Gus Hanson strolls into the room, attempting his best imitation of Phil Laak as he peeks out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. Antonio Esfandiari looks over his shoulder at him and groans “LDP, fellas, LDB – Lock Down Poker.”
There’s very little televised poker that I watch these days. The fire that was lit by the WPT events and the ESPN World Series of Poker coverage has become a dim hint of a flame, staunched by that very same coverage. It’s formulaic and predictable, to say nothing of the clownish color commentary.
One show, though, does hold a reserved spot on my DVR week after week. That show is High Stakes Poker on the Game Show Network. It’s the Big Game with the Big Guns. A cash game that can have upwards to a couple of million dollars on the table at any given time. The commentary is still a bit clownish, but if you can filter that out, Gabe Kaplan provides enough good commentary to make up for the nonsense.
Seeing the old guard and the young guns go up against each other week after week is a poker academy, not to mention outright entertaining. Especially when Matasow’s in da house.
But, I’m digressing here.
Lock Down Poker. LDP. That was the mode I was in and intended to stay during last Friday’s session. I was in a stew with big stacks on either side of me and a lazy susan of loose players at the other end. This was spiced by the four seat who was unreadable and dangerous. Toward the end of the session we got a bit of desert with a rich flambe – thoroughly steeped in alcohol, who flamed brilliantly and burned out fast.
But I’m not there yet.
I cranked it out, playing as wisely and careful as I could. I quickly developed a tight image with which I was perfectly ok. At my end of the table, we stayed pretty much out of each other’s way. I took my pots off the revolving door at the other end of the table and was only disappointed the deck was doing its best to ignore me.
I refused to show my cards or confirm any reads. The nine seat proved to a fairly astute reader – he pegged me for my J-9 on one hand that gave me a straight on the turn. Actually, it gave me the straight, but I had a straight flush draw on the flop. I just smiled and winked at him.
Another pot I took down caused much speculation. The nine-seat was torn between my making a straight or a diamond flush. He took note of how aggressive I played the hand, but failed to take that into account on his read. The eight-seat thought I’d hit a set. I promised to tell them what I had when either of us left the table. I kept my promise when I left before them – I had pocket jacks. I’d played them very aggressive given the board that had a flush draw on the flop – all baby cards – and a straight draw on the turn.
Eventually, I got myself up almost $100. Given the competition, I felt darn gooded about that. Then Mr. “Don’t be scared” sat down. An ATM having a goooood ol’ time. I couldn’t leave, just yet.
The sharks circle for the kill in our next installment of Shark Week at the Riverwind.