Cowboys Cracked

I'm currently in Vancouver. Last night my buddy dropped me off at the casino for two hours while he caught drinks with some folks.

I wanted to play some leisurely live poker and didn't really expect to accomplish much in two-hour session. The $1/2 NL tables were full; I grudgingly accepted a $2/5 game.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the $2/5 table to which I was assigned was very soft: I was able to draw outdraw a few folks and bluff a few others, grabbing a couple of nice pots, after which the table was gunshy of the Badger. I turned my $200 into $400 inside of an hour.

The staff then moved me to the main table. My $400 dwindled to $300 when I raised to $20 from middle position with AQ. The table folded around to the big blind who min-raised me. Now, a min-raise is always suspicious: it seemed he wanted a call. Given the 3:1 odds, I most certainly did. When the flop came A 10 5 (two spades), I looked to be in good shape: if he had raised with a pair (say J,J), I was good. The only thing I was really scared of was an A,A or A,K.

The aggressor checked to me. I had a very good hand and certainly wasn't about to let any flush draws get there. I bet $60. The big blind re-raised me to $150. It was a tough one, but I laid down the A,Q: it was clear that a call was going to end up in an all-in situation, and I wasn't quite prepared to do that against an opponent who's shown so much strength pre-flop.

Fifteen minutes later, I was coasting along at $300 and my buddy was on his way to meet me. I was in 4th seat and Seat #1 had decided to straddle ("because it's my last hand," was his logic.) Seat 2 folded, seat 3 called the $10. I looked down. Cowboys: pocket Kings.

I knew I was getting close to my last hand as well. I was confident that I had the best starting hand at the table (with 95% certainty, probabilistically speaking). Now, how to play it? Raise now and take the measly $27 on the table? Or wait for one of the maniacs in the later seats to raise so that I could then re-raise. I opted for the latter, a Badger trap: I wanted to finish the night with a nice profit.

Seat #6, who was playing a little tiltish, went all-in for $163. Truly bizarre play, but music to my ears. Everyone folded to the straddler. He realized seat 6 was tiltish and, after some deliberation, called the all-in. There was now nearly $400 in the pot. The badger trap was playing out even better than I'd hoped (although I would rather face one than two opponents).

Pocket aces being improbable, I was concerned about one of the two holding A-K or something of that ilk. I knew that it would be tough to bet into the flop if an ace came. But I also knew it would be damn tough to lay down the KK if an A came and the straddler bet--especially with all that lucre on the felt. Finally, as I figured I had the best hand currently, I abided by the textbook: get your chips in when you are the favorite. "All in for another," gulp, "$170."

The straddler was by now quite concerned. "You've got me beat," he said. But still, he was getting tremendous odds to call (3:1). And call he did.

By now the entire table was abuzz: there was about $750 in the center of the table. And, very unusually, 3 players had ended up all-in, pre-flop!

I wanted to make it a little more exciting for the table (or perhaps I just wanted to gloat), so I flipped over my cowboys. There were a few gasps. After some goading on my part, seat 6 showed his cards: A-Q off-suit (what was he thinking?!?) I was about a 70% favorite versus that hand--pretty much anything but an ace on any of the five streets and I'd win.

The straddler, presumably embarrassed by his hand, kept it concealed.

The dealer strangely, yet prophetically intoned, "flop's coming low." Indeed it did: 4, 5, 7--three different suits. I had no idea what the straddler had, but I knew I was looking good. Trying to cheer up the A-Q, I said: "you could hit a low straight."

Turn: Jack. I was still good, unless the straddler's concealed cards were "fishhooks."

I was dying. I spied my buddy entering the casino. The entire table was standing and kibitzing, studying our stressed faces and the bizarre board.

River: 6 of hearts.

"Oh, my god!" the straddler cries out, turning over pocket-8s. "I can't believe I hit the straight on the river. Sorry man!"

And I do believe he was: KK vs. 88 is about an 80% favorite. Even if the crazy dude with the A-Q caught his ace and won the main pot, THE SIDE POT WAS MINE. Until it wasn't, which was the river of course.

I can try and take solace in Sklansky's maxim, that in the aggregate I did win that hand: in the grand scheme of my poker life, that that exact sequence of events will turn out to the good for me. That in the very long term, I will be ahead.

But for all the math, logic and "should have's" in the world all I can say is this: It would have been damn nice for my wallet to be $750 heavier today. Almost as nice as the Canucks winning game 5 of the division finals tonight. The Lords of Probability owe me that, at the very least. Don't they?

-Badger