I busted out of the $300 Coushatta event around the 60s. Paid 20.

Weird day.

Early on, the table was passive and I gobbled up some chips just being aggressive. Then I got into some hands where my opponents let me draw cheaply and for once, I hit them. A high flush got paid off by a king high flush. That kind of stuff.

In one stretch I was betting any unopened pot with little more than min-raises and not getting any action. But chipping up and up.

Got into a big hand with a guy on the button. I'd describe him as older but everybody there was older so that doesn't help. I bet out with AQ. He smooths. AQ, is definitely a trouble hand recently for me.

Flop comes out 10109. I check. He bets. I don't have a tell, but I have a feel that he doesn't have anything. Probably a subconscious tell.

I listen to my gut and call.

The turn is an 8. I check, he bets leaving about half his starting stack left.

I call.

The river is a brick. I think he's going to stop bluffing. ERROR ALERT! ERROR ALERT! Right here I should have shoved on him. Make him make a decision for his chips.

I don't, thinking he's going to back down from his bluff, and check his QJ, or KJ or AJ. He shoves.

I go into the tank... forever. I know he's on air. There is just one hand I'm feeling wary of... AK. The one hand, had I beat him into the pot, he folds.

I finally call, trusting my gut.

He murmurs nice call. I'm waiting for him to muck. He turns over his AK face up.

Everybody oohs and aahs. I say, "Not quite so nice," and decide to show the table AQ. I figure nobody's going to try and bluff me out of pot after that.

I get some wows, great reads and that kind of shit, but I'm just pissed that I gave away so many chips when the river was my opportunity to take what was mine.

Two hands later I got 107 and raise the big blind. Kid who monkey mentioned in his blog that looked like Scott Fischman didn't take kindly to that. He bet back. I called.

Flop comes k10x. He bets. I call.

Turn is a brick. He bets. I call.

River is a brick. I ship it. He stews and folds.

Tilt bluff? Maybe. Bluffing with the best hand? Maybe. I think he had air too. I'm back to being a big stack. I deliberated showing 107 but opted against it.

From there I bled off chips. I switch to a table that wouldn't give me action on the real hands I caught, and the flops we saw they'd shove and I'd whiff. A steady diet of 26 and less was troubling.

Anyway, the fischman kid ended my day when he woke up with pocket 8s and snapped off my steal attempt with K7. Oh well.

Thank goodness for the cash games, enabled me to freeroll the tournaments and the trips. Not quite lucrative enough to buy in the 1k. Otherwise Coushatta would have been one big ball of frustration.

Have to say I was pissed that Jess called in the reliever and needed me to head home. I was looking forward to hanging with Monkey and Brandon that night. She had been feeling sick and had a bit of a fever so I guess I made the right decision. Fortunately, Coushatta let me off the hook for the hotel room I booked when I discovered those guys were there.



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