As the days grow shockingly shorter, and I find myself as likely to be wearing a hoodie as a T-shirt, it is time to reflect back on my summer of poker. This posting will deal with my “live” play performance (i.e., bricks & mortar); the fourth in this series will discuss my online performance.
While I harbor no delusions of greatness, I think it is safe to say that my game has taken a sizable step forward over the June-August time frame. In cash games I have gone from a losing-to-breakeven player to a generally profitable player. As recently as this spring, I would sit in a cash game and wait for big pocket pairs or big aces to make big moves.
Now, I am much more inclined to play drawing hands aggressively in multi-way pots, hunting for the big payoff when I hit my straight or flush. Additionally, I have begun making sizable, timely bluffs (it certainly makes the game a lot more fun!) Frequently, I am now the one cracking other players’ big pairs—instead of vice versa (witness my earlier blogs describing my repeated experiences of having my Kings or Queens cracked).
My tournament results have been even stronger. Kicking off with a first place finish in a 50-odd person tourney several weeks ago when my buddy Troy was visiting from Bangkok, I have come 1st or 2nd in three of my past seven tourneys. I will be the first to admit that there is more than a little luck involved, especially in tournaments, but there has definitely been an improvement in my tourney play.
There is no doubt that the sheer volume of online play has immensely elevated my live tourney play: I play every stage of the tournament in a completely different fashion—I now look back at my all-in pushes with Q,Q in the early stages of a tourney at the Wynn a year ago and laugh. What was I doing?! Of COURSE I would only get called by KK, AA!
The other key component has been a LOT of reading. I joke that I have been earning my second Master’s degree—but in poker instead of finance. This summer alone, I have read swaths of Super/System II, Sklanky on Hold’em, Sklansky on Advanced Tournaments, FullTilt Tourney Guide, Phil Gordon’s Little Blue Book and Read ‘Em and Reap…not to mention multiple issues of CardPlayer (stellar), PokerPro (mediocre) and Bluff (pants).
While the magazines are of varying quality, the books have been uniformly outstanding—lots of intense reading, but worth both the investment (in both time and money) several times over. Playing is much more fun than studying, but studying seems to improve my play much more quickly—perhaps by a factor of 10x.
(The truly scary thing for me to consider is how much work it has been to become merely competent in NL Hold’em; I can’t fathom the amount of work it would take to become good at Omaha, Razz, Deuce-Seven, etc. The thought of trying to attain competence in those other games makes my head spin. Frankly, it even depresses me a little bit: learning to be a good poker player is like swallowing a porcupine—it is really, really hard to stop part way through!)
The end result of the good (but not great) results in cash play and great (not good) results in tourneys is that I have parlayed a July ATM withdrawl of $300 into a bankroll of well over $2,000. (If I attempt a similar blog in 2010, I will definitely have two bankroll targets: one offline {perhaps $2,000 into $20,000?} and one online {if I am masochistic I might again attempt $100 into $10,000}).
In closing, I would like to reiterate that for all the hard study and pleasant results, I am the first to admit that a large portion of the outcome hinges on none other than Lady Luck. The real test of character and ability will occur when Lady Luck leaves my side, and I go through a brutal losing spell.
If—and only if—I can pull through that, then I will know that I have become a real player.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
LATEsummer’s Night Dream (2 of 4)
As you may recall, the purpose of PokerScars was for the three of us (yes—do recall that at one point not so many months back, I had two partners in crime {or, at least, if you follow the statues, crime in some states}) to elevate our skills and to some day participate in the World Series of Poker (“WSOP”). Alas, my amigos have shuffled off, but here remains the stubborn Badger.
And as it so happens, the Badger was slated to be in Sin City over the 4th of July weekend, for a buddy’s 40th Birthday party—wives, believe it or not, in tow.
The Badger considers himself a beginner-intermediate player (confirmed by reading accounts in CardPlayer of pros three-raising from the Button with hands like 5,6s—I just ain’t quite making that play yet!)
That said, per my prior posting, I was runnin’ pretty good in Vegas, and had some extra cash on hand—what better to do than squander it on a WSOP super-satellite?
My buddy Geoff and I headed over to the Rio, arriving at 2:55 p.m. for the 3 p.m. super-satellite to the big dance. I was promptly told that as I am not a US citizen, I would need a passport to participate. Badger was perplexed, frustrated, and distraught: in a word, on tilt. Luckily, a Harrah’s manager took pity upon the poor (in every sense of the word) Badger. I was registered—my card, which I still have, reads “3:29 p.m.”
By the time I waddled to the Amazon room and checked in to one table, and waited for a seat assignment, it was 3:55 p.m. Needless to say, I had already been blinded down significantly (this was a turbo format tournament).
I was infinitely naïve to think that this would be like my local tourneys in Palm Springs or the Okanagan, where I could waltz in two minutes before cards hit the air, and play.
I sat down with my already-compromised stack and watched the action: there were two aggressive players that seemed to know what they were doing. They did indeed. Within about 10 hands, three of the others at the table had been unceremoniously dispatched. I continued to garner only rags, but was continuing to blind down, so I made a few desperate late-position bluffs. Pfew, no callers.
Perhaps an hour into the tourney, the first break occurred. As I was being helped to my next table, I was informed that half the field had already perished—and I had yet to win a sizable pot.
After the break, the blinds were wrenched higher yet again (these Harrah’s folks really did seem in a rush to end the satellite).
I sat tight, waiting for something, anything I could make a play with. Finally, in the BB, I looked down and saw an Ace-Deuce—my first ace in an hour. I had no illusion about its strength—serious kicker trouble, to be certain!—but, with only about 6 big blinds, I was desperate. A player in middle-position raised to about 4x the big blind. The rest of the players folded around to me.
It was unlikely that a player in middle position would bluff. So he presumably had one of two hands: a pocket pair or a big ace. If it was the former, I would have a chance to catch an ace and double-up. If it was the later, the Badger would be a big, big dog. I held my nose (figuratively) and pushed. He snap-called and turned over A-Jo. While an Ace did hit the board, his Jack kicker held up. Badger was bounced somewhere around the 40th percentile: nothing to be proud of, but not a complete disaster.
Take-aways?
1. (Especially in turbo format tourneys): Get even more aggressive, even earlier—even when card-dead.
2. Next time around: attempt to win a seat by 1-table satellite. I think I am better at that type of format. But I’ll let you know in about 10 months!
3. Arrive on time for poker tourneys--despite what the Poker Brat says, the Poker Gods frown upon dilatory players!!
And as it so happens, the Badger was slated to be in Sin City over the 4th of July weekend, for a buddy’s 40th Birthday party—wives, believe it or not, in tow.
The Badger considers himself a beginner-intermediate player (confirmed by reading accounts in CardPlayer of pros three-raising from the Button with hands like 5,6s—I just ain’t quite making that play yet!)
That said, per my prior posting, I was runnin’ pretty good in Vegas, and had some extra cash on hand—what better to do than squander it on a WSOP super-satellite?
My buddy Geoff and I headed over to the Rio, arriving at 2:55 p.m. for the 3 p.m. super-satellite to the big dance. I was promptly told that as I am not a US citizen, I would need a passport to participate. Badger was perplexed, frustrated, and distraught: in a word, on tilt. Luckily, a Harrah’s manager took pity upon the poor (in every sense of the word) Badger. I was registered—my card, which I still have, reads “3:29 p.m.”
By the time I waddled to the Amazon room and checked in to one table, and waited for a seat assignment, it was 3:55 p.m. Needless to say, I had already been blinded down significantly (this was a turbo format tournament).
I was infinitely naïve to think that this would be like my local tourneys in Palm Springs or the Okanagan, where I could waltz in two minutes before cards hit the air, and play.
I sat down with my already-compromised stack and watched the action: there were two aggressive players that seemed to know what they were doing. They did indeed. Within about 10 hands, three of the others at the table had been unceremoniously dispatched. I continued to garner only rags, but was continuing to blind down, so I made a few desperate late-position bluffs. Pfew, no callers.
Perhaps an hour into the tourney, the first break occurred. As I was being helped to my next table, I was informed that half the field had already perished—and I had yet to win a sizable pot.
After the break, the blinds were wrenched higher yet again (these Harrah’s folks really did seem in a rush to end the satellite).
I sat tight, waiting for something, anything I could make a play with. Finally, in the BB, I looked down and saw an Ace-Deuce—my first ace in an hour. I had no illusion about its strength—serious kicker trouble, to be certain!—but, with only about 6 big blinds, I was desperate. A player in middle-position raised to about 4x the big blind. The rest of the players folded around to me.
It was unlikely that a player in middle position would bluff. So he presumably had one of two hands: a pocket pair or a big ace. If it was the former, I would have a chance to catch an ace and double-up. If it was the later, the Badger would be a big, big dog. I held my nose (figuratively) and pushed. He snap-called and turned over A-Jo. While an Ace did hit the board, his Jack kicker held up. Badger was bounced somewhere around the 40th percentile: nothing to be proud of, but not a complete disaster.
Take-aways?
1. (Especially in turbo format tourneys): Get even more aggressive, even earlier—even when card-dead.
2. Next time around: attempt to win a seat by 1-table satellite. I think I am better at that type of format. But I’ll let you know in about 10 months!
3. Arrive on time for poker tourneys--despite what the Poker Brat says, the Poker Gods frown upon dilatory players!!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Badger's Midsummer Night's Dream (1 of 4--Vegas cash games)
I shall begin by chastising myself for the absence--it's not as if I haven't been playing poker (but just than I have been too lazy to blog!)
I headed back to Vegas for 10 days at the end of June. The reason for the trip was my buddy's 40th birthday. We had a lot of great meals and some big nights out, but I still managed to log a lot of hours at the tables.
This was my first materially lucrative trip to Vegas--I ended up $600 to the good. While that is a nice sum, it of course pales in comparison to my spending away from the table.
A very interesting (and in retrospect, painfully obvious) revelation ensued: my play is getting to the stage that it is quite profitable when sober--and quite unprofitable when I'm in party-mode ("any two cards, let's see a flop baby!").
My swings in Vegas were massive, and revealed near-perfect correlation: over my first few days, before the bulk of the gang showed up, I was making great money--anywhere from $20-100 an hour (and this was at $1/$3 tables!!!)
All Hell broke loose (as did my play) over the weekend. I pissed away my profits from the previous days--and more! One night I played until 2:30 pm the next afternoon. Don't even ask.
In the final trimester of my trip, after the gang had left and I was left entirely to my own devices, I had another massive, sober run. Tight-aggressive. Pot-odds-oriented. Very positional. In short, very by-the-(Sklansky/Harrington)-book.
I was able to end erase the weekend's stupidity and end up +$600, thanks to a $1,000+ run in those past 48-hours, for an insane hourly rate (clearly, I wasn't playing the full 48 hours). Now, I will be the first to admit that there is a big component of luck in the magnitude of the results but not, I feel, in the direction.
In fact, the session that I am most proud of (and, quite possibly a real turning point in my evolution as a player) was proving to be insanely, unapologetically brutal. I was felted twice (a fairly rare occurrence, as I am quite a tight player, and rarely get all-in as the dog), and in rapid succession.
The first occurred when I was dealt pocket kings. I got all-in on a benign flop (no Ace, no made straights or flushes). Perusing these back (electronic) pages, I am starting to fear that I have misplayed cowboys more frequently than any other player in the history of the game. Anyway, when we get all-in on the flop, we show our cards. He has bullets. Needless to say, they hold up.
"That's fine," I say. "Great hand. Heck, I'm just surprised we didn't get all-in before the flop."
I re-buy and a dozen hands later am dealt 10,10. I put in a healthy raise and get 2 pre-flop callers. The board comes 10,6,6--two hearts. I hear Doyle whispering to me "you have the deck crippled--you have to give them a chance to catch up." I check the flop. So do the others. I am praying for a heart or an Ace so that someone possibly chasing gets hit. The turn is a blank. I throw a couple bucks into the pot--simply to build it, not to scare anyone away. Finally, the heart comes on the river. The gent to my right makes a pot-sized bet. My only decision is whether to min-raise or push. I min-raise, figuring that he will have to call--and that the pair on the board will dissuade him from calling an all-in bet (he is a tightish, competent player).
And then I salivate as the gent to my left pushes. The poor sap on my right folds. I snap-call, and am treated to the spirit-crushing sight of my opponent's 6,6. Not even a Badger can sniff out quads! He'd flopped a behemoth to my monster, a King Kong to my sasquatch. And all the while I was slow-playing him, he was slow-playing me.
But this is not a bad-beat story. This is a story of redemption. I sat out two or three hands, and then got right back in there. I won a lot of small pots and a few big ones. And two hours later I finished the session. In the black. I thought (and still do) that it was the most amazing session of poker I've experienced. A few months earlier, I would have gone either full-bore tilt and emptied my pockets or (more likely) stormed away from that table. But I felt it was a table I could beat. And I felt that I had suffered two improbable beats in succession, and that it wasn't poor play.
I felt it was a massive victory to turn around what was one of the harshest sessions in my experience of the game. It has helped me suffer through subsequent bad beats. And it was good for the wallet!
More on Vegas--and my game up here in Canada--to follow soon!
I headed back to Vegas for 10 days at the end of June. The reason for the trip was my buddy's 40th birthday. We had a lot of great meals and some big nights out, but I still managed to log a lot of hours at the tables.
This was my first materially lucrative trip to Vegas--I ended up $600 to the good. While that is a nice sum, it of course pales in comparison to my spending away from the table.
A very interesting (and in retrospect, painfully obvious) revelation ensued: my play is getting to the stage that it is quite profitable when sober--and quite unprofitable when I'm in party-mode ("any two cards, let's see a flop baby!").
My swings in Vegas were massive, and revealed near-perfect correlation: over my first few days, before the bulk of the gang showed up, I was making great money--anywhere from $20-100 an hour (and this was at $1/$3 tables!!!)
All Hell broke loose (as did my play) over the weekend. I pissed away my profits from the previous days--and more! One night I played until 2:30 pm the next afternoon. Don't even ask.
In the final trimester of my trip, after the gang had left and I was left entirely to my own devices, I had another massive, sober run. Tight-aggressive. Pot-odds-oriented. Very positional. In short, very by-the-(Sklansky/Harrington)-book.
I was able to end erase the weekend's stupidity and end up +$600, thanks to a $1,000+ run in those past 48-hours, for an insane hourly rate (clearly, I wasn't playing the full 48 hours). Now, I will be the first to admit that there is a big component of luck in the magnitude of the results but not, I feel, in the direction.
In fact, the session that I am most proud of (and, quite possibly a real turning point in my evolution as a player) was proving to be insanely, unapologetically brutal. I was felted twice (a fairly rare occurrence, as I am quite a tight player, and rarely get all-in as the dog), and in rapid succession.
The first occurred when I was dealt pocket kings. I got all-in on a benign flop (no Ace, no made straights or flushes). Perusing these back (electronic) pages, I am starting to fear that I have misplayed cowboys more frequently than any other player in the history of the game. Anyway, when we get all-in on the flop, we show our cards. He has bullets. Needless to say, they hold up.
"That's fine," I say. "Great hand. Heck, I'm just surprised we didn't get all-in before the flop."
I re-buy and a dozen hands later am dealt 10,10. I put in a healthy raise and get 2 pre-flop callers. The board comes 10,6,6--two hearts. I hear Doyle whispering to me "you have the deck crippled--you have to give them a chance to catch up." I check the flop. So do the others. I am praying for a heart or an Ace so that someone possibly chasing gets hit. The turn is a blank. I throw a couple bucks into the pot--simply to build it, not to scare anyone away. Finally, the heart comes on the river. The gent to my right makes a pot-sized bet. My only decision is whether to min-raise or push. I min-raise, figuring that he will have to call--and that the pair on the board will dissuade him from calling an all-in bet (he is a tightish, competent player).
And then I salivate as the gent to my left pushes. The poor sap on my right folds. I snap-call, and am treated to the spirit-crushing sight of my opponent's 6,6. Not even a Badger can sniff out quads! He'd flopped a behemoth to my monster, a King Kong to my sasquatch. And all the while I was slow-playing him, he was slow-playing me.
But this is not a bad-beat story. This is a story of redemption. I sat out two or three hands, and then got right back in there. I won a lot of small pots and a few big ones. And two hours later I finished the session. In the black. I thought (and still do) that it was the most amazing session of poker I've experienced. A few months earlier, I would have gone either full-bore tilt and emptied my pockets or (more likely) stormed away from that table. But I felt it was a table I could beat. And I felt that I had suffered two improbable beats in succession, and that it wasn't poor play.
I felt it was a massive victory to turn around what was one of the harshest sessions in my experience of the game. It has helped me suffer through subsequent bad beats. And it was good for the wallet!
More on Vegas--and my game up here in Canada--to follow soon!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
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
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
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Brunson & The Badger (Well, sort of...)
Now that I am "home" (not really certain what that means to a vagabond Badger, but at least I will be staying put for a few weeks), I wanted to share an episode from my trip to Vegas a few weeks back.
It was my first night playing at the Bellagio, and I was waiting for a spot at a table. I took a look around the massive room and there, towards the back, was a separate room. It held only one table and, as I glanced in it's direction, I recognized a couple famous faces: John Juanda and....even more impressively, the man himself: Doyle Brunson.
I was promptly seated by the uber-friendly staff, and my attention turned from the man who wrote the book (quite literally), who was quite possibly playing $400/$800 no-limit to my paltry $1/$3 game.
A couple of nights later, I was back at the Bellagio. I'd stepped it up to a whoppin' $2/$5 game. And when I was seated I was shocked to find myself at the closest seat facing the open door of Bobby's Room. And directly in front of me (perhaps 10-15 yards away), Texas Dolly himself was playing. I was almost close enough to count his chips--although I assure you, they were of a very different color than my own!
As I settled into my game, I focused on my own cards and all but forgot about the big dogs in the next room. That is, until I was dealt a suited 10-2 (Doyle won the WSOP twice with the old ten-deuce; the hand is in fact named in his honor).
It was a full table and I was in early position. An easy fold. But on the other hand...I had the Brunson, and there was the man himself in front of me! I looked at my cards again, and finally mucked. I would like to think that Doyle would have understood.
Back to my online game: I finished March at a paltry $128.15; showing a whopping profit of about $30 for the quarter. If I keep this up, I should be able to reach $10,000...by the end of the year 2109! The good news is that I am not losing money. The bad news is that I am way, way off the game I need to be playing to even have a hope of hitting the $10,000 mark. But that won't stop me from trying! Anyway, back to the tables...
It was my first night playing at the Bellagio, and I was waiting for a spot at a table. I took a look around the massive room and there, towards the back, was a separate room. It held only one table and, as I glanced in it's direction, I recognized a couple famous faces: John Juanda and....even more impressively, the man himself: Doyle Brunson.
I was promptly seated by the uber-friendly staff, and my attention turned from the man who wrote the book (quite literally), who was quite possibly playing $400/$800 no-limit to my paltry $1/$3 game.
A couple of nights later, I was back at the Bellagio. I'd stepped it up to a whoppin' $2/$5 game. And when I was seated I was shocked to find myself at the closest seat facing the open door of Bobby's Room. And directly in front of me (perhaps 10-15 yards away), Texas Dolly himself was playing. I was almost close enough to count his chips--although I assure you, they were of a very different color than my own!
As I settled into my game, I focused on my own cards and all but forgot about the big dogs in the next room. That is, until I was dealt a suited 10-2 (Doyle won the WSOP twice with the old ten-deuce; the hand is in fact named in his honor).
It was a full table and I was in early position. An easy fold. But on the other hand...I had the Brunson, and there was the man himself in front of me! I looked at my cards again, and finally mucked. I would like to think that Doyle would have understood.
Back to my online game: I finished March at a paltry $128.15; showing a whopping profit of about $30 for the quarter. If I keep this up, I should be able to reach $10,000...by the end of the year 2109! The good news is that I am not losing money. The bad news is that I am way, way off the game I need to be playing to even have a hope of hitting the $10,000 mark. But that won't stop me from trying! Anyway, back to the tables...
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Badger at the Bellagio
I spent the bulk of last week in Vegas; we stayed at the Bellagio, which is definitely up there with the Wynn for my favorite casino.
I ended up playing between 3-6 hours for the 4 days we were there. I started off quite well, consistently winning (albeit modest amounts) at $1/$3 and $2/$5 no-limit tables, at the Bellagio and Madalay Bay.
I suffered a serious setback, however in a game at the Wynn. It was a good, tough table with a lot of all-in action--surprisingly strong for a $1/$3 table.
There was a (not famous) pro from L.A. at the far end of the table who won a nearly-$1,000 pot when he pushed the kid beside me all-in. The kid turned over KK. The pro had an open-ended straight: 8 outs, two times. And he'd pushed the kid all-in! Well you can guess what happened next: the pro rivered the straight, and the kid went ballistic, splashing his chips all over the table. The floor manager had to be called over, and it took a good 10 minutes until we were playing again.
Once we got going, it was my turn for a whole lotta' fun. I had about $180 and was in middle position. I looked down and saw pocket QQ--my nemisis--queens always seem to be a disaster for me! There was a straddle on, so it was $6 to call. But I wasn't going to call: I bet the pot, making it $20 to go. To my surprise, I had two callers in late position--including the pro.
The flop came 7,8,10--a rainbow. A straight was possible, but would be fairly unusual for someone to call a big raise with a 6,9 or a 9,J. That said, I wasn't going to sit around and let my two opponents draw out on me. The pot was now about $80, and I was first to act. I bet $60. The first opponent folded. So far, so good. The pro looks at me. "How much you got back there?" I tell him I have $100 remaining, figuring he is trying to intimidate me. But Badger will most certainly not be knocked off his overpair.
"I put you all-in," he declares.
I ponder his push: I had seen him make a semi-bluff all-in before. If he was drawing to the straight, I was a definitive favorite. Then I looked at the odds: I was having to put $100 into a $240 pot: nearly 2:7 odds.
I call. Since I am all-in, I turn over the queens. And he, you guessed, it turns over the nuts: 9,J!
That was the start of a mini-Vegas slump for me. I had a poor session later that evening, but then the next--and final--night I had a good, late $2/$5 session at the Bellagio, which put me back in black for the trip.
Overall, it was a great experience. I "graduated" to the $2/$5 game, which I find a lot more fun: the $1/$3's tend to have a couple players at each table who really don't know what they are doing--it doesn't feel great winning money from them. And there are so many small pots. But at a $2/$5, even the modest pots have my full attention!
Looking back, I am not certain whether to look at the experience as very cheap entertainment (with free drinks!)...or as sweat-shop wages (about $2/hour). I suppose I'll have to tell you next time I get back from Vegas!
I ended up playing between 3-6 hours for the 4 days we were there. I started off quite well, consistently winning (albeit modest amounts) at $1/$3 and $2/$5 no-limit tables, at the Bellagio and Madalay Bay.
I suffered a serious setback, however in a game at the Wynn. It was a good, tough table with a lot of all-in action--surprisingly strong for a $1/$3 table.
There was a (not famous) pro from L.A. at the far end of the table who won a nearly-$1,000 pot when he pushed the kid beside me all-in. The kid turned over KK. The pro had an open-ended straight: 8 outs, two times. And he'd pushed the kid all-in! Well you can guess what happened next: the pro rivered the straight, and the kid went ballistic, splashing his chips all over the table. The floor manager had to be called over, and it took a good 10 minutes until we were playing again.
Once we got going, it was my turn for a whole lotta' fun. I had about $180 and was in middle position. I looked down and saw pocket QQ--my nemisis--queens always seem to be a disaster for me! There was a straddle on, so it was $6 to call. But I wasn't going to call: I bet the pot, making it $20 to go. To my surprise, I had two callers in late position--including the pro.
The flop came 7,8,10--a rainbow. A straight was possible, but would be fairly unusual for someone to call a big raise with a 6,9 or a 9,J. That said, I wasn't going to sit around and let my two opponents draw out on me. The pot was now about $80, and I was first to act. I bet $60. The first opponent folded. So far, so good. The pro looks at me. "How much you got back there?" I tell him I have $100 remaining, figuring he is trying to intimidate me. But Badger will most certainly not be knocked off his overpair.
"I put you all-in," he declares.
I ponder his push: I had seen him make a semi-bluff all-in before. If he was drawing to the straight, I was a definitive favorite. Then I looked at the odds: I was having to put $100 into a $240 pot: nearly 2:7 odds.
I call. Since I am all-in, I turn over the queens. And he, you guessed, it turns over the nuts: 9,J!
That was the start of a mini-Vegas slump for me. I had a poor session later that evening, but then the next--and final--night I had a good, late $2/$5 session at the Bellagio, which put me back in black for the trip.
Overall, it was a great experience. I "graduated" to the $2/$5 game, which I find a lot more fun: the $1/$3's tend to have a couple players at each table who really don't know what they are doing--it doesn't feel great winning money from them. And there are so many small pots. But at a $2/$5, even the modest pots have my full attention!
Looking back, I am not certain whether to look at the experience as very cheap entertainment (with free drinks!)...or as sweat-shop wages (about $2/hour). I suppose I'll have to tell you next time I get back from Vegas!
Monday, March 9, 2009
Badger: March Meekness
Well, I've been back in North America for a couple weeks, and have been playing online more frequently--to sadly very mixed results.
My low-stakes cash games are going well, but my tourneys (generally 1-table sit-n-gos) have been far less successful. In terms of making $, I should be sticking to the cash games, but I am a stubborn badger who genuinely loves the competitive elements of tourneys. Tourneys seem to be where my heart lies. But, alas (not yet) my talent.
In an effort to improve my tourney play, I have been spending some time with the FullTilt tourney guide. It is far better than I expected--on par with Harrington (and them's some big boots to fill). In a nutshell, gents like "Jesus" Ferguson and Howard Lederer focus a lot more on NOT limping into pots and disguising your play. This echoes advice that both Herr and D'bag have given me (especially about not limping into pots). I now realize that even in cash games, I have done a poor job at disguising the strength of my hands--both my starting hand and the extent to which the flop hit/missed me.
I have been playing this way for the last couple days--basically not allowing myself to limp in, unless someone has before me, as well as disguising my hands. I don't know if I fully agree with the no-limp rule (what if you have, say, A-4? J-10? I am not inclined to raise with these types of hands...but on the other hand, I am not thrilled about throwing them away).
Bottom line, I am learning to raise more--and to limp far less. Another leak in my (especially tourney) game is that I probably have not been aggressive enough with my mid-pocket pairs (say 6,6 through 10,10). Heads-up, these are great hands; and if I let too many callers in against them, I am doomed to defeat--except in the unlikely event (1:7.5) that I hit a set on the flop. So I am pushing these (pocket pairs) harder now. Deep down, I know that a 5-5 is favored against A-K...I just seem to have had trouble playing on that basis!
In the two weeks that I've been back, I have cycled between the low-$100s and the mid-$100s. A pretty meek range, but at least I am holding my own. The strange thing is that I have made a total (profit) of about $350 in my two brief appearances at the local casino. Granted, I had some cards. But this just gives me more cause to think I am a better cash player than tourney player.
Anyhoo, I am disappointed to report a meek balance of $113.03 (I should really go back to cash game and build it up).
On a brighter note, I am off to Vegas tomorrow. I anticipate playing a fair amount of low-stakes cash games (few, if any tourneys 'til I get my game in gear). Wish me luck--I probably need it!
My low-stakes cash games are going well, but my tourneys (generally 1-table sit-n-gos) have been far less successful. In terms of making $, I should be sticking to the cash games, but I am a stubborn badger who genuinely loves the competitive elements of tourneys. Tourneys seem to be where my heart lies. But, alas (not yet) my talent.
In an effort to improve my tourney play, I have been spending some time with the FullTilt tourney guide. It is far better than I expected--on par with Harrington (and them's some big boots to fill). In a nutshell, gents like "Jesus" Ferguson and Howard Lederer focus a lot more on NOT limping into pots and disguising your play. This echoes advice that both Herr and D'bag have given me (especially about not limping into pots). I now realize that even in cash games, I have done a poor job at disguising the strength of my hands--both my starting hand and the extent to which the flop hit/missed me.
I have been playing this way for the last couple days--basically not allowing myself to limp in, unless someone has before me, as well as disguising my hands. I don't know if I fully agree with the no-limp rule (what if you have, say, A-4? J-10? I am not inclined to raise with these types of hands...but on the other hand, I am not thrilled about throwing them away).
Bottom line, I am learning to raise more--and to limp far less. Another leak in my (especially tourney) game is that I probably have not been aggressive enough with my mid-pocket pairs (say 6,6 through 10,10). Heads-up, these are great hands; and if I let too many callers in against them, I am doomed to defeat--except in the unlikely event (1:7.5) that I hit a set on the flop. So I am pushing these (pocket pairs) harder now. Deep down, I know that a 5-5 is favored against A-K...I just seem to have had trouble playing on that basis!
In the two weeks that I've been back, I have cycled between the low-$100s and the mid-$100s. A pretty meek range, but at least I am holding my own. The strange thing is that I have made a total (profit) of about $350 in my two brief appearances at the local casino. Granted, I had some cards. But this just gives me more cause to think I am a better cash player than tourney player.
Anyhoo, I am disappointed to report a meek balance of $113.03 (I should really go back to cash game and build it up).
On a brighter note, I am off to Vegas tomorrow. I anticipate playing a fair amount of low-stakes cash games (few, if any tourneys 'til I get my game in gear). Wish me luck--I probably need it!
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