Friday the 13th is supposed to be a good day for me. Well, let’s just say it’s not usually an unlucky day for me, nor is it a particularly lucky day. It’s just a day.
Really, my only attachment to superstition is a lifetime of societal indoctrination and pressure which I’ve endeavoured to shed in the latter part of my adult life so, other than a little “what if” twinge or two, the coincidence of a Friday falling on the 13th day of the month has little meaning to me. Except that it’s Friday – TGIF (thank google it’s friday) – and that means the weekend and a trek to the Riverwind.
I did, however, debate whether to go or not. With a gathering this week of fellow poker addicts and friends here in my fair state, I thought perhaps I should protect my bankroll and forego the visit on Friday. Then I thought that was a defeatist attitude, so I made the trek, optimistically looking forward to a good session.
I should have stayed home. I left there with nothing.
That’s not entirely true. I left without cash in my pocket, but I had the knwoledge that I’d played well – mostly.
I had a fellow on my left who kept me on my toes. Most of my chips found their way into his stack which he, sadly, managed to bleed away.
The first big chunk of chips happened on a hand where he flopped a set of tens and busted my two pair. But something he did helped me take a sizable pot off him later.
I was in the big blind and he had straddled. I think the cutoff and the small blind had called. I look at my cards and see Q-J off-suit. I made it $10 straight.
He looked at his cards and said “That was a perfect bet” and called my raise. The flop paired my queen and gave him a set of tens. There was a king on the board, but I put in a continuation bet. He called. The turn gave me my second pair. I checked, he bet and I called. I played it safe because he could easily have a better two pair. If he’d pushed, I would have folded. The river was a blank, I check called and he took down the pot with his set.
We played on. A few hands later, it’s deja vu all over again. I raised to $10 straight, he says “a perfect bet” then a ten comes out on the flop. I honestly can’t remember what I had, but I know it was a big pair or top pair – I know it was the best hand, unless he has a set of tens again.
I bet out, he min-raises and I go deeeep into the tank.
I’m making a better effort to put my opponents on hands, reason out their moves, and to know why I make the plays I make. I’m not consistent. Like I did in the first round with this guy, most times I would cold call or with my top pair press it – without thinking.
I went back to the beginning of the hand and the comment “perfect bet.” When he’d said that before, he’d had pocket tens. Okay, he’s either got pocket tens again, or one ten in his hand.
So – let’s say he has pocket tens. He gets his set on the flop again. I bet and he min-raises? Now I had to determine if he was a multi-level thinker. What did I know about him? Well, I’d seen him lay down a straight to my big bet and four flush cards on the board which meant he was capable of thinking beyond his own hand.
Okay, so what is that min-raise telling me? Now ensues the brain warping circular “what does he think I think he thinks I think….” train of thought that’s on the brink of derailment when I, at last, come to a conclusion, which was this:
He has a big ten, but not pocket tens. If he had pocket tens, he would not min-raise – but he thinks that min-raise will make me think he has pocket tens, which is his mistake. I re-raised all in.
He showed me K-T and folded. Some of my chips came back to me.
Sadly, though, I couldn’t hang on to them. I lost another big chunk to my nemesis when I made the wrong read and pushed in with pocket nines. The board was all red – 6568 – I think. I’d put him on two over cards. This time he went very deep into the tank. The longer he took, the more I didn’t want him to call.
He had a pair bigger than my nines, I knew it. At one point I thought he was going to fold, then he stacked the chips and reluctantly called. Before I flipped over my cards I said, ” You got me.” He flipped over jacks. The river was no help to me.
I rebought and managed to get back almost to even while my nemesis went into self destruct and bled away all my his chips.
I followed not to long after when I had several good hands get cracked. The last one pocket aces going down in flames to 8-6 off suit and a flopped straight. I’d given zero respect to my opponent who’d grown a long set of donkey ears and so gave nary a thought to with what he could have possibly called my pre-flop raise….
If I were superstitious, I’d blame it on Friday the 13th….