Most of my readers also follow Poker Grump, so y'all should know about the Deuce-Four, which the Grump touts as the mightiest hand in poker. [FN1] Of course, my friend CK, a/k/a the Black Widow of Poker, contends that "crubs" (clubs) are the strongest hand, because "crubs always get there" (though there is the small matter of needing a "crubs whistle" to summon the crubs). Naturally, one has to wonder what would happen if the Duck Pho ran into Crubs. In fact, Grump has already wondered about that conflict, a potential "irresistible force meeting an immovable object" situation. Based on field research to date (see HERE, HERE, and HERE for in-depth analysis), data are inconclusive.
In any event, Crubs and the Duck Pho, powerful as those poker demi-gods are, must bow to the transcendent majesty of the Spanish Inquisition. crAAKKer reader "RedXBranch" shared the following story as a comment to one of my recent posts:
I have been dying to tell you of a big win recently at our local casino in a $1/$2 cash game. I played the "Spanish Inquisition" against a lady specifically because she had played "the Grump" 4 times. The hand went: EP raise to $7, followed by 2 callers, then the lady called also. I look down at 6-3 off, and called "for the hell of it". Flop comes out 6,9,Q w/two spades. Action goes check, check, lady bets $10, I call and one of the other guys calls. Pot is now about $60. Turn is a blank and it goes check, lady makes it $15, I call and other player folds. She tells me, "you better be careful", and we have a laugh. River is the 6 of diamonds. Yahtzee! She bets $25 and I raise her to $75. She snap calls me while saying "I told you to be careful, two pair" (Q-9). I show my trips and say "that is the Spanish Inquisition, nobody expects it." Hilarity ensues. She called me an asshole. I told her anyone that plays deuce/four as often as she does should be able to appreciate my play of the 6/3 ... hehe! She hunted my chips like she was on safari for the rest of the night.
I love this story because RedXBranch clearly has a sense of humor, "calling for the hell of it" with a monster hand like the Inquisition. Plus, the Inquisition pays off in full, not only winning the hand (*yawn*), but also providing a "Yahtzee!" moment before causing hilarity to ensue.
The evidence is overwhelming. The Spanish Inquisition is superior to the Duck Pho. But I think we all knew that already.
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[FN1] The Deuce-Four really needs a nickname. All cool poker hands have awesome nicknames. Well, maybe not awesome, but at least a nickname. So, henceforth I will refer to the Deuce-Four as the "Duck Pho".
[Note: This is the first of two posts about my recent Festivus / WPBT trip to Degenerate Mecca (a/k/a Vegas). This post will cover the WPBT poker tournament held Saturday at Aria. A later post will hopefully encompass all the hilarity and hijinks of the remainder of my sojourn.]
Who doesn't love the classic children's Christmas show, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer? One of my favorite parts of the show is the Isle of Misfit Toys, which has among its residents this Cowboy who is inexplicably riding an ostrich:
Now, it's pretty obvious the Cowboy is a degenerate poker player who lost a prop bet and wound up straddling an ostrich on a glacier. But really, who of us hasn't been on the wrong end of a similar bet? Anyway, the WPBT Winter Classic tournament for poker (and quasi-poker) bloggers this weekend had me thinking about the Isle of Misfit Toys, not because most poker bloggers are social misfits ... well, yeah, actually that's pretty much it. But they are misfits in a hilariously fun way!
Anyway, the tournament was hosted by the Aria poker room, using its excellent daily tournament structure, with 8K in starting chips, and 30 minute levels. The Ironmen played this tourney last spring, highlighted by my trapping of buddy Sahara for most of his stack with my skillfully disguised almost-trips (Sahara: "Five-deuce? What are you doing? Seriously, five-deuce? That's terrible!"). It's a great room with a great tourney—clearly doing some holiday charity by accommodating a bunch of poker degenerates!
The poker tournament was made even sweeter by the good folks at PokerStars and Full Tilt, who combined chipped in 15 player bounties, 10 "Hammer" bounties, bonuses for the final table luckboxes, a bubble-boy save, and a partridge in a pear tree (later deep-fried into beignets and served with a Southern Comfort-roasted chili dip at the Lagasse's Stadium football party). Also, in keeping with WPBT tradition, most of the players brought along personal bounties to award to the player lucky enough to knock them out of the tourney.
With 97 runners and a nice Tilt/Stars overlay, the tourney was a veritable poker treasure chest. Of course, I suck at tournaments, but I'm an SVB, so I had a fighting chance. Now the tourney started at high noon, which is the equivalent of a 7:00 a.m. breakfast meeting. In other words, I might have been a wee bit sleepy. Bring on the unlimited free hot green tea with honey (without tequila)! Thankfully I had the uber-organized Poker Grump as one of my teammates (along with the delightful card assassin, CaityCaity), so he had handled getting the "Knights Who Say 'Nit'!" registered for the last longer challenge. So, my only real responsibility was to arrive prior to noon, jump into the mass picture, and head to my table.
Where I was promptly confronted with one of my nemeses, the sneaky Katkin. Katkin is a fascinating guy who has traveled an interesting path from the media industry to the poker industry. I first met him a year or so ago after being introduced to him by poker socialite CK-BWoP. He's one of those "quiet but witty" types who enjoys a little verbal jousting at the tables. So, we promptly agreed to a heads up last longer bet for a round of drinks.
I played rather tight at the first table, just getting into proper tournament rhythm—open-fold, check-fold, limp-fold, order drink, joke with table, lather, rinse, repeat. There were two hands of note. In the first, I was on the button with A9 soooted. There was a limper to me, so I decided to put in a small raise, hoping to take down a small pot. Unfortunately, the guy in the big blind (whose name, like many others I met this weekend, escapes me) put in a decent raise. Now, this guy handled himself like a solid player, and had been in a few skirmishes already. I thought it entirely likely he was making a move of some sort, testing me (let's face it, I'm not exactly the most intimidating tourney player). So, I called and decided to see how he acted postflop, maybe looking to steal on a scary board.
Instead, the flop came out T-9-9. Donkey Kong! Suddenly, I'm hoping he has a real hand, well, other than pocket Tens, natch. He bets, I call. Turn is a small card, nothing much changes. He bets again, I call again. Now in hindsight, I really should've put in a value raise on the flop and/or turn, in order to play for stacks if he had an overpair. The line I took looks too strong without many draws out there, plus not building the pot earlier makes it tougher to get him to feel pot-committed to a big river bet. Like I said, I suck at tourneys. Anyway, the river gave me a German Virginfourgy. Galaga! My opponent thought and checked; about time he showed me some respect! I thought a bit, then value bet T3000, about half of my opponent's remaining stack, and a little over half the pot. He thought a while, then mucked his pocket Queens. Of course, despite having a good full house, about all he could beat was a hand like JT, JJ, or maybe 88/77. Dammit, I hate it when good players make disciplined laydowns!
The second noteworthy hand at my first table involved Katkin, who limp-reraised me from under the gun, with me on the button or in the cutoff. I called with AQ soooted (I think), and we saw a flop of 6-6-4. Katkin bet, and I thought for a moment of making a steal attempt, but then folded like a CyClown in a meaningful conference football game. Katkin started giggling like Allen Kessler at a hot video poker machine, then rolled over ... the Spanish Inquisition! Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, including me! Thankfully my cat-like poker reflexes saved me from certain disaster, not to mention keeping our last longer bet alive.
With Hammer bounties being awarded like Hannukkah gifts—early and often—it was no surprise when our table broke and I was moved to a mostly new table. One tough player from my first table—who I learned later was Dominic, a/k/a "No Limit Doc"—moved with me, and continued to own my poker soul on the rare hands I played, typically 3 or 4-betting me off hands preflop, or forcing me to make laydowns on the flop. Since I respected his play a ton, I decided running away was the better part of valor.* Call it the "Sir Robin" strategy:
Brave Sir Robin ran away.
Bravely ran away, away!
When danger reared its ugly head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled.
Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about
And gallantly he chickened out.
Bravely taking to his feet
He beat a very brave retreat,
Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin!
My second table was full of celebrities, including CJ, a/k/a "The Luckbox", a WPBT founder and hilarious poker taunter, and Jessica Wellman, new managing editor of Bluff Magazine, and the lone voice of reason on the Poker Beat radio show (the one must-listen poker podcast on my Stitcher favorites). Jessica is a very attractive young woman, who came across as pleasant, down to earth, and intelligent during my time at her table, and during a brief chat during a break. Also during my time at the table, Dan Michalski, the big cheese at Pokerati.com, dropped by to chat poker legislation with me for a few minutes. I kept up my strong play by hitting quad Aces with my Ace-Yak, as well as bringing home a small pot with Yaks. I also managed to pick off one gal's attempted Hammer steal, and I later knocked out a short-stacked player (CaApril, I believe), who kindly gave me her bounty—a neat mechanical toy named "Cranky", which she claimed described herself, though she had been nothing but sunny and funny at the table. Cranky is now proudly displayed in my office window 37 floors up in the tallest building in Des Moines, with a wistful westward view toward Vegas ...
After break, I was moved to my third table, and finally shook free of the pitbull Dominic. Unfortunately, I found myself back at a table with archnemesis Katkin. Of course, the poker gods have a sick sense of humor, and my only hand of note at this table was heads up against Katkin. Katkin was in early position and limped, I raised in the cutoff or on the button with KhQh, and Katkin smooth-called. The flop was pretty good for me—Ace, Yak, Rag with two hearts—giving me the nut flush draw and a gutshot Broadway draw. Katkin checked, and I decided to bet as as semi-bluff. Katkin surprisingly pushed all-in. Hmmm, that's awkward. I finally decided I had enough outs to call, plus Katkin could be on a bluff. Or, he could be on Ace-Yak for altos dos pairs. Awkward! But a heart on the river gave me the win as well as a very close elimination of Katkin. I won our last longer wager, a $100 Full Tilt bounty, and Katkin's other bounty—a stylish Fremantle Australian Football scarf which he had won in a previous WPBT, and which is required to be passed along each year to a new bounty winner. Nothing like making myself a huge target for next year's WPBT!
Now on a near freeroll and with a large stack, I was moved yet again, this time to a table in the elevated area of the Aria poker room. Most of the table were players unknown to me, but I spotted one suspiciously familiar player—"Dawn Summers", author of a dozen blogs, at least a few of which touch on poker. Dawn's style of play would make "Action Dan" Harrington look like a Scandinavian maniac, basically consisting of folding every hand for three orbits, then randomly pushing her short stack all-in to either steal blinds and antes or double up. Laugh all you want, but the turtle strategy got her safely to the final table.
I managed to take down another Full Tilt bounty by eliminating a short-stacked Alex Outhred, a dang good player who is certifiably smarter than a 5th grader. I had Yaks against his AK or AQ, pretty standard race for the stacks at stake. If he hadn't been crippled before my arrival, I doubt I would've fared so well. My Fremantle scarf drew murmurs of respect, particularly from the scarf's original owner, Garth, a displaced Australian with a wicked sense of humor and a fellow Top Chef lover. I also later lost a race with Yaks which took me from a comfortable stack well-above average to a stack barely twice the starting chips, with an "M" of ... well, who knows. Blinds and antes were something like 800/1600/200, and my stack was under T20K, so do your own math (and show your work). Which brings us to the wine and whine portion of our show.
I had been card dead a couple of orbits, and with players dropping like drunks at the Geisha Bar, I was looking for places to steal—the blinds and antes alone were roughly 20%-25% of my stack. So when it folded to me on the button, I looked down and saw the beautiful 85 offsuit, a strong hand not easily dominated by the traditional "power" hands like AK, with two flush draws and two quad draws as backup if a "big" hand like King-Jack outflopped me. So, I pushed.
Action was then on the small blind, "Drizz", an accountant and a Vikings fan, so pretty much the scum of the earth. Now Drizz is a rather hilarious guy, as proven by what might be my favorite WPBT Tweet:
Reason #19 why Drizz needs to wear his hearing aids: Waitress "Hot Cakes?" Drizz "Bacon??" Waitress "Hot Cakes?" repeat 20x.
Drizz glanced at his cards, then pushed all-in. As far as omens go, this was not a good one. The big blind scowled at Drizz's evil play, then reluctantly folded. Time to see what Drizz had—pocket Kings? Seriously dude??!? I've shown down Aces three times, Yaks twice, and quads-top kicker twice. What part of that range is remotely touchable by Das Cowboys?? But, no worries at all! I can crAAKK Kings! I may even be a prohibitive favorite. I flopped the gutshot straight draw, but imagine my shock when the turn and river each failed to bring my straight card. Live poker is so rigged!
Despite the horrific suckout, Drizz deserved his bounty from me. So, I presented him with an inscribed bottle of 2001 Penfold's Grange. Now I chose this bounty for my first WPBT because my blogger nickname originated in the mists of internet antiquity when I first joined some random discussion board for something non-poker related, and needed a nickname. Grange is not only the premier Australian wine, but a tasting of Grange is what converted me to a hardcore wine snob. So, I went with Grange95 as my online nickname, as someone else had picked Grange (1995 being the year of the most dominant Husker football team ever). It seemed only fitting that my first WPBT bounty be a bottle of my all-time favorite wine.
Drizz with his Grange bounty. Bastard.
Grange tends to be a big, bold wine, which ages well and stands up to most grilled red meat. The flavor profile in the vintages I have tasted tends toward blueberries or blackberries, dark chocolate, and sweet spices. This is not a wine for casual drinking, but should be saved for special occasions. I will be raising a glass of something less special in Drizz's honor whenever he pulls this bottle out for some unsuspecting guests. I only hope he appreciates how lucky he got to avoid getting crAAKKed ....
* As I was doing some final editing of this post, I noticed that Dominic had posted his own report on the tournament. He also noted how he owned me at the table, but was kind enough to suggest that it was solely due to his having position on me most of the time. Although position may have played a small role in our clashes, I have no shame in honestly admitting Dominic simply outplayed me 98% of the time. There was one hand where Dom 3-bet me preflop, and I decided I needed to make a stand, and put in a stiff 4-bet with something like 87 soooted. Dom looked like he smelled a rat, but eventually made a very reluctant fold. After that, I steered clear of him like a nun offered a slot tourney junket.
Posting has been a bit light this week as I had that annoying "work" thing to deal with in advance of a long holiday weekend, and the start of football season. I had a good chuckle, though, when one of my law partners walked into my office to talk fantasy football. I'm manager for a league that's been around for 15 years now, and it has the usual 5 or so guys who are passionate about it, and another 9 guys who just like to meet for beer and wings every now and then. Anyway, I had sent an email to the league last week setting the draft date and location. Kelly had emailed me back withing 10 minutes: "I'll be there." Then, yesterday, he asks me again when the draft will be held. I remind him of the date, and he says, "Oh. Well, we [he and his wife] feed the homeless on Thursdays. Guess I'll need to find someone to draft for me." Now, I'm somewhat boggled by how his charitable activities escaped him when he initially confirmed he'd attend the draft, but I'm equally intrigued by the possibilities of this line being a useful way to avoid social activities I despise, but can't find a good way to avoid. Rubber chicken awards dinner? Sorry, feeding the homeless. Retirement reception? Wish I could, but I'm working the soup kitchen. Hmmm, it even makes the other person feel slightly guilty for attempting to impose on your time in the first place. Awesome!
Anyway, late afternoon I was talking to an expert witness when Ironman Bonnie starts twittering that he was in Des Moines for biz and wanted a Meadows ATM outing. I wrapped things up and headed out. After a short wait, we both got seats in the same new 1/2 NLHE cash game. It's hard to do justice to that game, but let's just say statistical variance was in full effect, as bad play was constantly rewarded with weird two pairs, gutterball draws, runner-runners, and backdoor flushes happening repeatedly. Bonnie was playing his usual LAG style, so we had the table in a frenzy in short order:
Bonnie felted a guy when his 52o ("the Sahara") flopped bajos dos pairs and rivered a canoe.
Bonnie turned pocket ducks into quads against me (stupid SVB!).
Bonnie gifted me $75 when he mucked his bluff with the best hand on the river, letting my 44 win. And he wasn't even drunk! I may buy him a steak sometime. Maybe.
I got a little revenge for the quad ducks, bluffing Bonnie off QQ with a palindromic near-all-in bet of $232, leaving myself $1 for a river bluff.
Bonnie hung around a hand with 32o, going runner-runner 54 for the idiot straight. When he led out for a big river bet, and finally got called, I named his hand before he rolled it to tilt his victim. Classic Bonnie.
I ran bad for a while, getting down to my last $80 on my third buy-in, but I rallied to get back to even before I cashed out, starting when my Spanish Inquisition used fear, surprise, and a fanatical devotion to a flopped straight to torture out a quadruple-up.
My Groundhog Day hand du jour was AQ. I had that hand easily two dozen times in an eight hour session. I probably lost over $1000 with it, misplaying it every way possible, before getting a little back in a $350 pot when my TPTK held up versus two draws. I would have made a monster profit if I had merely mucked AQ preflop all night.
AVPer "zzjitterzz" was at the Meadows ATM for the Thursday tourney, and ended up taking third, apparently eschewing my final table advice to "Play better." Maybe next time he'll listen to me.
Also, there were a couple of "Grumpy" moments. Early on, a gentleman joined the game who clearly was something of a newbie. Newbie sat next to legendary uber-nit Fred. Newbie and I get into a hand, and my 8h6h flops a flush draw with gutterball. I check-raise Newbie, who calls. Turn makes my straight open-ended, so I pushed, in large part because Newbie seemed reluctant to call the flop. Newbie thought a long time, then called off his last $75 or so. I turned over my cards and say, "I just have the big draw." Newbie looks at my cards, but doesn't say anything. River is a blank, and I'm left with 8-high. Newbie is staring at his hand, says, "I missed", and looks about to muck, when Fred helpfully pipes up, "Well, you have Queen-high." Newbie looks back at my hand, then tables his Q6s (for a missed straight draw, natch). Gee thanks, Fred. Next time, stick to walking old ladies across the slot machine aisles.
The other annoying moment was late in the session when a young guy joined our table while waiting for a seat in the 3/6 LHE game. He lost a buy-in, then got involved in a multi-way raised pot. I called in late position with JTo, and the flop obligingly came down K-Q-9 rainbow. Pac-Man! Long story short, I bet, Young Guy raises, I push, Young Guy calls all-in for about $150 total. Young Guy, who clearly fancied himself a player, says, "I got ya". I rarely roll my cards on an all-in, but I do when I have the nuts or something close to it. So, I tabled my hand and said, "I don't think so. I've got the nuts for now." Young Guy stands up and starts chanting, "pair the board, pair the board", so I figure he has a set. Turn is another 9, and Young Guy goes all Hevad Khan, slams his hand down, and yells, "Ship it!!", then starts pacing behind the table in triumph until he gets pushed the pot. Seriously dude, it was a pretty average pot in a 1/2 NL game, not the final table of a WSOP tourney or a monster pot on High Stakes Poker. Act like you've won a hand before. Thankfully, Young Guy busted out in the next two orbits; "Vengeance is ours!", sayeth the poker gods.
NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise. Surprise and fear. Fear and surprise. Our two weapons are fear and surprise. And ruthless efficiency. Our three weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency. And an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope. Our four ... no. Amongst our weapons ... amongst our weaponry are such elements as fear, surprise .... I'll come in again.
This week, I played a wild session at the Meadows ATM. At one point, a young kid sits down to my right. He's a regular at the Meadows, decent player, generally has a tight and moderately aggressive style of play. He had built up a stack of nearly $300 from a $100 buy-in after a couple of hours, mostly by raising preflop and taking it down with a flop c-bet.
The fateful hand started innocuously, but don't they always? There were several limpers to the Kid, who raised to $17. Fair enough. Then, I look down and see 6-3 offsuit. Now, this hand may seem like trashy rags to many poker players, but as the Ironmen of Poker know, this hand is actually the incredibly powerful "Spanish Inquisition". It acquired its name during IMOP-IV when Ironman Barbie drew 6-3 as his "signature hand" and used it to great effect, felting at least a dozen players and nearly causing two international incidents (though that might be more directly attributable to his taunting ... er, "witty banter"). While stacking his victims' chips, Barbie would cackle, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" It's a wonder Barbie hasn't been beaten about the head and neck with blunt objects.
Anyway, back to the crAAKKer hand. So, I have the Spanish Inquisition. Clearly, I must call. Everyone else folds, perhaps sensing the hidden strength of my hand. It can be tough to hide the excitement of seeing the Spanish Inquisition, so I may have given off a tell or three. Anyway, the flop comes down 9-3-3. Donkey Kong! Seriously, were you expecting anything less? This is the Inquisition, man! Kid bets $25, I make the Hollywood smoooooooth call. Turn is a 7. Kid bets $45, I again "ponder" my play and smoooooth call. River is a duck. Kid checks; about time he showed some respect! I quick-bet $75, representing the busted flush draw, and Kid snap-calls. I say, "I just have a three" and smile as the Kid's head snaps back in shock! Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! The kid flashes Kings, keeps shaking his head, starts muttering, then looks directly at me:
Kid: "How could you make that call?"
Me: "I flopped trips."
Kid: "No. Preflop. I don't understand how you make that call."
Me: [grinning while silently stacking chips]
Kid: "Seriously, I don't get how you make that call ... I raised!"
Me: "I know."
[cue monkey tilt table change]
Spain produces more than Inquisitions, including some great summertime wines from the Rías Baixas wine country in the Galicia region. These wines are based on the Albariño grape, and typically result in crisp, light, fruity wines, perfect for pairing with seafood, salads, tapas, and light pasta dishes. A personal favorite is the Bodegas Martín Códax Albariño 2009 (always get the newest vintage as Albariño is generally made to be drunk young when it is at its freshest). This wine is like biting into a crisp green apple with undertones of citrus and honeydew melon. Perfect for sipping on a hot day, when most Chardonnays would be too heavy and alcoholic. The next time you reach for yet another thin, insipid Pinot Grigio, think Albariño instead for a crisper, more flavorful wine at half the price (most Albariños are in the $8-$15 per bottle range, with the Martín Códax coming in around $12).
