Posts
So it has been awhile since I have posted and I have a few poker related tales to tell.
Inactivity is the bane of my poker game. I don't play often enough and I lose traction on my play, all the little things I remind myself about the style of poker I should play. I am a fitting example of the player who plays the style that fits his personality and often I need to mix things up to avoid the ruts of one style. However, I often realize that I'm mixing it up at the wrong moments and it's often losing some hands or laying down failed plays that remind me the importance of having a structure to your own poker game and that I must establish myself before mixing anything up. Duh.
Lay ground work.
Set up a play or an image.
Follow through with it.
At a key moment, play off that image or style to great benefit.
Simple, right?
But alas, it does not always work. I was recently in W. Palm Beach, FL and decided to make a stop over at the Palm Beach Kennel Club to check out the poker room there. Now, I had scouted the website and because it was not much to speak of, I wasn't expecting too much. Plus, it is the dog track, you know? An exacta on the 2,5 isn't the same when they're chasing a mechanical rabbit. But at the least I figured for some loose play, hopefully by some degenerates, that I could play a relatively tight game into and feed off of and hope for the big hands. After all, I was only heading there for a few hours, not a big session at all.
So my first surprise was finding that the max buy-in for the entire room, regardless of game, was $100. So I bought in for a hundo at a 1-2 table and was, not surprisingly, a short stack. However, there was not a ton in the big stacks so I felt room to make plays would be available.
And here, I went awry, as I tried to get involved with some decent, but not fantastic, holdings right away. And when the flops missed me and I was bet into, it was either put it all in with air or fold. So I folded twice and paid my blinds and waited. And I made another mistake, though not on purpose, but rather through inexperience. Having never been in a room with the buy in limit, I was not aware that I should have reloaded back to my initial $100 after each pot I lost. Instead, I chipped down by about half and when I looked down at A,A and made an all in re-raise and was snap-called by K,K, it meant a double up to my initial stack instead of a full double up of the buy in. And again, it showed me why fishing around with marginal holdings early on was a bad play. Had I been playing more often, the first hour would not have been merely a reminder of little things forgotten and opportunities missed.
One other note about the Kennel Club is that many of the players there are new to the game and like the low buy in stakes but make no-limit their first introduction to the game. So there is plenty of opportunity there, no doubt. Unfortunately, none of it was seized upon by me, as evidenced by the following:
At one point hours later at a new table when I had folded for literally hours and won pots without ever having shown down, a guy two to my right told a new player how loose I was playing even though he had never seen a single card of mine. No one had seen anything I had played since I had sat. I asked him if he really thought I was playing loosely and he nodded. I pointed out that he hadn't seen a single card yet, hoping that he would get the hint that I was only playing winning hands, so I could make a move on his chips at a later point. Well, he didn't get the point or perhaps it came too quickly because only a few hands later I flopped the nut flush draw, an open-ended straight and (as it turns out) one over card. So when I bet into my monster and basically pot-commit myself, he shoved with middle pair and NO DRAW. Of course I called, 18 outs twice for me and none came home. What I should have realized that he wanted to see my cards more than he thought I was playing winning hands and was willing to lose money in order to see. But he got both and that is why, on occasion, poker is a cruel, cruel game.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Harrah's Part 2
So still smarting from my loss of the previous day, I lived up the early part of Friday night of Bill's pre-wedding festivities with a great dinner and drinks, got to hang with some old friends from all over the country (met Gene D and his wife as well) and then hit up Harrah's late night with Fast Eddie, another old friend who has had good success at Harrah's tables in the past. Considering that I showed up wearing a suit, I knew everyone would immediately book me for the tourist that I was, so I made a decision to play up that angle as much as possible. Luckily, there were a couple drunk guys at the table, not surprising considering the time of night and while my chips ($200) were en route to the table I got involved in a hand with the first two cards dealt me, KcQc. I flopped a flush draw, bet at it, got called, hit the flush on the turn (meanwhile my chips had been delivered but I still tried to bet without using them, furthering my image as the table rube) but then slowed down a bit on the river as the board paired (all the while remembering my brutal river beats of the previous day.) Fortunately, my opponent had neither a boat nor the nut flush and I dragged a nice little opening pot to get things started.
Hey, things change from day to day, minute to minute in poker. Maybe this was my night, right? Well, it certainly appeared as if I might go on a nice run a few hands later, when from the button I peek down at the two black aces. The pot had been raised by a short stack to $15 and he had drawn a caller. I popped it up to $45, the blinds folded behind me and the short stack called for his last $23 ($38 total) and the other caller also came along. So we had a main pot of $117 already and a side pot of $14 (the $7 difference between my raise and the short stack's amount. Can you smell that? Oh yeah. It's the sweet smell of the Painkillers. The bullets. In position, in a big pot, ready to inflict damage.
But before they do, a funny thing happened. The flop came 8,9,Q. Rainbow. And then a not-so-funny thing happened. Johnny Poker decided to lead out with $90. Into my aces. $90. Really? Really. And I was insta-ready to reshove, except for a small, nagging voice in my head that told me I had just gotten out-flopped. And it didn't help the villain that he bet out the exact amount of my incorrect hero call of the previous session.
So I decided to assess my options and see what I could find out. I started talking at him. First, I asked him how much he had behind. He had about $125 behind, had me covered by just a few dollars. He counted it out for me, restacked it for himself. I played along, peered in and asked if he was sure of his count. He was.
I'm beat. I know it.
But I have aces on a rainbow board.
I ask if he has Jack, Ten, ask if he flopped the straight. I get nothing in return. Did you flop a set of queens? Again, not much of a reaction.
And across the table, drunk guy number one asks if we can play some poker. Luckily for me, the guy to my left, a punk-rock guy with his girlfriend playing in the seat to his left, tells him to cool it, that it's a big pot. I silently thank him for buying me more time, 'cause at the moment, I'm torn on my decision. Why would he lead out so big if he hit a monster? Bottom set? I tell him he doesn't have kings because we would have gotten it all in preflop. Is he even listening? I've got nothing so far, except my own rambling dialogue on the hand. And finally, I ask the right question, or rather, just say the right thing which was almost just a passing thought I happened to voice.
I've got a big hand, I say.
And he shrugs. He shrugs. He could care less. I think if you had taken a photo of me at that moment, my mouth would be slightly open, my eyes wide and a little glimmer of understanding would be all over my face.
I look at the dealer and announced that I fold. I fold face up. My end of the table winces at the aces.
The short stack turns over Q,Q for top set. Wow, I think.
The villain turns over J, 10 for the nuts. WTF, I think.
Why he bet at me considering that I had been the pre-flop raiser, I will never understand. If he checks at that moment, I would have led out for a good amount, he could have generated himself a side pot with me practically dead to rights and either just smooth called me or raised me after I had pretty much pot-committed myself. Just a terrible play by him and it allowed me to extricate myself from a really bad position with minimal damage.
To make matters worse for him, perhaps in some sort of karmic punishment of his play, the board paired itself on fifth street and the short stack took the main pot down with a river boat.
So needless to say, I was a little wary of table 15 (same table as the previous day's session) as it seemed to have it in for me. About a half hour later, I look down at 8,8 and make a raise to $12, which promptly gets called by two players and popped to $45 (all in) by one of the blinds. And again, something didn't feel right so I trusted my instincts and folded. Both players behind me called and as it turns out everyone was wired, with the all in having the aces. No side pot developed in the face of a painted board so again I was left wondering when my break was going to happen, the hand that would get me going.
While contemplating that, the drunk guys left, a couple guys busted and our table broke up. I, along with an older lady who had just sat, moved over to another table in front of the cage, the same table where Fast Eddie was sitting. And immediately, the old lady begins firing at pots, and firing back straight whiskeys. She's making crazy plays and getting away with them, showing bluffs when they work and luck-boxing into two pair on the turn and river when leading out from behind. And she's talking, a lot. She's railing on people and telling them how awful their play is, all the while misreading hands and earning a big, fat bulls-eye with her mouth and her bloated stack of chips.
So after watching about an hour or so of this and watching some good play and some mediocre play from the rest of the table, I get bored. So I decide to egg on the old lady.
"Philhemina, you getting in this pot?" I lean forward and ask, as the cards slide around the table.
She looks over her half-rim glasses at me, eyes blurred with whiskey and money. "You got such a big hand, you want me in?" she drawls at me, even though the cards are still being dealt. She takes the briefest of glances at her cards and grabs a stack of reds and pounds them past the line. "A hunnert."
Now, I don't know about you, but a hundred dollar bet into an unopened 1-2 pot with such abandon and recklessness deserves to be punished. It's just begging to be taken, itching to be taught a lesson.
I look at the guys at my end of the table as the action is folded to me and mouth the standard, "One time," I say. "One time."
And I actually have something. Nines. Two of them.
I don't even glance at the hundred in there as I double-fist my stack into the center of the table. "Yup. All-in." I bang it up to $238 total.
Three seats to my left grimaces as he folds. "I want to play. That's my favorite hand."
It gets back to Philhemina. She wastes no time, and i mean none, in getting the other $138 out to complete her call, and I about regurgitate all the dinner and drinks from Bill's rehearsal dinner. Please, I think, don't let her have actually snuck into a big hand. She doesn't show as the flop comes out king high, no straight or flush draws. Turn brings a queen and I draw my breath tighter and the river throws out a brick. I flip my nines and wait. She looks at them and checks her hand. No eruption from her but I still hold my breath. She might be reading her own hand wrong for all I know.
Finally she flips up A,8 offsuit and I let out a laugh, partially in relief, partially in disbelief, partially because she still has a stack of chips in front of her that I want.
"Philhemina," I look down at her as I stack up, "that was a great call."
Day three at Harrah's to come.
Hey, things change from day to day, minute to minute in poker. Maybe this was my night, right? Well, it certainly appeared as if I might go on a nice run a few hands later, when from the button I peek down at the two black aces. The pot had been raised by a short stack to $15 and he had drawn a caller. I popped it up to $45, the blinds folded behind me and the short stack called for his last $23 ($38 total) and the other caller also came along. So we had a main pot of $117 already and a side pot of $14 (the $7 difference between my raise and the short stack's amount. Can you smell that? Oh yeah. It's the sweet smell of the Painkillers. The bullets. In position, in a big pot, ready to inflict damage.
But before they do, a funny thing happened. The flop came 8,9,Q. Rainbow. And then a not-so-funny thing happened. Johnny Poker decided to lead out with $90. Into my aces. $90. Really? Really. And I was insta-ready to reshove, except for a small, nagging voice in my head that told me I had just gotten out-flopped. And it didn't help the villain that he bet out the exact amount of my incorrect hero call of the previous session.
So I decided to assess my options and see what I could find out. I started talking at him. First, I asked him how much he had behind. He had about $125 behind, had me covered by just a few dollars. He counted it out for me, restacked it for himself. I played along, peered in and asked if he was sure of his count. He was.
I'm beat. I know it.
But I have aces on a rainbow board.
I ask if he has Jack, Ten, ask if he flopped the straight. I get nothing in return. Did you flop a set of queens? Again, not much of a reaction.
And across the table, drunk guy number one asks if we can play some poker. Luckily for me, the guy to my left, a punk-rock guy with his girlfriend playing in the seat to his left, tells him to cool it, that it's a big pot. I silently thank him for buying me more time, 'cause at the moment, I'm torn on my decision. Why would he lead out so big if he hit a monster? Bottom set? I tell him he doesn't have kings because we would have gotten it all in preflop. Is he even listening? I've got nothing so far, except my own rambling dialogue on the hand. And finally, I ask the right question, or rather, just say the right thing which was almost just a passing thought I happened to voice.
I've got a big hand, I say.
And he shrugs. He shrugs. He could care less. I think if you had taken a photo of me at that moment, my mouth would be slightly open, my eyes wide and a little glimmer of understanding would be all over my face.
I look at the dealer and announced that I fold. I fold face up. My end of the table winces at the aces.
The short stack turns over Q,Q for top set. Wow, I think.
The villain turns over J, 10 for the nuts. WTF, I think.
Why he bet at me considering that I had been the pre-flop raiser, I will never understand. If he checks at that moment, I would have led out for a good amount, he could have generated himself a side pot with me practically dead to rights and either just smooth called me or raised me after I had pretty much pot-committed myself. Just a terrible play by him and it allowed me to extricate myself from a really bad position with minimal damage.
To make matters worse for him, perhaps in some sort of karmic punishment of his play, the board paired itself on fifth street and the short stack took the main pot down with a river boat.
So needless to say, I was a little wary of table 15 (same table as the previous day's session) as it seemed to have it in for me. About a half hour later, I look down at 8,8 and make a raise to $12, which promptly gets called by two players and popped to $45 (all in) by one of the blinds. And again, something didn't feel right so I trusted my instincts and folded. Both players behind me called and as it turns out everyone was wired, with the all in having the aces. No side pot developed in the face of a painted board so again I was left wondering when my break was going to happen, the hand that would get me going.
While contemplating that, the drunk guys left, a couple guys busted and our table broke up. I, along with an older lady who had just sat, moved over to another table in front of the cage, the same table where Fast Eddie was sitting. And immediately, the old lady begins firing at pots, and firing back straight whiskeys. She's making crazy plays and getting away with them, showing bluffs when they work and luck-boxing into two pair on the turn and river when leading out from behind. And she's talking, a lot. She's railing on people and telling them how awful their play is, all the while misreading hands and earning a big, fat bulls-eye with her mouth and her bloated stack of chips.
So after watching about an hour or so of this and watching some good play and some mediocre play from the rest of the table, I get bored. So I decide to egg on the old lady.
"Philhemina, you getting in this pot?" I lean forward and ask, as the cards slide around the table.
She looks over her half-rim glasses at me, eyes blurred with whiskey and money. "You got such a big hand, you want me in?" she drawls at me, even though the cards are still being dealt. She takes the briefest of glances at her cards and grabs a stack of reds and pounds them past the line. "A hunnert."
Now, I don't know about you, but a hundred dollar bet into an unopened 1-2 pot with such abandon and recklessness deserves to be punished. It's just begging to be taken, itching to be taught a lesson.
I look at the guys at my end of the table as the action is folded to me and mouth the standard, "One time," I say. "One time."
And I actually have something. Nines. Two of them.
I don't even glance at the hundred in there as I double-fist my stack into the center of the table. "Yup. All-in." I bang it up to $238 total.
Three seats to my left grimaces as he folds. "I want to play. That's my favorite hand."
It gets back to Philhemina. She wastes no time, and i mean none, in getting the other $138 out to complete her call, and I about regurgitate all the dinner and drinks from Bill's rehearsal dinner. Please, I think, don't let her have actually snuck into a big hand. She doesn't show as the flop comes out king high, no straight or flush draws. Turn brings a queen and I draw my breath tighter and the river throws out a brick. I flip my nines and wait. She looks at them and checks her hand. No eruption from her but I still hold my breath. She might be reading her own hand wrong for all I know.
Finally she flips up A,8 offsuit and I let out a laugh, partially in relief, partially in disbelief, partially because she still has a stack of chips in front of her that I want.
"Philhemina," I look down at her as I stack up, "that was a great call."
Day three at Harrah's to come.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
New Orleans poker (and Wild Bill's wedding)
So I was down in New Orleans for Wild Bill's wedding and managed to sneak in 3 sessions at Harrahs while there, so figured I would give a long-overdue update and detail some of the action, which as many locals probably already know, can be pretty head-scratching.
The first session didn't go so well. Bill and I sat down late afternoon for $200 at a just-opened 1-2 NL table and I promptly folded about two rounds of garbage trying to get a feel, having not played in awhile.
The key sequence was consecutive hands immediately after that. I looked down at A,K suited, raised to $15 and got a caller. Flop came K, 10, x rainbow and I led for $20, getting the taker and feeling good about where I was. Turn brought another brick and I put out $30 and again the guy two to my left came along with a call. River came with a Q and here I pulled up the brakes. Was this guy playing K,Q? Or even worse, A,Q? I checked and he came out for $90. Now, writing this makes it seem obvious to me that I was beat, but at the time, at the table, when I knew for all the world that I had been ahead until that point, made me want to call down that $90. So I made the call and he showed neither K,Q nor A,Q but Q,9 for the gutterball and not even the nuts gutterball, to add insult to financial injury.
So, taking all this in, I hope to be able to get back in a hand with this guy, and soon. Well, careful what you wish for, because the very next hand I look down at K,K. I raise once again to $15 and this time get 3 callers. Well, wouldn't you know it, the flop again brings a K high rainbow and I check my set. Guy to my left bets at it, gets both callers along and I put my last $30 or so on top, getting 2 of them along for the ride and feeling nice and toasty.
Which, as anyone who plays regularly knows, is a bad idea. Running cards fire the guy to my left another straight into my face and I'm down a buy in. He admits he thought I was tilting. No consolation to me.
Bought back in and did some grinding for a few hours until an ill-timed bluff forfeited my meager comeback and left me down for the session.
Day two to come...
The first session didn't go so well. Bill and I sat down late afternoon for $200 at a just-opened 1-2 NL table and I promptly folded about two rounds of garbage trying to get a feel, having not played in awhile.
The key sequence was consecutive hands immediately after that. I looked down at A,K suited, raised to $15 and got a caller. Flop came K, 10, x rainbow and I led for $20, getting the taker and feeling good about where I was. Turn brought another brick and I put out $30 and again the guy two to my left came along with a call. River came with a Q and here I pulled up the brakes. Was this guy playing K,Q? Or even worse, A,Q? I checked and he came out for $90. Now, writing this makes it seem obvious to me that I was beat, but at the time, at the table, when I knew for all the world that I had been ahead until that point, made me want to call down that $90. So I made the call and he showed neither K,Q nor A,Q but Q,9 for the gutterball and not even the nuts gutterball, to add insult to financial injury.
So, taking all this in, I hope to be able to get back in a hand with this guy, and soon. Well, careful what you wish for, because the very next hand I look down at K,K. I raise once again to $15 and this time get 3 callers. Well, wouldn't you know it, the flop again brings a K high rainbow and I check my set. Guy to my left bets at it, gets both callers along and I put my last $30 or so on top, getting 2 of them along for the ride and feeling nice and toasty.
Which, as anyone who plays regularly knows, is a bad idea. Running cards fire the guy to my left another straight into my face and I'm down a buy in. He admits he thought I was tilting. No consolation to me.
Bought back in and did some grinding for a few hours until an ill-timed bluff forfeited my meager comeback and left me down for the session.
Day two to come...
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Poker Interlude, Part II
A few years ago ESPN, as part of their WSOP coverage, had little features called "The Greatest Hand I Ever Played." Offhand, the only one I can remember was a great bluff that Gavin Griffin made on his way to a bracelet victory. They were nice little stories and they added clips of the hands to augment it. Overall a good little break from the action without having to go to commercial. Much better than the moronic "Nuts" pieces they do. Really, do I care if pros have leaks worse than the Titanic and bet $50,000 on three holes of golf or play Rock, Paper, Scissors to kill time?
The reason I bring this up is because I melted down in the bizarro counterpart to this feature, which I feel certain is The Worst Hand I Ever Played. I can see a producer figuring out exactly how they are going to document my facial tics after I have irreversibly blown the hand, how they are going to put my awful decisions into slow-motion to make them more dramatic, how they are going to throw some voice-over of a fake poker announcer (I wonder if bizarro Gabe Kaplan is available) to mock me and wonder aloud exactly what the hell I am doing. Maybe they'll throw some special effects in and riddle my hunched over, broken body with a slew of bullets to put me out of my misery before the hand even ends. Whatever my fate, I deserve the ridicule that comes with a play so stupid that I made it twice.
That's right. Twice. In the same hand. And it wasn't just some meaningless middle position hand in the 25/50 round, it was a hand that defined a whole night's worth of effort, that derailed any and everything that I had done until that point.
In other words, it was The Hand.
And I blew it.
Twice.
To get up to speed, read my previous post on how my tournament had gone. I'm now at the final table and we're seven-handed. Top five get paid, the good money is in the top three spots. I'm on a medium-ish stack, there are two stacks shorter, two really big stacks and three around the same as mine.
On The Worst Hand I Ever Played, I was in late position, fourth of seven to act preflop. The first two fold. The player to my right shoves for his last 4150 (I have a little more than 14k) and lo and behold, hallelujah, after suffering through scores of just brutal non-playable hands, I look down at J,J.
And here's where I short-circuited. Instead of taking the time (really it would have only taken seconds had I stopped to think) and assessing my options, I immediately just call. Not shove, just call.
Giant mistake #1, because the chip leader to my left and on the button, has now been priced in and his huge stack can afford the price without any worry. Not only that, but he could be, and probably is, playing any two cards here. Awesome.
Compounding my mistake, and proving to me that I'm a moron, the big blind decides that it is worth his while to get in and mix it up as well. So basically any flop can be dangerous to me, or so I think, conveniently forgetting that I have a PREMIUM HAND.
The horror, the horror.
The flop comes perfectly for me: 2,3,10 rainbow. The BB checks and...
I go all in and drag the pot!!!!
Um, no, wait. That's not what happened. Not at all. Because I, being an utter fool, check behind him and the button/big stack checks behind me.
The sheer stupidity of this play is mind-boggling. At this stage of the tournament, at this level of blinds (500/1000) I need this pot to have a chance to win. And they're offering it to me. They've forgiven my mistake of not isolating the all-in, they've added their own chips to the mix for me to take and I...FREAKING...CHECK.
Riddle me with those bullets right now.
Because a 4 came on the turn and the BB, not being an idiot like me, went all in. He had me covered and I folded, as did the button. He turns over A,5 for the wheel that he had drawn inside to because I had let him.
The all-in flipped over his losing A,Q and I just sat there, contemplating all the different ways that I could, and should, have won that pot. All the different ways that I had misplayed the hand. All the ways that I just wasted five hours getting to the position where I could have assured a cash, put myself in second in chips with six players left and all the ways that I am sometimes just plain dumb.
Needless to say, I bubbled out in sixth about 10 minutes later. No money for my effort, nothing but the hope, that small hope that I cling to, that it was behind me:
The Worst Hand I Ever Played.
The reason I bring this up is because I melted down in the bizarro counterpart to this feature, which I feel certain is The Worst Hand I Ever Played. I can see a producer figuring out exactly how they are going to document my facial tics after I have irreversibly blown the hand, how they are going to put my awful decisions into slow-motion to make them more dramatic, how they are going to throw some voice-over of a fake poker announcer (I wonder if bizarro Gabe Kaplan is available) to mock me and wonder aloud exactly what the hell I am doing. Maybe they'll throw some special effects in and riddle my hunched over, broken body with a slew of bullets to put me out of my misery before the hand even ends. Whatever my fate, I deserve the ridicule that comes with a play so stupid that I made it twice.
That's right. Twice. In the same hand. And it wasn't just some meaningless middle position hand in the 25/50 round, it was a hand that defined a whole night's worth of effort, that derailed any and everything that I had done until that point.
In other words, it was The Hand.
And I blew it.
Twice.
To get up to speed, read my previous post on how my tournament had gone. I'm now at the final table and we're seven-handed. Top five get paid, the good money is in the top three spots. I'm on a medium-ish stack, there are two stacks shorter, two really big stacks and three around the same as mine.
On The Worst Hand I Ever Played, I was in late position, fourth of seven to act preflop. The first two fold. The player to my right shoves for his last 4150 (I have a little more than 14k) and lo and behold, hallelujah, after suffering through scores of just brutal non-playable hands, I look down at J,J.
And here's where I short-circuited. Instead of taking the time (really it would have only taken seconds had I stopped to think) and assessing my options, I immediately just call. Not shove, just call.
Giant mistake #1, because the chip leader to my left and on the button, has now been priced in and his huge stack can afford the price without any worry. Not only that, but he could be, and probably is, playing any two cards here. Awesome.
Compounding my mistake, and proving to me that I'm a moron, the big blind decides that it is worth his while to get in and mix it up as well. So basically any flop can be dangerous to me, or so I think, conveniently forgetting that I have a PREMIUM HAND.
The horror, the horror.
The flop comes perfectly for me: 2,3,10 rainbow. The BB checks and...
I go all in and drag the pot!!!!
Um, no, wait. That's not what happened. Not at all. Because I, being an utter fool, check behind him and the button/big stack checks behind me.
The sheer stupidity of this play is mind-boggling. At this stage of the tournament, at this level of blinds (500/1000) I need this pot to have a chance to win. And they're offering it to me. They've forgiven my mistake of not isolating the all-in, they've added their own chips to the mix for me to take and I...FREAKING...CHECK.
Riddle me with those bullets right now.
Because a 4 came on the turn and the BB, not being an idiot like me, went all in. He had me covered and I folded, as did the button. He turns over A,5 for the wheel that he had drawn inside to because I had let him.
The all-in flipped over his losing A,Q and I just sat there, contemplating all the different ways that I could, and should, have won that pot. All the different ways that I had misplayed the hand. All the ways that I just wasted five hours getting to the position where I could have assured a cash, put myself in second in chips with six players left and all the ways that I am sometimes just plain dumb.
Needless to say, I bubbled out in sixth about 10 minutes later. No money for my effort, nothing but the hope, that small hope that I cling to, that it was behind me:
The Worst Hand I Ever Played.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Poker Interlude
So I've been waiting on Bill to get through his stories where they would finally mesh with my own and he's almost there, but until he reaches that point I don't want to provide any details to his hilarious recap by giving my perspective on the events in Vegas where our poker paths crossed.
So for now, I'll give you a recap of my most recent home tournament escapade, in which I made a play so horrendous, so absolutely mind-boggling idiotic, that if anyone had suggested that I give more money to the prize pool as some sort of penalty, even after I had busted, I would have nodded my head and paid it. Really, it's that bad. On a cringe-inducing scale, it falls probably somewhere between watching Jim Mora, Sr. give a press conference and seeing slow motion replays of Lawrence Taylor snapping Joe Theismann's leg over and over.
I'll get to that shortly. First, the setup: Same structure as usual, two rebuys available, 30 minute levels, 1500 in starting chips. 41 people turned out, a great showing for a home tourney and the prize pool promised to be juicy. Unfortunately, as I sat down, I noticed a slew of the game's regulars and strongest players also grabbing seats at my table. No big deal, I decided. I had promised myself I would be aggressive with my stack and I was at first, right out of the gate firing at flops with nothing when I missed and 3 betting pots where I had raised preflop. I built a stack and then watched it drain away as those same plays fell perfectly into the hands of players who, you know, actually had made hands. So shorty I ran for a good long while as just absolute dreck found its way into my hands. I mean, not even a whiff of cards that I could push my stack in and hope to double with (with the rebuys, my short stack was almost assuredly getting called down when it got in.) Still, I knew that I had to get it in and quickly. No point in hanging around with few chips when shoving can, at the very least, double my stack through a rebuy.
And that is exactly what happened. No, this is not the horrendous play. Not yet. Patience. It's awful, I promise. No, this was one of those "I see a face card, I'm all in regardless of my other card" hands. One of those hands so forgettable and ordinary that, well, I've forgotten what it was. Either way, I can confirm that I did not win and I joined the chorus of those pitching in money for a rebuy. My table had dispatched a player and unluckily for us, drew another player I recognized as a tough regular. The table tightened up and my cards seemed intent on proving that it is not true that a player cannot have a deuce in his hand every hand for nine consecutive hands. I wish I were kidding. With a slew of players still going, my chances of cashing looked bleak unless I could catch some breaks or power my way through the Nordic conditions at my seat.
Luckily, a little of both happened. My table lost another player and fortunately for me, broke just into 100/200 blinds. At this point I was still on my exact rebuy of 1500 one way or another (I believe I got a walk through on my BB post-rebuy.) Anyway I move to another table, now down to 3, and am moved into, what else, the 200 big blind. And what else is new, I look down at 2...10. Munson. I mean, Brunson. Miracuolously, three limpers come in and I check. The flop throws a Jack high rag board that also includes a 2, pairing me. I remind myself that I am now ahead of any A,x hand that just missed the flop and with only 1300 behind and 900 in the pot already, I decide to fire. I push it all in and two hands fly into the muck, followed by a big stack ever so slowly, one by one, counting out the chips to make 1300 and moving them in.
"I've got a deuce" I say, and flip my cards, "And I'm ahead?" as the villain turns over a Q,6 offsuit that has missed everything. Huh? My previous tablemates from the brutal first table eyeball one another as the turn and river brick out and I more than double up. So this is how the play is going to be over at our new table is the common thought flashing across their eyes. After the solid, tight play previously, for me at least, it is welcome. As is the A,K I look down at on my very next hand when I raise a limped pot up and then am subsequently re-raised to 1800 by an all-in shove. I call and this new villain tables a 10,10 that holds and I'm back down again. No fear, however, as I immediately hit a flop as I play my rush and drag another pot. Unfortunately for me though, is that after only about 6 hands at this table I'm carded out to switch again. Two smart, solid players are now on my left but at the other end of the table are a couple of bigger stacks that have apparently called everything and drawn out. And as often happens with those players, eventually the cards don't fall their way and they don't adjust their play and boom, boom, boom, in only a few hands, they're out and an opportunistic, patient player is stacking their chips. I was not that lucky player on this night though, as my big hand of Q,Q raised up a raiser who then buckles under my pressure. A little later, with blinds moving up, I make a semi-bluff when my AcJc flops two clubs and I get my chips in first against the player to my left. Luckily, he is one of the players at the table who can realize hand ranges and potential crippling calls and analyze if there is a better spot to get his money in. Even though he has me on something that he suspects is worse than his hand (he is claiming 2nd pair, 8s) he eventually mucks it. A little rabbit hunting is somewhat ugly for me as it turns out I would have made my flush on the river and felted him.
After this, I mostly play position as my little run of good and decent cards ends and I go back to picking up zilch. I make big raises to steal blinds a couple rounds in a row and maintain my stack, which is on the low/middle end. Not in dire straits by any means yet but when blinds move, pots build fast and fold equity lowers almost exponentially. The other remaining table sees more action as our host is absolutely marauding through his tablemates, busting players and then following that by bullying the shorthanded table. Finally, he felts another and we're down to the final table.
I draw the worst seat, to the host's right, inches from his mammoth chip stack. As far as what I need to do, I know it: I need to double up quickly or my stack is ending up ten inches to the left. However, the one thing I do like about this position is that it will be easier, if I pay close attention, to try and get a quick read on the big stack's starting hands if he lets anything slip. More than any other player, when cards were dealt, if he moved for his, I was watching covertly. If he didn't, I was trying to gauge his reaction to others' raises. Sometimes big stacks don't want to get involved with certain other players, and as the host, he knew everyone at this table better than the rest. Little things I was trying to pick up.
Two smaller stacks busted almost immediately, bringing us to 8. Fortunately for me though, one of them was not Mr. Q,6 offsuit. Because after biding my time through a round of blinds and folding under combined pressure and poor hands, I look down at K,2 in the BB and again it's an unopened pot. A king flops for me and I make the "No mistake, I've got a K, you should fold now" all in move. Once again, chip...chip...chip...push it in call, this time with...Q,J off?? Which has again missed like a Chris Dudley free throw??? I'll take it, and when the turn brings another king and clinches it for me, I do.
Now I'm back in good shape. And after I flop a Q a couple hands later and take the rest of Mr. Q,6's chips, thus becoming the final table's Mr. Fortunate timing, I am up over 14,000 in chips at the 500/1000 stage of the table and we are now down to 7. Top five are cashing and the top 3 spots are a tidy little profit. The table is moving, some good play with chips getting out there. The two smart, solid players who had been on my left at the 2nd to last table are now both to my right. The big stack is to my left, with a small/medium stack, 2nd biggest stack and another small/medium stacks to his left rounding it out.
Which brings us to The Worst Hand I've Ever Played.
Don't worry, I didn't forget. That, my friends, would be impossible.
To Be Continued...
So for now, I'll give you a recap of my most recent home tournament escapade, in which I made a play so horrendous, so absolutely mind-boggling idiotic, that if anyone had suggested that I give more money to the prize pool as some sort of penalty, even after I had busted, I would have nodded my head and paid it. Really, it's that bad. On a cringe-inducing scale, it falls probably somewhere between watching Jim Mora, Sr. give a press conference and seeing slow motion replays of Lawrence Taylor snapping Joe Theismann's leg over and over.
I'll get to that shortly. First, the setup: Same structure as usual, two rebuys available, 30 minute levels, 1500 in starting chips. 41 people turned out, a great showing for a home tourney and the prize pool promised to be juicy. Unfortunately, as I sat down, I noticed a slew of the game's regulars and strongest players also grabbing seats at my table. No big deal, I decided. I had promised myself I would be aggressive with my stack and I was at first, right out of the gate firing at flops with nothing when I missed and 3 betting pots where I had raised preflop. I built a stack and then watched it drain away as those same plays fell perfectly into the hands of players who, you know, actually had made hands. So shorty I ran for a good long while as just absolute dreck found its way into my hands. I mean, not even a whiff of cards that I could push my stack in and hope to double with (with the rebuys, my short stack was almost assuredly getting called down when it got in.) Still, I knew that I had to get it in and quickly. No point in hanging around with few chips when shoving can, at the very least, double my stack through a rebuy.
And that is exactly what happened. No, this is not the horrendous play. Not yet. Patience. It's awful, I promise. No, this was one of those "I see a face card, I'm all in regardless of my other card" hands. One of those hands so forgettable and ordinary that, well, I've forgotten what it was. Either way, I can confirm that I did not win and I joined the chorus of those pitching in money for a rebuy. My table had dispatched a player and unluckily for us, drew another player I recognized as a tough regular. The table tightened up and my cards seemed intent on proving that it is not true that a player cannot have a deuce in his hand every hand for nine consecutive hands. I wish I were kidding. With a slew of players still going, my chances of cashing looked bleak unless I could catch some breaks or power my way through the Nordic conditions at my seat.
Luckily, a little of both happened. My table lost another player and fortunately for me, broke just into 100/200 blinds. At this point I was still on my exact rebuy of 1500 one way or another (I believe I got a walk through on my BB post-rebuy.) Anyway I move to another table, now down to 3, and am moved into, what else, the 200 big blind. And what else is new, I look down at 2...10. Munson. I mean, Brunson. Miracuolously, three limpers come in and I check. The flop throws a Jack high rag board that also includes a 2, pairing me. I remind myself that I am now ahead of any A,x hand that just missed the flop and with only 1300 behind and 900 in the pot already, I decide to fire. I push it all in and two hands fly into the muck, followed by a big stack ever so slowly, one by one, counting out the chips to make 1300 and moving them in.
"I've got a deuce" I say, and flip my cards, "And I'm ahead?" as the villain turns over a Q,6 offsuit that has missed everything. Huh? My previous tablemates from the brutal first table eyeball one another as the turn and river brick out and I more than double up. So this is how the play is going to be over at our new table is the common thought flashing across their eyes. After the solid, tight play previously, for me at least, it is welcome. As is the A,K I look down at on my very next hand when I raise a limped pot up and then am subsequently re-raised to 1800 by an all-in shove. I call and this new villain tables a 10,10 that holds and I'm back down again. No fear, however, as I immediately hit a flop as I play my rush and drag another pot. Unfortunately for me though, is that after only about 6 hands at this table I'm carded out to switch again. Two smart, solid players are now on my left but at the other end of the table are a couple of bigger stacks that have apparently called everything and drawn out. And as often happens with those players, eventually the cards don't fall their way and they don't adjust their play and boom, boom, boom, in only a few hands, they're out and an opportunistic, patient player is stacking their chips. I was not that lucky player on this night though, as my big hand of Q,Q raised up a raiser who then buckles under my pressure. A little later, with blinds moving up, I make a semi-bluff when my AcJc flops two clubs and I get my chips in first against the player to my left. Luckily, he is one of the players at the table who can realize hand ranges and potential crippling calls and analyze if there is a better spot to get his money in. Even though he has me on something that he suspects is worse than his hand (he is claiming 2nd pair, 8s) he eventually mucks it. A little rabbit hunting is somewhat ugly for me as it turns out I would have made my flush on the river and felted him.
After this, I mostly play position as my little run of good and decent cards ends and I go back to picking up zilch. I make big raises to steal blinds a couple rounds in a row and maintain my stack, which is on the low/middle end. Not in dire straits by any means yet but when blinds move, pots build fast and fold equity lowers almost exponentially. The other remaining table sees more action as our host is absolutely marauding through his tablemates, busting players and then following that by bullying the shorthanded table. Finally, he felts another and we're down to the final table.
I draw the worst seat, to the host's right, inches from his mammoth chip stack. As far as what I need to do, I know it: I need to double up quickly or my stack is ending up ten inches to the left. However, the one thing I do like about this position is that it will be easier, if I pay close attention, to try and get a quick read on the big stack's starting hands if he lets anything slip. More than any other player, when cards were dealt, if he moved for his, I was watching covertly. If he didn't, I was trying to gauge his reaction to others' raises. Sometimes big stacks don't want to get involved with certain other players, and as the host, he knew everyone at this table better than the rest. Little things I was trying to pick up.
Two smaller stacks busted almost immediately, bringing us to 8. Fortunately for me though, one of them was not Mr. Q,6 offsuit. Because after biding my time through a round of blinds and folding under combined pressure and poor hands, I look down at K,2 in the BB and again it's an unopened pot. A king flops for me and I make the "No mistake, I've got a K, you should fold now" all in move. Once again, chip...chip...chip...push it in call, this time with...Q,J off?? Which has again missed like a Chris Dudley free throw??? I'll take it, and when the turn brings another king and clinches it for me, I do.
Now I'm back in good shape. And after I flop a Q a couple hands later and take the rest of Mr. Q,6's chips, thus becoming the final table's Mr. Fortunate timing, I am up over 14,000 in chips at the 500/1000 stage of the table and we are now down to 7. Top five are cashing and the top 3 spots are a tidy little profit. The table is moving, some good play with chips getting out there. The two smart, solid players who had been on my left at the 2nd to last table are now both to my right. The big stack is to my left, with a small/medium stack, 2nd biggest stack and another small/medium stacks to his left rounding it out.
Which brings us to The Worst Hand I've Ever Played.
Don't worry, I didn't forget. That, my friends, would be impossible.
To Be Continued...
Monday, August 11, 2008
Caesar's Tournament #1
Continued from last post.
So while waiting for everyone to arrive in Vegas I bought into one of Caesar's daily $65 +5 tournaments and was put into the 4 seat. Right off the table appeared tight and I won a couple of multi-way pots when the flop bricked out and I was the only one to lead out into it. I did, however, spew some of those chips back over the next few hands, as I kept being aggressive with rags but when those same players came back over the top I knew I had to clear way.
About twenty minutes into the first level was one of two hands that I want to recap in a little more detail. I squeezed out 9s,10s in late position and called the raise to my immediate right. Another guy called from the 1 seat and we went in 3 handed. Flop brings 3,10,10 and visions of chips flying my way fill my head. 1 seat checks, 3 seat puts out a pot sized bet, I call and the 1 seat folds. Turn bricks and 3 seat puts out a bigger bet. I stare down the board, hoping he'll guess I'm chasing an ace, maybe put me on big slick. Finally, I can my bad acting and announce a raise and am called instantly. Could he have hit with a pair of 3s? No way, he wouldn't have led into a 3 way pot with them. River brings another brick and he weakly leads out for something like 300 into a pot of 3000. I jam and he folds his A,A face up and I rake it in.
Cracking the painkillers has left me the table chip leader and I try to take advantage by getting involved in a lot of pots, hoping the tight play will continue and I'll be able to apply some pressure with my stack. Unfortunately, I give a bunch back as I get caught raising my A,x when I flop an ace, only to see a raise and a re-raise behind me and fold thinking I'm outkicked at best or have run into two pair or a set, only to see the showdown and see that I would have been good. This sticks with me a bit as my biggest criticism of myself as a player is that I give my opponents too much credit sometimes for being on bigger hands. I dig back in and only a couple hands later, during 50/100, with two limpers already in the pot, I find A,A in middle position. I raise to 350 and get four callers, not my ideal scenario with the painkillers. Flop comes Q, 7, 4 rainbow. Check, check and my friend from the 3 seat leads out. He's on the shortstack now, with not much left behind. The pot is around 2000 or so and my stack is not much more than that. I jam it in. The 5 seat to my left insta-calls. Checkers both fold and the 3 seat shoves his small stack in as well. He flips over 4,4 for a set of 4s. To my left the 5 seat flips over Q,Q for a set of Qs. I'm down to one of the remaining aces to stay alive, as the 5 seat has me barely covered. Neither comes and I'm bounced. Not my best moment and I'm left thinking about aces being cracked and how I could have forgotten how often it happens. The lesson, as always, is that some nights the painkillers make the pain even worse.
Next up: Wild Bill's poker bender and another Caesar's tournament.
So while waiting for everyone to arrive in Vegas I bought into one of Caesar's daily $65 +5 tournaments and was put into the 4 seat. Right off the table appeared tight and I won a couple of multi-way pots when the flop bricked out and I was the only one to lead out into it. I did, however, spew some of those chips back over the next few hands, as I kept being aggressive with rags but when those same players came back over the top I knew I had to clear way.
About twenty minutes into the first level was one of two hands that I want to recap in a little more detail. I squeezed out 9s,10s in late position and called the raise to my immediate right. Another guy called from the 1 seat and we went in 3 handed. Flop brings 3,10,10 and visions of chips flying my way fill my head. 1 seat checks, 3 seat puts out a pot sized bet, I call and the 1 seat folds. Turn bricks and 3 seat puts out a bigger bet. I stare down the board, hoping he'll guess I'm chasing an ace, maybe put me on big slick. Finally, I can my bad acting and announce a raise and am called instantly. Could he have hit with a pair of 3s? No way, he wouldn't have led into a 3 way pot with them. River brings another brick and he weakly leads out for something like 300 into a pot of 3000. I jam and he folds his A,A face up and I rake it in.
Cracking the painkillers has left me the table chip leader and I try to take advantage by getting involved in a lot of pots, hoping the tight play will continue and I'll be able to apply some pressure with my stack. Unfortunately, I give a bunch back as I get caught raising my A,x when I flop an ace, only to see a raise and a re-raise behind me and fold thinking I'm outkicked at best or have run into two pair or a set, only to see the showdown and see that I would have been good. This sticks with me a bit as my biggest criticism of myself as a player is that I give my opponents too much credit sometimes for being on bigger hands. I dig back in and only a couple hands later, during 50/100, with two limpers already in the pot, I find A,A in middle position. I raise to 350 and get four callers, not my ideal scenario with the painkillers. Flop comes Q, 7, 4 rainbow. Check, check and my friend from the 3 seat leads out. He's on the shortstack now, with not much left behind. The pot is around 2000 or so and my stack is not much more than that. I jam it in. The 5 seat to my left insta-calls. Checkers both fold and the 3 seat shoves his small stack in as well. He flips over 4,4 for a set of 4s. To my left the 5 seat flips over Q,Q for a set of Qs. I'm down to one of the remaining aces to stay alive, as the 5 seat has me barely covered. Neither comes and I'm bounced. Not my best moment and I'm left thinking about aces being cracked and how I could have forgotten how often it happens. The lesson, as always, is that some nights the painkillers make the pain even worse.
Next up: Wild Bill's poker bender and another Caesar's tournament.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Ah, Vegas
I have been on the go for a few weeks in a row, and have some catching up to do. It started with a long weekend way up in northern Vermont, about 5 miles from the Canadian border. We rent what Vermonters call a "camp" what everyone else would call a lake house in the woods. It hit the spot and 3 days of fishing, grilling and swimming provided a great reprieve from mid-July weather back home.
The following week, I put in three long days at work and on the third, headed to the airport for a trip to Vegas for Wild Bill's bachelor party. Flight cancellations and delays were brutal but somehow I managed to get DJ and I on a later flight and arrive in Vegas a cool 8 hours past our scheduled arrival time. So instead of settling in with a fun Wednesday night of action at the tables, we checked in at 4:30 in the morning. Nice. Thanks, airline industry. Every time I think it has hit its lowest, I'm proven wrong.
The one consolation of the lost time was the fact that Caesar's had given away our room, even though they had been informed by phone hours earlier that we would be checking in late because of the flight delay. Why is it a consolation? Because they bumped us up from our standard room to a "Petite Suite" which was bigger, had a sweet flat screen TV (who watches TV in Vegas? More on that later…) and two bathrooms which connected through a double-headed shower. One of the bathrooms had a jacuzzi tub and a bidet and overall I felt like somehow fate had at least made an attempt to balance out the poor luck with which the trip had begun.
Anyway, local Vegas buddy Big E provided airport transportation for us and we in turn bought him entry to the Caesars buffet at 7 am sharp. I was impressed with the buffet, Caesars has it located right next to their pools with both indoor and outdoor seating. And while no one was yet at the pool at 7 am we still snagged a window seat and chowed down. After breakfast, we took a walk through Caesars to get a feel for it and DJ sat down at a video poker machine, won a few dollars and proceeded to act as if it were still Wednesday night at 9 pm rather than Thursday at 8:30 am by ordering a double whiskey coke no ice straight off. Only in Vegas.
We checked out the Caesars craps tables and since $25 tables right off weren't really appealing to us, we hit up the Flamingo, which was dead so we sauntered next door to the place formerly known as the Barbary Coast and now known as Bill's. Coincidence? We thought we would find out. We settled in at a craps table and hovered around even, drinking multiple whiskey cokes and dropping maybe $75 each before DJ got a hot run going. Over on the table next to us, they were holding a daily "How to play craps" informational session and when it broke DJ was in the midst of firing us back up, having hit a few points and smothering the 6 and 8, which we were playing as well. Well, of course as soon as the yokels got done with their craps lessons, they decided to head over and play some. Not only does one dude squeeze into a non-space right next to the shooter (DJ) making him uncomfortable, he immediately asks if the table is hot. DJ and I exchange glances, followed by the inevitable 7-out seconds later. Well, it was a hot table buddy, thanks for the moosh.
So we left the tables up a few dollars and headed back to Caesars, planning on getting out to the pool. Of course, it's July, it's the desert and it's 1 pm, so of course it is 112 degrees outside. Undaunted, we poured buckets of sunscreen on (I don't tan, I crisp. Anything less than spf 30 and I sport a full on lobster red after 5 minutes) and snagged two seats by one of the pools. As we settle in, about 15 feet away half a dozen gorgeous Italian women pose for a friend's photo. I track down some water and a couple Coronas. Poolside in Vegas. Sun. Women. Beer. Nice.
An hour later we head back up to the room. We had escaped the midday heat by hanging out in the water but after a while it became a little too much and we needed a little air conditioning. Back in the room we checked on the arrival of BH, due in a couple hours. In the meantime, I thought it would be a perfect time to check out the poker room. As it turns out, a 3 pm tournament was beginning in 15 minutes. $65+5, 50 person max, 30 minute levels, 2000 in starting chips. Seats still available.
I bought in.
Next installment: The Painkillers run amok.
The following week, I put in three long days at work and on the third, headed to the airport for a trip to Vegas for Wild Bill's bachelor party. Flight cancellations and delays were brutal but somehow I managed to get DJ and I on a later flight and arrive in Vegas a cool 8 hours past our scheduled arrival time. So instead of settling in with a fun Wednesday night of action at the tables, we checked in at 4:30 in the morning. Nice. Thanks, airline industry. Every time I think it has hit its lowest, I'm proven wrong.
The one consolation of the lost time was the fact that Caesar's had given away our room, even though they had been informed by phone hours earlier that we would be checking in late because of the flight delay. Why is it a consolation? Because they bumped us up from our standard room to a "Petite Suite" which was bigger, had a sweet flat screen TV (who watches TV in Vegas? More on that later…) and two bathrooms which connected through a double-headed shower. One of the bathrooms had a jacuzzi tub and a bidet and overall I felt like somehow fate had at least made an attempt to balance out the poor luck with which the trip had begun.
Anyway, local Vegas buddy Big E provided airport transportation for us and we in turn bought him entry to the Caesars buffet at 7 am sharp. I was impressed with the buffet, Caesars has it located right next to their pools with both indoor and outdoor seating. And while no one was yet at the pool at 7 am we still snagged a window seat and chowed down. After breakfast, we took a walk through Caesars to get a feel for it and DJ sat down at a video poker machine, won a few dollars and proceeded to act as if it were still Wednesday night at 9 pm rather than Thursday at 8:30 am by ordering a double whiskey coke no ice straight off. Only in Vegas.
We checked out the Caesars craps tables and since $25 tables right off weren't really appealing to us, we hit up the Flamingo, which was dead so we sauntered next door to the place formerly known as the Barbary Coast and now known as Bill's. Coincidence? We thought we would find out. We settled in at a craps table and hovered around even, drinking multiple whiskey cokes and dropping maybe $75 each before DJ got a hot run going. Over on the table next to us, they were holding a daily "How to play craps" informational session and when it broke DJ was in the midst of firing us back up, having hit a few points and smothering the 6 and 8, which we were playing as well. Well, of course as soon as the yokels got done with their craps lessons, they decided to head over and play some. Not only does one dude squeeze into a non-space right next to the shooter (DJ) making him uncomfortable, he immediately asks if the table is hot. DJ and I exchange glances, followed by the inevitable 7-out seconds later. Well, it was a hot table buddy, thanks for the moosh.
So we left the tables up a few dollars and headed back to Caesars, planning on getting out to the pool. Of course, it's July, it's the desert and it's 1 pm, so of course it is 112 degrees outside. Undaunted, we poured buckets of sunscreen on (I don't tan, I crisp. Anything less than spf 30 and I sport a full on lobster red after 5 minutes) and snagged two seats by one of the pools. As we settle in, about 15 feet away half a dozen gorgeous Italian women pose for a friend's photo. I track down some water and a couple Coronas. Poolside in Vegas. Sun. Women. Beer. Nice.
An hour later we head back up to the room. We had escaped the midday heat by hanging out in the water but after a while it became a little too much and we needed a little air conditioning. Back in the room we checked on the arrival of BH, due in a couple hours. In the meantime, I thought it would be a perfect time to check out the poker room. As it turns out, a 3 pm tournament was beginning in 15 minutes. $65+5, 50 person max, 30 minute levels, 2000 in starting chips. Seats still available.
I bought in.
Next installment: The Painkillers run amok.
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