being that you're playing against a table full of players. You're playing pot odds, you're preying on weak opponents, you're playing position. Even if you're down to three handed, you can muck garbage in the face of a raise and call, you can pick a better spot, you can play your opponents' fears of the third player against them.
Heads up, however, there's no one else to scrap with, no one to juice up a pot out of position, no time off from the blinds and antes. I liken it to playing blackjack against the dealer in a six-deck shoe. Any card is possible at any given time. You can't figure that the raise you're staring at is not made by an oppenent holding eight high. It doesn't take a genius to figure the pot odds and most pots will end after the flop if not earlier. But still, after weeding through a table or a tournament of players, selectively picking spots to make moves, heads up forces you to mix it up, no matter your style of play. You're in every hand. Loose is not even the proper word for it. It's the blackjack dealer firing you five straight ten-deuces while the house shows an ace each time. How are you going to play?
Back to me.
After flopping a boat and subsequently whittling the table to two, I had a slight chip lead, perhaps 25k to 20k. Blinds were at 300/600 and my opponent was a good one. Last year he had won both my super-satellite table and the following "winners" table of all the super-satellite winners to punch his ticket into the WSOP Main Event. Last year, he fought back from an improbable chip deficit to whip me heads up.
And so we began.
Things started well for me. We quickly established the standard pre-flop raise and I took down a few pots, incrementally increasing my advantage. A potentially disastrous hand for me was salvaged in the following way. I held 10,5 off and the flop came J,10,x, with no flush draw. I bet and he called. Turn brought an A. I checked and he checked behind me. River brought me a 5 and I made a 3K value bet. He made a reluctant call telling me that my bet was the perfect amount and he had to see the ace that I held. He turned over J,x and went green as he realized he was ahead until the river and his check had allowed me to hang around long enough to win on fifth street. He started muttering about how poorly he had played the hand. I just smiled and went all in the next three hands, which he mucked. Now he was shifting back and forth and telling the guys we had busted that he was getting leaned on. And he was. I put the pressure on even more, hoping to lure him into shipping it on my terms, and not allowing him to wait for a hand. Somewhat questionably, I pushed all in with A,J off preflop hoping he would wake up to a smaller ace or perhaps something like J,10. He didn't and folded. All the while, however, I was keenly aware that a single double up would shift our spots and give him the chip lead.
A,K. In a normal situation, it's longed for, overbet, cursed and cherished. Heads up, it's a monster. I drew it for the first time all day and raised on the button (small blind) up to 3k (blinds now 400/800) and got a call. Flop was all rags and my opponent pushed all in. My thoughts were as follows: He called my 2200 raise. He's making a stand. But did he hit the flop? Did he need to hit the flop? It was a perfect flop for a small wired hand. I thought about it for a minute or so and tossed it. A double up at that point puts me down. I didn't need to make the play, right there, right then. He showed bottom pair. A,K is, after all, only ace high.
Back and forth we went, trading pots, grinding each other. And then the momentum swung. I had another Q,10 off. I raised, he called. Flop came 10 high. He checked. I decided to get tricky. He had been pushing in whenever he sensed weakness and I wanted to give him some. I checked behind him. Ace came on the turn and I got what I wanted as he pushed all in. The only problem now was the ace. Did he check a low flop with ace high? I thought about it and called. He flipped over A,Q. I could only smile at my misstep. The river brought a Q, giving us both two pair, his higher.
Now he had the chip lead. He began leaning on me, grinding me down. Seemingly any raise he pushed in. The cards that I was raising with and betting post-flop kept coming but now they looked different, weaker. Did I really want to risk everything with them? After a few lost pots in a row and my stack shrinking, I knew that I would have to or exactly what I had hoped to do to my opponent would happen to me: being forced to move in on his terms.
So I battled back with the best weapon at my disposal, the all-in. Four of five hands I went in pre or post flop, three of them with total junk. Not wanting to relinquish his advantage, he folded.
And on we went, firing away at one another. An hour had passed and only two hands had made it to the river when I looked down on the button and saw 8s,10s. I raised the 800BB to 2400. He re-raised to 6000. I counted out my stack and found it at about 11,600. His raise was unusual and enough to elicit suspicion. He wanted me to push. Perhaps I should have laid it down and I don't think I was getting the right odds to call (2.3 to 1) but I did. The flop brought me some help: K,J,9 with one spade. And here is where heads up play is unique. My first thought upon seeing the flop was "All in." Unfortunately, he was first to act. His thought: "All-in." I could only smile. With 20k in the pot and 8k in front of me I was getting 2.5 to 1. I figured my 8 and 10 were live. If all my straight draws were live, I would have 14 outs, roughly 31% to win IF he didn't already have an over pair to my 8 or 10. More importantly, I only had 8k left. I fold and his 37k stack is going to put me in every hand. I went for it.
He looked at me, dismayed, and said something I wanted to hear "You got me." I looked at him and said "Not just yet." We flipped and he showed A,3 off. My 14 outs were all live, all I could hope for.
Turn came Ks, giving me the flush draw. I now had 20 cards to win against his 24.
But it was not to be. The board paired again with a red nine, making Ks and 9s with his ace playing.
And again, he got the better of me heads up.
Could I have won?
Sure.
Did I play well?
Mostly.
Am I comfortable heads up?
Definitely not.
After all, who practices heads up?
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Satellite Rides
Each year, I host a super-satellite table as part of a friend's poker tournment. The premise arose when we decided we knew enough people interested in poker to send one of our own to the WSOP main event. A bunch of us run super-satellite tables, give the table's entry money to the winner, let the winners square off later on and the lone figure to emerge heads to Vegas with his Moneymaker dreams in tow.
So last year I was the victim of one of the greatest heads-up collapses or comebacks, depending on your point of view. I was slightly behind in chips when I got the best of an all in battle and took a commanding 38-2 chip advantage. After sucking out on his first all in in the hand immediately following (J,8 vs. J,5) my opponent won a race (2 overs against 4,4) to double up again to 8k and then went all in several more times in a row, which I couldn't call with terrible cards. I don't remember how it went exactly after that but suffice it to say with the blinds at 500/1000 he made some good plays and regained a small advantage before we again went all in and he took it down. Not my finest hour.
So on to this year. We operate with a rebuy system and my nemesis drew the seat to my right. Nine players. After about 90 minutes he went all in and I caught him on a draw with my top pair and busted him. He rebought and kept battling though, grinding his way back to respectability. Meanwhile, I was playing well, as well as I feel like I have perhaps ever. I was catching guys when I made hands and I was bluffing when I didn't. Even a misread turned my way, as I called a postflop bet with nothing, confident my opponent was on a bluff and I could take the pot away from him on later streets, then hit the turn and the river to allow the cards to do it for me.
The crux of the game was destined to come down to a final showdown and big hands made it happen. First, my nemesis cut the table from five to three when he got himself tangled in a three-way all-in pot with only Q,10 off, finding himself pot-committed but fortunate as a Q hit and held off his opponents' A,4 and A,K. Then, my own Q,10 got large as a flop hit 10,10,Q and my opponent, wired and disbelieving of my strength, fired at the flop (smooth call) and pushed in after the turn.
So there we were. Me and my nemesis. Side by side and face to face.
Again.
to be continued...
So last year I was the victim of one of the greatest heads-up collapses or comebacks, depending on your point of view. I was slightly behind in chips when I got the best of an all in battle and took a commanding 38-2 chip advantage. After sucking out on his first all in in the hand immediately following (J,8 vs. J,5) my opponent won a race (2 overs against 4,4) to double up again to 8k and then went all in several more times in a row, which I couldn't call with terrible cards. I don't remember how it went exactly after that but suffice it to say with the blinds at 500/1000 he made some good plays and regained a small advantage before we again went all in and he took it down. Not my finest hour.
So on to this year. We operate with a rebuy system and my nemesis drew the seat to my right. Nine players. After about 90 minutes he went all in and I caught him on a draw with my top pair and busted him. He rebought and kept battling though, grinding his way back to respectability. Meanwhile, I was playing well, as well as I feel like I have perhaps ever. I was catching guys when I made hands and I was bluffing when I didn't. Even a misread turned my way, as I called a postflop bet with nothing, confident my opponent was on a bluff and I could take the pot away from him on later streets, then hit the turn and the river to allow the cards to do it for me.
The crux of the game was destined to come down to a final showdown and big hands made it happen. First, my nemesis cut the table from five to three when he got himself tangled in a three-way all-in pot with only Q,10 off, finding himself pot-committed but fortunate as a Q hit and held off his opponents' A,4 and A,K. Then, my own Q,10 got large as a flop hit 10,10,Q and my opponent, wired and disbelieving of my strength, fired at the flop (smooth call) and pushed in after the turn.
So there we were. Me and my nemesis. Side by side and face to face.
Again.
to be continued...
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