I walk to the car, try to metaphorically wipe the bird crap off my shoulders and contemplate how my bankroll got severely lightened on the day. I recall the fun hands where I got hurt, such as the one when I raised preflop and got a few callers. Flop was 882. I fire out an almost pot size bet and I get a caller. Turn is another 2. I make the same bet and get a call. River is 6 or so. I check, he checks. I show 99. Dealer is about to hand me the pot as he shows 7-2.
He points to the deuce for her benefit and the turned full house. At first I think he's doing it for me rubbing it in a bit. My frustration is evident and I fire him a look, then I realize who is dealing, and see that she still almost swept me the pot. She of the 8 deals per 30 minutes and two mistakes per down. You know who she is. The dealer you are suprised to see every time you play there thinking she'd be fired.
Still, I wanted to be angry at the dude as even though he wasn't showing me up he was destroying me up. He owned me all day.
Let's examine the ways he owned me. He started with a river bet squeeze on me, a bet that just screamed bluff. It was for most of my chips, but man I wanted to call so bad with top pair king kicker. He had just made a huge overshove and turned over the nuts a hand before. This time, I knew he didn't have it, was playing off the previous shove and the bet was so, so fishy. There was a draw heavy board he was leading into and nothing got there.
Unfortunately, the guy behind me was loading up his chips to call. I studied the bluffer and couldn't pull the trigger. I eye the other guy and relunctantly fold. The other guy, then, folded ARGH! top pair queen kicker face up, and the bettor showed pure air. TRUST YOUR READS--BILL! This ain't gambling.
Still, I picked up what I thought was a tell. Just this odd look I got when I put him through the wringer, this glance of weakness so to speak, just a spark of fear.
That look would come back to bite me.
Later with an overpair, I bet out to protect it on a draw heavy board. He called quick and said "No big cards." Right there, hand should be over for me. He's putting me on high cards and wants me to hit. Normally, I tread softly. A weird straight is out there but that's the only thing I can put him on after that comment... it's a weak is really strong remark, it's almost like he wasn't afraid of an overset.
The turn is a brick, he checks. I've dumbly decided I'll fire once more to hopefully induce a check from him on the river that I can check behind and hope I'm wrong. Nope, he min-raises. Okay.... major warning number two. Min-raise is so often the nuts, I sometimes check-min-raise bluff with air against players I know can read it as high strength. Against donkeys it's just a way to reel them in. As I was the donk yesterday, I stew and know I'm going to lay down but I'm saving a little face and I can't stop looking at my overpair like somehow it can improve.
Then, complete credit to this guy who basically owned me all session, he gave me a similar furtive glance, almost the look he gave as when he was bluffing. I re-evaluate, was it the same or was it wishful thinking. Basically because I was the statue and he was the pigeon I was looking for a reason to call, and he gave me one. Was he check-min-raising bluff?
With my stack size, I decided to push because I'd have to get it in on the river. He instacalled with the flopped three gapper straight. Yeah, 7-2 and a three gapper calling down raises to the tightest guy at the table. And a great bluff. Well played sir, you owned me. In his defence he had a ton of chips and he was hitting. Can fault him for paying to see a few cards, especially against a guy he was owning.
As this is mostly a blog of me bitching one final hardship hand. A guy I respect a lot as a player, let's call him, Lee Mac, sat down, on my left again, just like my last losing session at Harrahs, and we both flop trip 5s. There is another guy in the hand, and again I'm short stacked. I shove after some bets on the flop, the action is heavy on the turn as both Lee and the other guy are deep. I know Lee and he's got to have a boat here. I'm about to head to the ATM. The River is a 3.
Lee fires out 150 (?), yeah my trips can't be good, and the guy calls.
Lee says "I have a boat." Then he turns over 5... 3 (arrgh). Other guy said he didn't have much and mucked. At least on that hand I didn't have much to lose. And I think, I could be wrong, but I think Lee was building the side pot because he might have conceded a bigger 5 to me, and wanted to milk the other guy. At least that's what I would have done. I didn't tell Lee about his suckout, but maybe I'll email him a link to this blog.
Oh well, kicked in the teeth, target practice for low flying birds, and just a bad, bad day. Sorry, for any of you reading this whining, as I just used it to vent. For those, interested in some real poker strategy, go check out Reid's blog, deep thought available over there.
Anyway, as I get to my car, after my day of getting owned has finally ended. Fresh off the kid chasing a gutterball for no reason (see previous post). One final bad beat. Since I had to drop off the kid and the wife before playing, I notice, I'm driving home in a... minivan.
It's hard to be cool in a minivan.
... And yeah, I know it's even harder to be cool linking to an Oak Ridge Boys song.