Last week, I managed to squeeze some poker into my busy vacation schedule of chaperoning drunks around Vegas. As I was taking advantage of an excellent Bellagio room rate, I wanted to keep my play focused on MGM Megalith rooms, so I strolled over to Aria one morning to check out the action.
With the WSOP in town, Aria's poker room was humming, with maybe ten tables running by 11:00 a.m. and long lists for $1/$3 and $2/$5 NLHE, as well as $1/$3 PLO. Not feeling up for the roller coaster of gamboooling that early in the day, I put my name on both the $1/$3 and $2/$5 NLHE lists, figuring I would play whichever game opened up first.
The floor soon opened a new $2/$5 NLHE table, so I vaulted to the top of that list. Shortly after, I was called for a spot at an established $2/$5 NLHE game. As I approached the table, it was pretty obvious this was a game that had run all night, with several players having wads of $100 bills and stacks of green and black chips in play. A glance around the table confirmed that this was not the game I was looking for; eight players, all in their 20s, all wearing hoodies and sunglasses. Yes, I had stumbled into a nest of WSOP pro-wannabes. So I pulled $400 out of my pocket and nodded when the floor asked me if I wanted to remain on the $1/$3 NLHE list.
Working on the assumption the table would play loose and aggressive, I vowed to play tight for an orbit or two to feel out the exploitable spots. It's good to have plans.
First hand, I was in the big blind. Action folded to hijack who raised to $15. Button thought and smooth called. Small blind called. I looked down to find 9h8h. Well, I would complete the action, and my cards were soooooted, so of course I called.
Flop was JhTh4d. Yahtzee!
I checked, assuming Hijack would c-bet, allowing me to check-raise with my monster draw and take down a nice first pot. Hijack did not disappoint, auto-betting $40. But then Button threw a monkey wrench into my plans, thinking a bit before raising to $110. Small blind insta-folded. Yikes! Here's where not knowing the table really makes poker tough. Was Button a tight player, raising with strong hands like sets, and top two pair? Or was Button betting top or second pair, or maybe a draw of his own, albeit bigger than mine, say the nut heart draw, KQ, or even something like AhQh? Or was Button just aggro-barreling with an underpair or air, leveraging a night of plays and reads of Hijack in an attempt to steal a pot?
After a bit of thought, I decided my draw was too strong to fold against two obviously aggro opponents. I pushed all-in, and was rather indifferent to whether either or both players called. Hijack snap-called, and Button nearly beat him into the pot, going all-in for maybe an additional $30. Hijack auto-called, and we were off to the races.
Just then the floor announced a new $1/$3 NLHE game starting at the table next to our table, and my name was called for the game. I watched as the board ran out. Turn—Qd. Donkey Kong! Well, unless I was up against AhKh ... Just so the board didn't pair, I had a shot. River—Qs. Ruh roh, Rooby!
I had a feeling I was beat somehow, somewhere. Still, I rolled my hand, and channeled my best Santa Claus drawl, announcing, "I have ... straight." My opponents stared at each other, and I started to feel a little better when Hijack asked the dealer, "Is there a side pot?" The dealer confirmed there was a side pot, and Hijack showed pocket Kings. Button looked disgusted, but mucked without showing. I suspect Button had JT for altos dos pairs and was counterfeited by the running Queens.
As the dealer broke down our stacks to figure out how much I had won, I strolled over to the new $1/$3 game and put down my player card to lock up a seat. I grabbed two racks on my way back to the table, just as the dealer was pushing me a ~$1,200 pot. I tossed the dealer three red chips, then racked up the rest of the pot. As the table stared at me, I politely said, "Good playing with you gents, but my game is starting." Then I headed over to my new table where I had a lucrative session before heading back to Bellagio.
And I didn't end up in a hole in the desert. Truly, I run good.
Showing posts with label crAAKKer Effect. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crAAKKer Effect. Show all posts
July 02, 2013
October 10, 2010
In Which I Encounter a Kettle
I played a short session Friday night at the Meadows ATM. Got into a newly opened table, and things started off just fine, getting up $250 in the first hour, mostly off a flopped top set of Yaks and hitting altos dos pairs with a LeDawn of hearts (suited K-rag) against AK. But then, the wheels came off. I had two monster draws that whiffed. I hit two flush draws on the turn, got it all in, and both times the river boated up my opponent. But the pièce de résistance was this little beauty.
I was on the button, and there were several limpers to me. I found satanic Aces (AsAc), my first sighting of Aces all night. After doing that little mental jig we all do when we see Aces, I raised to $17 to thin the field. The only caller was a guy on my right who a couple of orbits earlier had called my preflop raise with A4o, and caught an Ace to snap my only Cowboys of the evening. The next few hands proved he was incapable of folding any Ace preflop. Let's call him Raggedy Andy. Ahhh yes, revenge is a dish best served cold. With a good felting thrown in. Too bad he only had a couple hundred left, but it would do nicely as an object lesson.
The flop was innocuous enough: Qc-Jc-2s. Raggedy Andy checked, I bet $30 into the ~$45 pot, Raggedy Andy insta-called. Turn was the 2c. Raggedy Andy checked, I bet $50, and he pushed for another $80. Sigh. Could he have a duck? Acey-ducky? Crubs? If he flopped altos dos pairs, I just counterfeited him, and he's the kind of guy who might think I was being a bully with AK and push with just AQ or KQ. Well, it was $80 to win ~$285, and I had to have at least four outs if I were behind. I made the crying call, and Raggedy Andy rolled over ...
8c5c
That's right, this yahoo played heads up, out of position, for a raise, with eight-five of freakin' crubs. Only an idiot would make that play! Chasing a flush draw; why do I miss my draws while these morons always hit? What a terrible play! Stupid yahoo ...
Oh yeah, I blanked the river, natch. Live poker is rigged.
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P.S. I did hit quad deuces later in the evening, but of course nobody had a hand to pay me off. Sometimes, I play soooo bad.
I was on the button, and there were several limpers to me. I found satanic Aces (AsAc), my first sighting of Aces all night. After doing that little mental jig we all do when we see Aces, I raised to $17 to thin the field. The only caller was a guy on my right who a couple of orbits earlier had called my preflop raise with A4o, and caught an Ace to snap my only Cowboys of the evening. The next few hands proved he was incapable of folding any Ace preflop. Let's call him Raggedy Andy. Ahhh yes, revenge is a dish best served cold. With a good felting thrown in. Too bad he only had a couple hundred left, but it would do nicely as an object lesson.
The flop was innocuous enough: Qc-Jc-2s. Raggedy Andy checked, I bet $30 into the ~$45 pot, Raggedy Andy insta-called. Turn was the 2c. Raggedy Andy checked, I bet $50, and he pushed for another $80. Sigh. Could he have a duck? Acey-ducky? Crubs? If he flopped altos dos pairs, I just counterfeited him, and he's the kind of guy who might think I was being a bully with AK and push with just AQ or KQ. Well, it was $80 to win ~$285, and I had to have at least four outs if I were behind. I made the crying call, and Raggedy Andy rolled over ...
8c5c
That's right, this yahoo played heads up, out of position, for a raise, with eight-five of freakin' crubs. Only an idiot would make that play! Chasing a flush draw; why do I miss my draws while these morons always hit? What a terrible play! Stupid yahoo ...
Oh yeah, I blanked the river, natch. Live poker is rigged.
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P.S. I did hit quad deuces later in the evening, but of course nobody had a hand to pay me off. Sometimes, I play soooo bad.
September 17, 2010
It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, "MadBrooklyn" World /
"Dawn Summers" Does Des Moines
If you ever find yourself in Des Moines, Iowa in a dim-lit, near-vacant 70s-retro dive bar at 1:30 in the morning on a weekday, drinking Schlitz and Tangermeisters* with two Brooklyn gals you picked up at a seedy hotel eight hours earlier, debating whether pet chickens will eat mice while a one-legged grungy neo-hippie reads your aura, it's safe to conclude you have made some poor life choices.
My poor life choices—at least those relevant to this story—began last year when I joined the Twitter Borg. A couple of the poker bloggers I follow—BWoP and F-Train—would occasionally engage in Tweet warfare (Tweetfare?) with a mysterious "RealDawnSummers", a lady smart enough to be a bigshot NYC corporate attorney, dumb enough to be a Patriots fan, witty enough to unleash a good zinger, clumsy enough to blunder into a better zinger, goofy enough to wear Liberace shoes, and nitty enough to uber-tilt. In other words, "Dawn Summers" was eminently qualified to be a friend, foe, foil, and crAAKKer victim, all rolled into a sharp-tongued, angry-fisted package. A few football and poker tweets later, and we were cyber-friends and life-enemies ("cyferlenemies"?).
For the past week, Dawn (a/k/a Stephane "Vanna" Clare) and her friend Mary (a/k/a MadBrooklyn) have been enjoying a whirlwind vacation in the Midwest. Between seeing all the usual sites—Devil's Tower, the Big Rock Heads, the Grotto, the Arch, and the inside of various police cars—Dawn and Mary made an overnight stop in good ol' Des Moines, mostly to see cows and tractors, but also to calm their poker withdrawal shakes. I directed them to "Living History Farms" for a little afternoon farm culture, then picked them up at the murder motel for a night of poker hijinks.
First off was dinner at Jethro's BBQ, in their newly opened location across the street from the Meadows ATM. Of course Dawn (a/k/a "Wilma") made a scene when ordering dinner, complaining that there was no corn on the cob. Now, there was a perfectly tasty jalapeño cream corn side dish, but no, Dawn wanted her corn on the cob! Get used to disappointment. Dawn ended up with BBQ babyback ribs that were, in her own words, "the best ever!", and somehow managed to leave a happy camper.
We then made the arduous three-minute trek to the Meadows ATM for some gamboooling. Because it was Wednesday, the weekly Ladies Night Tournament was under way, with a majority of the players being, well, not ladies. Dawn and Mary passed on my $20 prop bet for entering and final-tabling the tourney, so we had a ten minute wait until a tournament table broke and a new $1/2 NLHE cash game was opened. We passed the time chatting with a nice regular player, Michelle (@chelmc23) who came up and introduced herself as the president of Dawn's Des Moines fan club; yup, Dawn is famous even in Iowa! Apparently, Michelle was searching for online advice on playing Omaha Hi/Lo, and was somehow misdirected to Dawn's blog (well, one of her many, many, blogs). See, Google has flaws.
Once the game started, it was hilarious to watch Mary and Dawn develop whiplash and TMJ disorder from reacting to the incredibly bizarre play at the table. Overbets, underbets, bad bluffs, curious calls, our table had it all. Dawn had a rollercoaster session, making some money when her AA held up, but then stacking off to Mary in a weird hand. It had limped around to me in the big blind, so I made it $17 to go with 77. At least seven of us saw a flop of K-J-T rainbow. I checked, someone bet, Dawn went all-in for ~$125, someone called, Mary pushed (having the table covered), and some other short stack pushed as well. I was shocked—shocked!—when Mary rolled over AQ, possibly her weakest starting hand of the session. Dawn rebought, and I gave her a courtesy double-up when we both flopped flushes, only hers was the nuts. I should've known she had a big hand, since she pulled a reverse-Meat Tank, keeping a leftover rib in the fingers of both hands, while calling my initial flop bet with her palms. I'm such a bad player. Le sigh.
Mary, however, gave a clinic in tight-aggressive play, somehow averaging one hand per hour, yet always having the nuts and getting paid off when she hit, while getting everyone to fold to c-bets even when she missed. Clearly she knows that Jedi mind-trick thing. Early on, she drug a big pot when the flop came out K-8-4 rainbow. When Mary four-bet all-in, the only question in my mind was whether she had a set of 8s or a set of 4s. Her opponent apparently wanted to know as well, calling with AK. It was 88, obv. A couple of orbits later, Mary collected another monsterpotten when she got it all-in preflop with—well, you really don't need me to tell you she had the pocket rockets, do you?
As for me, well, I had an up and down and down session, losing a little by missing a couple of combo-draw semi-bluffs, botching a couple of big hands with bad reads, and generally missing flops with good starting hands (AK, AQ, small pocket pairs, suited connectors ... whiff, whiff, whiff, whiff). I did raise with KQ once, and flopped Broadway, only to chop with Michelle who had made the ridiculous play of calling me with ... KQ. But I did pull out a crAAKKer command performance for Dawn. A guy in between Dawn and Mary opened in middle position for $22. A couple of callers to me in the big blind, and I find the lovely 84 of crubs. Now, I only had a little over $100 behind, so I thought about folding, until I remembered our dinner conversation about Julius Goat and his brilliant poker insights in his Stupid/System. As Mr. Goat notes: "The key of poker is to be the one to call, and thus according to that math guy, to have the hand of greatest strength." That's right, by calling, I could dramatically improve the strength of my hand. Plus, it was crubs, and I clearly had a lot of outs. I was actually a favorite! So, I called, and five of us went to the flop: 8s7c4s. Donkey Kong! It checked to the preflop raiser, who bet $50. Folded to me, and I pushed. Another guy called. Turn was: 4d. Yahtzee! There was irrelevant sidepot action. River was ... who cares, some irrelevant baby card. Preflop raiser bets, other guy folds (spade draw, combo draw ... don't know, don't care, he'd already paid me in full). Preflop raiser shows Kings, like they're any good. I roll over my canoe, and Dawn stares at me, then giggles. She kept on giggling so much, she had to wrap up her head in her hoodie for a few minutes so as not to laugh in the face of the guy I just crAAKKed. Though, in hindsight, I think that would've been pretty sweet.
At some point in the evening's festivities, Dawn mentioned a friend had told her about the "world-famous 80s dance club in Des Moines". Although my days of going out are well behind me, I do hear about hot bars and clubs, and I certainly wasn't aware of any 80s dance clubs. The Dawn says, "It's called the 'High Life' or something like that." I immediately laughed, because the High Life Lounge is about as far from 80s dance club as can be imagined. The High Life Lounge is a retro-60s/70s themed place, looking like someone's old basement brought to life. Dark wood paneling is on the walls, covered with old poorly framed photos and beer paraphenalia from Hamm's, Schlitz, and Miller High Life, natch. Faux-wood Formica on the bar, small black and white TVs behind the bar, and old diner booths, tables, and chairs complete the "look". They also serve lunch and dinner consisting primarily of old school diner food, but with some fun stuff like Velveeta grilled cheese sandwiches, fried chicken gizzards, and Spam and egg sandwiches thrown into the mix. It's actually a fun, inexpensive, and popular local joint. But "world famous"? As I told Dawn, "I don't think 'world famous' means what you think it means."
In any event, Dawn decided she wanted to check out the High Life Lounge, so we racked up around midnight and headed to downtown Des Moines. Now the downtown bar and restaurant district has finally recovered after the flood of 1993, but even so, Wednesday is not exactly a major party night. We arrived at the High Life and found it basically empty, except for a couple of guys at the bar, and the bartender. Since Dawn had never enjoyed a Schlitz—never even heard of it!—I ordered one for her (Mary, as the big winner, actually paid). So, we were peacefully debating the merits of using chickens for rodent control (Dawn does tend to warp conversations in weird directions), when Mary decided to take a picture of Dawn and me. Somehow, the camera kept making my pale skin even more pale, to the point that my face was pretty much just a bright white blob. Here is her best result:
As I posted on Twitter, Mary's camera made me look like a ghost, and made Dawn look like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost. However, the sig other saw my pictures of Dawn and proclaimed, "She looks like she'd be a hoot!" High praise indeed. And yes, Dawn is a hoot. However, I'll lay even odds Mary murders her in a cornfield if they ever travel together again outside the East Coast.
What about the one-legged grungy neo-hippie? Oh yes, I almost forgot. So, as Mary takes a half dozen pictures, trying to get my face to appear on film (a very difficult task when photographing the soulless), a random guy—about mid-20s, scruffy, shaggy hair rubber-banded in back, flannel shirt—wanders over from the bar to offer some friendly assistance. Turns out, he's not helpful. But, he is entertaining, so I order Dawn a house specialty Tangermeister and we settle in to chat a bit more as the bartender starts putting chairs up on tables and generally uses a great degree of un-subtlety to indicate it's closing time and he resents our presence. Now, when you see someone with a prosthetic leg, you generally have two reactions: a) curiosity as to how they lost their leg, and b) a realization you shouldn't ask. Dawn had only one of those reactions:
From their Twitter updates, it appears Dawn and Mary successfully navigated onward to Kansas City and their final destination, St. Louis (pronounced "Saahn Loo-ee"—trust me!). But I am quite happy they stopped by to liven up Des Moines for one evening. And I'm quite pleased they departed before permanently sucking me into their maelstrom of crazy! I'm definitely looking forward to seeing them again in Vegas in December (note to self—bring extra bail money).
--------------------------------------------------------------
* Tangermeisters are comprised of Tang mixed with Jägermeister.
My poor life choices—at least those relevant to this story—began last year when I joined the Twitter Borg. A couple of the poker bloggers I follow—BWoP and F-Train—would occasionally engage in Tweet warfare (Tweetfare?) with a mysterious "RealDawnSummers", a lady smart enough to be a bigshot NYC corporate attorney, dumb enough to be a Patriots fan, witty enough to unleash a good zinger, clumsy enough to blunder into a better zinger, goofy enough to wear Liberace shoes, and nitty enough to uber-tilt. In other words, "Dawn Summers" was eminently qualified to be a friend, foe, foil, and crAAKKer victim, all rolled into a sharp-tongued, angry-fisted package. A few football and poker tweets later, and we were cyber-friends and life-enemies ("cyferlenemies"?).
Dawn breaks out the famous Liberace shoes at the Meadows ATM.
For the past week, Dawn (a/k/a Stephane "Vanna" Clare) and her friend Mary (a/k/a MadBrooklyn) have been enjoying a whirlwind vacation in the Midwest. Between seeing all the usual sites—Devil's Tower, the Big Rock Heads, the Grotto, the Arch, and the inside of various police cars—Dawn and Mary made an overnight stop in good ol' Des Moines, mostly to see cows and tractors, but also to calm their poker withdrawal shakes. I directed them to "Living History Farms" for a little afternoon farm culture, then picked them up at the murder motel for a night of poker hijinks.
First off was dinner at Jethro's BBQ, in their newly opened location across the street from the Meadows ATM. Of course Dawn (a/k/a "Wilma") made a scene when ordering dinner, complaining that there was no corn on the cob. Now, there was a perfectly tasty jalapeño cream corn side dish, but no, Dawn wanted her corn on the cob! Get used to disappointment. Dawn ended up with BBQ babyback ribs that were, in her own words, "the best ever!", and somehow managed to leave a happy camper.
Dawn, in a rare happy place.
We then made the arduous three-minute trek to the Meadows ATM for some gamboooling. Because it was Wednesday, the weekly Ladies Night Tournament was under way, with a majority of the players being, well, not ladies. Dawn and Mary passed on my $20 prop bet for entering and final-tabling the tourney, so we had a ten minute wait until a tournament table broke and a new $1/2 NLHE cash game was opened. We passed the time chatting with a nice regular player, Michelle (@chelmc23) who came up and introduced herself as the president of Dawn's Des Moines fan club; yup, Dawn is famous even in Iowa! Apparently, Michelle was searching for online advice on playing Omaha Hi/Lo, and was somehow misdirected to Dawn's blog (well, one of her many, many, blogs). See, Google has flaws.
Once the game started, it was hilarious to watch Mary and Dawn develop whiplash and TMJ disorder from reacting to the incredibly bizarre play at the table. Overbets, underbets, bad bluffs, curious calls, our table had it all. Dawn had a rollercoaster session, making some money when her AA held up, but then stacking off to Mary in a weird hand. It had limped around to me in the big blind, so I made it $17 to go with 77. At least seven of us saw a flop of K-J-T rainbow. I checked, someone bet, Dawn went all-in for ~$125, someone called, Mary pushed (having the table covered), and some other short stack pushed as well. I was shocked—shocked!—when Mary rolled over AQ, possibly her weakest starting hand of the session. Dawn rebought, and I gave her a courtesy double-up when we both flopped flushes, only hers was the nuts. I should've known she had a big hand, since she pulled a reverse-Meat Tank, keeping a leftover rib in the fingers of both hands, while calling my initial flop bet with her palms. I'm such a bad player. Le sigh.
Mary, however, gave a clinic in tight-aggressive play, somehow averaging one hand per hour, yet always having the nuts and getting paid off when she hit, while getting everyone to fold to c-bets even when she missed. Clearly she knows that Jedi mind-trick thing. Early on, she drug a big pot when the flop came out K-8-4 rainbow. When Mary four-bet all-in, the only question in my mind was whether she had a set of 8s or a set of 4s. Her opponent apparently wanted to know as well, calling with AK. It was 88, obv. A couple of orbits later, Mary collected another monsterpotten when she got it all-in preflop with—well, you really don't need me to tell you she had the pocket rockets, do you?
Mary's tower o' chips (background).
"This is not the flop you were looking for!"
"Call my bet. Now go about your business."
As for me, well, I had an up and down and down session, losing a little by missing a couple of combo-draw semi-bluffs, botching a couple of big hands with bad reads, and generally missing flops with good starting hands (AK, AQ, small pocket pairs, suited connectors ... whiff, whiff, whiff, whiff). I did raise with KQ once, and flopped Broadway, only to chop with Michelle who had made the ridiculous play of calling me with ... KQ. But I did pull out a crAAKKer command performance for Dawn. A guy in between Dawn and Mary opened in middle position for $22. A couple of callers to me in the big blind, and I find the lovely 84 of crubs. Now, I only had a little over $100 behind, so I thought about folding, until I remembered our dinner conversation about Julius Goat and his brilliant poker insights in his Stupid/System. As Mr. Goat notes: "The key of poker is to be the one to call, and thus according to that math guy, to have the hand of greatest strength." That's right, by calling, I could dramatically improve the strength of my hand. Plus, it was crubs, and I clearly had a lot of outs. I was actually a favorite! So, I called, and five of us went to the flop: 8s7c4s. Donkey Kong! It checked to the preflop raiser, who bet $50. Folded to me, and I pushed. Another guy called. Turn was: 4d. Yahtzee! There was irrelevant sidepot action. River was ... who cares, some irrelevant baby card. Preflop raiser bets, other guy folds (spade draw, combo draw ... don't know, don't care, he'd already paid me in full). Preflop raiser shows Kings, like they're any good. I roll over my canoe, and Dawn stares at me, then giggles. She kept on giggling so much, she had to wrap up her head in her hoodie for a few minutes so as not to laugh in the face of the guy I just crAAKKed. Though, in hindsight, I think that would've been pretty sweet.
At some point in the evening's festivities, Dawn mentioned a friend had told her about the "world-famous 80s dance club in Des Moines". Although my days of going out are well behind me, I do hear about hot bars and clubs, and I certainly wasn't aware of any 80s dance clubs. The Dawn says, "It's called the 'High Life' or something like that." I immediately laughed, because the High Life Lounge is about as far from 80s dance club as can be imagined. The High Life Lounge is a retro-60s/70s themed place, looking like someone's old basement brought to life. Dark wood paneling is on the walls, covered with old poorly framed photos and beer paraphenalia from Hamm's, Schlitz, and Miller High Life, natch. Faux-wood Formica on the bar, small black and white TVs behind the bar, and old diner booths, tables, and chairs complete the "look". They also serve lunch and dinner consisting primarily of old school diner food, but with some fun stuff like Velveeta grilled cheese sandwiches, fried chicken gizzards, and Spam and egg sandwiches thrown into the mix. It's actually a fun, inexpensive, and popular local joint. But "world famous"? As I told Dawn, "I don't think 'world famous' means what you think it means."
Inside the High Life Lounge. Classy, eh?
In any event, Dawn decided she wanted to check out the High Life Lounge, so we racked up around midnight and headed to downtown Des Moines. Now the downtown bar and restaurant district has finally recovered after the flood of 1993, but even so, Wednesday is not exactly a major party night. We arrived at the High Life and found it basically empty, except for a couple of guys at the bar, and the bartender. Since Dawn had never enjoyed a Schlitz—never even heard of it!—I ordered one for her (Mary, as the big winner, actually paid). So, we were peacefully debating the merits of using chickens for rodent control (Dawn does tend to warp conversations in weird directions), when Mary decided to take a picture of Dawn and me. Somehow, the camera kept making my pale skin even more pale, to the point that my face was pretty much just a bright white blob. Here is her best result:
Actual photo by MadBrooklyn, no photo-shopping.
As I posted on Twitter, Mary's camera made me look like a ghost, and made Dawn look like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost. However, the sig other saw my pictures of Dawn and proclaimed, "She looks like she'd be a hoot!" High praise indeed. And yes, Dawn is a hoot. However, I'll lay even odds Mary murders her in a cornfield if they ever travel together again outside the East Coast.
What about the one-legged grungy neo-hippie? Oh yes, I almost forgot. So, as Mary takes a half dozen pictures, trying to get my face to appear on film (a very difficult task when photographing the soulless), a random guy—about mid-20s, scruffy, shaggy hair rubber-banded in back, flannel shirt—wanders over from the bar to offer some friendly assistance. Turns out, he's not helpful. But, he is entertaining, so I order Dawn a house specialty Tangermeister and we settle in to chat a bit more as the bartender starts putting chairs up on tables and generally uses a great degree of un-subtlety to indicate it's closing time and he resents our presence. Now, when you see someone with a prosthetic leg, you generally have two reactions: a) curiosity as to how they lost their leg, and b) a realization you shouldn't ask. Dawn had only one of those reactions:
One-legged guy: [trying to take picture] "Wow, you really do look like a ghost, dude!"So, as we finished our Tangermeisters, the one-legged guy had me place my hand palm up over the table, and he held his hand palm down above but not touching my hand, in an attempt to "drain my aura" to enable Mary to take my picture. This was uncomfortably close to an exorcism, which would really destroy my poker ability, so I was happy when Mary distracted him with something shiny. Alas, no successful pictures were taken, and we hurriedly finished our drinks and made our escape.
Dawn: "So, how'd you lose your leg?"
One-legged guy: [sitting down in our booth] "Well, it's kind of funny. I mean, you go out to a bunch of bars. You wake up the next day, and you can't remember where you put stuff. I mean, you think, 'I know I had it at that one bar, and I think I had it at the next bar, but then it gets kind of hazy.' "
From their Twitter updates, it appears Dawn and Mary successfully navigated onward to Kansas City and their final destination, St. Louis (pronounced "Saahn Loo-ee"—trust me!). But I am quite happy they stopped by to liven up Des Moines for one evening. And I'm quite pleased they departed before permanently sucking me into their maelstrom of crazy! I'm definitely looking forward to seeing them again in Vegas in December (note to self—bring extra bail money).
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* Tangermeisters are comprised of Tang mixed with Jägermeister.
August 27, 2010
Canoe!
I played a very short session of poker last night at the Meadows ATM. I was driving back from a lengthy meeting with an expert witness at the University of Iowa medical center, and found my car taking the Meadows exit. Well, my car was right, it was Thursday night, with plenty of big action players and tourney players to fill the poker room. Problem was, management was essentially incompetent, as I stood around for nearly an hour while three—count 'em, three—floor folk stood around bickering about whether to open the 2/5 NLHE game, or a new 1/2 NLHE game. The blindingly obvious answer was to open the 2/5 game, which would in turn open up enough 1/2 seats to get nearly everyone into the game they wanted to play. Apparently, the sticking point was that a few guys in the 5/5 mixed game were on the 2/5 list (which was 18 deep), and wouldn't commit to opening the 2/5 game. This in turn caused angst among the mix game players who were worried about playing short-handed. Where is the floor with the backbone to tell these guys to stop bellyaching and just pick the damn game they wanted to play?
Anyway, I ended up playing only an hour and a half. My table had a couple of guys I figured would spew chips, and I was right. One guy was trying to be a table bully, but I quickly figured him out, letting him three barrel me with air. One hand, I held 65o, called him all the way down with fourth pair, and won. An orbit later, I held 54s, flopped the flush draw, and called his river bet after I missed with just bottom pair, and again raked the chips. Thank you! Come again!
The rest of the night was pretty standard for me, winning some pots with aggression, losing a couple on big draws that whiffed. On one hand, I called a preflop raise with 98s, the flop was A-K-9, and the preflop raiser bet big. I thought about raising, then decided it wasn't worth it. The other guy proudly slammed down 32o, and spent the next two orbits crowing about his huge win (of $15). Which leads to our hand of the night:
I was UTG, and found 32o. I figured, why not play it for a lark? Maybe a little poetic justice will result. Right on cue, big bluff guy raises to $17, a big bet at this table. Surprisingly, there are five callers to me. I call as well to close the action—that's right we had seven players to the flop for $17 in a 1/2 NL game. Crazy. Anyway, flop is 9-3-2 with two spades. Donkey Kong! I know there will be a bet, so I check, intending to check-raise all-in. Cue big bluffer, who overconfidently puts out $75. Couple of folds, then hell breaks loose. One guy raises all-in for a little over $150. Another plays calls all-in for around $120. I put both guys on flush draws, or maybe an overpair and a flush draw, so I push all-in as well. Despite the great odds, big bluffer insta-mucks (hah!). Sure enough, the other guys show QsTs and AsJs. Turn is a Queen to give me a little sweat, but the river was a beautiful, if unnecessary, trey of clubs. Canoe! I rake the ~$600, and a few hands later, rack up my profit and head home for some well-deserved wine.
CAUTION: The foregoing poker play was made by an expert (donkey) under controlled, statistically variant conditions. Please do not try this move at home. Remember, canoes can be hazardous to your health.
Anyway, I ended up playing only an hour and a half. My table had a couple of guys I figured would spew chips, and I was right. One guy was trying to be a table bully, but I quickly figured him out, letting him three barrel me with air. One hand, I held 65o, called him all the way down with fourth pair, and won. An orbit later, I held 54s, flopped the flush draw, and called his river bet after I missed with just bottom pair, and again raked the chips. Thank you! Come again!
The rest of the night was pretty standard for me, winning some pots with aggression, losing a couple on big draws that whiffed. On one hand, I called a preflop raise with 98s, the flop was A-K-9, and the preflop raiser bet big. I thought about raising, then decided it wasn't worth it. The other guy proudly slammed down 32o, and spent the next two orbits crowing about his huge win (of $15). Which leads to our hand of the night:
I was UTG, and found 32o. I figured, why not play it for a lark? Maybe a little poetic justice will result. Right on cue, big bluff guy raises to $17, a big bet at this table. Surprisingly, there are five callers to me. I call as well to close the action—that's right we had seven players to the flop for $17 in a 1/2 NL game. Crazy. Anyway, flop is 9-3-2 with two spades. Donkey Kong! I know there will be a bet, so I check, intending to check-raise all-in. Cue big bluffer, who overconfidently puts out $75. Couple of folds, then hell breaks loose. One guy raises all-in for a little over $150. Another plays calls all-in for around $120. I put both guys on flush draws, or maybe an overpair and a flush draw, so I push all-in as well. Despite the great odds, big bluffer insta-mucks (hah!). Sure enough, the other guys show QsTs and AsJs. Turn is a Queen to give me a little sweat, but the river was a beautiful, if unnecessary, trey of clubs. Canoe! I rake the ~$600, and a few hands later, rack up my profit and head home for some well-deserved wine.
CAUTION: The foregoing poker play was made by an expert (donkey) under controlled, statistically variant conditions. Please do not try this move at home. Remember, canoes can be hazardous to your health.
August 22, 2010
Wine & Whine O' the Week (v. 1.13)
—Nobody Expects the crAAKKer!
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.
—Cardinal Ximinez (Michael Palin) in "Monty Python's Flying Circus"
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).
Here's the classic Monty Python "Spanish Inquisition" skit:
July 03, 2010
Queens Flame Out at The Meadows ATM
With the holiday weekend coming up, my poker buddy "Jugweed" twisted my arm into playing the Thursday night donkament at the Meadows ATM. Well, he emailed me to suggest we hit up the tourney, and I decided it was a great excuse to get out of the house for some poker. "I would love to stay home tonight, but Jugweed really wants me to go, and it's his first night free in months ...."
The tourney itself was rather typical; players get T2500 in chips, with 20 minute levels. Early on, I built up a few chips with a couple of good starting hands, but I crashed out in the second level when I made a semi-bluff with Ac6c on a two-crub flop. I got called by QQ (overpair to the board), so my Ace was live as well. Brick-brick, crubs inexplicably failed to get there, and I got to go play cash games. Yippee!!
There was a wild 5/5 pot limit mix game going (Hold 'em, Omaha, and Omaha8), but the game was a little too deep and crazy for my blood. Because I was seated at a 1/2 NLHE game next to the "big game", I got to see at least a dozen pots over $5,000 being pushed (and a couple over $8,000), and stacks seemed to range from $1,000 to $7,000. The game has been running regularly for a few months now, with a lot of the deep-pocket degenerate gambler types moving from the 2/5 NLHE game to the mix game for the added action. Some of the play I saw in the Omaha games was pretty atrocious (playing two pair in Omaha, playing for low only in Omaha8 and getting quartered or worse), but the variance has to be enormous. It will be interesting to see how long the game continues as the wilder players have to be burning through bankrolls a lot faster than at the 2/5 NL game. Of course, most of that crew are plenty wealthy, and poker is more their gambling table game of choice than a game played for profit.
My game started off fairly standard, but it took a turn for the wild side when a couple of LAG maniacs started getting in a raising war. Pots got huge, and it felt like we were playing a 1/2/17 game, with preflop raises routinely getting called in 4-6 spots. In no time, there was a ton of money in play, with multiple players busting and rebuying, while pots over $300 were common. Of course, the LAG factor pumps up the volatility of the game severalfold, but it similarly pumps up the profitability potential if you properly adjust your game and look for good places to skim the cream off the top as the LAGs churn the action.
One of the LAGs would likely merit a fullscale rant if he ever ran into Poker Grump. "DV" is a young guy, likely mid-20s, who is uber-aggressive in a way I associate with players who play a lot of online tournaments. He probably plays 80% of hands, and invariably raises when first into a pot. DV also rarely folds before the turn, often betting or raising the flop, and occasionally calling to set up a bet or raise on the turn. He is certainly fearless, and upsets many of the nittier players with his style. But DV also has a number of quirks I find amusing but which are generally viewed by others as annoying. First off, he rarely shuts up, yapping away no matter what is going on. Second, on nearly every hand that doesn't go to showdown, he plays the Grand Inquisitor, grilling the players: "Flush draw, right? Overpair? Two pair?" I played into this game by alternately agreeing with his read, and simply making up hands; it was actually quite hilarious to mess with DV's head. But DV's most obnoxious verbal tic was, when in hands he folded before the river, he would claim to have laid down a hand that would have won. Although DV racked up a big stack, he eventually went bust when a few of his big bluffs were picked off.
I was planning to head home, when the 5/5 big game broke up, and one of the players decided he wanted to donk around in our little game. "CD" is a good player, but he clearly likes action, and he blew through several buy-ins looking to juice up our game. We're talking big preflop raises, semi-bluffs for stacks, and calling down light. Well, in the space of a couple of hours CD did juice up the game, but walked away with none of the money he put into the game. To him, though, it was little more than chump change. Thank you, come again!
By this point, it was early Friday morning, and I decided to stay and play short-handed to keep the game going. Just another public service from your friendly neighborhood crAAKKer! Speaking of crAAKKing, I only had one memorable big hand, but it was a doozy. I was in the big blind, and there was a middle position raise by a LAG player. A couple of callers, all standard for the table. Then, the button 3-bet to ~$35. I look down at Jh9h, and decide to call, as I figured there would be at least another two callers behind, and the implied odds for a big pot were high; plus, I had a huge stack and was looking to find big pots to play where I could leverage my chips. The flop comes out Qh-Th-9s. Donkey Kong! I led out for about 1/3 pot, wanting to build a pot for my monster draw, looking to set up a play for stacks against a shorter stack, or a semi-bluff against a bigger stack. There was one caller to the button, who moved in for about $250 total, so it was roughly $200 more for me to call. I figured that the button likely had an overpair or at worst a set; the only credible flush draw he could have was AhKh, so I was either ahead with my pair (and blocking his flush draw), or behind but drawing to the world. What I didn't want was an Ace-rag flush draw calling behind, so I pushed to clear the field, and the field obligingly folded. My opponent showed QcQs for my worst fear—top set—so my two pair outs were, well, out. The turn was a blank, the 7s. But the river was the beautiful Kh for the straight flush! So, in a bit of orientational irony, a gay guy used a straight flush to beat a straight guy's set of queens. In addition to a nice pot, I got a $200 high hand jackpot bonus. Not bad for a statistical variance box.
By early Friday morning, the regular 6/12 Omaha8 crew was straggling into the room. I've played the game a few times, and the regulars are mostly semi-retired guys with a lot of money and free time. They are a pretty friendly and entertaining bunch, prone to busting each other's chops in a good-natured way, and a few of them sat in our game waiting for the Omaha game to start. I took one more big pot down when I turned the nut straight, but had to dodge two flush draws. Unfortunately, I gave most of that pot back with an ill-timed bluff, so I decided to cash out up over three buy-ins. It was my longest session of poker outside of IMOP in years. Such sessions are usually -EV for me, but the unusual confluence of factors made this a perfect storm of profitability.
Given the theme of today's post, take a look at this interesting fellow who cashed out late Thursday night. I have to say that this particular sartorial scenario was eye-popping: aqua polo, pink shorts, rainbow colored braided belt, navy fitted baseball cap, and boat shoes. Truly an outfit fit for a queen!
The tourney itself was rather typical; players get T2500 in chips, with 20 minute levels. Early on, I built up a few chips with a couple of good starting hands, but I crashed out in the second level when I made a semi-bluff with Ac6c on a two-crub flop. I got called by QQ (overpair to the board), so my Ace was live as well. Brick-brick, crubs inexplicably failed to get there, and I got to go play cash games. Yippee!!
There was a wild 5/5 pot limit mix game going (Hold 'em, Omaha, and Omaha8), but the game was a little too deep and crazy for my blood. Because I was seated at a 1/2 NLHE game next to the "big game", I got to see at least a dozen pots over $5,000 being pushed (and a couple over $8,000), and stacks seemed to range from $1,000 to $7,000. The game has been running regularly for a few months now, with a lot of the deep-pocket degenerate gambler types moving from the 2/5 NLHE game to the mix game for the added action. Some of the play I saw in the Omaha games was pretty atrocious (playing two pair in Omaha, playing for low only in Omaha8 and getting quartered or worse), but the variance has to be enormous. It will be interesting to see how long the game continues as the wilder players have to be burning through bankrolls a lot faster than at the 2/5 NL game. Of course, most of that crew are plenty wealthy, and poker is more their gambling table game of choice than a game played for profit.
My game started off fairly standard, but it took a turn for the wild side when a couple of LAG maniacs started getting in a raising war. Pots got huge, and it felt like we were playing a 1/2/17 game, with preflop raises routinely getting called in 4-6 spots. In no time, there was a ton of money in play, with multiple players busting and rebuying, while pots over $300 were common. Of course, the LAG factor pumps up the volatility of the game severalfold, but it similarly pumps up the profitability potential if you properly adjust your game and look for good places to skim the cream off the top as the LAGs churn the action.
One of the LAGs would likely merit a fullscale rant if he ever ran into Poker Grump. "DV" is a young guy, likely mid-20s, who is uber-aggressive in a way I associate with players who play a lot of online tournaments. He probably plays 80% of hands, and invariably raises when first into a pot. DV also rarely folds before the turn, often betting or raising the flop, and occasionally calling to set up a bet or raise on the turn. He is certainly fearless, and upsets many of the nittier players with his style. But DV also has a number of quirks I find amusing but which are generally viewed by others as annoying. First off, he rarely shuts up, yapping away no matter what is going on. Second, on nearly every hand that doesn't go to showdown, he plays the Grand Inquisitor, grilling the players: "Flush draw, right? Overpair? Two pair?" I played into this game by alternately agreeing with his read, and simply making up hands; it was actually quite hilarious to mess with DV's head. But DV's most obnoxious verbal tic was, when in hands he folded before the river, he would claim to have laid down a hand that would have won. Although DV racked up a big stack, he eventually went bust when a few of his big bluffs were picked off.
I was planning to head home, when the 5/5 big game broke up, and one of the players decided he wanted to donk around in our little game. "CD" is a good player, but he clearly likes action, and he blew through several buy-ins looking to juice up our game. We're talking big preflop raises, semi-bluffs for stacks, and calling down light. Well, in the space of a couple of hours CD did juice up the game, but walked away with none of the money he put into the game. To him, though, it was little more than chump change. Thank you, come again!
By this point, it was early Friday morning, and I decided to stay and play short-handed to keep the game going. Just another public service from your friendly neighborhood crAAKKer! Speaking of crAAKKing, I only had one memorable big hand, but it was a doozy. I was in the big blind, and there was a middle position raise by a LAG player. A couple of callers, all standard for the table. Then, the button 3-bet to ~$35. I look down at Jh9h, and decide to call, as I figured there would be at least another two callers behind, and the implied odds for a big pot were high; plus, I had a huge stack and was looking to find big pots to play where I could leverage my chips. The flop comes out Qh-Th-9s. Donkey Kong! I led out for about 1/3 pot, wanting to build a pot for my monster draw, looking to set up a play for stacks against a shorter stack, or a semi-bluff against a bigger stack. There was one caller to the button, who moved in for about $250 total, so it was roughly $200 more for me to call. I figured that the button likely had an overpair or at worst a set; the only credible flush draw he could have was AhKh, so I was either ahead with my pair (and blocking his flush draw), or behind but drawing to the world. What I didn't want was an Ace-rag flush draw calling behind, so I pushed to clear the field, and the field obligingly folded. My opponent showed QcQs for my worst fear—top set—so my two pair outs were, well, out. The turn was a blank, the 7s. But the river was the beautiful Kh for the straight flush! So, in a bit of orientational irony, a gay guy used a straight flush to beat a straight guy's set of queens. In addition to a nice pot, I got a $200 high hand jackpot bonus. Not bad for a statistical variance box.
By early Friday morning, the regular 6/12 Omaha8 crew was straggling into the room. I've played the game a few times, and the regulars are mostly semi-retired guys with a lot of money and free time. They are a pretty friendly and entertaining bunch, prone to busting each other's chops in a good-natured way, and a few of them sat in our game waiting for the Omaha game to start. I took one more big pot down when I turned the nut straight, but had to dodge two flush draws. Unfortunately, I gave most of that pot back with an ill-timed bluff, so I decided to cash out up over three buy-ins. It was my longest session of poker outside of IMOP in years. Such sessions are usually -EV for me, but the unusual confluence of factors made this a perfect storm of profitability.
Given the theme of today's post, take a look at this interesting fellow who cashed out late Thursday night. I have to say that this particular sartorial scenario was eye-popping: aqua polo, pink shorts, rainbow colored braided belt, navy fitted baseball cap, and boat shoes. Truly an outfit fit for a queen!
An extra from "Miami Vice" cashes out at the Meadows ATM.
March 21, 2010
Anatomy of a crAAKKer Hand
I returned from Vegas to Iowa last night to find snow on the ground and a post online by the Poker Grump about a session we played together at the Mirage on Friday afternoon. His post reflected on a handful of the interesting discussions he always seems to generate at the table, which is why I don't mind having him at the table, even though he is almost always the best player at the table (and seems to have learned Cardgrrl's ninja position skills, invariably ending up on my immediate left). Look, I enjoy Discovery Channel's "Shark Week", and I don't mind a hammerhead shark at my poker table so long as I can avoid him, and he doesn't bring any other shark friends (like CKBWoP). Anyway, the Grump and I had an enjoyable chat during a profitable session for both of us, mostly because I avoided him except for three or four ill-fated attempts to hoist him on his deuce-four petard (like a cobra and its venom, the Grump must be naturally immune to the deuce-four).
The Grump's post mentioned a hand involving some confusion by a dealer over whether a raise all-in reopened betting for an earlier raiser. I happened to be involved in the hand, and it turned out to be one of the bigger pots I'd win in that session. Now, I'm not planning to dissect a lot of hands in this blog, as it is not usually all that interesting for those not involved in the hand, and I'm under no illusion that I can provide any meaningful insights for most of my readers who are likely at least solid recreational players. But this hand struck me as a paradigmatic crAAKKer hand, so let's take a look under the hood.
Preflop, I was in the small blind and the Grump was in the big blind. First to act was a lady who liked to see flops and had been running hot, a typical ET (uber-calling station) who was impossible to shake off a hand if she had top pair. Predictably, she limped in. Next to her was a middle-aged guy ("MAG") with a relatively short stack of ~$80; he raised to $15 total. Now, $15 was a large raise for this table, and signalled a likely premium hand, something like Yaks or better, or a Broadway Ace. Also, MAG had been trying to double up for an hour or so, since taking a big hit when he overplayed top pair. His MO was to either limp and push over the top of any preflop raise, or to just shove any flop where he caught a piece of the board. To this point, he hadn't been called down. Next to act was a young guy with a big stack, who liked to see flops, but had been on lockdown to protect his stack and wouldn't play postflop without a big hand or big draw. He called the $15, as did the chatty lady next to him. Then, a young guy pushed for his last $26, and it folded around to me.
I look down at Tc8c, which is a decent crAAKKing hand. It offers straight and flush possibilities, and it almost certainly is not dominated, like a hand such as KQ can be. The crAAKKing situation was also nearly ideal, as this was shaping up to be a big pot, with calls likely from all the players behind me, while offering me great odds of 5:1 or 6:1. On the flop, I could easily get away from the hand if facing any heat without a big hand myself, and if I hit the flop, odds were good I would get paid by at least one other player. My concern was whether MAG would overshove the pending raise for his whole stack, potentially ruining the situation. However, after some thought, I realized that MAG (and others after him) could not reraise as the $26 shove did not reopen the betting for him, though I and the lady acting before MAG could still raise (I suspected, correctly, that the lady would not raise). So, I made the call, as did the lady.
Predictably, MAG tries to shove, and after some debate, the floor correctly rules that MAG cannot raise. So he grouchily calls, as do the other limpers. The flop comes down 8-6-5 with one club. Not the worst flop for my hand. I check, knowing MAG is going to shove with any hand. Sure enough, he pushes, and it folds to me. Now this is a rather marginal situation, as MAG's range of hands has a lot of overpairs to this board. But, it was only another $65 to see two more cards, and I was getting great odds for the main pot as well. Plus, if MAG had AK/AQ, I was ahead and winning the side pot alone would still be profitable. If MAG had a large stack behind, this would be a fold or raise decision, normally folding, and raising only against tight opponents. As this hand shook out, though, the fact MAG was all-in made this a tough spot, but I finally decided it was worth the risk and called. The turn brought another 8, the river a 6, and I took down both pots with 8s full of 6s. MAG didn't show, but muttered to his end of the table about Kings, while the other all-in player showed AK.
In hindsight, this hand happened in large part because MAG was oblivious to table conditions. The other all-in player clearly was looking for a place to push, so limping in early position with Kings would have been a good option. Alternatively, raising to $12 would have allowed MAG to reraise all-in to any raise. Clearly it pays to pay attention at the table. Still, count it as another satisfying crAAKKer hand.
The Grump's post mentioned a hand involving some confusion by a dealer over whether a raise all-in reopened betting for an earlier raiser. I happened to be involved in the hand, and it turned out to be one of the bigger pots I'd win in that session. Now, I'm not planning to dissect a lot of hands in this blog, as it is not usually all that interesting for those not involved in the hand, and I'm under no illusion that I can provide any meaningful insights for most of my readers who are likely at least solid recreational players. But this hand struck me as a paradigmatic crAAKKer hand, so let's take a look under the hood.
Preflop, I was in the small blind and the Grump was in the big blind. First to act was a lady who liked to see flops and had been running hot, a typical ET (uber-calling station) who was impossible to shake off a hand if she had top pair. Predictably, she limped in. Next to her was a middle-aged guy ("MAG") with a relatively short stack of ~$80; he raised to $15 total. Now, $15 was a large raise for this table, and signalled a likely premium hand, something like Yaks or better, or a Broadway Ace. Also, MAG had been trying to double up for an hour or so, since taking a big hit when he overplayed top pair. His MO was to either limp and push over the top of any preflop raise, or to just shove any flop where he caught a piece of the board. To this point, he hadn't been called down. Next to act was a young guy with a big stack, who liked to see flops, but had been on lockdown to protect his stack and wouldn't play postflop without a big hand or big draw. He called the $15, as did the chatty lady next to him. Then, a young guy pushed for his last $26, and it folded around to me.
I look down at Tc8c, which is a decent crAAKKing hand. It offers straight and flush possibilities, and it almost certainly is not dominated, like a hand such as KQ can be. The crAAKKing situation was also nearly ideal, as this was shaping up to be a big pot, with calls likely from all the players behind me, while offering me great odds of 5:1 or 6:1. On the flop, I could easily get away from the hand if facing any heat without a big hand myself, and if I hit the flop, odds were good I would get paid by at least one other player. My concern was whether MAG would overshove the pending raise for his whole stack, potentially ruining the situation. However, after some thought, I realized that MAG (and others after him) could not reraise as the $26 shove did not reopen the betting for him, though I and the lady acting before MAG could still raise (I suspected, correctly, that the lady would not raise). So, I made the call, as did the lady.
Predictably, MAG tries to shove, and after some debate, the floor correctly rules that MAG cannot raise. So he grouchily calls, as do the other limpers. The flop comes down 8-6-5 with one club. Not the worst flop for my hand. I check, knowing MAG is going to shove with any hand. Sure enough, he pushes, and it folds to me. Now this is a rather marginal situation, as MAG's range of hands has a lot of overpairs to this board. But, it was only another $65 to see two more cards, and I was getting great odds for the main pot as well. Plus, if MAG had AK/AQ, I was ahead and winning the side pot alone would still be profitable. If MAG had a large stack behind, this would be a fold or raise decision, normally folding, and raising only against tight opponents. As this hand shook out, though, the fact MAG was all-in made this a tough spot, but I finally decided it was worth the risk and called. The turn brought another 8, the river a 6, and I took down both pots with 8s full of 6s. MAG didn't show, but muttered to his end of the table about Kings, while the other all-in player showed AK.
In hindsight, this hand happened in large part because MAG was oblivious to table conditions. The other all-in player clearly was looking for a place to push, so limping in early position with Kings would have been a good option. Alternatively, raising to $12 would have allowed MAG to reraise all-in to any raise. Clearly it pays to pay attention at the table. Still, count it as another satisfying crAAKKer hand.
February 07, 2010
Finding Gold in the Dirt
Last night, I played a session at the Meadows ATM. My first hand, I post in late position and call a small raise with Js6s. I flop a pair with a flush draw, and hit the flush to crack QQ. A couple of hands later, I play 75s, and again call a small raise. I flop a flush draw with gutshot straight draw, and turn the straight to crack KK. Establish tight image—check. I complete the first orbit when my QQ holds up against Yaks on a junky board. One orbit, three hands, and I’ve already doubled up! Sometimes I play so good.
The next few hours are pretty much a wasteland. Either I get junk cards or I whiff the flop. I take down a few small pots, and give it back one preflop raise or bad c-bet at a time. I crack KK once again when my 54o flops two pair and rivers a boat. But, I give that back when I make a tough call with TPTK holding AT on a Ten-high board, only to have the Q6s flush draw spike a Queen. Eh.
I was thinking about leaving early and locking in the double up when a regular sits down—let’s call him “JT”. JT is a known action player, has pretty good game with a style ranging from LAG to maniac, depending on the table. JT promptly starts playing nearly every hand, raising many hands, which was a big change for the table. JT also made and showed several big bluffs, which helped get him paid when he flopped big with a weird hand. JT’s pièce de résistance, however, came when he cracked a tight young player’s KK with 32s, flopping trips and turning a boat. The kid storms away in disgust, fuming, “That’s just a dirt hand! All you play is dirt!”
Hardly three hands later, the tight old regular sitting next to Dirt Boy raises to $17 preflop. I call with 64o on the button. Flop is 6-5-6. Donkey Kong! Old Grump bets the pot, I raise $50 more. Old Grump points at JT and says, “I’m glad he’s not in the hand.” Old Guy then gives the going home speech and raises to $200. I pretend to think a bit, then push all-in for his last $125. Old Grump snap calls and proudly rolls over his AA (duh! never saw that hand coming). Old Grump looks at my hand and asks the dealer, “What does he have?” The dealer says “six four” and old guy says, “He called $17 with that?” Old Grump says “good hand” dripping with sarcasm, and wanders out of the room. Dirt Boy had returned by this point, and he and a few others at his end of the table continue to murmur amongst themselves, presumably about my “stupid” play. I stack my chips—slowly—then play another orbit, before heading home with a nice profit.
So yeah, you might wonder, why am I boring y’all with another day at the poker office? After all, it’s pretty standard fare for me to crack Aces or Kings. Well, the comments by Dirt Boy and Old Grump are fairly typical of the kinds of comments I often hear after cracking Aces or Kings—“You called me with that trash?” and “You called $X preflop with that crap?” Depending on my mood, I either ignore them or make a snarky comment. But what these crAAKKer victims fail to understand are some important principles of poker that explain why they are bitchy and broke, while I’m happily stacking their chips.
First and foremost, these players place far too much emphasis on preflop hand strength. For many of these players, if they get AA/KK preflop, they feel they are entitled to win the pot, and if they lose, it is only because of some horrendous bad play by their opponent or pure bad luck. I think a lot of this mentality comes from televised and online tournament poker, where players emphasize starting hand strength due to the relatively short stacks in play forcing frequent pushes preflop. But in deep-stacked cash games, starting hand strength, while still important, fades and becomes only one of many factors to consider. As two leading poker analysts put it:
One of my favorite dealers at the Meadows ATM is a bit more pithy—“There are no bad hands, just bad flops.”
Now even I won’t play the extreme “any two cards” style of some maniacs, but hands like connectors and one-gappers Ten-Nine/Eight and below have some useful traits. First, assuming I can put my victim on a premium hand, my hand will almost never be dominated. Thus, I will never be faced with a tough decision, as I will know to a high degree of certainty where I stand postflop. Conversely, my victim will be in the dark as to the relative strength of my hand postflop, and he will be the one facing the tough decision—does my check-raise mean I flopped two pair or trips, or am I on a draw, or am I bluffing? Second, these hands are relatively safe, in that I can get away from them relatively easily postflop, while my victim may feel married to his AA/KK. So, my victim is at much greater risk of stacking off or losing a big pot than I am. Third, these kinds of hands often flop draws, pairs with a draw, or combo draws, giving me great semi-bluffing opportunities. Finally, showing down a few of these hands often sets up good bluffing opportunities on junky boards against other players later in the session.
The second critical error my crAAKKer victims make is to assume no rational player would call their preflop raise without a hand recognized as having a certain showdown “strength”. My victims assume that I would never make the “mistake” of calling a big preflop raise with “just” 75 suited. But, I am a logically oriented person. Why would I make a play my victims regard as irrational? Because my victims are overlooking what may be the most basic principle of poker:
I don’t play speculative or “dirt” hands against just any opponent. Ideally, my victim is tight preflop, so that a raise means a fairly narrow range of “premium” hands, and a big raise means AA-JJ or AK. This is important because if I can put a player on a hand, but they can’t do the same for me, I have an advantage. Also, the victim should be a player who has trouble laying down Aces or Kings, especially heads up and on a “junky” board. Finally, the victim should be fairly deep-stacked, both to give good implied odds for when I hit (helping my risk-reward ratio), but also for those cases where he gets away with some or all of his stack intact, he may still tilt over getting his AA/KK cracked and give me a second crack at crAAKKing him.
So, when I crack someone’s AA/KK, and they rant on about how I called their $15 preflop raise with “junk”, they are absolutely correct—I did make a small mistake by calling their raise when I knew I was behind their hand. But—and this is key—they made a huge mistake stacking off for $200, $300, or more with only one pair, no matter how big that pair might be. It’s funny how my crAAKKer victims always blame me for the $15 bad preflop call, but rarely acknowledge their bad $200+ play postflop. I’m more than happy to trade those kinds of mistakes all night, or until their ATM card is maxed out.
Finally, let’s be quite clear. I play poker to make money. Cracking AA/KK with “junk” hands is merely a method for getting chips away from tight players, often in large chunks at a time. Although hilarity often ensues, the amusing story is just a fun bonus and is not the point of crAAKKing. Unless of course, my victim is someone annoying; then crAAKKing them is a matter of public service.
The next few hours are pretty much a wasteland. Either I get junk cards or I whiff the flop. I take down a few small pots, and give it back one preflop raise or bad c-bet at a time. I crack KK once again when my 54o flops two pair and rivers a boat. But, I give that back when I make a tough call with TPTK holding AT on a Ten-high board, only to have the Q6s flush draw spike a Queen. Eh.
I was thinking about leaving early and locking in the double up when a regular sits down—let’s call him “JT”. JT is a known action player, has pretty good game with a style ranging from LAG to maniac, depending on the table. JT promptly starts playing nearly every hand, raising many hands, which was a big change for the table. JT also made and showed several big bluffs, which helped get him paid when he flopped big with a weird hand. JT’s pièce de résistance, however, came when he cracked a tight young player’s KK with 32s, flopping trips and turning a boat. The kid storms away in disgust, fuming, “That’s just a dirt hand! All you play is dirt!”
Hardly three hands later, the tight old regular sitting next to Dirt Boy raises to $17 preflop. I call with 64o on the button. Flop is 6-5-6. Donkey Kong! Old Grump bets the pot, I raise $50 more. Old Grump points at JT and says, “I’m glad he’s not in the hand.” Old Guy then gives the going home speech and raises to $200. I pretend to think a bit, then push all-in for his last $125. Old Grump snap calls and proudly rolls over his AA (duh! never saw that hand coming). Old Grump looks at my hand and asks the dealer, “What does he have?” The dealer says “six four” and old guy says, “He called $17 with that?” Old Grump says “good hand” dripping with sarcasm, and wanders out of the room. Dirt Boy had returned by this point, and he and a few others at his end of the table continue to murmur amongst themselves, presumably about my “stupid” play. I stack my chips—slowly—then play another orbit, before heading home with a nice profit.
So yeah, you might wonder, why am I boring y’all with another day at the poker office? After all, it’s pretty standard fare for me to crack Aces or Kings. Well, the comments by Dirt Boy and Old Grump are fairly typical of the kinds of comments I often hear after cracking Aces or Kings—“You called me with that trash?” and “You called $X preflop with that crap?” Depending on my mood, I either ignore them or make a snarky comment. But what these crAAKKer victims fail to understand are some important principles of poker that explain why they are bitchy and broke, while I’m happily stacking their chips.
First and foremost, these players place far too much emphasis on preflop hand strength. For many of these players, if they get AA/KK preflop, they feel they are entitled to win the pot, and if they lose, it is only because of some horrendous bad play by their opponent or pure bad luck. I think a lot of this mentality comes from televised and online tournament poker, where players emphasize starting hand strength due to the relatively short stacks in play forcing frequent pushes preflop. But in deep-stacked cash games, starting hand strength, while still important, fades and becomes only one of many factors to consider. As two leading poker analysts put it:
“In deep stack no limit, preflop hands derive most of their value from how well they extract money after the flop from opponents. Comparing hands based on how often they win a showdown or on their poker ‘hand rank’ is worse than worthless.”
—David Sklansky & Ed Miller, “No Limit Hold ‘Em Theory and Practice” (1st Ed., p. 124)
One of my favorite dealers at the Meadows ATM is a bit more pithy—“There are no bad hands, just bad flops.”
Now even I won’t play the extreme “any two cards” style of some maniacs, but hands like connectors and one-gappers Ten-Nine/Eight and below have some useful traits. First, assuming I can put my victim on a premium hand, my hand will almost never be dominated. Thus, I will never be faced with a tough decision, as I will know to a high degree of certainty where I stand postflop. Conversely, my victim will be in the dark as to the relative strength of my hand postflop, and he will be the one facing the tough decision—does my check-raise mean I flopped two pair or trips, or am I on a draw, or am I bluffing? Second, these hands are relatively safe, in that I can get away from them relatively easily postflop, while my victim may feel married to his AA/KK. So, my victim is at much greater risk of stacking off or losing a big pot than I am. Third, these kinds of hands often flop draws, pairs with a draw, or combo draws, giving me great semi-bluffing opportunities. Finally, showing down a few of these hands often sets up good bluffing opportunities on junky boards against other players later in the session.
The second critical error my crAAKKer victims make is to assume no rational player would call their preflop raise without a hand recognized as having a certain showdown “strength”. My victims assume that I would never make the “mistake” of calling a big preflop raise with “just” 75 suited. But, I am a logically oriented person. Why would I make a play my victims regard as irrational? Because my victims are overlooking what may be the most basic principle of poker:
“The key to no limit hold ‘em success isn’t to play perfectly. It’s to swap mistakes with your opponents. You trade small mistakes to your opponents if they will trade back big ones.”
—David Sklansky & Ed Miller, “No Limit Hold ‘Em Theory and Practice” (1st Ed., p. 178)
I don’t play speculative or “dirt” hands against just any opponent. Ideally, my victim is tight preflop, so that a raise means a fairly narrow range of “premium” hands, and a big raise means AA-JJ or AK. This is important because if I can put a player on a hand, but they can’t do the same for me, I have an advantage. Also, the victim should be a player who has trouble laying down Aces or Kings, especially heads up and on a “junky” board. Finally, the victim should be fairly deep-stacked, both to give good implied odds for when I hit (helping my risk-reward ratio), but also for those cases where he gets away with some or all of his stack intact, he may still tilt over getting his AA/KK cracked and give me a second crack at crAAKKing him.
So, when I crack someone’s AA/KK, and they rant on about how I called their $15 preflop raise with “junk”, they are absolutely correct—I did make a small mistake by calling their raise when I knew I was behind their hand. But—and this is key—they made a huge mistake stacking off for $200, $300, or more with only one pair, no matter how big that pair might be. It’s funny how my crAAKKer victims always blame me for the $15 bad preflop call, but rarely acknowledge their bad $200+ play postflop. I’m more than happy to trade those kinds of mistakes all night, or until their ATM card is maxed out.
Finally, let’s be quite clear. I play poker to make money. Cracking AA/KK with “junk” hands is merely a method for getting chips away from tight players, often in large chunks at a time. Although hilarity often ensues, the amusing story is just a fun bonus and is not the point of crAAKKing. Unless of course, my victim is someone annoying; then crAAKKing them is a matter of public service.
February 02, 2010
Return of the crAAKKer Effect
The queens we use would not excite you.I played a short session at the Meadows ATM Sunday evening. The game was very tight-passive, and it was hard to get any traction. I deliberately played LAG, but could get no action on my AA or flopped set of Kings. My least favorite hand (KQ) flopped bajos dos pairs, I get it all-in vs. a short stack for $80 each, he shows A-rag ... and it goes running J-T for the Broadway chop. Eventually, though, I manage to stack off when I flopped altos dos pairs with T9, turn tens full, and lose to a better tens full when an Ace hits the river. Sometimes, this game is a lot of fun. This session was not one of those moments.
--Murray Head, "One Night in Bangkok"
The game was also incredibly boring, with several regular nits in the game after busting out of the tournament. So, I pulled out the new iTouch (Christmas gift from the sig other) and watched Ocean's 11 and Ocean's 13—best gift ever. Midway through the second movie, a young kid walks in and is sent to my table with $100 in chips. Three of the nits had all just racked up, so the Kid can pick from three spots—one on my immediate left, or two at the other end of the table. Of course, he chooses to sit by me. Clearly, this will not end well for the Kid.
Kid posts in, but seems uncomfortable with chips. The next hand, he tries to post in again—looks like we have a live play newbie. Kid settles in and folds for a couple of orbits. Finally, Kid raises in EP to $8, on the small side for the table. several callers, but I fold my junky BB—Kid clearly has a hand. Flop is Ace-rag-rag. Kid bets $20, gets one caller, a scruffy and slightly crazy looking dude. Turn is another Ace. Kid bets $30, Scruffy calls. River is another Ace. Kid goes all-in for ~$45. Scruffy pauses, then calls. Kid rolls over QQ. Scruffy pauses, then rolls over A3o, obv. Kid looks like someone just kicked his puppy.
Kid stands up, dealer asks if he wants his seat locked up. This is sort of like a horror flick where someone asks the hot chick if she wouldn't mind splitting off from the group, and maybe taking a solo shower to boot. I can see it happening in slow motion ... Kid standing and thinking, Kid pulling ATM card out of wallet, dealer pointing to ATM machine in hall, Kid nodding, dealer throwing out the "reserved" button ... The tragic end is already written, and who am I to interfere with the will of the poker gods? I go back to watching Brad Pitt and George Clooney exchanging snappy dialogue.
Kid returns with $150, posts back in. Kid folds to prefop raise. False alarm, but the clock is ticking. More hands get dealt, Kid continues to fold. Eerie music begins to play in the background (or maybe it was just the Grammys). Kid finally open raises, this time to $10. He gets a couple of callers. Flop is Q-T-8, rainbow. Checks to Kid, he bets ... and there is a raise! Kid pushes all-in! There is a call! Kid shows QQ again (what, my brilliant foreshadowing didn't already tip you off?). His opponent shows ... J9o (c'mon, you knew villain was hiding under the bed with this hand, didn't you?). Turn and river are blanks, and Kid exits stage left, looking like the nut straight had been a kick straight to his nuts.
My "crAAKKer effect" powers have grown to include coolering pocket Queens. You have been warned.
January 10, 2010
The crAAKKer Effect & the Uber-Cooler
Since I have been home alone on puppy duty this weekend, I have no new poker tales to pass along. However, this is a good opportunity to break into the cellar full of canned poker stories to illustrate what I will refer to as "the crAAKKer effect". Essentially, the crAAKKer effect means that my presence at the table twists the laws of probability so that not only are my chances of cracking AA & KK exponentially increased, but the odds of any player having those hands cracked also dramatically increase.* To say that I've seen more truly bizarre crackings of AA & KK than your average non-Euro donk is an understatement. But, I'll let you be the judge. Shake up a martini and ponder this tale of woe:
It was winter about 4-5 years ago. I was playing 1/2 NLHE at the local casino—Prairie Meadows Racetrack, Casino, & ATM in the greater Des Moines, Iowa area (to the extent Des Moines has a "greater" area, the poker room is it). A seat opens on my table. The open seat happens to be the 3 seat (end of the table), and is right next to the cage. New guy walks over, puts his rack of $300 in red down, posts, and starts to take off his coat. Local maniac raises to $15. New guy (still standing) looks at his cards and raises to $60. Folds back to maniac who pushes all-in, new guy snap calls. New guy shows AA, maniac has KK ... and a K flops. crAAKKed!
But wait! There's more! Oh ye of little faith ... New guy takes two steps to the cage to rebuy for $300 while being dealt in. New guy is waiting for his chips, looks at his cards, raises to $20. Folds to same maniac from prior hand, who reraises. New guy steps back from cage with his $300 rebuy, and pushes it all-in. Maniac snap calls. This time, new guy shows KK and maniac shows AA! Board runs out blanks, and new guy storms out of the room, down two buy-ins in two hands without ever even sitting down at the table! crAAKKed!
So, anyone still doubting the crAAKKer Effect? Care to play AA or KK at my table? Didn't think so ...
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*For those of you familiar with the Robert Jordan Wheel of Time series of novels, you might say that I'm a poker ta'veren.
It was winter about 4-5 years ago. I was playing 1/2 NLHE at the local casino—Prairie Meadows Racetrack, Casino, & ATM in the greater Des Moines, Iowa area (to the extent Des Moines has a "greater" area, the poker room is it). A seat opens on my table. The open seat happens to be the 3 seat (end of the table), and is right next to the cage. New guy walks over, puts his rack of $300 in red down, posts, and starts to take off his coat. Local maniac raises to $15. New guy (still standing) looks at his cards and raises to $60. Folds back to maniac who pushes all-in, new guy snap calls. New guy shows AA, maniac has KK ... and a K flops. crAAKKed!
But wait! There's more! Oh ye of little faith ... New guy takes two steps to the cage to rebuy for $300 while being dealt in. New guy is waiting for his chips, looks at his cards, raises to $20. Folds to same maniac from prior hand, who reraises. New guy steps back from cage with his $300 rebuy, and pushes it all-in. Maniac snap calls. This time, new guy shows KK and maniac shows AA! Board runs out blanks, and new guy storms out of the room, down two buy-ins in two hands without ever even sitting down at the table! crAAKKed!
So, anyone still doubting the crAAKKer Effect? Care to play AA or KK at my table? Didn't think so ...
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*For those of you familiar with the Robert Jordan Wheel of Time series of novels, you might say that I'm a poker ta'veren.
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