"I've been been listening to my gut since I was fourteen years old, and frankly speaking, I've come to the conclusion that my guts have **** for brains."
-Rob, High Fidelity
I planned on making it a short day yesterday. Really, I did. Sometimes things work out that way, sometimes they don't. There's a reason nobody got up from that table for over two hours, except for 1-hand bathroom breaks.
The poker room at the B is feeling more and more familiar. The nice floor lady knows my name, many of the regs at the 5-10 know my game, to the fish it feels like I'm already just another one of the mines in the minefield. The insecurity that plauged yesterday's game is gone, I'm rested and surprisingly refreshed. It's the weekend, and the weekend means fish.
The table I'm seated at seems considerably weaker than yesterday's, with several tourists, several bad regs, nobody that's just spewing from the start but multiple players that are simply playing wait-for-coolers and seem quite unaccustomed to dealing with the pressures that come from facing strong players. The limp-call, check-call, check-fold line is very much in effect, and within an hour I'm pumped up over $1k without ever seeing a showdown. No, I saw one showdown. I raised T
from LP and a spewy Norweigan called from the BB. We check/checked a flop of K
, and he check-called a 6
turn. The river came the K
and he randomly donked out $120. I turbo snapcalled and he mucked.
I noted that the Norweigan had ordered a second Corona after finishing his first and that the player on his left, another European of questionable poker skill - he was the guy in the TT vs. AA hand yesterday that strangely donked out three streets in a 3bet pot - seemed like he had his foot on the gas but no real hand on the steering wheel. I keep an eye out for the opening of any seats.
A new player, young kid, had sat down at the table and opened the button to $30. Sensing an opportunity to provide context-free resistance I made it $100 to go from the BB holding T
. He called, giving me a little sadface on the inside, but the flop came better than I deserved, K
. Lots of ways to win this pot, I decided, and bet out for $140. He thought for a moment and called. Stubborn pocket pair
, I thought. The turn was the A
and I decided I had to fire out again. This time I made it $280. He called again. The stubborn pair hypothesis seemingly falsified, I noted only that the river was a red brick, and checked. He insta-checked back. "Ten high," I announced. He tabled pocket tens. "Oh, you sicko," I chided/praised. He dragged down a substantial pot and took a bit of my ego with it. Sadly he moved tables immediately after and I had no chance for exacting any revenge. (Frankly I think his turn call was, on balance, poor, but it worked out this time so who am I to judge?)
I get my chance and move two seats to the left of the Norweigan, who was on his third Corona, knowing that this was a budding opportunity. Still, I dropped a few more small-to-medium pots, nothing of note, and my stack dwindled down to about where it started, at $1k.
A pot was five-way limped to me with 4
in LP, so I limped along. The button, a young player, seemed good, limped along, and we see the flop seven-handed. It's 3
and I'm feeling pretty good about the world. Checked to me I make it $50 to go, and only the button calls. The turn is the 8
, and I see no reason to stop firing, since I've got a pretty good opportunity to put a lot of heat on diamond draws and other one pair hands. $80 is the bet. Villain ponders for a moment and raises to $280.
My initial reaction is diamond draw, perhaps caught the 8
. Villain could have flopped the nuts, or have a combo-ish draw like mine, or could have diamonds and be doing what I've done a few times over the course of the TR, using a turn move to give himself another way to win. This is 0% set, almost 0% two-pair (unless, sickly, he turned it), and on balance I think a shove is good. This folds out essentially everything, except for a turned top two pair or the flopped stone cold nuts, which most players are raising on this flop anyway. "I'm all in," I announce, repping what I felt was a perfectly legit set or nut straight.
Villain, of course, instacalls. "Flopped the nuts?" I ask. He nods. I shake my head. "Chop outs. Come on, seven, one time." Sadly the river brings paint and just like that, a stack is shipped elsewhere.
My immediate judgment was that it was a horrible spew play, but after sleeping on it I feel a little better, that there really are quite a few hands he's raising that I'm pushing off with the shove. It's still probably spew, but it's not a 100% gift-wrapped buy-in, I think. Anyway, it's still back into the wallet for $1k in bills. "Player checks on table 19!"
An hour later. The corona count of the already-spewy Norweigan is past 6, and he's entering Prime Time and apparently has money to burn, talking about how he wasn't sure how much money he spent on a ring that he just bought, but that it was at least $5k. After three limpers he makes it $30. Eager to play pots with him I call with 7
, when to my left the middle-aged asian lady makes it $80 to go. Spewdrunk calls, and I feel too priced in, even though asian lady has only about $300 or so behind.
I flop far better than I deserve, 7
, it's check check and sure enough the asian lady puts her last $300 into the middle. I call, obviously, and the turn and river brick out completely, allowing her queens to hold.
Searching for spots and barely finding any can be expensive, as it turns out, though, and for a couple of hours I'm limping and calling behind Spewdrunk with almost every feature; he is playing every hand and taking most past the turn. Finally, after a couple of hours of slowly bleeding money and missing flops, I catch 8
in a pot that was raised to $30 by Spewdrunk and had roughly 6 callers. The flop came 7
, it's checked to me, and I bet out $150. Spewdrunk calls, as he always did. The turn was the K
, and Spewdrunk check-calls again, this time $280. Then the river comes, and it's pretty much a disaster: K
. Worse, Spewdrunk leads out, just reaching to his stack of bills and putting them into the middle.
It was something he'd done a few times, and every time it had been a bluff. Check-call, check-call, donk out for all his bills, not caring how many there were. I ask the dealer to count them. It's $500. I sigh. "That was an awful river," I say, "But I think I have to call." Nervously I put a stack across the line. He shakes his head, and says "I just have a nine." I sigh. "Kicker?" I ask. He shakes his head, and tables 96o. I show my counterfeited hand, and we chop it up. I get nods and raised eyebrows from much of the rest of the table.
The asian lady dropped a huge pot to the player in seat 7, claiming KK on an AAK8x board. Seat 7 showed quad aces. Then, no more than two rotations later, Seay 7 spewmonkeyed almost $2k to the european lady on my immediate right, who was the World's Biggest Nit and had 4bet huge after an EP open. Seat 7 5bet shoved over the top with what had to have been KK, and the european lady wound up making quad aces herself. Seat 7, steaming, got up and left, and was replaced by the player that would ultimately become Spewdrunk's eventual giftee. First Spewdrunk made a ridiculous overshove on a 6
board, maybe a relative $2100 into $200 (at this point Spewdrunk had won several pots in a row and was pumped up over $2500). The giftee's eyes went wide, he-rechecked his cards, and called, holding the 9
for the straight flush. Spewdrunk tabled 2
, and laughed, saying he'd misread his hand and thought that it was him with the straight flush. After giving the rest away elsewhere, he had to retrieve more cash and bought back in for another $1500. This time several bets went in on a flop of AK2, again between Spewdrunk and the Giftee. The turn paired the 2 and another big bet went in. The river was yet another 2, Spewdrunk shoved, and Giftee instacalled, holding A2 for quads yet again. Spewdrunk held AQ this time.
Finally, after another couple hours or so, Spewdrunk called it quits, and the table quickly broke at the next time drop. It was about midnight, and I'd made what I vowed would be a short session into one that lasted ten hours, but it was prolonged by a good opportunity that unfortunately didn't go my way. I was stuck about $2k at my low point, but managed to get good value in a couple of hands, one where I flopped a flush with the 7
, another where I trapped a bad reg for an extra bet with AK on an AK8 flop. That brought my losses back under $1k, and it was past the partiers and back to the Hash House for what I felt was necessary: an enormous pancake for dinner and a couple of rum and cokes. I chatted with the pretty girl behind the bar again, getting a bit of a conversation going, and eventually retired back to my room.
Day 7 Total: -$944
Trip Total: +$3119