Over the holiday weekend, I played a session of 1/3 NLHE at the Horseshoe in Council Bluffs. I happened to be seated at a brand new table that opened as players busted out of the Sunday noon tournament. The player seated to my immediate right was a young guy wearing the de rigueur baseball cap and hoodie, as well as a sullen frown; let's call him "Young Einstein". Within minutes of the game starting, another young hoodie-wearing kid stopped by to inquire how Young Einstein busted out of the tournament, which led to this diatribe:
I had Ace-King suited on the button. Some lady [well, a different word for a woman was used] raised to 400 from under the gun. Blinds were only 100/200, so it wasn't much of a raise. I made it 1400 to go, and she called. Flop was all rags, she checked, I bet 2000, and she min-raised. I couldn't see how she could've hit the flop, so I pushed for like 12,000. She called me and showed Seven-Deuce suited, for a pair of twos. Seven-Deuce! Can you believe that [expletive] [expletive]?!? What a [expletive] [expletive] call!!
Yes, yes, I can see how someone calling with a better hand is a terrible play. Wow, she was horrible to commit her stack with the best hand. If it weren't for donkeys getting lucky like that, the good players would win 'em all. It sucks that geniuses like Young Einstein have players like that lady keeping him down.
Now, within the next orbit or two, a hand came up where there were several limpers to Young Einstein who was in the small blind. Young Einstein raised to $15, a bit on the high side for the table. I was in the big blind and looked down to find Seven-Deuce of spades—the Velvet Hammer. Given Young Einstein's tilt factor, I figured it was worth taking a gander at the flop. Sure enough, the flop came out all rags, with a deuce. Young Einstein bet, and I called. Turn was another rag. Young Einstein bet, and I min-raised. Young Einstein muttered, but called. The river was another rag. Young Einstein checked, I bet big, and Young Einstein agonized a long while before folding.
Young Einstein asked, "Jacks? Tens?" I smiled and said, "No, I got a monster" and rolled over my hand. Young Einstein jerked back, then started muttering darkly about the usual, "How can you play that trash?" and "Twice in one [expletive] day." Apparently, he failed to appreciate the irony of the situation. Within a few hands, he had pushed preflop with a suited Ace-rag and busted out, whining all the way out of the poker room.
Surly Darkness is an exceptional example of the Russian Imperial Stout style of beer, with a very dark (almost black) color, strong molasses and espresso aroma, creamy head, and high alcohol content. The flavors are dark chocolate, caramel, coffee, and sweet dark fruits—mainly raisins and figs, with a hint of blackberries and plums—with a definite bite of spice on the finish. The hops are noticeable in the background, but they don't interfere with the smooth, easy drinking character of the beer. Surly Darkness is an amazingly tasty, refreshing beer for those of you who aren't afraid of the dark.
[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.
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).
Remember SweeTarts, those sweet & sour candies you chomped by the handful as a kid? Well, they came to mind last week during a poker session at the Meadows ATM. I was at a table with "DC", a regular who is a old-fashioned gentleman, and an entertaining gambler at the table. He's not exactly an old-timer yet, but he cut his teeth on deuce-seven lowball if that gives you any insight. Anyway, DC's style is loose, though not particularly aggressive. He likes to see flops with almost any two cards, and if he catches a piece of the flop, he's in it until the river. So, DC catches a fair number of weird two-pair or backdoor draw hands, and can be dangerous to those who think that, just because he's loose, they can value-bet him with light holdings. Trying to bluff DC is pointless, but newbies do it all the time, usually handing him their stacks in the process. DC is equally likely to leave the table up or down $1,500.
Anyway, DC had been running hot this session, and had put several people on tilt, including Pro-Wannabe, a guy I've seen a few times who is a decent player, but always trying to be too tricky for his own good. DC had stacked PW earlier in the session with an improbable two pair from a hand like J3s. The two get mixed up in another hand, with DC check-calling PW's preflop 3-bet to $30. The flop was K-8-2, with one heart. DC checked, PW bet, DC called. Turn was an offsuit Ace. Check-check. River was an offsuit 5. DC bet, and I immediately knew the 5 had made his hand, either two pair or the wheel. PW insta-shoves all-in. DC pauses, looks at his cards, and says, "I guess I have to call you with the nuts" and rolls over 4h3h for the wheel. PW looked like he had been tasered, rolling over his slow-played top two pair.
A few moments passed, the dealer started dealing the next hand, but DC was still stacking the chips from the monster pot. Suddenly PW decides to chatter:
PW [tartly]: "Nice call."
DC [sweetly]: "I had the nuts."
PW [tartly]: "No, I meant on the flop. Nice call with nothing."
DC [sweetly]: "I had three to a flush and three to a straight, I had to see the turn."
PW [stunned]: "Seriously? You called needing runner-runner?"
DC [slyly]: "Well, I think you checked the turn."
PW [splutters incoherently and goes on super monkey tilt].
The past weekend, I enjoyed another sweet/tart treat, the Mulderbosch Chenin Blanc 2009. This wine hails from South Africa, where chenin blanc (also known as Steen in South Africa) is the country's white grape claim to fame (though they also turn out some marvelous sauvignon blancs). This wine is an excellent example of a riper style of chenin blanc, with pineapple and mango flavors backed by tart acidity and a hint of lime. Like many good chenin blancs, it is slightly off-dry, finishing with a hint of sweetness to balance the acidity. Definitely a mouthwatering and refreshing summer white wine, and a good value in the $10-$13 retail range.
It's been awhile for a "Wine & Whine" post, but I haven't had much inspiration on either front in recent weeks. However, this past week I found a nice wine that deserves a mention, so here ya go ...
On IMOP-V, I was playing a session at the Venetian. Somehow it came out that I was from Iowa, which is actually relevant to the story. Some d-bag was being obnoxious, but I didn't mind since he was fairly easy to read, drunk, and on life tilt. Eventually, d-bag made a big opening raise, signalling a premium hand. I was on the button, so I called with 97s, figuring there was a chance to play for stacks if I hit a good flop. The flop came down 6-5-2, with one of my suit. D-bag bet, and I called, thinking there was a chance he was c-betting with overs and I could steal on a blank turn. The turn was a face card not of my suit, and I was pretty much done with the hand, except the d-bag checked. I assumed he was slowplaying at least a pair at this point, so I checked behind. The river brought the miracle 8. Donkey Kong! D-bag bet, I raised, he pushed, I called, and he showed AA. Yahoo!
Now, this was a pretty standard crAAKKer hand, except d-bag had to go into drunken professor mode, complaining about my preflop call. I ignored him as I stacked his chips. Then d-bag's rebuy chips arrived, and he had to get in one last jab:
D-bag: "Chasing a gutterball? So, that's how you play in Iowa?"
Me: "In Iowa, we bet the turn to protect our hand."
D-bag: [sputters incoherently]
The d-bag's flushed face (whether from booze or embarassment) came to mind when I tried the 2008 Juno Cape Maidens Rosé this week. This wine is made from shiraz and pinotage grapes (pinotage is South Africa's original claim to vino fame), and is higher alcohol (14%) than most rosé wines. It has vibrant strawberry and watermelon flavors, with a hint of carbonation that lends to the crisp, dry, refreshing finish. Should go well with most lighter summer fare, like salads, sandwiches, and seafood. But, it is also a tasty sipper on its own for warm summer days. Retail price is $9-$10/bottle. Enjoy!
Now that the IMOP-V official trip report has been released by Santa Claus on All Vegas Poker (Part I & Part II), I can share the full story of my tilting of fellow Ironman (and teammate) Sahara. Sahara gained his official nickname during IMOP-II, when he made the mistake of vocalizing his distaste for, you guessed it, the wondrous Sahara Resort, Casino, and Iron Lung. In fact, Sahara was the first Ironman to have his IMOP nickname officially stick. I still remember the joy of my first time yelling, "Yo, Sahara!" at him in the Venetian poker room, and having him turn around like a little puppy expecting a treat.
All kidding aside, Sahara is the designated IMOP tournament assassin. He is a corporate lawyer by day, and an online MTT Fight Club master by night. Sahara has memorized Harrington on Hold 'Em and The Mathematics of Poker, and can calculate his M, Q, Z, and DD to eight decimal points. This guy is a true poker idiot savant—a guppy at cash games, and a shark in tournaments. In fact, Sahara is known to the Pocket Fives poker community as "Sh@rkB@it"; his recent online tourney results are rather impressive, particularly for a Hobbit with an HgH habit.
Sahara at the TI poker tourney on IMOP-V.
Tragically, the shirt was unironed and unironic.
As part of the IMOP festivities, the Ironmen all entered the Sunday afternoon tournament at Aria. There were roughly 50-60 runners, and with a $120 buy-in, the prize pool was a nice pot o' gold tempting a leprechaun like Sahara. I managed not to do anything stupid and by late afternoon I found myself in the final two tables. Near as Sahara can recall (he actually remembers pesky poker details and "analyzes his game"), I had an average stack of ~20,000, while Sahara had just moved to the table and was one of the stronger stacks left with ~30,000. Blinds were 600/1200, with a 200 ante. Sahara was in the hijack and raised to 2800 after everyone folded to him. Figuring Sahara was "stealing" (or maybe it was "trespassing to chattels", who knows what those online guys mean with all their mumbo jumbo), I flat-called on the button with 5s2s. Now, five-deuce sooooted is a strong hand; I've won at least three or four big pots with it over the past decade. Plus, I have been studying poker, too, and I remembered an important Stupid/Systemlesson: "There is no easier way for you to make your hand strong than to call a big bet." Clearly, I had to be ahead of Sahara, so I deviously flat-called to trap him.
The flop came out T-7-3 with one spade. Sahara checked to me. Little chickensh#t. Clearly I was still ahead, plus I had picked up straight and flush draws, so if I happened to be behind, I figured I had at least 24 outs (spades, deuces, treys, fours, fives, and sixes). Not wanting to scare Sahara off, I checked behind. Sometimes, I play so good!
The turn was one of my outs: a 5! Yahtzee! However, not wanting to give off any tells, I maintained a strict poker face:
Sahara put out a weakazz bet of 5K. I mentally went through the Stupid/System checklist. Reads?—With that ridiculous bet, Sahara was weak and clearly bluffing. Sahara's range?—Let's see, I could beat AK, AQ, basically any bluff with overcards; obviously then, Sahara must be bluffing with overcards. Was I due?—I hadn't won a pot in like an orbit. Heck yeah, I was due! Was I priced in?—Well, there were some blinds and antes, and I have at least 127% equity in the pot ... carry the four, round down, convert to a ratio ... Screw it, I can win a bunch of chips! So, since I knew I was ahead of Sahara, my best move was to push all-in. Ergo (philosopher for "I'm brilliant"), I pushed.
Sahara looked surprised. He stood up, stared at the board, fidgeted with his cards, and muttered, "I don't think you have anything." Hah! These online geeks are terrible at live action play. Sahara says, "OK, I call." Sahara rolls over AcTc for top pair, top kicker. What a donkey! Like that hand is going to be any good. Sahara kept standing, but I leaned back comfortably in my chair, knowing I couldn't lose. Sure enough, the dealer rolled off the river: another 5! Donkey Kong! Sahara jerked back like he'd been tasered.
When the shock of my skillful trap wore off, Sahara started muttering: "Five-deuce? What are you doing? Seriously, five-deuce? That's terrible!" All I could think was: "The dude really should relax. Seriously." I mean, he's the donkey who called my all-in with just top pair when I had to have at least almost-trips. Instead, I smiled and said, "I put you on aces." For some reason, that comment made Sahara turn a brighter shade of lobster.
Within a few hands, Sahara was eliminated and headed back to the Venetian, stopping at the Caesars Palace fresh mojito stand for a delicious, calming beverage. Free of tilt and scurvy, Sahara entered the Venetian 8:00 p.m. tourney and dominated the field for a profitable victory. After the tourney, Sahara took time to explain to me why "flatting with five-deuce is a terrible play online", forgetting that we had been playing live; online guys really can't transition to live play at all. As for me, I made the final table at Aria, but bubbled when the chipleader sucked out on my 88 with AA. Luckbox. Live poker is rigged.
Just like my brilliant play in this hand, Templeton Rye whiskey is strong and smooth, with a bite that can sneak up on you. Templeton Rye has an intriguing story. During Prohibition, Al Capone considered the bootleg rye whiskey from the tiny farmtown of Templeton, Iowa to be some of the best bootlegged booze around, and was his personal favorite. Supposedly, even after Prohibition ended, some rye continued to be made every year. A few years ago, a couple of local youngsters decided to resurrect the brand for legal marketing. Now, the whiskey is so popular in Iowa and Illinois that there is currently a shortage as the company ramps up production (hindered by the four-year aging process)**. Fortunately, as of this December, the company's production will dramatically increase so that wait lists will no longer be necessary.*
The Chicago Tribune recently ran a feature story on Templeton Rye. For those interested, here's some background on rye whiskey. Although rye whiskey was the traditional base for Whiskey Sours, Manhattans, Old Fashioneds, and Sazeracs, I prefer drinking Templeton Rye on the rocks, either straight or in a cocktail made by adding 1-3 parts ginger beer (ginger ale in a pinch) to 1 part Templeton Rye (the amount of ginger beer/ale is to individual taste), with a twist of lemon or lime if you must have a garnish.
To anyone wishing to avoid being crAAAKKed, I do provide "protection" in exchange for a bottle of Templeton Rye.
ADDENDUM (28 April 2010): I didn't give a very good description of the flavor profile for Templeton Rye, mostly because I don't have a bottle handy (damn you, Erik Seidel, for that shortage!). So, I found a couple of reviews that capture the essence of Templeton Rye.
From the blog "Lost Angeles" (which I have now added to my Google Reader feeds, as it appears rather entertaining and definitely well-written):
The whiskey smelled a little sweet when we opened it. A first sip was very smooth, but packed quite a kick on the back nine. I thought at first that I was going to be too rough and tumble for this Iowan rye, but I was wrong. We put our second glass on ice and continued to enjoy it. This whiskey was strong and smooth at the same time, which are hallmarks of what I look for. I like the whiskey’s strength to be in its punch, not in its peat so to speak. The Templeton Rye was smooth, warming and substantial in every way. It stuck to your ribs. It made me want to fight a bear and pour him a glass after we’d gone a few rounds. You know, just to show him it was only a little good-natured roughhousing. [emphasis added].
Yes, I'm pretty sure I could fight a bear with a little Templeton Rye in me. Or at least hold my own in a wrestling match with Berkeley over his stuffed giraffe.
Here's a little more traditional review from the "DrinkHacker" blog:
The flavor profile is overwhelming, and in a good way. Starting with honeycomb and toffee, it soon reveals notes of buttermilk biscuits, shortbread, and even gingersnaps. Extremely easygoing, there’s virtually no heat on the finish at all, which is probably why I’m well into glass #3. A bit of dark chocolate plays on the finish, too.
How could you not love honey, toffee, gingersnaps, and dark chocolate? In fact, I think Templeton Rye is a great reason to break out some good dark chocolate (not that I ever really need an excuse).
I also found another great background story on Templeton Rye at the "Heavy Table" blog. This story has a lot of interesting details and quirky anecdotes, well worth the read.
Finally, for those of you interested in the distillery, Templeton Rye was originally distilled in Indiana, then aged and bottled in Templeton, Iowa. However, the company has built a distillery in Templeton (opening in 2008), and is even beginning to grow rye in the Templeton area. So, Templeton Rye is well on its way to becoming truly an "all-Iowa" product.
--------------------------------------- * I played poker Friday night with a local wine/beer/liquor distributor who indicated that most stores in Iowa are being allocated 2-6 bottles per week. Most of these stores are not even stocking it on the shelves, instead calling the next name on their waiting list. An attorney I know in Des Moines has a group of friends who will search for a bar with a bottle of Templeton Rye, and once found, the group will descend on the bar en masse to drink it 'til it's gone. Other fans share locations of bars and stores with bottles available via Twitter and the Templeton Rye blog. And yes, it really is worth the effort!
** EDITED (21 April 2010): Originally stated a six-year aging process. The Templeton Rye blog, however, states that the aging process is "more than four years" which is now reflected in the post.
While on IMOP-V last month, I played several sessions of 1/2 PLG at the Venetian. During one late night session, a guy dressed in Cardinals gear was playing an uber-aggressive style and running over the table. In a two hour period, I flopped two sets of 4s and a set of 6s against Cards. Now, small sets can spell doom in PLG, but since Cards was uber-aggro, I stuck around all three times, and all three times I rivered quads! Even better, it turns out Cards actually had big hands all three times as well, and paid me off. The first two times, he did some standard whining, but the third time, Cards stood up and started shouting about the injustice of it all, putting on a real Phil Hellmuth temper tantrum before storming out. The next evening, when I told the PLG players about the prior night, they told me Cards had played earlier that evening and was still bitching about it. Hilarity certainly did ensue!
In honor of Cards' temper tantrum, I must highly recommend a new line of wines I recently discovered—Tempra Tantrum. The Tempra Tantrum wines are from Spain, home of the Tempranillo grape, one of the few wine grapes that performs well in hot, dry climates (most of the traditional well-known wine grapes—e.g., Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir—perform best in cooler climates, or areas with cool, foggy mornings to offset hot summer days). All of the Tempra Tantrum wines are a blend of Tempranillo and one of the "noble" red wine grapes—Merlot, Syrah/Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon, or Grenache. Although Tempranillo historically was used for Riojas which are aged before release, in the past decade more Spanish winemakers are turning to a younger, fresher style of Tempranillo that emphasizes the grape's soft, juicy blackberry and plum flavors. The Tempra Tantrum line is a good example of these modern, easy drinking wines that are also easy on the wallet ($8-$10 retail). My personal favorite is the Tempranillo-Grenache blend. Grenache is another grape that performs well in hot climates, and adds red fruit (cherry and raspberry) flavors to the blend; it goes very well with pizza, pasta with red sauce, and cheese. For those who like a spicy note to their red wine, I highly recommend the Tempranillo-Shiraz blend.
During my Festivus '09 trip to Vegas, I found myself in a wild late night 1/2 NLHE game at Bally's. Shocking, I know. Although Bally's often features loose-drunk action after midnight, this was a special occasion. Driving the action at our table was a well-lubricated gambler with a seemingly endless bankroll—a drunken whale, if you will. This gent would call any preflop raise under $200 with almost any two cards, and if the pot was unraised when it reached him, he would grab a random stack of red chips and blind raise $30-$80. On the flop, he would go all-in with any pair or any draw. Needless to say, this gent saw some monstrous variance, running up his stack to more than $1,000, then busting out and peeling another $300 from a fat wad of bills. He took this all with a great deal humor, and a great number of beverages.
My strategy was to wait for solid starting hands (pairs 88 or better, or two Broadway cards), then see flops with the drunk gent. I managed to take down a couple of nice pots, and was licking my chops for more. Then, a mousey little 50-ish guy in a tweed sportcoat and precious little half-glasses (looked like Hollywood's idea of an English professor) decided it was time to tap the glass. While drunk guy stepped away for a smoke, the professor began whining about the large preflop raises: "It's just not poker!" I quietly said, "If this guy is going to play like this, until he's broke or passes out, he is the funniest and nicest guy you've ever met, and he can play his cards however he wants." A couple of other players agreed, but the professor continued to stew (it probably didn't help that the professor had been sawed off a couple of times by the drunk's improbable suckouts).
Sure enough, when drunk guy came back to the table and pushed all-in against the professor's preflop raise, the professor showed Queens and mucked. The professor then began to berate the drunk guy, whining about how he "wasn't playing right" and "was ruining the game". Although I tried to lighten the mood, the damage was done. Within a few hands, drunk guy stands up and leaves, saying, "Time to go play blackjack. At least I play that the right way." So, drunk guy walks away from the game with at least $5,000 still in his pocket. I still weep for all the missing Benjamins.
This tragic tale reminded me of a saké I once enjoyed during a dinner at the now-defunctSocial House at Treasure Island (TI) (although the Social House website states it is reopening in the Crystals shopping center at City Center in three months). Like wine, saké is a complicated beverage with a lot of styles and differences in quality. I don't know much about saké except that a good, cold saké tastes great with a lot of Asian cuisine, and it apparently contains alcohol. So, our group asked our server for a recommendation, and she suggested the Suigei "Drunken Whale" Tokubetsu Junmai. "Suigei" refers to the brewery, while the words after the English name refer to the quality and style of the saké. All I know is that the Drunken Whale had a crisp bite, reminiscent of a tart green apple, but dry, without any noticeable sweetness. A little research after I got home revealed that the Drunken Whale is regarded as a "Champagne of Saké"; yet another hat tip to the fine Social House staff. The saké went well with our meal, including sushi, Kobe beef sliders, and a couple of fish dishes. At 15.5% alcohol, the Drunken Whale likely could get a whale a little tipsy. If you like crisp, refreshing white wines like Champagne, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Grigio, Albariño, or Vinho Verde, a good saké like the Drunken Whale is well worth a try next time you serve light fish or vegetable dishes. At around $20/bottle retail, this might be more of a special occasion beverage, but it would be a worthy option to consider in lieu of yet another bottle of overpriced, overoaked Chardonnay, especially come summer.
On a Festivus trip to Vegas, I was playing a session at Bally’s. I got into a hand with an uber-tight nit who would overplay big pairs. Nit raised to $15 preflop, I called from the button with 6c4c, and a loose-drunk player also called. Flop is 2-3-5 with two spades. Donkey Kong! Long story short, Nit bet, I raised, he pushed for $450 total, and I made the reluctant call.
Nit: “You must’ve hit your set.”
Me: “Nope, no set.”
Nit: “No set? Then I’m good!” as he rolled over the obvious AA.
Me: “Aces? Is that all?”
I rolled my hand, Nit did a quadruple take. Hilarity ensued for a moment.
Unfortunately, the board went running spades, and Nit scooped with a backdoor flush. Nit then proceeded to berate me for 15 minutes. “$15 preflop? Do you know how big of a dog you were?” He must’ve asked me this half a dozen times, as I sat there quietly. Finally, I felt the need to respond: “Do you know how big of a dog you were when you pushed $450 into the middle with just Aces?” Mercifully, this stopped the lecture.
Speaking of big dogs, I’m a huge fan of petite sirah, and Vinum Cellars makes a great value petite sirah. The Vinum “Pets” 2007 is a juicy concoction with boysenberry and blackberry barking up front, backed by the bite of some spicy tannins. “Pets” pairs well with pizza, hearty pastas, and burgers. This wine is consistently one of the tastiest, best value petite sirahs on the market, usually in the $10-$13 / bottle range. My only knock is their decision to take the beautiful dog off their label; however, they continue to make a contribution to their local animal shelter for every bottle purchased. As a bonus, "Pets" is now bottled with a screw cap for freshness.
In honor of the upcoming IMOP-V, we bring back a classic IMOP whine from last season's outing. The scene is the Bellagio, at a late morning 2/5 NLHE game. I'm fresh from a nap, but the table is filled with cranky players trying to get unstuck from their overnight sessions. I happen to be wearing a t-shirt that has random paint splotches and the words: "I Just Killed a Clown". Establish loose-stupid image. Check.
After half an hour or so, I get into a hand with a gentleman who was on tilt from running into a string of bad beats and suckouts. He raises preflop, and I call with 5s2s. Flop is A-3-4, giving him top set, and me the wheel. We get it all in on the flop, and my hand holds up as he fails to catch a boat. The guy stands up, mutters a bit, flings his cards my way, and snaps, "You are a f#cking clown!"
Why, thank you for the compliment! But I don't clown around with wine, even one of my everyday "go to" wines, the Mitolo Jester Shiraz 2007. This is a serious, and seriously tasty Australian shiraz, available at a good value price around $15-$18 retail. It's not as "dense" as some Aussie shirazes, with a lot of blueberry and plum fruit, and a subtle note of black pepper. It's light enough to drink alone, but should pair well with most lamb and beef dishes, or spicier chicken and pork dishes.
Last weekend, I played a short session at the Meadows ATM. Two buddies (BFF#1 and BFF#2) joined the game, talking a lot about their home game, the WSOP, and other poker talk. Already in the game was a good LAG player, “Action Jackson”. Anyway, I was looking to get into pots with AJ, when BFF#1 pushed his short stack over the top of AJ’s raise for a total of $70. AJ called, so I called OTB with Td8d. We check the flop and turn, and I catch a Ten on the river to win the pot. BFF#1 whined about my preflop call a bit, then wandered out to find an ATM (the machine, not the player).
A little later, I felted BFF#2 when he slowplayed and overplayed KK, letting me flop altos dos pairs with Q9o to stack him for $350 (including his shove into me on the river with just KK for $200 after I checked to him). A few hands later, BFF#1 raises preflop, and AJ calls, so I call with 8d6d in the cutoff. Flop is T-T-9 rainbow. Checks to me, so I bet 2/3 pot, and BFF#1 calls. Turn is a 7. Donkey Kong! BFF#1 checks to me, I bet, he pushes, I snap-call. Yup, BFF#1 has KK! BFF#1 looks at my hand and says, “You called with that? You must love your diamonds, huh?” before tilting off into the night.
Well, yes, I do love my diamonds—at least the Francis Ford Coppola Winery "Diamond Collection" of wines. The Diamond Series is a group of wines in the $15-$20 price range, offering good value for the quality. Perhaps the most unusual offering is the Alicante Bouschet Magenta Label 2007, an "off the beaten path" red grape varietal related to Grenache, but with both red skin and red flesh. It tends to make inky, deep red wines that are surprisingly lighter in taste than the color might indicate. Flavors tend toward cranberry sauce and strawberry jam, with a note of cinnamon in the background. Pairs well with pizza and red-sauced pastas.
Recently, I watched a regular maniac bust a young kid's Kings with deuce-trey soooted, flopping trips and turning a boat. The kid storms away in disgust, fuming, “That’s just a dirt hand! All you play is dirt!”
Although wine should never taste like dirt, many good pinot noirs have a certain earthy quality, hinting of mushrooms in the background. One of my favorites is the Argyle Pinot Noir 2007, from Willamette Valley, Oregon (a leading pinot noir region). It has tasty red cherry and cranberry flavors, a hint of cinnamon, and vibrant acidity to let it pair well with most lighter meat dishes and heavier pastas. It would be perfect with a chicken and mushroom dish. But, like many pinots, it is delicate enough to enjoy alone as a sipping wine.
Last March, while in Vegas for our annual Ironman of Poker competition, I was playing at Bellagio early one morning. In keeping with the spirit of our IMOP group, I was wearing a t-shirt with paint splotches on it which read, "I Just Killed a Clown". I was also keeping up my drunk goofball image by making plenty of stupid jokes, keeping the table entertained, except for one intense middle-aged guy who was taking bad beat after cooler to gack off over $1,500. Knowing he was on tilt, I called his overly large preflop raise with 5-3 suited. Long story short, I flop the open-ended straight draw, and the turn Ace gave me the wheel—and gave intense dude a set. My hand holds up, and intense dude stands up, flings his Aces into the center of the table, looks at me and blurts out:
"You are a f#$%ing clown!"
Thanks for noticing!
This gent's angry outburst pairs well with a bold red wine, like the Crios de Susana Balbo Malbec 2007. The Crios Malbec is a beautiful dark red, with a ton of black cherry and raspberry fruit, and a hint of spice. This malbec is a little lighter in color and flavor profile than many of the inky purple monsters common from Argentina, so it pairs better with milder foods, like pork chops, burgers, pizza, and pastas. The Crios Malbec also is not as heavy as many malbecs, making it an easy-drinking sipping wine. The Crios Malbec is part of a line of value wines by Susana Balbo, one of Argentina's premier winewakers who also has a pricier line of specially crafted wines released under her personal label. The "Crios" line is a great value, usually around $10-$15/bottle retail, and also includes a rose’ of malbec, a torrontes (full-bodied Argentine white), a bonarda (soft Argentine red), and a cabernet sauvignon.
This past weekend at the Meadows ATM, I played in a 1/2 NLHE game at the same table as the resident Uber-Nit. This is a guy who plays only Top 10 hands, overbets them, and ends up steaming and muttering to himself when his “big” hands either get no action or get snapped off. I’ve seen Uber-Nit walking the halls of the casino, or in the restroom, complaining and cursing about a hand under his breath. It’s always fun to tilt Uber-Nit!
After a couple of hours, Uber-Nit was already simmering from having to lay down a couple of hands to postflop raises. Uber-Nit open raises to $17 from EP, which signaled a hand like a pocket pair 99-QQ, or maybe AK. Folds around to me OTB, and I decide to call with 9c8s, knowing I can steal on the right board, and get paid off if I hit a flop.
Flop is 9 high with two clubs. Uber-Nit overbets the pot, and I call. Turn is the Ac. Uber-Nit checks, so I bet, representing either an Ace or clubs. Uber-Nit thinks a long time, then calls, clearly uncomfortable. River is Qc. Uber-Nit checks. I’m afraid he might have AxKc, JcJx or TcTx, so I check as well.
Uber-Nit: “I don’t have a club.”
Me: “I do.”
I roll my hand, and Uber-Nit gives his patented half glare, half disgusted look. Uber-Nit starts snapping his cards against his hand in agitation.
Uber-Nit: “It had to be the Queen of f@#%ing clubs! Every f@#%ing time!” You call me with 98 offsuit, and then hit a flush. F@#%ing ridiculous!”
At this point he flashes what every player had to know he held—two red Queens—and throws them onto the table so hard they overshoot the muck.
Me [stacking chips]: “What a terrible river card.”
Commence Uber-Nit meltdown …
The Uber-Nit’s sour attitude is best enjoyed with a nice sweet wine. What better choice than the Yalumba Galway Pipe NV Tawny Port? Technically not a true “port” (since it’s from Australia rather than Portugal), it is nonetheless a tasty wine made in the tawny port style, and compares favorably with the better 20 year old tawny ports from Portgual. It has a deep reddish-brown color, with a nice acidity to counterpoint the sweetness. Flavors are typical of tawny port—caramel/toffee in the foreground, a good fig/raisin fruit base, and a hint of honey. Retail price is a good value for a better tawny port, typically ~$30/bottle.
Our whine of the week comes courtesy of “Uber Nit”, a regular at my local casino, Prairie Meadows Racetrack & ATM in the greater Des Moines, IA area. Uber Nit is an interesting character who irritates most players, but usually amuses me. He’s notorious for playing super tight, getting tilty (and talking to himself) when one of his big hands gets snapped, and pulling a hit and run at the 2/5 NL game before dropping down to the 1/2 NL game so he can take his profit out of play.
Last night, I played a short session with college buddy “Santa Claus” who was in town on business. When a seat came open at my table, Santa moved over with his stack of about $350. Santa wandered off until the button passed, at which point the following exchange occurred:
Uber Nit: He can’t come in for more than $300.
Me: Even if it’s a table change?
Uber Nit: Yeah, he can’t come in for more than the table maximum.
Me: So if you want to rathole some money, all you have to do is switch tables?
Uber Nit: Well, if you table change you can put the extra money in your pocket.
Me: Oh cool, so you can rathole.
Uber Nit: I’m just saying that’s the rule.
Me: Yeah, you would know the rules for ratholing.
This snappy comeback pairs nicely with the Gruet Brut NV Sparkling Wine from Gruet Winery in New Mexico, of all places. It is an excellent value, usually around the $15 retail price point. It has crisp green apple and grapefruit flavors, a citrus aroma, and plenty of creamy bubbles. Fun to drink on its own, but it also complements chicken, fish, pasta with cream sauce, and just about any other dish where you would usually drink a good white wine.
In what I hope becomes a weekly (or at least regular) feature, I proudly present the first installment of Wine & Whine O' the Week, which combines two of my favorite life experiences: a good glass of wine, and a good glass-shattering whine by some poor yahoo who ran into one of my "monster" hands:
"He called me with Jacks, after I reraised to $60. He has to know I've got Aces or Kings. Jacks!"--Angry Sunglasses Guy @ Mirage
This yahoo's whine pairs well with the 2007 Rosenblum Rockpile Road Reserve Petite Sirah. Another hearty petite sirah from the uber-masters of that grape, lots of black fruit flavors with hints of chocolate and spice. Perfect for sipping on a cold winter night, with or without comfort food, basking in the memory of another tilted D-Bag.
