Last night I played in an inexpensive tournament on The Hill. I play this particular event because, while the stakes are minimal, it's a good chance to chat with some reasonably decent players and, more importantly, there's always a good chance of an Omaha cash game developing after the tournament (and I do like me some Omaha).
This tournament started out with a bang and a whimper. I was chip lead at my table and got into a hand reasonably early on with two other players. I was playing low to middle suited connectors (7s-8s). I don't normally do this from middle position but decided to play a few more pots. I correctly bet preflop as opposed to limping in which would have been a poorer decision.
Flop came Qs-RAGs-Rag. I was first to act and bet 3/4 of the pot with my flush draw. I got an all in from a villain who I will call "Mr. Grumpy Cufflinks." To call would cost me half my stack, which I could afford but wasn't thrilled to do. Based on how he played earlier, I knew he likely had two over cards or a low pair on the board. I was getting ready to fold my hand when the 3rd player in the hand called the all-in from Cufflinks, putting himself all-in in the process. At this point I had to stop and think because that 2nd all-in just gave me spectacular pot odds (at least 4-1). To me it was a no-brainer... early enough in the tourney that, if I lost half my stack, I could recover. Enough money in the pot to justify the call and to possibly bust out two players (who would then rebuy and increase the prize pool).
I call.
Cufflinks predictably flips over his two overs. 2nd caller flips over As-Js. Shit. At this point, even if I hit my flush, the 2nd caller would have the nut flush. The only thing that could save me was to pair one of my suited connectors without hitting a spade. Which I did... on the river.
Mr Cufflinks was flabbergasted. As he put it, "Why would you call half your stack with that?!" I normally would have calmly replied, "Pot odds and I could afford it." But, I let it go and plugged back into my ipod. Several hands later, he was still going on about it. I jokingly said, "Are we still talking about this?!" I plugged back in. Two more hands later, he was STILL going on about this, so I commented, "Dude, are you going to Phil Hellmuth about this all night? Try playing a tourney with real stakes and then complain. I lost a $1200 pot last night that I was a 70% favorite to win. And you know what? I didn't complain to a single person at the table. Move on."
That was the point I realized that, in the process of calling him Phil Hellmuth, I had become Phil Hellmuth myself. We both should have kept our traps shut and played some poker.
I generally shut up for the remainder of the evening except for a text message to the host to let him know about a little tell of his that I'd started to notice at last week's game. When he has called a hand and the flop comes down, when his hand is weak and he's going to fold, he turns his thumbs in slightly. I let him know about the tell and sent him a link to the following article written by an FBI profiler:
http://www.anteupmagazine.com/featured-column/digging-their-digit-poker-tells.htm
I don't know if telling him about the tell was the right thing to do or not. But, it seemed like the friendly thing to do; and, after my run as Hellmuth on Hellmuth, being polite with the thumbs seemed the only way to go.
Finished final table, just escaping bubble-girl status and cashing out in 8th place.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
When They Think You're a Narc
My last cash game didn't go well. And, not just because my two pair (AJ, raised preflop, raised post flop, and raised the turn) got sucked out on the river by a weak 6-2 flush draw (the villain had no pairs on the board and only a draw to call and still put all his chips in without proper pot odds to do so).
No, the major issue this time came in the form of a scene straight out of the movie 21. The host called me and my best friend to a back room in the middle of my cash game. He brought his muscle man with him. At first I had no idea what the issue was and thought he just wanted to tell me a joke. Then he explained (albeit nicely) that someone at the table thought that my best friend had been taking a video of the game. My best friend had photographed me and my chips, but that was the extent of the recording of events. But, when you're dealing with 20-year-olds who take poker a little too seriously and who are throwing around large amounts of cash, these kinds of things can turn nasty very quickly. It also didn't help that they know I work for the federal government, that I've occasionally broken out into Russian at the tables (a couple of the Mongolian players speak a bit), and that I'm relatively new to the group.
Hell, even I'd have thought I was a narc.
But, as much as I may complain about the situation with the back room, it was 100% my fault. He was my guest and, while he didn't do anything wrong, I should have been more sensitive to how things might appear to the other players. After all, even though I have a good repore with most of the players there, a couple them I really don't know well enough to have assumed that lax social behavior would be okay. And it was someone among those couple I don't know well who complained.
On my way out, the host said that he hoped we weren't mad at him and that we'd come back. I explained that he had every right and obligation TO say something to us and that I completely understood, which I did.
That being said, I don't think I'm going to bring guests along anymore unless they also decide to play... having someone watch you for hours when you know they're bored out of their skull isn't fair to them, isn't fair to you (since it makes you distracted and you feel the need to entertain them), and creates an environment where odd things are bound to happen.
This weekend I'll be playing a tournament out in Gainesville, VA. I'll bring my best frind along if he plays the satellite entry tournament. This group is MUCH more easy going, so I doubt anyone would care if photos were taken (in fact, the hosts always take photos themselves). But, to be on the safe side, we'll be on our best behavior. It's hard enough finding places to play. It's even worse when the places that you do find assume you're a narc and there to bust them.
Tempted to wear a suit, tie, and federal badge to the next event just to make them really nervous.
No, the major issue this time came in the form of a scene straight out of the movie 21. The host called me and my best friend to a back room in the middle of my cash game. He brought his muscle man with him. At first I had no idea what the issue was and thought he just wanted to tell me a joke. Then he explained (albeit nicely) that someone at the table thought that my best friend had been taking a video of the game. My best friend had photographed me and my chips, but that was the extent of the recording of events. But, when you're dealing with 20-year-olds who take poker a little too seriously and who are throwing around large amounts of cash, these kinds of things can turn nasty very quickly. It also didn't help that they know I work for the federal government, that I've occasionally broken out into Russian at the tables (a couple of the Mongolian players speak a bit), and that I'm relatively new to the group.
Hell, even I'd have thought I was a narc.
But, as much as I may complain about the situation with the back room, it was 100% my fault. He was my guest and, while he didn't do anything wrong, I should have been more sensitive to how things might appear to the other players. After all, even though I have a good repore with most of the players there, a couple them I really don't know well enough to have assumed that lax social behavior would be okay. And it was someone among those couple I don't know well who complained.
On my way out, the host said that he hoped we weren't mad at him and that we'd come back. I explained that he had every right and obligation TO say something to us and that I completely understood, which I did.
That being said, I don't think I'm going to bring guests along anymore unless they also decide to play... having someone watch you for hours when you know they're bored out of their skull isn't fair to them, isn't fair to you (since it makes you distracted and you feel the need to entertain them), and creates an environment where odd things are bound to happen.
This weekend I'll be playing a tournament out in Gainesville, VA. I'll bring my best frind along if he plays the satellite entry tournament. This group is MUCH more easy going, so I doubt anyone would care if photos were taken (in fact, the hosts always take photos themselves). But, to be on the safe side, we'll be on our best behavior. It's hard enough finding places to play. It's even worse when the places that you do find assume you're a narc and there to bust them.
Tempted to wear a suit, tie, and federal badge to the next event just to make them really nervous.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Bankroll Management
It's been a few days since my last entry and, since then, I've participated in two additional home cash games -- One in which I crashed and burned (never play poker when you've just gotten bad health news about your family) and the other last Friday where I walked away with $910 (which more than compensated for the previous loss).
But, an odd thing happened with that win. I started calculating profit-to-date in my head and not only forgot to subtract out my initial buy-in ($250), I also somehow completely forgot about my earlier loss two days prior. I've always had a selective memory, which I think accounts for my generally positive attitude, but when it comes to managing profits and losses in poker, a selective memory is borderline dangerous.
I found a free app for the iPhone called Poker Income, which is just that. It's a way of logging all poker activity (it even allows for player/hand logs) and let's you categorize poker games by type (cash/tournament), buy-in, stakes, cash-out, and more. So, now that I had this seemingly excellent tool, it was time to go go back through past email to determine exactly how many games I'd played, where, and what my profit or loss was at each.
May was a bad month for poker. I was just learning how to play live and hadn't even figured out chip denominations. The fact that I only lost $450 or so total during this time is pretty amazing. June was much better. My total profit for June was $1400. This seemed a little low to me, but as I started looking back over the fields I'd filled out, I noticed that the software correctly accounts not only for your buy-in amount, but that it also subtracts out your tips to the dealer and that steak dinner that you spring for after the Charlestown visit. It's interesting to look at the reporting and see how much of your profit gets chipped away by meals out, tips, the house rake, and more.
That being said, I now officially have a bankroll. For all intents and purposes, since I'm pretty admittedly overpaid, I've always had a bankroll, but this one's official. This was built solely using poker earnings, and, ideally, I'd like to work only from this official bankroll and not have to dip into the money I've sucked off the teet of the federal government.
So, today's bankroll stands at $1140. It's not a lot, particularly given that the average buy-in for a $1/$2 table is $250. But, it's a start. For a gal who couldn't even tell you within a couple hundred dollars how much her bi-weekly paycheck is, having an actual, accurate bankroll reporting tool is pretty impressive.
Now if I can just start avoiding those steak dinners.
But, an odd thing happened with that win. I started calculating profit-to-date in my head and not only forgot to subtract out my initial buy-in ($250), I also somehow completely forgot about my earlier loss two days prior. I've always had a selective memory, which I think accounts for my generally positive attitude, but when it comes to managing profits and losses in poker, a selective memory is borderline dangerous.
I found a free app for the iPhone called Poker Income, which is just that. It's a way of logging all poker activity (it even allows for player/hand logs) and let's you categorize poker games by type (cash/tournament), buy-in, stakes, cash-out, and more. So, now that I had this seemingly excellent tool, it was time to go go back through past email to determine exactly how many games I'd played, where, and what my profit or loss was at each.
May was a bad month for poker. I was just learning how to play live and hadn't even figured out chip denominations. The fact that I only lost $450 or so total during this time is pretty amazing. June was much better. My total profit for June was $1400. This seemed a little low to me, but as I started looking back over the fields I'd filled out, I noticed that the software correctly accounts not only for your buy-in amount, but that it also subtracts out your tips to the dealer and that steak dinner that you spring for after the Charlestown visit. It's interesting to look at the reporting and see how much of your profit gets chipped away by meals out, tips, the house rake, and more.
That being said, I now officially have a bankroll. For all intents and purposes, since I'm pretty admittedly overpaid, I've always had a bankroll, but this one's official. This was built solely using poker earnings, and, ideally, I'd like to work only from this official bankroll and not have to dip into the money I've sucked off the teet of the federal government.
So, today's bankroll stands at $1140. It's not a lot, particularly given that the average buy-in for a $1/$2 table is $250. But, it's a start. For a gal who couldn't even tell you within a couple hundred dollars how much her bi-weekly paycheck is, having an actual, accurate bankroll reporting tool is pretty impressive.
Now if I can just start avoiding those steak dinners.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Poker is a Woman
Poker is a woman. Just when you finally coax her into liking you and bed her, she berates you for your lack of skills in the sack.
This is perhaps hyperbole at its worst, so I'll start at the beginning.
Last night Lance and I played a $1/$3 cash table game at a home game in Arlington. I bought in for $300 and ended up walking away with a bit over $1100. Normally this post would be about what I did (or thought I did) right and wrong during the game; or, perhaps about the truly crazy-eyed young Asian whiz kid who, just when I started to figure him out, cashed out and left; or, how I made a killer conservative lay-down of my pocket JJ to Lance (even thought I would have won the hand with them). But, instead, this post is going to have to be about Emily Post.
Last night I apparently did the poker equivalent of scooting my butt along the felt.
Some background's required. For the last ten years, although I've played poker online off and on, I've never played live games with the exception of my daily lunchtime free poker meetup that Rick and I play at the Hyatt Grand Slam. There, we are encouraged to talk about our hands while in the middle of them (example: Brian says in the middle of a hand involving 6 people, "Rob, I have top pair, should I call?" Or, Rob might say in the middle of a hand, "Damn, I'd folded pocket 10s!"). Not only is it encouraged to discuss your hands, to some extent, if you have the nuts and don't give half of your bar friends a heads-up to get the hell out before they lose their virtual chips, it's considered downright rude.
But, this is free poker. Last night was not free poker and the rules are different.
You aren't supposed to discuss your hand nor anyone else's hand while the hand's going on, with the possible exception of banter during heads-up play. So, when I folded pocket nines and mentioned that with three people left in the hand, it was not only inappropriate, it irked Lance more than you could imagine since he considered it "cheating." Partly, it's because if he brings me to one of his events, I think there's the expectation on his end that my behavior reflects badly on him. Partly, it's because Lance can be exacting to compulsion, so anything that deviates from proper poker play -- including etiquette -- will warrant a swift and brutal reprimand.
Lance's Rules of Table Etiquette (So Far):
-- Do not discuss your hand or anyone else's during live play.
-- Do not "slow roll," which means taking too long in turning over your cards at the end of play when you know you have the best hand and/or when play is dead (to my credit, I was tired, didn't know I had the best hand, and was kind of out of it, so I should have gotten a pass on this one, particularly after I apologized).
-- No string betting.
-- Use proper poker terminology. Bets and raises are different things and, if you use them interchangeably, you are going to hell.
Needless to say, this all resulted in a bit of an argument last night. I walked away with $1100 and expected my poker teacher to correct the couple of mistakes I made, but, once we got in the car, to discuss how -- even with variance -- the lessons I learned from him had, to some extent, paid off. I expected some discussions on how my bet sizing had improved.
I wanted a gold star from my favorite teacher. Or at least a silver one. Instead, I got "bad dog."
I sent an apology email to the organizer of the event as soon as we got back. I don't know if he was nearly as upset with my behavior as Lance was, but I thought it was the right thing to do. Personally, if they don't have me back, I have a theory that it might be slightly more because I took everyone else's chips than it would be because of etiquette, but we'll see.
While we're discussing tangentals to poker, I have a few rules of my own to pass along -- lessons learned from a month or two of live play. I would imagine that most people would disagree with the majority of these; but, for me, they've held true so far:
-- If you felt out, it's usually best not to rebuy because the amount of time it's going to take you to get back even half of the money you lost is not worth the late night Taco Bell run that you could be making instead. Not to mention your increased risk of playing on tilt.
-- If you're at a table with young men who don't know you, it's extremely advantageous to stare at them for 3-5 seconds and smirk. They don't know if you're flirting with them, if you're an asshole, or if you're just a psychopath. It almost always guarantees a fold in a head-up situation.
-- Always watch for the older men who are playing to have fun and not because they're psychotically obsessed with poker like the rest of us. These will be your chip bleeders and the people who will call you 2 cards after they should have folded.
-- Watch out for twitchy Asians. They'll play loose-aggressive, and usually reasonably well.
-- Don't fall in love with a weak Ace or middle pairs. These will cost you more money than you can possibly imagine.
-- If you're at the poker tables on a date, unless you both walk away with a profit, shut your trap and don't act too happy if you're the major chip winner.
-- You can have poker or you can have sex. You rarely can have both and most certainly not on the same night.
Despite all the apologies and kowtowing to Lance about the events of last night, as Cheers so brilliantly reminded us, "it's a dog eat dog world and I'm [still] wearing milkbone underwear." You know they're still mad at you when your "I love yous" are met with grunts. I'm still waiting on that gold star from my most favorite teacher and I think I'm going to be waiting for a while.
In the mean time, I'm walking around with a wad full of cash and a hankering to play solo against some twitchy Asians.
This is perhaps hyperbole at its worst, so I'll start at the beginning.
Last night Lance and I played a $1/$3 cash table game at a home game in Arlington. I bought in for $300 and ended up walking away with a bit over $1100. Normally this post would be about what I did (or thought I did) right and wrong during the game; or, perhaps about the truly crazy-eyed young Asian whiz kid who, just when I started to figure him out, cashed out and left; or, how I made a killer conservative lay-down of my pocket JJ to Lance (even thought I would have won the hand with them). But, instead, this post is going to have to be about Emily Post.
Last night I apparently did the poker equivalent of scooting my butt along the felt.
Some background's required. For the last ten years, although I've played poker online off and on, I've never played live games with the exception of my daily lunchtime free poker meetup that Rick and I play at the Hyatt Grand Slam. There, we are encouraged to talk about our hands while in the middle of them (example: Brian says in the middle of a hand involving 6 people, "Rob, I have top pair, should I call?" Or, Rob might say in the middle of a hand, "Damn, I'd folded pocket 10s!"). Not only is it encouraged to discuss your hands, to some extent, if you have the nuts and don't give half of your bar friends a heads-up to get the hell out before they lose their virtual chips, it's considered downright rude.
But, this is free poker. Last night was not free poker and the rules are different.
You aren't supposed to discuss your hand nor anyone else's hand while the hand's going on, with the possible exception of banter during heads-up play. So, when I folded pocket nines and mentioned that with three people left in the hand, it was not only inappropriate, it irked Lance more than you could imagine since he considered it "cheating." Partly, it's because if he brings me to one of his events, I think there's the expectation on his end that my behavior reflects badly on him. Partly, it's because Lance can be exacting to compulsion, so anything that deviates from proper poker play -- including etiquette -- will warrant a swift and brutal reprimand.
Lance's Rules of Table Etiquette (So Far):
-- Do not discuss your hand or anyone else's during live play.
-- Do not "slow roll," which means taking too long in turning over your cards at the end of play when you know you have the best hand and/or when play is dead (to my credit, I was tired, didn't know I had the best hand, and was kind of out of it, so I should have gotten a pass on this one, particularly after I apologized).
-- No string betting.
-- Use proper poker terminology. Bets and raises are different things and, if you use them interchangeably, you are going to hell.
Needless to say, this all resulted in a bit of an argument last night. I walked away with $1100 and expected my poker teacher to correct the couple of mistakes I made, but, once we got in the car, to discuss how -- even with variance -- the lessons I learned from him had, to some extent, paid off. I expected some discussions on how my bet sizing had improved.
I wanted a gold star from my favorite teacher. Or at least a silver one. Instead, I got "bad dog."
I sent an apology email to the organizer of the event as soon as we got back. I don't know if he was nearly as upset with my behavior as Lance was, but I thought it was the right thing to do. Personally, if they don't have me back, I have a theory that it might be slightly more because I took everyone else's chips than it would be because of etiquette, but we'll see.
While we're discussing tangentals to poker, I have a few rules of my own to pass along -- lessons learned from a month or two of live play. I would imagine that most people would disagree with the majority of these; but, for me, they've held true so far:
-- If you felt out, it's usually best not to rebuy because the amount of time it's going to take you to get back even half of the money you lost is not worth the late night Taco Bell run that you could be making instead. Not to mention your increased risk of playing on tilt.
-- If you're at a table with young men who don't know you, it's extremely advantageous to stare at them for 3-5 seconds and smirk. They don't know if you're flirting with them, if you're an asshole, or if you're just a psychopath. It almost always guarantees a fold in a head-up situation.
-- Always watch for the older men who are playing to have fun and not because they're psychotically obsessed with poker like the rest of us. These will be your chip bleeders and the people who will call you 2 cards after they should have folded.
-- Watch out for twitchy Asians. They'll play loose-aggressive, and usually reasonably well.
-- Don't fall in love with a weak Ace or middle pairs. These will cost you more money than you can possibly imagine.
-- If you're at the poker tables on a date, unless you both walk away with a profit, shut your trap and don't act too happy if you're the major chip winner.
-- You can have poker or you can have sex. You rarely can have both and most certainly not on the same night.
Despite all the apologies and kowtowing to Lance about the events of last night, as Cheers so brilliantly reminded us, "it's a dog eat dog world and I'm [still] wearing milkbone underwear." You know they're still mad at you when your "I love yous" are met with grunts. I'm still waiting on that gold star from my most favorite teacher and I think I'm going to be waiting for a while.
In the mean time, I'm walking around with a wad full of cash and a hankering to play solo against some twitchy Asians.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Deep Stack Tournament and An Unlikely Cash Win
Saturday's Deep Stack poker tournament at G-Spot was problematic for me for a number of reasons, although I finished far higher than I did in the last tournament (15th place this time -- which was a little better than middle-of-the-pack -- versus an early bust-out with KK in the first one). Lance, as expected, made final table; I donated some substantial chips to that worthy cause.
The first problem I had with the tournament was that I've only been playing live games for a month or two now and I'm, embarrassingly, not used to the chip denominations yet. So, because this was a deep stack tournament, we had some rather large chip denominations. I'll admit that, at the beginning of said tournament, I couldn't tell a green chip amount from a yellow chip amount. It's a wonder I didn't lose more early on since, for the first 20 or so hands, I don't think I even knew how many chips I actually had, much less what the other players had!
I got lucky and took down a huge pot in the first or second hand of the tournament, giving me the 1st bust out and a chance to double up. At that point, I was the chip leader by a ton and I should have just tightened up. But, I hit an A-K, raised pre-flop (correct move and amount), and couldn't fold it when the flop came down 4-9-Q and my continuation bet against one other player (Amber) got check-raised. That was the point I should have folded, but I simply didn't believe her and made a bad call. I at least had the common sense to get out on the turn, but not before it cost me about 10,000 in chips, or 1/3 of my stack.
I then moved tables and ended up two seats down from Lance. Luckily I was to his left and not the other way around, although I still donated a lot to him with some middle pairs against his higher pairs. Could have been worse, but those calls cost me about another 10,000. I got a small amount back off of a suck-out against a better, more conservative player, but was still getting short stacked.
By the time I moved to the final two tables, I was down to 12,000 and the bb was up to 1,000. It was time to push all in, which I should have, but I had a horrific string of cards. I eventually had to push in on K-9 offsuit and, up against, AK and QQ, busted out of the tournament.
Lessons learned:
-- If you're the chip leader, don't get into a pissing match for a huge stack when all you have to back it up is an uneducated hunch.
-- Don't call a substantial raise from Lance if you're in middle position and all you have to back it up with is a middle pair.
-- Skip the tournament and just play the follow-up cash game. Here's why:
Lance spotted me $200 and I bought into the $1/$2 table. At the time, the table was full. I sat down next to Dave Lewis, who's like a combination of the Unibomber and a military man. He had an enormous chip stack of at least a few thousand. Also at the table were a couple of players I knew to be good, one gentleman who was obviously on tilt, and a weaker player who was nice but donating rapidly.
I flopped a set on one hand and took down a pot of around $150. I immediately pulled aside $200 to give back to Lance. I also started to realize that Dave Lewis and one of the asian players would tend to make bad decisions when playing one another because they had some kind of silly "my penis is bigger than yours" rivalry going on. I used this to my advantage and avoided their pots until I had a really good hand (in this case, I flopped the ace-high nut flush). I checked and let Dave do his thing. I called. The asian called. Down came some cards that luckily helped both Dave and the asian, but that didn't at all threaten my chances of winning. I checked, Dave bet, I called, the asian called and the river came down. At this point I knew I'd won the pot. Dave bet the river, I raised by a hundred into the pot of a couple hundred. The asian smartly folded. Dave called. I took the pot which ended up being at least a few hundred dollars.
I took a few small pots here and there after that but mostly tightened up and didn't play any cards that would have been risky. I also set aside an addition $210 in chips to cover my tournament buy-in loss. At that point, I knew I had a few hundred leftover in profit for the day but since most of it was in $5 chips and I didn't bother to count those, I had no idea that the day had been as profitable as it had been. The final chip count when I cashed out was $901.
It's taken me this long to post an entry for a couple of reasons: 1) I had a hard time being truly, honestly excited about the cash win because I realize that I made some major, major errors in the tourament prior; 2) I was too busy playing other tournaments on Bodog; and 3) Lance is a grammar nazi.
Have at it, handsome. I'm only a diet mountain dew into the morning, so this one should be easy pickings.
The first problem I had with the tournament was that I've only been playing live games for a month or two now and I'm, embarrassingly, not used to the chip denominations yet. So, because this was a deep stack tournament, we had some rather large chip denominations. I'll admit that, at the beginning of said tournament, I couldn't tell a green chip amount from a yellow chip amount. It's a wonder I didn't lose more early on since, for the first 20 or so hands, I don't think I even knew how many chips I actually had, much less what the other players had!
I got lucky and took down a huge pot in the first or second hand of the tournament, giving me the 1st bust out and a chance to double up. At that point, I was the chip leader by a ton and I should have just tightened up. But, I hit an A-K, raised pre-flop (correct move and amount), and couldn't fold it when the flop came down 4-9-Q and my continuation bet against one other player (Amber) got check-raised. That was the point I should have folded, but I simply didn't believe her and made a bad call. I at least had the common sense to get out on the turn, but not before it cost me about 10,000 in chips, or 1/3 of my stack.
I then moved tables and ended up two seats down from Lance. Luckily I was to his left and not the other way around, although I still donated a lot to him with some middle pairs against his higher pairs. Could have been worse, but those calls cost me about another 10,000. I got a small amount back off of a suck-out against a better, more conservative player, but was still getting short stacked.
By the time I moved to the final two tables, I was down to 12,000 and the bb was up to 1,000. It was time to push all in, which I should have, but I had a horrific string of cards. I eventually had to push in on K-9 offsuit and, up against, AK and QQ, busted out of the tournament.
Lessons learned:
-- If you're the chip leader, don't get into a pissing match for a huge stack when all you have to back it up is an uneducated hunch.
-- Don't call a substantial raise from Lance if you're in middle position and all you have to back it up with is a middle pair.
-- Skip the tournament and just play the follow-up cash game. Here's why:
Lance spotted me $200 and I bought into the $1/$2 table. At the time, the table was full. I sat down next to Dave Lewis, who's like a combination of the Unibomber and a military man. He had an enormous chip stack of at least a few thousand. Also at the table were a couple of players I knew to be good, one gentleman who was obviously on tilt, and a weaker player who was nice but donating rapidly.
I flopped a set on one hand and took down a pot of around $150. I immediately pulled aside $200 to give back to Lance. I also started to realize that Dave Lewis and one of the asian players would tend to make bad decisions when playing one another because they had some kind of silly "my penis is bigger than yours" rivalry going on. I used this to my advantage and avoided their pots until I had a really good hand (in this case, I flopped the ace-high nut flush). I checked and let Dave do his thing. I called. The asian called. Down came some cards that luckily helped both Dave and the asian, but that didn't at all threaten my chances of winning. I checked, Dave bet, I called, the asian called and the river came down. At this point I knew I'd won the pot. Dave bet the river, I raised by a hundred into the pot of a couple hundred. The asian smartly folded. Dave called. I took the pot which ended up being at least a few hundred dollars.
I took a few small pots here and there after that but mostly tightened up and didn't play any cards that would have been risky. I also set aside an addition $210 in chips to cover my tournament buy-in loss. At that point, I knew I had a few hundred leftover in profit for the day but since most of it was in $5 chips and I didn't bother to count those, I had no idea that the day had been as profitable as it had been. The final chip count when I cashed out was $901.
It's taken me this long to post an entry for a couple of reasons: 1) I had a hard time being truly, honestly excited about the cash win because I realize that I made some major, major errors in the tourament prior; 2) I was too busy playing other tournaments on Bodog; and 3) Lance is a grammar nazi.
Have at it, handsome. I'm only a diet mountain dew into the morning, so this one should be easy pickings.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Double Up
In online poker, most tables have a unique name that helps you identify the table. It's particularly useful if you have a friend who you'd like to have join your table so you can point him or her to the correct table in the list. Some of the names evoke action and winning and testosterone, such as High Roller, Beats All Odds, or Winning Streak. Some take you back to your childhood or to cozy, wholesome fantasies such as Sherman's Lagoon, Get Fuzzy, or Masters of the Universe.
I've always wondered what percentage of players pick a poker table based on those names. Much like the percentage that Harrington assigns to bluffers, I'd put it at about 10%. Even in poker, people are superstitious and people love their packaging.
My best friend Rick is someone who loves packaging, contests/promotions, and etymological word play. If there were two identical poker tables except that one was green and the other purple, he would take the purple one 100% of the time. If one table was named Afterburner and the other was named Lovely Lolly's Lips, he would likely pick the latter because of the alliteration. For some people -- especially people who love words as much he does -- the table names matter.
I could care less. I have never picked a table based on these names, although I occasionally will note the name of the table, assess who's seated there, and make a guess as to whether 10% of the people may have picked the table based on the name and, if so, what that might say about their style of play (High Roller might indicate a slightly more aggressive player; Sherman's Lagoon will get more conservatives, middleagers and Washington Post readers, etc).
Last night Lance was kind enough to let me hijack his computer for a little Bodog tournament. I typically play in the $6 to $30 range because, honestly, I have the attention span of a tse fly and don't want to risk getting bored and losing a lot of money. Last night, though, there was little to no action in that range, so I had to struggle to find any tournaments with more than one or two people already signed up. I finally worked my way up to the $50+ range and noticed a 10-person single table Turbo sit-n-go tournament for a $56 buy-in. This seemed reasonable so I sat down.
I couldn't get to the tournament lobby for some reason to see the payout structure, but I assumed that at a 10-person table, the top three spots would pay out. I briefly noticed that the table name was Double Up, which was cute. I figured that might indicate a few slightly more aggressive players based on my 10% word-lover theory from earlier.
Lance started wildly gesturing and said, "Do you even know how to play a double up tournament?!?!" Shit. It wasn't the table name after all. It was the type of tournament. Given the fact that I had no idea what I was doing, it could have gone worse. I made a few bad plays, particularly with some pocket 4s that I overplayed early. But, in the end I shoved in at probably the correct time and busted out with AK suited to KK.
The lesson learned is to always remember to look at the payout structure before entering a tournament. Because Sherman's Lagoon may just be be a new style of poker of which you've never heard.
I've always wondered what percentage of players pick a poker table based on those names. Much like the percentage that Harrington assigns to bluffers, I'd put it at about 10%. Even in poker, people are superstitious and people love their packaging.
My best friend Rick is someone who loves packaging, contests/promotions, and etymological word play. If there were two identical poker tables except that one was green and the other purple, he would take the purple one 100% of the time. If one table was named Afterburner and the other was named Lovely Lolly's Lips, he would likely pick the latter because of the alliteration. For some people -- especially people who love words as much he does -- the table names matter.
I could care less. I have never picked a table based on these names, although I occasionally will note the name of the table, assess who's seated there, and make a guess as to whether 10% of the people may have picked the table based on the name and, if so, what that might say about their style of play (High Roller might indicate a slightly more aggressive player; Sherman's Lagoon will get more conservatives, middleagers and Washington Post readers, etc).
Last night Lance was kind enough to let me hijack his computer for a little Bodog tournament. I typically play in the $6 to $30 range because, honestly, I have the attention span of a tse fly and don't want to risk getting bored and losing a lot of money. Last night, though, there was little to no action in that range, so I had to struggle to find any tournaments with more than one or two people already signed up. I finally worked my way up to the $50+ range and noticed a 10-person single table Turbo sit-n-go tournament for a $56 buy-in. This seemed reasonable so I sat down.
I couldn't get to the tournament lobby for some reason to see the payout structure, but I assumed that at a 10-person table, the top three spots would pay out. I briefly noticed that the table name was Double Up, which was cute. I figured that might indicate a few slightly more aggressive players based on my 10% word-lover theory from earlier.
Lance started wildly gesturing and said, "Do you even know how to play a double up tournament?!?!" Shit. It wasn't the table name after all. It was the type of tournament. Given the fact that I had no idea what I was doing, it could have gone worse. I made a few bad plays, particularly with some pocket 4s that I overplayed early. But, in the end I shoved in at probably the correct time and busted out with AK suited to KK.
The lesson learned is to always remember to look at the payout structure before entering a tournament. Because Sherman's Lagoon may just be be a new style of poker of which you've never heard.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
On Variance and Pot Odds
So, today is one of those rare, non-poker-related posts. Although, I will say that I think the results from today are directly analogous to some of the lessons learned in poker.
The background in short detail is that my father has a condition called myleofibrosis. It's unfortunately terminal. When he was first diagnosed, shortly before my birthday last year, I was devastated. My mother had just gone through her second cancer -- this one far more aggressive than the first one -- and my brother had just had an extremely bad scare with his cholesterol (which was so bad that the doctor immediately brought him to the emergency room). It would only get worse when my father -- on top of the terminal cancer -- suffered an aortic dissection, which is fatal within 24 hours in 80% - 90% of all people who experience it. It's -- quite literally -- when your aorta splits apart.
So, in September of last year, the morning after he suffered the dissection, I flew down to Florida with a black dress, "Mangy Dog" poems that I planned on reading at his funeral, and two boxes of Kleenex.
I had never felt so helpless or out of control as I had during that time and in the months that followed. It was made all the worse by me living so far from home. Aside from the few times that I was able to fly back to help, my brother and Mom were the ones emptying the catheter bag, taking him to the emergency room in the middle of the night, and dealing with the horrific mood swings brought on by the medication. In the week after he survived his dissection, I stayed with them and we ended up in the emergency room 6 out of 7 nights. To say it was touch-and-go would be an extreme understatement.
Once I left my family and went back home, it seemed like there was nothing I could do. That feeling was a far worse feeling than anything I've ever encountered.
In the coming weeks, once the threat of my Dad's aortic dissection was outweighed by the ongoing threat of his myleofibrosis, we started to look more seriously into experimental treatment options that could help. The only one present to date is Revlimid, which still isn't FDA approved for myleofibrosis -- only for multiple myleoma, which is different. Initial tests show that it works in 30 - 40% of all patients with myleofibrosis; so, still not great odds. But. it's, to date, the only known treatment for the condition.
Worse still is that, even if your doctor recommends the medicine, if your insurance denies you coverage like my family's insurance did (because of the lack of FDA approval), it costs $11,000 - $12,000 a month. If my Dad took the drug, my family (who were frugal and saved their entire lives) would have been -- quite literally -- bankrupt in 2 and a half years.
My father told me privately that he would not die and leave my mother penniless. He would refuse the medicine. I believed him.
The next two weeks I spent more time online than I have ever spent in a row. I didn't sleep. I wrote to the FDA. I wrote to my Congressmen. I wrote to anyone who might possibly listen. I researched trial cases in Europe. I looked into experimental trial cases in the U.S. I looked for generic versions of the drug in the U.S. I had nearly given up when I had an idea at about 4am, 3 weeks into the problem: Why not look for generics abroad? So, I finally found the right combination of obscure Google terms and, after looking at approximately 200 pages, I found it: A reputable company abroad that promised a generic version of this drug for my Dad for $600 a month.
Today I got the news that the blood counts are back and that my father is looking to be in the 30% to 40% who respond to this drug. He will still die, but we're potentially looking at 6 or more years versus 1-2.
This is a terribly emotional post for a poker blog. But, I think it has applications. I can't recall how many times I've been at a table with a player who, after a few bad beats, gets frustrated, loses his or her brain, and starts playing poorly. In this case, after a good many nights of crying and wallowing in the situation, I decided to take a stand and use my wits (or what little wits I had). While I stood a slim to nill chance of being able to get my Dad the medicine on the cheap and an even slimmer chance that it would actually work for him, the payoff/pot odds for the effort were indescribably, immeasurably high.
While, most of the time, when you're on such a desperate draw against all odds, you can take comfort that you made the correct decision mathematically; on occasion, you luck out, save the day, and, against all odds, win the tournament.
It's not every girl who gets to say with some certainty that she saved her father's life -- at least for a while. But, in this case, he would have never taken that medicine if we didn't find the cheaper alternative (I get my stubbornness from him). In this case, I hit my unlikely four-of-a-kind on the river.
It reminds me to always remember the possible payoff, despite the occasional less-than-favorable odds. Because, in this case, 3 weeks of sleepless nights and research more than accounted for the pot odds of an extra few years.
The background in short detail is that my father has a condition called myleofibrosis. It's unfortunately terminal. When he was first diagnosed, shortly before my birthday last year, I was devastated. My mother had just gone through her second cancer -- this one far more aggressive than the first one -- and my brother had just had an extremely bad scare with his cholesterol (which was so bad that the doctor immediately brought him to the emergency room). It would only get worse when my father -- on top of the terminal cancer -- suffered an aortic dissection, which is fatal within 24 hours in 80% - 90% of all people who experience it. It's -- quite literally -- when your aorta splits apart.
So, in September of last year, the morning after he suffered the dissection, I flew down to Florida with a black dress, "Mangy Dog" poems that I planned on reading at his funeral, and two boxes of Kleenex.
I had never felt so helpless or out of control as I had during that time and in the months that followed. It was made all the worse by me living so far from home. Aside from the few times that I was able to fly back to help, my brother and Mom were the ones emptying the catheter bag, taking him to the emergency room in the middle of the night, and dealing with the horrific mood swings brought on by the medication. In the week after he survived his dissection, I stayed with them and we ended up in the emergency room 6 out of 7 nights. To say it was touch-and-go would be an extreme understatement.
Once I left my family and went back home, it seemed like there was nothing I could do. That feeling was a far worse feeling than anything I've ever encountered.
In the coming weeks, once the threat of my Dad's aortic dissection was outweighed by the ongoing threat of his myleofibrosis, we started to look more seriously into experimental treatment options that could help. The only one present to date is Revlimid, which still isn't FDA approved for myleofibrosis -- only for multiple myleoma, which is different. Initial tests show that it works in 30 - 40% of all patients with myleofibrosis; so, still not great odds. But. it's, to date, the only known treatment for the condition.
Worse still is that, even if your doctor recommends the medicine, if your insurance denies you coverage like my family's insurance did (because of the lack of FDA approval), it costs $11,000 - $12,000 a month. If my Dad took the drug, my family (who were frugal and saved their entire lives) would have been -- quite literally -- bankrupt in 2 and a half years.
My father told me privately that he would not die and leave my mother penniless. He would refuse the medicine. I believed him.
The next two weeks I spent more time online than I have ever spent in a row. I didn't sleep. I wrote to the FDA. I wrote to my Congressmen. I wrote to anyone who might possibly listen. I researched trial cases in Europe. I looked into experimental trial cases in the U.S. I looked for generic versions of the drug in the U.S. I had nearly given up when I had an idea at about 4am, 3 weeks into the problem: Why not look for generics abroad? So, I finally found the right combination of obscure Google terms and, after looking at approximately 200 pages, I found it: A reputable company abroad that promised a generic version of this drug for my Dad for $600 a month.
Today I got the news that the blood counts are back and that my father is looking to be in the 30% to 40% who respond to this drug. He will still die, but we're potentially looking at 6 or more years versus 1-2.
This is a terribly emotional post for a poker blog. But, I think it has applications. I can't recall how many times I've been at a table with a player who, after a few bad beats, gets frustrated, loses his or her brain, and starts playing poorly. In this case, after a good many nights of crying and wallowing in the situation, I decided to take a stand and use my wits (or what little wits I had). While I stood a slim to nill chance of being able to get my Dad the medicine on the cheap and an even slimmer chance that it would actually work for him, the payoff/pot odds for the effort were indescribably, immeasurably high.
While, most of the time, when you're on such a desperate draw against all odds, you can take comfort that you made the correct decision mathematically; on occasion, you luck out, save the day, and, against all odds, win the tournament.
It's not every girl who gets to say with some certainty that she saved her father's life -- at least for a while. But, in this case, he would have never taken that medicine if we didn't find the cheaper alternative (I get my stubbornness from him). In this case, I hit my unlikely four-of-a-kind on the river.
It reminds me to always remember the possible payoff, despite the occasional less-than-favorable odds. Because, in this case, 3 weeks of sleepless nights and research more than accounted for the pot odds of an extra few years.
$.50/$1 and Dreaming of $1/$2
Last night I got in from trivia. Typically I scrap and haw through the games aiming for a top-100-in-the-country finish. Last night, though, my mind wasn't on it. I got bored mid-way through and starting shooting pool. Where my mind was was on "the other 'P' game." I'd been reading the Harrington between rounds of trivia and the breaking point was when I -- quite literally -- was reading the same section (bet sizing/pot odds) so many times that I split the spine of the book.
Lance (owner of said book) is going to kill me. Never piss off a man with an AR-15, particularly if you're gunning (no pun intended) for a fancy Taco Bell date. ;-) Nah, said book will be repaired or I'm happy to buy you a new one, handsome.
Anyway, I went home pretty early and jumped onto Bodog for a $1/$2 game. Never do this when you're tired and in major need of sleep. I -- quite literally -- fell asleep at the table. Thank goodness they sit you out after a few timeouts or the blinds would have eaten up my rather large chip stack.
I envision that the above situation must be what it's like to play a table game at a nursing home. Wake up, Herbert! You're on the big blind!!!!!!
Anyway, I decided to take this morning off from work, catch up on sleep, and play a little poker. Logged into Bodog and did 20 minutes on a $.50/$1 table. I noticed that there were a couple of large chip stacks at the table ($385 and $275, respectively, when the max buy-in was $100). After watching play for a few minutes, I realized how those two made their money. Everyone else at the table was playing crap and going all in with a low pair on the board nearly every hand. In those 20 minutes I made $125. The only major mistake I noticed that I made during this time was against one of the small stacks.
I had pocket J-J on the sb. Small stack on the bb unknown. I bet 3 times the big blind preflop and I would be first to act if he called, which he did. The flop was Q-J-4, none of the same suit. This was a very good flop for me since I hit my set. I checked. Small stack checked. Down came a 7. No chance for a flush or straight at this point. At best, he was on a draw, had a small pocket pair, or possibly had hit two pair and was trying to slow play it. I should have checked at this point or done a very small bet. Instead I bet 3/4 of the pot which was too much and he folded. Not sure if I would have made any more money on that hand, regardless of how I played it, though.
I took down two large pots ($100 or so total) from one of the big stacks. I noticed that he would aggressively bet the flop if he had something, but check if he didn't. Never seemed to try to trap and would check down to the river if he had nothing, then would try a small bet to steal. I exploited this a couple of times with a mediocre hand (small pair on the board or a perceived flush, etc) and reraised into his small river bet to steal the pots. I know that may seem risky, but pot odds were such that not only did I likely have the better hand, I usually had at least 4-1 odds or better on the pot.
So that was my morning romp. Short but profitable.
I'm finding that, for tournaments, I still have no idea what I'm doing, although I'm starting to do more reading on strategy for 1-2 table games. Later in the week I'll try a small Bodog tournament in advance of our $200 buy-in tournament on Saturday.
But, so far, at least online, the cash games have turned much more profitable than they used to be. The tournaments I'm still figuring out. My goal is to make enough at the cash tables online (working so far) to fund my offsite live games, since I tend to learn the most at those.
In the mean time, I'm going to go try to fix and finish that Harrington book.
Lance (owner of said book) is going to kill me. Never piss off a man with an AR-15, particularly if you're gunning (no pun intended) for a fancy Taco Bell date. ;-) Nah, said book will be repaired or I'm happy to buy you a new one, handsome.
Anyway, I went home pretty early and jumped onto Bodog for a $1/$2 game. Never do this when you're tired and in major need of sleep. I -- quite literally -- fell asleep at the table. Thank goodness they sit you out after a few timeouts or the blinds would have eaten up my rather large chip stack.
I envision that the above situation must be what it's like to play a table game at a nursing home. Wake up, Herbert! You're on the big blind!!!!!!
Anyway, I decided to take this morning off from work, catch up on sleep, and play a little poker. Logged into Bodog and did 20 minutes on a $.50/$1 table. I noticed that there were a couple of large chip stacks at the table ($385 and $275, respectively, when the max buy-in was $100). After watching play for a few minutes, I realized how those two made their money. Everyone else at the table was playing crap and going all in with a low pair on the board nearly every hand. In those 20 minutes I made $125. The only major mistake I noticed that I made during this time was against one of the small stacks.
I had pocket J-J on the sb. Small stack on the bb unknown. I bet 3 times the big blind preflop and I would be first to act if he called, which he did. The flop was Q-J-4, none of the same suit. This was a very good flop for me since I hit my set. I checked. Small stack checked. Down came a 7. No chance for a flush or straight at this point. At best, he was on a draw, had a small pocket pair, or possibly had hit two pair and was trying to slow play it. I should have checked at this point or done a very small bet. Instead I bet 3/4 of the pot which was too much and he folded. Not sure if I would have made any more money on that hand, regardless of how I played it, though.
I took down two large pots ($100 or so total) from one of the big stacks. I noticed that he would aggressively bet the flop if he had something, but check if he didn't. Never seemed to try to trap and would check down to the river if he had nothing, then would try a small bet to steal. I exploited this a couple of times with a mediocre hand (small pair on the board or a perceived flush, etc) and reraised into his small river bet to steal the pots. I know that may seem risky, but pot odds were such that not only did I likely have the better hand, I usually had at least 4-1 odds or better on the pot.
So that was my morning romp. Short but profitable.
I'm finding that, for tournaments, I still have no idea what I'm doing, although I'm starting to do more reading on strategy for 1-2 table games. Later in the week I'll try a small Bodog tournament in advance of our $200 buy-in tournament on Saturday.
But, so far, at least online, the cash games have turned much more profitable than they used to be. The tournaments I'm still figuring out. My goal is to make enough at the cash tables online (working so far) to fund my offsite live games, since I tend to learn the most at those.
In the mean time, I'm going to go try to fix and finish that Harrington book.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Bodog and Satellite Dishes
Last night I went back and played a little online poker on Bodog. Partially it's because I crave poker these days like I would a lover. Partially it's because Josh and I are trying to get the house ready to sell and had to have it all cleaned up for the realtor's visit today.
So, given the choice between cleaning or procrastinating cleaning and playing poker, I think we know what won.
I was aware that we had enough joint projects around the house that I could be called away at any time, so I sat down for a cheap $.25/$.50 table. The low stakes would mitigate me being distracted by the house work and the cash game would let me step away at any time. The table was full. I took a quick look at chip counts and didn't notice anyone with a big stack (maximum buy-in was $50 and everyone was $55 or below). After a few hands I noticed two players who played nearly every hand they were dealt. It's possible that one or both of them was simply having a good run of cards, but after watching their dubious betting strategy (you know it must have been bad if even I noticed it), I decided that neither of these two players were any good. The next 3 or 4 players were conservative but I noticed that they could easily be gotten out of a pot with a re-raise or appropriate bet. One or two players were potentially decent and I avoided them unless I had excellent cards.
After 15 minutes, I'd nearly doubled my $50 buy-in when I heard Josh shout for some help in taking down the satellite dish. Taking me away from a profitable table is like taking a rawhide chew toy away from a large dog, but I managed to be pleasant and go downstairs to help. When I managed to lift the heavy dish safely away from the trellis, he said with amazement and in a pet-addressing voice, "Good girl!" That certainly didn't help since I was already about to growl for the interruption.
I went back upstairs after 30 minutes and my donkey table was no where to be found. I would come to miss it later in the evening.
I went about cleaning and, at about 9:00, was so burned out that I decided to take a break and play a little $6 Super-Turbo tournament. I was so tired that I didn't really notice that it was a two-table, 18-person tournament; although, if I'd had half a brain, the tournament paying out the top 4 to 5 places should have told me that it was multi-table. The tournament went extremely well -- at least at the beginning. After about an hour I'd built my initial 1,500 chips into 6,200 and had a 4,000 chip lead over everyone else at the table.
The table had an interesting mix of players.
One player seemed okay but played too many hands without the proper aggressive style of betting to back that up. The others seemed to be too conservative for tournament play, particularly as the blinds started to increase. One player was down to 60 chips and folded on the dealer button, which made no sense to me. I'd have put my remaining small amount of chips in at that point, even if I'd had the beer hand. A couple of players were your typical aggressive pot stealer's who could generally be removed from a hand with a re-raise. I'd played tight for the first 30 minutes, so after a while, it was easy to steal a pot here and there.
I was feeling pretty smug about my chances of a payout at this point, particularly after I knocked out two players and we were now down to five players remaining, two of whom had very small chip counts.
Then the screen blinked and my table turned blue and populated. I'd been merged into the second table. The second table that I didn't know existed. This was the point where I invented a few new curse words.
I did a survey of the table and noticed that, out of 9 players, I was 3rd in the lead for chip stack. However, this set of players was considerably better than the 1st table group. I played reasonably conservatively at this point with my $6000 chip count, which was a mistake since the blinds had gotten up to $400/$800 or something along those lines. I had a few bad cards and didn't know enough yet about the new players to feel secure in playing those bad cards, so I waited, playing only a small hand or two here and there. The blinds and not the players got me down to $2500, which was well past the point where I needed to go in the opposite direction and play more aggressively. After all, even though I was now one of only 6 remaining at the table and wasn't the lowest in chips, if I wanted any chance of winning, I needed to not try to conserve my chips, but instead to play much more aggressively.
Thanks, Dan Harrington. It was some good advice, even if it didn't work out this time.
I was on the button with pocket 5s and $2500. I went all in, hoping to double up, and got a call from one of the more aggressive players with a slightly higher chip count. I suppose I could have simply called here, but that would have cost me 1/3 of my chips and left me in a weak betting position. The caller flipped over A-5 off suit. The flop came Q-4-A. The turn was a 7. The river a K.
I was out just shy of the money; but, as usual, learned a lot. Lessons learned from last night:
So, given the choice between cleaning or procrastinating cleaning and playing poker, I think we know what won.
I was aware that we had enough joint projects around the house that I could be called away at any time, so I sat down for a cheap $.25/$.50 table. The low stakes would mitigate me being distracted by the house work and the cash game would let me step away at any time. The table was full. I took a quick look at chip counts and didn't notice anyone with a big stack (maximum buy-in was $50 and everyone was $55 or below). After a few hands I noticed two players who played nearly every hand they were dealt. It's possible that one or both of them was simply having a good run of cards, but after watching their dubious betting strategy (you know it must have been bad if even I noticed it), I decided that neither of these two players were any good. The next 3 or 4 players were conservative but I noticed that they could easily be gotten out of a pot with a re-raise or appropriate bet. One or two players were potentially decent and I avoided them unless I had excellent cards.
After 15 minutes, I'd nearly doubled my $50 buy-in when I heard Josh shout for some help in taking down the satellite dish. Taking me away from a profitable table is like taking a rawhide chew toy away from a large dog, but I managed to be pleasant and go downstairs to help. When I managed to lift the heavy dish safely away from the trellis, he said with amazement and in a pet-addressing voice, "Good girl!" That certainly didn't help since I was already about to growl for the interruption.
I went back upstairs after 30 minutes and my donkey table was no where to be found. I would come to miss it later in the evening.
I went about cleaning and, at about 9:00, was so burned out that I decided to take a break and play a little $6 Super-Turbo tournament. I was so tired that I didn't really notice that it was a two-table, 18-person tournament; although, if I'd had half a brain, the tournament paying out the top 4 to 5 places should have told me that it was multi-table. The tournament went extremely well -- at least at the beginning. After about an hour I'd built my initial 1,500 chips into 6,200 and had a 4,000 chip lead over everyone else at the table.
The table had an interesting mix of players.
One player seemed okay but played too many hands without the proper aggressive style of betting to back that up. The others seemed to be too conservative for tournament play, particularly as the blinds started to increase. One player was down to 60 chips and folded on the dealer button, which made no sense to me. I'd have put my remaining small amount of chips in at that point, even if I'd had the beer hand. A couple of players were your typical aggressive pot stealer's who could generally be removed from a hand with a re-raise. I'd played tight for the first 30 minutes, so after a while, it was easy to steal a pot here and there.
I was feeling pretty smug about my chances of a payout at this point, particularly after I knocked out two players and we were now down to five players remaining, two of whom had very small chip counts.
Then the screen blinked and my table turned blue and populated. I'd been merged into the second table. The second table that I didn't know existed. This was the point where I invented a few new curse words.
I did a survey of the table and noticed that, out of 9 players, I was 3rd in the lead for chip stack. However, this set of players was considerably better than the 1st table group. I played reasonably conservatively at this point with my $6000 chip count, which was a mistake since the blinds had gotten up to $400/$800 or something along those lines. I had a few bad cards and didn't know enough yet about the new players to feel secure in playing those bad cards, so I waited, playing only a small hand or two here and there. The blinds and not the players got me down to $2500, which was well past the point where I needed to go in the opposite direction and play more aggressively. After all, even though I was now one of only 6 remaining at the table and wasn't the lowest in chips, if I wanted any chance of winning, I needed to not try to conserve my chips, but instead to play much more aggressively.
Thanks, Dan Harrington. It was some good advice, even if it didn't work out this time.
I was on the button with pocket 5s and $2500. I went all in, hoping to double up, and got a call from one of the more aggressive players with a slightly higher chip count. I suppose I could have simply called here, but that would have cost me 1/3 of my chips and left me in a weak betting position. The caller flipped over A-5 off suit. The flop came Q-4-A. The turn was a 7. The river a K.
I was out just shy of the money; but, as usual, learned a lot. Lessons learned from last night:
- Don't ever play when you're so busy with other things that you don't notice how many people are playing in the freaking tournament.
- As the blinds increase, even if you're in a good position and have a great chip count, your play should get more aggressive, not more conservative. It's the only way to have any chance at winning.
- Cable is most definitely preferable to satellite.
Monday, June 6, 2011
My First Profit
A few days later I joined a couple other private poker groups. I didn't want to be stuck without some options for playing live if company or circumstances didn't work out. So, I looked for groups that were metro accessible.
We ended up going to a different $1/$2 group that night, one that Lance hadn't been to but that was run by someone who'd had a recent tournament win. He passed around his ring and everyone at the table swooned. I wasn't all that impressed but should have been.
This was a particularly weird group of people. There were a number of excellent players and a number of poor players. There were kids there who were still in high school. There were older veterans who reminded me of Sammy Farha. There were some people who I'm reasonably sure were members of the MS-13 gang. There were some drunks.
One man swaggered in, sat down at the table and said, "I'm so drunk I can't even see my cards." I thought this guy might be quite fun to play with. He also said shortly thereafter, "What's two plus two?" which was met with surprise from the other players who filled him in on it being the biggest and best poker forum online.
They pegged him for a donkey and he was. I'd asked that same question, though, just a weak prior, so if I was no longer a donkey, I'd only moved up the evolution ladder very recently.
I played a reasonably tight game but lost some chips early on to "fetus" (a very young player who didn't stay long). But, my bet sizing was very incorrect. It only worked well for me in instances where I really didn't want a call. On those hands where I did want a call, though, my odd betting drove everyone away. I wasn't making any money and busted out after a couple of hours. Lance spotted me a $200 rebuy which I planned on paying back as soon as we left..
I was still betting incorrectly but played much tighter than I had been. I learned which players to avoid (most of them) and focused on getting small pots from the drunks and the gang members. But, because my betting amounts were wrong, I folded out of a lot of pots, got called on a lot of weakish hands, and ultimately thinned my $200 in chips down to about $70.
The only correct thing I did all night was decide, at this point, that I needed to go all in with the next decent hand I had. I was dealt 5-5. Not a great hand, especially in early position with people left to act after me, but it was my best shot given my chip count. Drunky called, as did another player who was usually pretty tight. The tight player correctly put drunky all in. I hit a 5 on the flop, giving me the set. The Sammy Farhaish player (not in the hand), winked at me and knew I'd hit. Drunky had a strong Ace. The tight player had a pocket pair.
My set held up. I counted my chips and had a bit over $500, enough to give Lance back his loan, to cover my initial buy-in, and to give me a $50 or so profit. I had the common sense to leave at that point, which was fine with Lance who had made a killing that night and pointed out that it was 3:30am.
It was my first profit playing live and I was at least smart enough to know that I didn't really deserve it based on my bet sizing. But, I'll take it.
I also started reading the Harrington.
We ended up going to a different $1/$2 group that night, one that Lance hadn't been to but that was run by someone who'd had a recent tournament win. He passed around his ring and everyone at the table swooned. I wasn't all that impressed but should have been.
This was a particularly weird group of people. There were a number of excellent players and a number of poor players. There were kids there who were still in high school. There were older veterans who reminded me of Sammy Farha. There were some people who I'm reasonably sure were members of the MS-13 gang. There were some drunks.
One man swaggered in, sat down at the table and said, "I'm so drunk I can't even see my cards." I thought this guy might be quite fun to play with. He also said shortly thereafter, "What's two plus two?" which was met with surprise from the other players who filled him in on it being the biggest and best poker forum online.
They pegged him for a donkey and he was. I'd asked that same question, though, just a weak prior, so if I was no longer a donkey, I'd only moved up the evolution ladder very recently.
I played a reasonably tight game but lost some chips early on to "fetus" (a very young player who didn't stay long). But, my bet sizing was very incorrect. It only worked well for me in instances where I really didn't want a call. On those hands where I did want a call, though, my odd betting drove everyone away. I wasn't making any money and busted out after a couple of hours. Lance spotted me a $200 rebuy which I planned on paying back as soon as we left..
I was still betting incorrectly but played much tighter than I had been. I learned which players to avoid (most of them) and focused on getting small pots from the drunks and the gang members. But, because my betting amounts were wrong, I folded out of a lot of pots, got called on a lot of weakish hands, and ultimately thinned my $200 in chips down to about $70.
The only correct thing I did all night was decide, at this point, that I needed to go all in with the next decent hand I had. I was dealt 5-5. Not a great hand, especially in early position with people left to act after me, but it was my best shot given my chip count. Drunky called, as did another player who was usually pretty tight. The tight player correctly put drunky all in. I hit a 5 on the flop, giving me the set. The Sammy Farhaish player (not in the hand), winked at me and knew I'd hit. Drunky had a strong Ace. The tight player had a pocket pair.
My set held up. I counted my chips and had a bit over $500, enough to give Lance back his loan, to cover my initial buy-in, and to give me a $50 or so profit. I had the common sense to leave at that point, which was fine with Lance who had made a killing that night and pointed out that it was 3:30am.
It was my first profit playing live and I was at least smart enough to know that I didn't really deserve it based on my bet sizing. But, I'll take it.
I also started reading the Harrington.
Charlestown Part 2, Electric Boogaloo
After the private tournament bust out, since I thought I'd played reasonably well, when Lance busted out I talked him into a late run to Charlestown. I probably should have opted out of that since I was a little tired, but I wanted to give C-town another go now that I'd been there and gotten a bit more comfortable with the place.
I bought in for $250 at a $1/$2 table. And then I proceeded to get the worst string of cards I've ever come across. Normally when people complain about their cards, it means that they played poorly and blamed it on "bad luck." But, trust me on this one... in the span of 2.5 hours, the best started hand I got dealt was Q-8 off-suit. But, for the first couple of hours, I was disciplined and didn't play mediocre hands. I took a small pot here and there but didn't tangle with anyone, figuring that I'd just bide my time until the cards improved and I had a better opportunity.
After 3 or 4 hours the cards hadn't improved and I made the decision to play a few hands as if the cards had improved. I was dealt a weak hand and raised it pre-flop from a bad starting position. This was an incorrect move for a number of reasons, but I had played conservatively enough that, if someone didn't hit their flop, I could potentially pot steal. Several players called. The flop came down with mostly under-cards but I had "my Ace," even though I didn't really have one. There were two clubs on the board, which I didn't notice at the time. I had no clubs. I bet into the pot way more than I should have, but I was worried about my "ace" not holding up and wanted to get players out early.
Lance called. I didn't think he had an Ace and had correctly pegged him as having a low or middle pair on the board. The turn showed a Queen or something similar and didn't help either of us. I checked, unsure of what to do and hoping that his inevitable bet would tell me something about his hand. This was yet another mistake I made. Lance checked.
The turn came down with another under-card that was a club. There wasn't a straight possibility on the board and I found it unlikely that Lance would have stayed in with two clubs and nothing else. So, I pegged him on a middle pair with a slight chance of two pair and made a large, incorrectly sized bet on the river trying to bluff him off the pot.
Lance called with his middle pair. And his flush.
That's when I learned three very crucial lessons:
I bought in for $250 at a $1/$2 table. And then I proceeded to get the worst string of cards I've ever come across. Normally when people complain about their cards, it means that they played poorly and blamed it on "bad luck." But, trust me on this one... in the span of 2.5 hours, the best started hand I got dealt was Q-8 off-suit. But, for the first couple of hours, I was disciplined and didn't play mediocre hands. I took a small pot here and there but didn't tangle with anyone, figuring that I'd just bide my time until the cards improved and I had a better opportunity.
After 3 or 4 hours the cards hadn't improved and I made the decision to play a few hands as if the cards had improved. I was dealt a weak hand and raised it pre-flop from a bad starting position. This was an incorrect move for a number of reasons, but I had played conservatively enough that, if someone didn't hit their flop, I could potentially pot steal. Several players called. The flop came down with mostly under-cards but I had "my Ace," even though I didn't really have one. There were two clubs on the board, which I didn't notice at the time. I had no clubs. I bet into the pot way more than I should have, but I was worried about my "ace" not holding up and wanted to get players out early.
Lance called. I didn't think he had an Ace and had correctly pegged him as having a low or middle pair on the board. The turn showed a Queen or something similar and didn't help either of us. I checked, unsure of what to do and hoping that his inevitable bet would tell me something about his hand. This was yet another mistake I made. Lance checked.
The turn came down with another under-card that was a club. There wasn't a straight possibility on the board and I found it unlikely that Lance would have stayed in with two clubs and nothing else. So, I pegged him on a middle pair with a slight chance of two pair and made a large, incorrectly sized bet on the river trying to bluff him off the pot.
Lance called with his middle pair. And his flush.
That's when I learned three very crucial lessons:
- Don't bluff Lance. At least not very often.
- My bet sizing was all wrong.
- I had no idea how to handle dry runs of cards like what I'd experienced that night
- I wasn't yet ready to truly accept Lance's advice. I was taking it all way too personally.
My First Live Tournament
After Charlestown, all I could think about was poker. But, I still didn't quite get the idea that, if I was going to get any better, my fastest route was to simply listen to the advice of the much better player (Lance).Lance recommended a couple of resources, including twoplustwo.com. I asked, "What's two plus two?" That's how little I knew. He also offered to loan me a book by Dan Harrington on proper Hold 'Em tournament strategy. I mentioned that I found Dan Harrington a bit dry but that I'd try to read it later when I had more time.
I did realize, though, that if I was going to get any better, I needed to get used to playing live. Lance was kind enough to refer me to one of his favorite local groups (I'll leave out the name since I'd like to be able to write about player's styles of play while respecting their privacy). We signed up for the $100-buy-in tournament coming up that Saturday. We would face off against 40 or so other players across multiple tables.
In the car ride over, Lance let me know that at local private touraments like this, that I would be required to deal when I was on the dealer button. I'd never heard of having to deal your own cards much less everyone elses, so this was a variable that I didn't expect nor like. I immediately started thinking about how to handle burn cards instead of my strategy for the tournament.
Despite that, I had learned a valuable lesson in Charlestown... until you're used to the table and able to think rationally while playing, it's probably a good idea to simply play conservatively and very few hands. It helps cultivate a tight image and, for a newbie like me, let's you get adjusted to even just being there in the first place.
After the first hour or so we had a break. Lance swung by from his table and noticed that I had a decent chip stack. At that point, I'd only played 4 or 5 hands and had won them all, in part because, at this point, I still knew nothing about bet sizing and was overbetting most of my hands to the point where, even if I'd wanted a call, no one could.
After the break, I got Q-Q and raised preflop. I raised 3 or 4 times the big blind but was in early position which wasn't good. I got two callers. One had been playing pretty tightly all game; the other was a looser, more aggressive player who had accumulated a decent chip stack and had me covered. The flop came down all undercards but with 3 clubs. I didn't have a single club but wasn't going to get outdrawn.
I bet into the pot but probably not enough. It was enough to get out the tight player. The more aggressive player saw that I had been conservative all day and made the correct decision to come over the top and to reraise me. He'd bet enough that I could call but would have been very short stacked if I had. I folded my queens. I'm still not sure if this was a good fold or not; I'd have to play against the guy a few more times to decide.
I wasn't exactly short stacked at this point, but the blids were getting up into the $200/$400 range and I needed to begin playing more aggressively to keep from having the blinds eat away my chips. I lucked into a K-K hand and decided to try to double up or, at the very least, steal the blinds. I bet 5 times the pot; three players were left to act after me. Two folded; the conservative player from earlier moved all in against me. Because of how he'd been playing, I knew he had A-K, AA, KK, or possibly QQ, but that he likely wouldn't have made this move with anything else. He also had better position on me. But, it was an obvious call I had to make.
He flipped over pocket Aces. My KK went heads up against his AA and he took the pot, knocking me out of the tournament. I ended up busting out of the tournament as the 3rd or 4th to go. The tournament would go on for another 9 or 10 hours; my table in particular had some excellent players.
I left there feeling very proud of my playing, though. Although my betting amounts were probably a ways off, for my first live tournament, it was a respectable showing, despite the early bust out.
I had played okay.
Charlestown and My First Live Game
Lance took me to my first live poker game a week or two in. I've played online for 7 or 8 years, so it came as a complete shock to me that, when I sat down at my first table and finally was ready to play my first hand (10-10), my hands were visibly shaking.
Keep in mind that I'm the same lady who has been known to jump out of moving vehicles, talk grown men into drinks at strip clubs, and who makes her own swords. I don't scare easily. That moment at the table though was one of the more scary moments of my life.
It was the moment where I had my first poker realization: I wasn't anywhere near as good as I thought I was. Here's how the hand went.
I knew enough to play tight early on and had already folded a number of hands. I also knew to watch my table position and to not play weaker hands under the gun. Pocket 10s have always been my favorite hand, so I put my shaky hands in and raised pre-flop. I don't remember the amount since, at this point, I knew absolutely nothing about bet sizing. I got a call or two. The flop came down: 3 -4 - Q, or something along those lines. I bet into the pot way to much, expecting an easy pot steal. But, I hadn't been watching the caller enough to know that he wasn't the type to fold, particularly to a poorly-sized bet. He called.
The turn was an 8 or 9. At this point, since I hadn't been re-raised, I had the caller on a pair at best, and since there wasn't a re-raise, I didn't expect a Queen. I checked. I don't know why other than that I was scared and didn't want to have to count out any more chips.
The River was an Ace. I decided to bet into the Ace for no reason other than that I had no idea what I was doing but had too many chips in the pot. The caller flipped over an Ace, taking the pot with the higher pair.
My chip count went from $250 down to $70 or so.
That day I learned a couple of important lessons.
Keep in mind that I'm the same lady who has been known to jump out of moving vehicles, talk grown men into drinks at strip clubs, and who makes her own swords. I don't scare easily. That moment at the table though was one of the more scary moments of my life.
It was the moment where I had my first poker realization: I wasn't anywhere near as good as I thought I was. Here's how the hand went.
I knew enough to play tight early on and had already folded a number of hands. I also knew to watch my table position and to not play weaker hands under the gun. Pocket 10s have always been my favorite hand, so I put my shaky hands in and raised pre-flop. I don't remember the amount since, at this point, I knew absolutely nothing about bet sizing. I got a call or two. The flop came down: 3 -4 - Q, or something along those lines. I bet into the pot way to much, expecting an easy pot steal. But, I hadn't been watching the caller enough to know that he wasn't the type to fold, particularly to a poorly-sized bet. He called.
The turn was an 8 or 9. At this point, since I hadn't been re-raised, I had the caller on a pair at best, and since there wasn't a re-raise, I didn't expect a Queen. I checked. I don't know why other than that I was scared and didn't want to have to count out any more chips.
The River was an Ace. I decided to bet into the Ace for no reason other than that I had no idea what I was doing but had too many chips in the pot. The caller flipped over an Ace, taking the pot with the higher pair.
My chip count went from $250 down to $70 or so.
That day I learned a couple of important lessons.
- I had no idea how to properly bet.
- I hadn't even begun to learn how to mentally track other players at the table and their playing history.
- Lance was too new to me to not be a distraction. I spent more time making goo-goo eyes at him than I did watching the table.
- I had a lot to learn.
After busting out and re-buying, I managed to hunker down enough to walk out with only a couple hundred dollars in losses which, for my first time playing live, could have gone much worse.
I felt like I'd just had the best poker lesson of my life and I was hooked.
Black Saturday: How I Fell Back in Love With Poker
That Saturday started out like most others had for the last couple of months. I woke up next to the British math professor. He made tea with milk. We watched the news. I ticked down the hours until I got to go home to tend to my pets. Occasionally I could talk him into sex if he hadn't gotten too wrapped up in the news or with his research.
I checked email on my ipod touch. The Professor had trusted me enough to enter in the wi-fi password for me, but not to tell me what it was. A by-product, I assumed, of my brother having tangled with the FBI over some hacking charges back in the day. It must be genetic, after all.
There was an email from Lance. Most people try to avoid running into their ex-husbands, but even though we never hung out, ours had been a slow and steady friendship by email over the years. He called me when his father passed away. I turned to him when mine was diagnosed with terminal cancer. It was consistent, even if the two of us, on our own, were two of the biggest degenerates known to mankind.
I'd asked Lance how his online poker had been going. I'd turned him onto poker back in 2003 and we'd both played online ever since, although Lance had learned far quicker than me and had progressed on to making a WSOP final table. His response back shocked me.
As of the day before, online poker in the US, for all intents and purposes, was now dead. Black Friday. The government had shut down most of the major sites. Lance immediately applied to aerospace jobs abroad, intent on leaving the country on principal. I felt angry about the poker situation, but was no where near as upset as I'd imagined Lance was. I was reasonably happy at that point to move on and make some evening plans with the professor. I casually mentioned to Lance that the professor and I might be hitting Galaxy Hut later. I sent along my condolences for the death of poker, and went on about my day.
At Galaxy Hut, we joined several of the professor's friends. We were chatting about the usual topic (how "evil" economists are), when I looked up and saw someone who was a dead ringer for my ex-husband Lance. Couldn't be him, though. I hadn't seen him in nearly 8 years and only had a vague idea of what he still looked like. I went back to my conversation. Nearly 30 minutes later I looked up and noticed that the gentleman was looking in my direction. I still truthfully didn't think it was him, so I looked back down and carried on with my conversation. A few moments later I looked back up to see him smirking. I can forget a face, but I could never forget this man's smile. I excused myself from my table, after giving the professor a polite warning about the situation about to ensue, and approached Lance. We had a nice talk and, after the professor and I went our separate ways a few weeks later, Lance and I began spending more time together.
This is the story of how that "chance meeting" made me fall back in love with poker. It's also quite possibly the story of how that "chance meeting" made me fall back in love with Lance. We'll see how that goes.
Don't worry though -- this promises to be 99% about poker and only 1% degenerate love stories.
I checked email on my ipod touch. The Professor had trusted me enough to enter in the wi-fi password for me, but not to tell me what it was. A by-product, I assumed, of my brother having tangled with the FBI over some hacking charges back in the day. It must be genetic, after all.
There was an email from Lance. Most people try to avoid running into their ex-husbands, but even though we never hung out, ours had been a slow and steady friendship by email over the years. He called me when his father passed away. I turned to him when mine was diagnosed with terminal cancer. It was consistent, even if the two of us, on our own, were two of the biggest degenerates known to mankind.
I'd asked Lance how his online poker had been going. I'd turned him onto poker back in 2003 and we'd both played online ever since, although Lance had learned far quicker than me and had progressed on to making a WSOP final table. His response back shocked me.
As of the day before, online poker in the US, for all intents and purposes, was now dead. Black Friday. The government had shut down most of the major sites. Lance immediately applied to aerospace jobs abroad, intent on leaving the country on principal. I felt angry about the poker situation, but was no where near as upset as I'd imagined Lance was. I was reasonably happy at that point to move on and make some evening plans with the professor. I casually mentioned to Lance that the professor and I might be hitting Galaxy Hut later. I sent along my condolences for the death of poker, and went on about my day.
At Galaxy Hut, we joined several of the professor's friends. We were chatting about the usual topic (how "evil" economists are), when I looked up and saw someone who was a dead ringer for my ex-husband Lance. Couldn't be him, though. I hadn't seen him in nearly 8 years and only had a vague idea of what he still looked like. I went back to my conversation. Nearly 30 minutes later I looked up and noticed that the gentleman was looking in my direction. I still truthfully didn't think it was him, so I looked back down and carried on with my conversation. A few moments later I looked back up to see him smirking. I can forget a face, but I could never forget this man's smile. I excused myself from my table, after giving the professor a polite warning about the situation about to ensue, and approached Lance. We had a nice talk and, after the professor and I went our separate ways a few weeks later, Lance and I began spending more time together.
This is the story of how that "chance meeting" made me fall back in love with poker. It's also quite possibly the story of how that "chance meeting" made me fall back in love with Lance. We'll see how that goes.
Don't worry though -- this promises to be 99% about poker and only 1% degenerate love stories.
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