I couldn’t sleep. I rolled over and glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside my bed.
2:25 AM.
I could boot up my work computer and look at production reports.
I could make up more expenses to list on my 2009 schedule-C.
Or…
I could get dressed and so something I hadn’t done in nearly 3 months: Play 8-16 limit hold ‘em at Pechanga.
I slid out of bed careful not to wake my sleeping wife. I located my jeans in the dark and shuffled down the stairs. I almost turned on the light in the family room before I realized my mother-in-law was sleeping soundly on the couch.
I went to the fridge and grabbed an ice-cold Rockstar energy drink. I put my keys and my phone in the front pocket of my hoodie and tiptoed to my front door. I was almost out the door before I realized I had forgotten something. My bankroll.
I walked back upstairs to my secret hiding spot. I reached inside and grasped my wad of cash. I was surprised at first how thick and heavy it felt. I stood next to the window with just the moonlight shining in and realized it was heavier than usual because it was made up of mostly $20 bills instead of the usual $100s. I peeled off $400 in 20s and $400 in 100s and put the rest back.
Obviously, at 3:00 AM there is no traffic on the freeway. I got to the casino’s exit in 7 minutes. As I pulled into the parking structure, it was still packed.
I thought to myself, "What recession?"
The familiar smell of stale cigarette smoke and ammonia-filled cleaning products hit me as the automatic door slid open and I stepped inside.
And then I felt it.
“It” is the nervous, stomach-sinking feeling I used to get when I was in my early 20s and first started gambling. The heart-racing, short-of-breath feeling that would hit me as I would approach the $5 blackjack table at my local Indian casino.
I remember one time it was so bad I actually threw up at a craps table at the New York New York casino.
It had been a long time since I had felt “it”. In fact, I had forgotten what “it” felt like. In preparation for my last Vegas trip with Stewman, I had been cutting out of work 4-5 hours early 3 days a week for the 6 weeks leading up to our trip. I joked with my wife how it felt like more of a job than what I actually did for a living. It got to the point where after a 5 hour session I would stare at the clock and wish it to 5:00 so I could go home.
In 14 sessions, I had 10 winning sessions, 3 losing sessions and 1 session I basically broke even (after tips and lunch I left down 2 big bets).
I made good money during that 6-week run... Almost $2,000 in 70 hours of play in the uber tight 4-8 LHE game with the rocks during the day. That was enough to bankroll almost my entire trip.
At first, when my wife would call me while I was at the table, I would run to the corner of the poker room to answer my phone and tell her I was in a meeting or with a client. She finally caught on after about a week and I was surprised when she wasn’t upset. 3 weeks after I got back from Vegas she was encouraging me to go play poker cuz money was a bit tight before Christmas and we still had gifts to buy.
The one thing I will never do, however, is gamble with money I can’t afford to lose.
Money has been tight ever since the minute I stepped off the plane from Vegas the week before Thanksgiving. Business has been very slow. The combination of the weak economy and the slowest quarter of the year has reeked havoc on my bank account.
But things are starting to turn around.
I got word last month that my 2009 annual bonus will be about $10,000 more than my 2008 bonus. Since most of the bonus will go to the IRS to pay last year’s taxes that extra $10k will provide a nice buffer to a depleted poker bankroll.
But I digress…
I walked past a flock of drunken 25-year old girls on their way out of Silk, the nightclub across from the poker room. All of them wearing short skirts and none of them still wearing their way-too-high heals. In my younger days, I would have thought to myself: “which of those girls is the freakiest in bed?” Now into my 30s, married with 2 kids at home, I thought to myself: “which of those girls is going to drive???”
I walked through the double-doors of the poker room and looked up at the screen that lists all the games going. The 8-16 game was still going and there was a seat open. I made my way over to table 44 and took my seat in the 5 chair.
I looked around and recognized only 1 face: An aggro Hispanic guy in his late 40s whom I have played with on more than one occasion. Other than that, I was flying blind.
I got to the table in the cutoff and the first hand I looked at was 10-8 off-suit.
Could this be destiny? 10-8 off-suit is my favorite hand and I loved my position. The first 4 players folded to Aggro-Hispanic guy to my right and as predicted, he opened for a raise. I insta-three-bet it making it $24 to go. And of course, the button, both blinds and the original raiser ALL called.
The flop came J-10-7.
The blinds checked to Aggro-Hispanic guy and he turns to look at me and knocks the table while staring at me. I have mid pair with the low-end inside straight draw so I fire out. The button calls, both blinds fold and Aggro-Hispanic guy raises. I’m stuck in between these two and I’m not willing to pay another $40 with my marginal hand, weak draw. I fold the button folds behind.
WTF!?!?!
The button smooth calls 3-bets preflop, smooth calls a c-bet on the flop with 3 people to act behind him, gets heads-up in position with the aggro-donk and then FOLDS???
Bells and whistles started going off in my head. Either the guy sitting to my left was a complete idiot or he was working with Aggro-Hispanic guy to my right.
I made a mental note and played on.
About 20 minutes later I pick up J-J in the small blind. At this point, I had seen about 8 hands and in each hand, Aggro-Hispanic guy saw the flop. Twice he had gone to the show down and once he showed Q-9 for the winner and once J-3 for a chop.
With about $600 in front of him and on the button, it folds to him and he raises. Again, I 3-bet making it $24 to go and the donkey to my left calls as does the original raiser Aggro-Hispanic guy. We go to the flop 3 handed:
J-3-2 with two clubs.
I lead out for $8, the big blind smooth calls and Aggro-Hispanic guy raises.
Best case scenario, right?
Thinking I can check-raise the turn when the bet is $16, I feign weakness and just call. It’s then that I confirmed these guys were working together.
The big blind (who mind you is the same guy who just called my 3-bet preflop, then my c-bet on the flop) raises.
Aggro-Hispanic guy re-raises.
So just to recap: I’m holding top set 3-handed and it’s 4-bets to me.
It was then that I had a flash-back to an Omaha 8OB hand I played in Vegas 3 months earlier: I flopped the nut flush and the nut low draw 4 handed and it was capped on the flop and on the turn. The board paired on the river, brought the low and again capped. I got one-eighth’d and instead of winning a $500 pot, I made back $50 of the $120 I put in the middle.
Anyways, back to the current hand. I know it’s going to get capped behind me, and I still want to represent weakness, so I just call. Then, the big blind caps and we both call behind.
The turn is a red 7. I remember looking at the card as the dealer put it on the board and thinking, “that’s the best possible card for me.”
I check, the big blind checks (I know, right?) and the button bets. I decide it’s time to put the pedal to the metal and I raise. The big blind just calls and surprisingly the Aggro-Hispanic guy just calls.
I look out to the corner of my eye and the guy to my left lifts his hand off the table and gestures in a “what are you doing?” motion towards Aggro-Hispanic guy.
They are obviously working together.
The dealer puts out the river and it’s a red 9.
I casually put out $16 and the big blind raises it to $32. Aggro-Hispanic guy gets out of the way and I announce “raise” and put out another $32. He just calls at this point, I table my pocket jacks, and ask the dealer to show me the big blind’s hand. Immediately, Aggro-Hispanic guy protests and I say to him, “Why do you care if I see his cards? Don’t you want to see what he was calling you with?”
The dealer flips over the big blind’s cards and shows 10-J no clubs.
I drag the $300 pot and while I’m stacking my chips I suggest to the table that it’s weird to me that the button would have a problem with me asking another player to show his cards.
Both the donkeys sit quietly. Nobody else flinches.
I laugh to myself and continue to stack my chips.
As time passes, I begin to realize that everyone at the table is weak-passive except for the Aggro-Hispanic guy. I play a few hands against the other players at the table and whiff on the flop making it an easy decision to release the hand without further damage.
The next time I look at the time it’s almost 6:00 AM. We’re down to 7 handed but Aggro-Hispanic guy is still hanging tough. He’s down to about $340 in chips and after a quick count of my own chips I’m sitting pretty at $820... more than twice my original buy-in. And then it happened.
I’m in the cutoff and I look down at A-A. It’s once again folded to Aggro-Hispanic guy who this time open-limps. I have been playing with him for almost 2 hours and this is the first time I see him open-limp. I pop it and as usual, the donkey to my left on the button comes along. Both blinds call as well as Aggro-Hispanic guy. We go to the flop 5 handed.
Flop: 6-8-9 rainbow.
Uhh that’s a scary-ass flop 5-handed.
Both blinds check and as I am gathering chips to c-bet, Aggro-Hispanic guy surprises me and leads out.
Wow. Haven’t seen him do that before…
There’s $82 in the pot. It will cost me $8 to call but then I risk everybody coming in after me. If I raise, I will probably get heads-up (or at least 3-handed).
I raise.
The donkey to my left re-raises. Both blinds fold to Aggro-Aggressive guy. He just calls.
Shit. If he raises, I can fold. But by him just calling, I’m getting 15-1 on my money. I’m pretty sure I’m behind. At this point, I can assume safely that one of them has either two pair, a flopped set or maybe a pair and an OESD. The other probably just has air and is building a pot.
Getting 15-1? I can’t fold for $8 more.
I call.
The turn brings: Ace of clubs.
I try not to jump out of my seat when that card hits. I think to myself that the only way I’m behind now is if somebody has 5-7 or 7-10. I think it’s unlikely that Aggro-Hispanic guy would limp with a hand like 5-7 or 7-10 but think it’s extremely likely donkey to my left may have a hand like that.
Aggro-Hispanic guy again leads out. I raise. Donkey to my left folds! I know I’m good now. I’ve never been so sure I had the best hand when I wasn’t holding the nuts. Aggro-Hispanic guy re-raises. I make it 4 bets. He makes it 5 bets. I make it 6. At this point, he only has about $200 left. He looks at me and says, “You want to just put it all in right now?” I respond by saying, “I guess so. Can we do that?” I ask the dealer.
She reaches across the table and counts out his chips. He has 90 $2 chips left for $180. I push out two stacks of 40 and one stack of 10 chips and he says to me, “I hope you’re not on a draw…”
I say back to him, “C’mon man… three 8s no good…”
Before I can even finish that sentence, the dealer puts out another 8 on the river.
He looks at me and says, “oh yah?” and flips over one of his cards, exposing an eight.
Shit.
Is it really possible that my turned top-set just lost to rivered quads? What have I done to anger the poker gods once again???
WAIT! Is this a jackpot? My heart races. Shit… Aces full of 8s beat by quad 8s doesn’t qualify.
I hold my hand over the muck ready to drop it as soon as he flips over that other card. The dealer reminds him that he has to show both cards to win.
Smugly, he says “if just one card beats him, I shouldn’t have to show the other one. But just to show I had the best hand the whole way…”
And he shows… A NINE.
The donkey to my left claps his hand and says “I knew it!” all excitedly.
I turn to him and say, “You like his hand that much, huh? Do you guys split your winnings with each other or something?”
He responds by saying “I’ve been playing poker longer than you’ve been alive. It was so obvious you were beat.”
“Obvious, huh?”
“Yah.”
I pause just long enough so other players don’t get pissed, but long enough that it’s obvious I’m slow rolling.
“Hey dealer,” I say. “Ship those chips to me.”
I table my A-A, place four $2 chips on them and stand up.
“I better get some racks for these chips,” I say. “You guys are leaving, right?”
I don’t wait for an answer. I walk up to the chip window, grab 6 plastic chip racks and when I get back to the table both the Aggro-Hispanic guy and donkey to my left are gone and the game is breaking.
