Home games conf more rigged than pokerstars.

I think part of me just didn't want to believe it, but I am sure every scenario I can think of comes out being rigged except for one. I thought maybe he didn't shuffle at all and just cut, leaving almost all clubs up front. Jim could set a deck on one person, but to do it to 5 other people seemed hard considering he wasn't that smart. He would have to hand place each one, and I know Mike and Willy had no experience doing it, so that's where my 1% lies.

With an unshufled deck nobody is getting suited connectors at a full table though. Seems shady with the long break.

Trying to figure out the impetus of setting the deck in this scenario.

So the theory is that Tim would share the pot profit with Mike?

Was Tim in need of money at the time?

Yes, they were all hurting for money, so it made sense for the deck to be set on some of the bigger players. Mr. Navy, TJ, etc.

Bang bang

True story

this is an absurd statement.

definitely could have been a set deck, but this reasoning is just lol

Definitely. Odds only 99.98%. Probably totes legit. Degens notwithstanding.

We had set decks in a home game in which the flop hit everyone. It was done with a false single shuffle and false cut after bringing in the new deck. Lack of shuffle was not caught by anyone at the table.

Strike Three

My biggest concern coming out of Tim's game on Monday was the fact that I might scare Nicole away. She and her ex co-owned two companies and probably didn't deal with guys running around with swords after cars and such. In between games we spent time hanging out at the beach and I realized there was a side of life that I just hadn't been experiencing for a long time. Whether it was seeing a school bus drive by, the bank open, or seeing retirees at Publix getting their groceries - these people hadn't existed in my life. I was used to bars, Waffle House, casinos and eating Racetrac sandwiches. At the same time, I was introducing Nicole to a night life she had never seen before. She told me she had been to the casino before, but it was more for the bars, and this wasn't exactly a casino.

What had happened at Tim's that night had spread like wildfire all over the underground poker network. Those who hadn't been there were calling those who had and they wanted an exact recollection of what happened for their expert opinion. It was a ****show because half the players just didn't want to believe it, some wanted to lynch Mike, Willy and Tim, and some just didn't care. Vito was particularly pissed because he felt like he had given Tim the opportunity to redeem himself and now Mike and Tim couldn't be trusted at all. He called me up on the day of the Thursday game on his lunch break.

"Hey Liam, can you tell me what happened? Can you give me your account of the story? I have TJ blowing up my phone, I can't get a hold of Mike, and I don't know if I can let Tim in my house." I got the feeling that he thought I was somehow in on this.

"I did not deal that night, so let me make it clear that if you talk to me like you think I had anything to do with his, it's going to be a short conversation." I was in no mood to be a part of this, and he can have TJ verify my story. I told what I thought had happened, and said that it was "very likely" that the deck was set. I didn't mind throwing Mike under the bus, train, you name it, he was thrown under.

"Mike owes me a lot of money so you have to understand my situation." He started to preach like a father.

"Mike owes me a chunk of change too, so we are in the same situation. I am going to deal the first few hours, then play. I'll let you know how the game is running and approach him once the rake gets up there about getting money." I kept it short with Vito because honestly I couldn't stand talking to him, it was like talking to a boss or fatherly figure that you never wanted in your life.

The rest of my day was the same routine I had been doing for 9 months now. Pick up the Coors Light, two quarts of coconut water, show up, set up the table, and sit outside and smoke cigarettes while we waited for a full table. This night wasn't going to be normal, however. At 7, we only had 2 players and Mike. By 8, two more had shown up, including Paulie, who had been playing here for about a month now. I am sure between what happened on Monday, the start of the new game, and the general lack of confidence in Mike kept the game from starting. Finally at 9 we started 6-handed, which from a game perspective is the best situation. The dealer can deal faster, the hands play out faster, and rake goes up. The problem was Mike was on the felt, 2 guys were on the book, and they weren't winning. Josh and the Greek came over, and finally the Swede showed up, all cash players. Once the table was full, I hopped out of the box and started playing myself.

Now Mike had to make sure that to just break even, we had to rake 800 by midnight. Mike is good, but not as good as Derek. At a 10 dollar rake Derek could pull over 400 an hour sometimes, so he ended up sitting in to save Mike's ass. As I am playing I am watching the rake drop, and at 400 an hour, 50 bucks was being taken from each player 8-handed. That's an expensive table to sit at, and I felt like I was in a tournament against the house. I flopped trip 7s with 79cc and almost doubled up my 250 stack. At this point, I never cared to deal with Mike again once my money was paid up. I didn't want to see him, I didn't want to hear his excuses, and I was tired of his old skater belt trying to hold up his scrawny ass jeans. He refused to pull the excess length of the belt through the loops again, so it just hung there in front of him like a green fibrous wang. Even the food was ****ty that night - it as some chicken dumpling bake with cheese and vegetable, it tasted like it was microwaved. When dumplings get dry, you are basically just biting into a big ball of flavored flour, and I could feel it sit like a rock in my stomach. This was not the game of glory it once had been 6 months ago.

Around 1am, Paulie decided he wanted to cash out, and he was an all cash player that was up about 400. Mike tried his usual "I'll keep you on credit for next week" deal. Normally, this would be okay for a player who had owed money to the game, but Paulie was an all cash player that never had to dip into the game, and he knew that we were leaving this place for good next week.

"If you don't cash me out fully, I'm going to knock you right the **** out. Don't even **** with me on this, this is not how we do business where I am from."

Mike had a long look on his face as he was trying to find a way to get back to even again. A lot of Paulie's chips was book money won from those borrowing, and Mike was back in the negative again as a result. He asked me why Paulie was so mad and violent.

"You owed him money, he paid in cash and he will always expect cash at the end of the night. That's how this works. If not, players won't come here if they aren't getting paid out."

"I know, but he should know I will always pay him when I can." It just didn't occur to Mike that these people were not here to further his debt issues by donating money to him.

I left about an hour later with $350 in my pocket - $200 from dealing, and $150 from playing, but I let him hold $200 he owed because I couldn't take and not give out what was owed to the players. Mike was concerned about paying everyone out but I made it clear the same thing was going to happen if he didn't pay me in full what I had won and dealt for. Mike had won a huge 3 way all in and figured this was my best chance for picking up the rest of what was owed. Then again, I had it all but $200, and if Mike never paid up, it would be the best $200 I ever was owed. I could needle him all I wanted, explain how much of a piece of **** Mike was, and never have to listen to Mike ask me for money again. I got 85% of what I was originally owed, which according to gambling debt standards is pretty good. I considered it the cost of doing business.

I got on the highway and headed south, and Nicole had immediately called me when I told her I was out of Vito's place. Within 5 minutes I realized I had left my brand new set of Da Vinci cards, I wasn't just going to give Mike or Vito a brand new set. I just passed the last exit for 8 miles so I had to wrap around and it took me 30 minutes to get back to Vito's. When I pulled in I saw there were only a few cars left - Mike's, Derek's, and another guy who had just showed up tonight. I went in through the garage where the cards were and figured I would just walk in. I opened the door to the kitchen/gaming room wing of the house and saw Derek through the slider smoking a cigarette while pounding a beer, and Mike was just sitting at the same seat he was playing, looking like he was in disbelief.

"What the hell happened?" I was honestly not shocked that the game broke, but apparently Mike was.

"I don't know. Everyone is mad at me and I don't even know what I did. Josh and Greek were way up and I couldn't pay them both out. They started fighting with each other about who should get the money, then Bookie lost it on me and said I owed him 5k by next week, "or else". I don't even know why this happened."

"Well, that's unfortunate." I was tired of trying to explain to Mike the wrong in his ways. He was handed a goldmine and bet the farm on it, literally. He was five figures in debt and now had no way to pay any of it back. Mike ****ed himself, taking the trust of others and lining his pockets with it. This coupled with what happened to Mike was a fatal blow - he was broke and his game, which had been a money making machine, was grinding to a halt. I had nothing more to say to him, and walked outside to talk to Derek who was more in touch with reality.

"Mike ****ed me too, we both owe Bookie and I didn't know it was this much. It's a joint account and my wife is going to kill me if she knows I'm betting again." I had more sympathy for Derek, he was genuinely a good guy who just had some problems he needed to fight through. I had loaned him money in return for collateral - guns, chips from casinos, etc. and he had always paid me back. At the same time, Bookie had put a lot of people at the game in debt that affected its running on more than one occasion. He brought a lot of action with him, but personally I wouldn't miss him. In fact, As I walked through the slider and over to the garage, I walked around the house and took a look around, because I was pretty sure it would be my last walk in the house. Vito wasn't going to have Mike around here anymore, and I didn't want any part of it either. I walked out and told Mike I'd see him on Monday - if there even was a game. Both of these botched nights, though bad for the home game scene in the area, created a vacuum for a new game in town.

TY TST for the update, holy fk 400$ an hour is great money... ain't no credit in any home games I ever played in, and I expect that's how you run/ran your new one that will be explained shortly.

Have a great night man, really looking
fwd to next update.

Giving zero credit is -EV when 3 or 4 hundo an hour is on the line. It's a money making proposition to keep the game running, so credit should always play a small part in these games, it's definitely a balancing act though.
Even casinos give credit to the right people, not in poker of course but you get the point.

Caution. Prob TLDR but this is BBV and there is a lot of bbv in this post


It's funny reading this now and realizing I was probably "had" by Mike in an attempt to pay Bookie back some of the money owed to him...

I remember vividly buying in one night for 500 and getting pretty drunk while running a stack up to like 1700. This is all until Mike gets into the box and this hand occurs right after.

Open a pot to 15 with JJ in early position at 1/2 blinds which gets called by like 4 players with "bookie " being one of the last callers on the button with a covering stack.

I Get the awesome KJ8dd flop to where I lead 65 and get called by just bookie.
Turn comes the 10o to which I check for both pot control and deception and face a bet of like 240 from bookie which I call.

River pairs the 8. (Jackpot$$$) and I lead 440, quickly getting shoved on by Bookie for 1400ish which I obviously call and get shown KK for kings full.

Never thought too much of it but mehhh nice cooler but now after reading all this maybe bookie knew what was happening and didn't want me to fold what would be eventual mega cooler preflop so he could stack me.


Maybeeeeee

I remember you running way below EV, which is unfortunate in such a juicy game. I don't remember that hand, but I might have been outside. I do know that Bookie rarely 3-bet, he was more of an ATC raiser and would call 3-bets 90% of the time. It is possible he set you up, but I promise you that I had nothing to do with it.

I will tell a story - Greek said he would take a flip of AK against "any pair" and Bookie took him up on it for $200. At the end of the night, I deal Greek AK of his choice, and Bookie reaches into the deck and pulls out AA, and I deal it out with Bookie winning. It was kinda ****ty to do to someone you play with on a regular basis. Bookie was 100% hustler, but terrible with money.

I think there was a degree of separation between us - if we had talked some more, I think a lot of unknowns would have come together. I do remember you getting it in versus Donnie's friend with AJ against his KJ and bink K (on the river I think).

I don't know if you are still in the area, but if so, maybe we can figure out what Mike was trying to keep from both of us. I live about 60 miles south now but come up there a few times a month to visit family.

I remember the AK vs AA thing he pulled on him. Clever yet whatever. I recall bookie being a major spot in every game.
I'm no longer in Florida, living in Texas for the last year or two.

Where in TX?

I'm in houston

The same cooler described above happened to me in a home game here in Philly
Pre:15,call,call
flop:8JKss, 65, call, call
Turn: blank, 180 all in, call, call
river: Same blank, hero loses to Kings full and other big stack who called all in had AJss.

I think back and really ****ing wonder if I was distracted by the host while a deck colder than mthafkin Alaska was brought in and a fake cut happened. Big Pot for back then being 25.. like 8 bills and was won by the best friend of the host. Good rakers can scoop 10-15 per and I've seen em flat palm the chips to the drop w/ the Asian swiftness, while talking.


Anyone ever play at "PureAle's" (sounds like his name) on 42nd and Walnut w/ the local/penn kid juicy mix between 07'-10'ish?had the apt just for poker, glory home game days of Philly. back then vanessa selbst was Penn poker legend status already... But for sure, PureAle and his homey "Rigger" were borg md stakes, good dudes.


We want moar TST, bless us my son.👌🏻

Flashbacks - La Hermandad

October, 2008 - Miami.

The week after I had left the botanical garden in search of greener pastures, I started to spend my free time with Ken, who lived about 12 miles south of me in an area called Goulds. Goulds and a bunch of other small towns were along a stretch of US1 as it headed south of Miami towards Key Largo. Back at this time, Ken was still a heavy drinker, not a drunk, just liked to have parties at his house and he only drank hard liquor. 151 and Coke was his favorite drink, his Americanized version of a Cuba Libre. He loved Cuban food and drink, but would always put an American twist on it.

This week in particular we had a guest out from the LA area. I say "we" because often a client who would come to Ken's from out of town to look at specimen plants would end up buying them from me - I would negotiate the deal. I headed down there around 1pm to get ahead of rush hour traffic and we spent some time talking plants, what are good growers for SoCal, and he seemed like he was going to get about $16k in plants shipped across the country. He was a nice guy, but oddball to say the least. He was a public defender in Orange County, and would write inmates in prison letters of endearment - it was almost like he was attracted to bad boys. I was pretty sure he swung both ways, which I think Ken played to his advantage because he was an attractive man for his age and had no problem flirting a little for a deal. Don't be fooled though - Ken was 100% straight and his ability to seduce women was insane - I am pretty sure a couple of my exes would have gone for him if they had the chance.

As I get down there, they are out having a few drinks by the pool and I could smell weed in the air as I came out back to the pool area. Ken's house is on 2 acres, is fully planted out with rare specimen palms, and the foundation is almost entirely oolitic limestone - nicer and stronger than concrete, and is basically just coral. Ken had made a lot of money after Hurricane Andrew relandscaping huge areas in south Miami. He was in his own house as the Hurricane passed right over and blew the roof completely off. It was designed by a well known Miami builder named Lester Pancoast - the man has legendary stories which I can tell sometime later.

We BBQ up some chicken and Ken and Dave, the client, are pretty toasted. Ken burns the chicken then eats it anyway with Dave, who for a lawyer is really laid back and hilarious. They were going to make dessert but were too drunk to go get the ingredients for Tres Leches. Ken decides its time to show off to Dave and goes to one of the coconut palms in his backyard and knocks down a mature coconut with his sandal. he then proceeds to try and rip it apart with his bare hands and finally gives up, smashing it on the pool deck into 30 pieces. The nut popped out and they start chewing the meat off like a couple of monkeys, and this starts to become amusing. Once they had their dessert they were dead set on going to the Redland Tavern. This was an old bar right on the main drag to Key West and was known to be a rough place - I have had guys trying to sell me coke in the bathroom on more than one occasion. I actually had a date back up towards Miami, so I had stayed sober and was just dropping them off. Ken's wife was going to scrape them off the floor at 2am most likely.

I pulled in to the parking lot, and as I was pulling in, I could see there was a large group of Knightsmen (motorcycle gang) hanging out in the parking lot and bikes kept on piling in and parking on the grass. I had to take a piss so I walked in through the crowd, waited, and came out to my truck being blocked by a whole new group of bikers - La Hermandad. I was not familiar with La Hermandad but it seemed like a pan-Latino group and they were pretty rowdy. I walk over and try and figure out how I am getting out of this mess. I have a decent size log and ditch to get over if I want to pull forward onto the main road, or I could back up into about 30 bikes. There was no way I was getting 30 guys to move their bikes for me, so being a little annoyed, I threw it into 4 wheel drive, crawled over the log, into the ditch, and made it onto the road. At the time I had a 2007 Toyota FJ Cruiser and loved the truck, it would go anywhere, but I had a little bit of a hard time getting a grip up and over the log. I heard the tires spin a little and as I was pulling out, I saw some guys come out to their bikes and take a look. Did I kick up dirt on their rides? I have no idea, but they seemed concerned and were looking at me while I was sitting at the stoplight right there on the corner.

I had to drive about 6 miles to get back to US1 on backroads which were basically just blocks of farms with stop signs every 5-10 blocks. I was going a little under the speed limit, I was in no rush as my date was not for another hour. I was at SW 177th Ave and had to get to SW 117th Ave to get back to US1. As I was heading East I got about halfway there and pulled up to one of the stop signs at SW 147th Ave. The car behind me was tailgating me the whole way and I was just hoping it would pass, but he didn't. When I came to a complete stop, it pulled right up next to me and got real close. It was a 760il? black BMW, it looked identical to WarmDeck's ride in his stories. I give the driver a WTF? look as I rolled down the window and motioned for him to go around me. The car was already on the wrong side of the road and I just wanted the thing to disappear.

It just sat there for about 15 seconds, and suddenly both windows roll down and the car is packed. I see a bunch of faces in the back, there were at least 6 people in that car, all speaking angrily and in Spanish that had a Venezeulan/Colombian accent. I really don't speak Spanish at all, but I know enough to know that when I am being called a "puto" and a "maricon" that they are not looking to become friends. I tell them to back the **** off and take a right, pulling away from them and heading south. Within 10 seconds they were right up alongside me on the empty stretch of road with their windows down swerving the car at me, forcing me to ride on the shoulder at times. Before I hit the stop sign at Coconut Palm Drive I realize even though I had a full size BMW coming at me I'm pretty sure I could run them off the road before they got me, plus I could drive anywhere there was open space. I cut right and back West down Coconut Palm (which is weird because there are zero Coconut Palms on this road). Again they wrapped around me and I tried to force them into the ditch which almost worked but they were able to back off and get behind me. ****, I needed a plan.

I wasn't going to be able to outrun them, and I couldn't get caught at a stoplight or traffic because I know I'll get pulled out and beaten, or worse. I had to lose them where I would have the advantage - off road. Heading West there was paved road out to SW 217th St, then there were dirt roads spread out, a lot of them were in bad shape, fenced, and a few impassable. There were also canals which made for dead ends, the last thing I needed. The one and only stoplight at SW 177th St I approached - I had been blowing all the stop signs hoping a cop was waiting in the weeds, but no luck. I started creeping towards the red light at SW 248st/177th Ave and turned on my dome light. I was looking for my phone and it was nowhere to be seen. I might have left it at Ken's house, or it might be under the seat, it didn't matter - if I couldn't find it while I was driving it was no good to me anyway. The thought of calling 911 really didn't occur to me but it wasn't even an option right now. I could try and go to a public area on the road but I don't know to what lengths these guys were willing to go to take me down. They hadn't shown a willingness to back off even when they were halfway in a ditch and I couldn't take any chances.

I blew the light at 177th as soon as I got a chance and reached for my seatbelt in case I had to ditch the car and run into the woods as a last resort. Reaching down and pushing the button I felt the hammer of my SW Model 60 .357 magnum. I kept it between my seat and the center console in a holster as my "car gun", but had completely forgotten about it. I had bought this gun and kept it in the car on the premise that 357 was designed to pierce the metal on car doors from the 1930s, so if I needed to shoot through a car I could. I wasn't ready to start blasting in the car - I just needed the car to stop. I started brake checking them while they were behind me trying to get them to pull alongside me. I had the window down and the hammer back on the revolver waiting for their move. Finally at 207th they came up to the stop sign and I propped the gun up on the edge of the window and aimed for the front tire, pulled the trigger and saw the flash of fire come out of the muzzle. I had fired this gun indoors before but with hearing protection, and my ears started to ring. I was shocked the windows didn't blow out, but as soon as I shot I caught the wheel with my other hand and kept on going towards the end of the line. I saw a spark around the front passenger rim when I shot - I was hoping to hit the tire, wheel, rotor, anything to make the car stop. By the time I hit the end of the road at 217th Ave I had taken a right and the lights were in the distance but still moving. I hit the dirt road and kept on going - it wrapped around a banana plantation and back around to the main road. I stopped at the corner of 187th and 232nd St. and just pulled over. I was kind of in shock but at the same time all riled up. I walked around the car with a flashlight looking for damage, bullet holes, something, but saw nothing. I didn't even know who those people were, but I have to believe it was La Hermandad - the 4 wheel version.

I felt like hours had passed, but I heard my phone ring as I passed back over Krome Ave back to Ken's house. It had fallen between the seat and center console, and picked it up just in time - it was Ken.

"Hey, come pick us up, some fight broke out between these biker guys! Where are you?"

"I'm at Krome and 232, right next to you. I need to pick you up in your car though. My battery light is on, I think it's the alternator." I thought on my feet, if Ken or Dave knew what happened they might not understand or even believe it. Ken was not a fan of guns and I was guessing Dave wasn't either.

I drove back to Ken's house, picked up his truck, and picked them up across the street. There were 8 squad cars trying to break up a fight between the Knightsmen and La Hermandad, a couple of people had been stabbed. Apparently none of these people had guns, thank god. I ****ing hate the idea of getting stabbed, I would rather get shot. I stayed at Ken's that night just to keep away from my apartment but didn't sleep until 7am, I just kept wandering around Ken's yard and talking to my would-be date. I was concerned La Hermandad would run my plate and show up at my apartment, then realized the next day they had gotten my street address wrong when I registered my car in Miami - 8810 SW 68th St instead of 6810 SW88th Street. A few months later, when I moved back to SW Florida, I never changed it back For years, I didn't bother fixing it, and when I got pulled over I would tell them I was meaning to get it changed, I never got a ticket.

I finally changed it in 2014 after 6 years and my license being up for renewal. My best guess is someone got pissed about dirt getting kicked up on their bike, and thinking I was a member of the Knightsmen, went after me. Nothing else makes sense - these guys wanted blood. I am pretty sure I hit the rotor on the BMW and cracked it, ****ing up the brake and wheel assembly and locking up the wheel and made it impossible to drive. I'm also guessing they didn't call the cops due to either having a rap sheet or not being here in the US legally.

These stories never fail to deliver, keep em coming.

Awesome update.

Keeps on getting better

Great stories, much appreciated.

Having lived in sfla for over a year that story gave me chills man. It's seriously another country and half of the population down there wouldn't blink an eye at the thought of burying you in the swamp.