You wouldn’t know it, but I’ve been dealt pocket pairs approximately 20 times this evening. Statisticiamagicians would tell you that I should have flopped trips at least once by now, nearing my second set of flopped trips any time soon. Unfortunately, I haven’t flopped trips yet and my M is getting dangerously low.

To my left is a donkey. Glasses, poker t-shirt, and extremely fantastical attitude about how good he really is. Which isn’t very good, or well, if you ask me because I’m goot at english.

The girl to my right has left repeatedly to hit the bathroom for blow. She has that hardened, spent body of a former stripper look. She has a skeevy white dude railbirding her and it’s obvious he’s hoping she pulls some big pots and takes him back to the room for sloppy sex and huggling.

The rest of the bunch is a smattering of your typical 2007 poker player types. Internet pro, table captain, almost hot chick who needs to lose 20lbs and get a nose job, old bitter Asian lady, and aromatic (in a bad way) loser who no doubt whacks it to animal porn.

I can beat these people.

I’ve done the math.

Early position raises the table norm, popping the 100/200 level blinds to T650. I’ve seen this play before from OBAL (Old Bitter Asian Lady) and I’m not falling for it again. The last two times she popped it from early position I had noticed that it followed a brutal loss. She played these hands very aggressive and it was quite obvious to me that it was a steam play more than a situation where she had a great hand. I was hoping to catch her and snap her off. SNAP, SNAP!!!

Though I’m low at this point, I’m not low enough that I have to push. I’m getting close but I’ve been waiting for this chance all night and I think I can double up against her with the right flop.

I call.

Flop comes 3d 4d 5d.

It figures I land a flop like this. I’ve been bitching and moaning all night about my pocket pairs not tripping, and here Jesus finally lets me trip up and it’s the worst kind of flop you could imagine. I need to go to church more often.

I’ll tell you that the mobney got all-in at this point, and that the turn and river were the 8d and the 9s, but why don’t you tell me what you think OBAL had?

Winner gets a hearty congrats on being so smart.

I was supposed to hang on until the end of the month, but these final September days will be spent in Key West and I don’t believe my new laptop will be a) permitted around a SoCo bottle and b) able to decipher my drunken typings.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty to write about upon my return and I assure you I will pick up the mantle back where it all started at The Obituarium, my personal blog.

Best wishes to all at Poker Works and PokerNews and thanks again for everything.

1. The $28K Guaranteed on Full Tilt has had nice overlays the last two times I’ve played it, both this week. On Saturday night, the overlay was $2K. Last night, it was $3400. Some good value there. Jump in before the Powers That Be lower it.

2. I’ll be in Vegas Oct. 12-15. Div is coming across the pond from Scotland, so I figured I’d play tour guide for him as he did for me during my weekend last summer in Glasgow. If you’re gonna be in town (or are a local) and would like to partake in some mini-blogger donkey action, leave a comment and I’ll get in touch. Div’s a swell guy, a bit difficult to understand, and he’d be more than happy to make your acquaintance.

Now, on to the debauchery.

I’ve played some this week online. The aforementioned tournies, as well as some low-limit NL cash games. Despite the sweet overlay, and my own solid play, the RNG found ingenious ways to kick me in the nuts and I busted early in the second hour last night. KK v. AQ all-in pre-flop (AQ was short-ish, or at least shortish for online push monkeys with an M of only 12) and he rivered a wheel on me. Much more dramatic than the flopped ace, doncha think? I then went out the next hand with 66 against A4 when the board went 3TTKK. Again, very clever.

I’ve had three positive sessions at .10/.25 NL, though. Man oh man. It’s been at least three years since I’ve played that level, outside of blogger tables for fun, and to describe the play as Level I is an insult to people with some sense of how to play. Two nights ago, I flopped monsters and simply check-called wild and crazy betting until the river where I pushed. And was called. By a guy who paired a six (with jack kicker) on the river. I’d had a boat on the turn. He was nice about it and explained he thought I was on a busted flush draw. Same guy doubled me up when I flopped trip kings and he got all jiggy when he paired his ace on the turn. Good, brainless, profitable fun.

Got my arse waxed in the sportsbook last weekend, though the (fictional) bankroll recovered somewhat with hits on the Sunday night (nailed the over) and Monday night (teased ‘Skins and the under) games. Had several parlays that all had just one missing piece (thank you Michigan State, Vikings and Seahawks). Those last two were especially galling, since I had the Vikes on the money line (paired with SF on the money line) and their last-second FG hit the upright. And the Hawks were driving for a sure game-winning FG (at -2 1/2) when Hasselbeck and Alexander decided to play Keystone Kops. I always wonder about that kinda shit. I hate to be jaded and all, but such an odd play at that particular time automatically sends bells ringing in my head about “fix.” I’m nor a conspiracy theorist by any means, but that was pretty unusual.

You’re thinking I’m crazy right now, yes? Well, allow me to relate a story. I’ve told this before, but for those of you who might not have read me back then, grab a cold one and listen up.

Couple years ago, I put some cash down on the Friday Night ESPN game while in Sin City. It was New Mexico against…….um…….I wanna say Colorado St. (though the exact team is not crucial to the tale, I am all for total recall). UNM was at home and favored by 1 1/2. Basically a pick ‘em, but the home team on national TV angle is a nice one, so I went with the Lobos. This is Mountain West football, so you’re basically looking at whomever has the ball last wins. It’s Night Baseball with pigskin, so the game was predictably tied at 39 with a minute remaining.

I’d watched most of the fourth quarter from a bar stool at the Stardust, eavesdropping on a classic New York guinea-mobster type chatting up every woman within a 20 ft. radius. It was entertaining (for me) and fruitless (for him). As the game wound down, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I had any money on the tilt. I affirmed that I did and he responded that we had something in common, though his wager was in the five figures. Presuming “bullshit” (this is the Stardust, after all), I turned my attention back to the game where the Lobos failed on third down and moved to punt the ball away. “That’s that,” I thought and let loose a noise that obviously illustrated my displeasure.

“Dont worry about it,” my guinea friend assured me. “It’s in the bag.”

I turned to face him and he simply nodded smugly, totally assured.

As I pondered just how far this guy’s delusions went, Colorado St. lined up for their first down play. Shotgun formation and the snap went…oh…8 feet to the left of the QB. The QB’s reaction was to stare at the football as if it were an oblong manifestation of the ebola virus, before reacting just late enough to land on top of a lumbering defensive tackle who recovered for New Mexico.

UNM ran into the line three times and kicked the game-winning FG as time expired and the Guinea just clapped me on the back and walked away.

Dig that.

So, in three weeks, I’ll be in Vegas, looking for the fix. Join me, if you dare.

Oh, and I like a two-team tease of PIT and IND on Sunday.

I keed.

As previously stated, my online poker experience is now going to be geared toward fun and, perhaps, in the process, I’ll re-learn some of the things that allowed me to win occassionally back in a previous lifetime. “Back to the front,” as Metallica would say.

It doesn’t get any more basic than $2 SnGs and 300-point freerolls. What became immediately obvious was that there was no trickery, or, if there was, it was even more obvious. I was correctly calling out people’s hands regularly. I successfully check-raised with air a number of times when flop bets showed weakness. I made value bets on turns and rivers and got called by third pair/no kicker.

I was having a blast.

Question: If a limper holding A3 checks behind when unimproved on flop and turn and then calls a river bet from the BB (in this case, me) who hits a K (holding K4o), is it permissible for A3 to say, “Nice catch?” I don’t think so, but what do I know?

Question: If I re-raise a button open-raiser from the SB holding AA and get him all-in on a flop of J65 when he has 85o (I swear), does he have a right to call me a “lucky fucker” after he hits two pair on the turn, but the river is another J giving me a higher two pair? I don’t think so, but what do I know?

It was a night of such circumstances. I enjoyed the holy hell out of it, despite not winning either money nor token. I made it down to the final 35 in both, before my JJ crashed into AQ in the $2 and my flopped boat got counterfeited in the 300-pointer. Oh, that one woulda been painful for a large amount of money. I had QQ and got one caller. Flop came QKK and KT and I went to war. Turn A. River A.

Yummy.

I’m gonna play these more regularly and I’m instituting a cap on MTTs of $10, less for bankroll considerations than for finding my appropriate level to plug some leaks. I’m a little sore this ayem, but I figure that will subside with more training.

Unless there’s wagering involved. Vegas Hold ‘Em anyone?

There’s a new kid on the poker block, Duplicate Poker, which offers a twist on traditional ring games, Sit ‘n’ Gos and multi-table tournmanents. The site is also giving stuff away.

Download the site from Poker Works (link above), make any real money deposit and you’ll be automatically entered in four upcoming freerolls, sponsored by PokerNews. The pot at the end of the rainbow is a prize package to the PokerNews Cup, Oct. 21-27 in Melbourne, Australia. Each freeroll winner will be awarded with AUD$3000 Main Event entry, $1500 cash for travel expenses and six nights accommodation at the Crown Promenade Hotel.

Not bad. For nothin’.

Duplicate Poker is open to US players, as the site is classified as a skill game. I recently opened an account with my bank debit/credit card and had no problems.

Unlike the sites you’re used to playing, on Duplicate Poker you are battling not only the opponents at your table for chips, but players sitting in the same seat–and playing the same cards–at other tables. Each session has a fixed number of deals. After each deal, regardless if you win, lose or fold, your chip count goes back to even. Yet, any chips you lost or accumulated are tabulated and compared with the totals of the players in your same seat at other tables.

At the end of the session, the player with the highest total accumulated for each seat across the tables moves on, while the others are eliminated.

I played some free money SnGs on there and didn’t do too well. I’m not sure of the strategy just yet, though it seems clear one must loosen up. If you fold all hands in a given session, your chances of moving on are slim. Basically, you have to play your cards better than the other people who play your cards.

Of course, my deposit got me registered for the four upcoming freerolls, which go off every Sunday between now and October 7th a 4 p.m. Eastern. There are less than 300 people registered right now and you know many of those will be absent. Seems like a perfect sidekick to the late NFL games.

I will be back next week with a report on how the tournament played and I’m thinking by the time the 3rd or 4th rolls around, I might have some idea how to play them. But I encourage you to take advantage of this exclusive offer immediately and we can learn together.

Who knows? Dr. Pauly and change100 might be reporting on us from Down Under.

I was totally ready for some football.

Did you know that if you make a straight wager for $30, your winning payout at at least one web site is $27.27. True. And yes, I’m a high bleeping roller.

I barely moved except to make water and get a carnitas burrito from the local taco stand. You could have set plants on me. I don’t get much chance to watch a lot of NFL due to other committments (parenting, playing soccer, porn), so I seized my chance yesterday. I’m not sure I could do it regularly, though, for the first time, I’ve purchased NFL Sunday Ticket, mainly because I have high hopes for my Niners this year and want to be able to see all their games.

I thought about adding poker to the mix, but that seemed like sensory overload. There was much flipping between games to keep abreast of various wagers. I was scouring the poker machine for last-minute news. Recording live updates of my fantasy endeavors. And chatting on the girlie box, where The Bracelet and I commiserated about our karmic lot in betting life (though, in something of a “reverse jinx,” we ended up winning) and devised plans for a no-holds-barred commentary channel that would be unfit for anyone with even one “uptight” gene (example: Lots of jokes about Jeff Garcia getting “creamed”).

I’ve never been a strong football bettor. I go with the gut more than the numbers, which as poker players know, can be a road to ruin. Sometimes the gut is right, though, and I booked a positive session, enough for a couple rounds at the bar. Though, at one point, holding a ticket with three favorites on it, my teams had combined for zero points near the end of the first half of all their games.

Impressive.

I don’t even know what to do with tonight’s games. The gut isn’t speaking. Probably waylayed by the burrito.

I was beyond excited to carry that thing home. Chocolate cake with butterscotch frosting. It tasted as if it was baked by the Gods themselves, sugary ambrosia. The sweetest cake is bonus cake.

I was familiar with winning prior to that day. I played sports. My soccer team were incumbant state champions. But those were games of skill, reward for hard work and committment. It gave me a taste of success and I craved it. I wanted to win at everything.

That weekend-long fair also featured an Olympic-style series of competitions for each grade level and I put as much effort into those contests as I did on the soccer field. When they announced the winners, I was stunned to not be in the top 3. The glow of free cake was gone and I sloughed home in tears.

*****************

My first “big score” on the ponies came in high school. Alameda County Fair. $2 wps on Blueberry Policy who crossed the wire first at 14-1. I drank a lot of Budweiser that night. The rush of the home stretch, the pride in handing that ticket over at the window, adrenaline, profit. Winning.

One weekend in college, I drove north from San Diego to San Luis Obispo to visit Donny. A couple of our hometown boys–Marsh and O.C.–came southward to hang out. All day on Saturday, we played cards. Chicago, Pee-Wee, five-card draw, Jacks or Better. Tiny stakes, but I won $20, mostly off Marsh, who we all knew was a way better card player than any of us. Triumph and satisfaction. Winning.

I gave it all back the next day and my anger at defeat was every bit as forceful as the previous day’s emotions.

******************

Careful readers will have noticed I’ve been undergoing something of an existential crisis in regards to poker. I tried hard to be good at the game and my results and lack of improvement the last couple years illustrate that I am not. A hard truth to swallow, especially considering my massive ego (heh) and desire to succeed–win!–at every challenge I enter.

There are no excuses. I’ve been lackadaisical in improving my game and can honestly say I’ve regressed in my ability, ability that–at one time–showed some promise. It’s a bit like soccer. I’ve not felt that juice to play the last couple years. While there are some logistical reasons for that, the biggest one is that I am unable to play at a level I once took for granted. Age has robbed me of a step or two. Lack of fitness has frustrated my brain, which still demands action from my unwilling body. I don’t want to play in this lesser guise. It mocks the advantage I once enjoyed.

The solution is a simple one. Get fit. As a youth, I practiced four, five nights a week. Strategy was plotted, eventualities accounted for, so when we took the field, we were prepared for anything. We were confident in all aspects and the results reflected our readiness. And that is how you win.

I’ve not done any training at poker for two years. Like I told <a href=”http://nickelanddimes.blogspot.com”>drizz</a> the other night, I just like drinking and gambling. Explaing away my malaise, my losses. True, but not completely honest. I like fucking winning. More than both those things. Yet, my committment to that has clearly waned, because you can’t just show up and expect to win. You need to be equipped, qualified and clear in your intentions.

Everybody has things about them which they want to improve. There are entire industries built on these desires: weight loss, smoking cessation, steroids. Resolutions. I’m going to do it! But where’s the time? The energy? It’s a 24/7 world in which we live and responsibilities and social interaction and entertainment takes those precious minutes and grinds them up. You can’t even account for all of it and wonder where the time has gone.

It comes down to how important that “thing” is. Where does it fit on the priority scale and are you motivated enought to keep it there? Whatever it is you want, the question is, “How badly to you want it?”

Regarding poker, I don’t know. We’ll find out. I miss winning. Satisfaction of a just reward. Deserving a result because I earned it. How badly do I want to feel that again?

I’m gonna have some cake and think about it. 

Naturally, this idea reminds me of Celtic Frost.

When I was in high school, my friends and I fell under the spell of thrash metal after hearing Metallica’s debut album, “Kill ‘Em All.” Without the benefit of radio play or the internet, we searched record stores for similar releases. So how did we choose which bands to buy if we’d never even heard of them or a single note of their music?

The name was important, as were album and song titles. Venom’s “Welcome to Hell,” which featured “One Thousand Days in Sodom” and “In League With Satan,” was a winner. Raven’s “All for One,” not so much. Cover art was crucial, the darker the better, and what the musicians looked like played an important role. It was the last which cemented our purchase of Celtic Frost’s seminal “Morbid Tales.” While the titles were more than adequate, it was the frightening, snarling visage of  Thomas Gabriel Warrior, lead singer, that cinched it.

Celtic Frost turned out to be one of the better bands around, for many years, so our decision–based on incomplete information–was a good one. There were plenty that were awful, however.

So we went with what we had, which is all you can do at the virtual poker tables, as well. What I’m thinking of has less to do with strategy, however, than it does the behavior of players. It’s been discussed plenty, how the anonymity of the internet allows people to act in ways they wouldn’t in public (that’s the theory; I see plenty of a-holes in public, too). And it’s not just poker tables. Anyone who’s spent any time on a message board knows it’s an almost endless spew of people attacking and/or one-upping each other. Heavy sarcasm, frequent name-calling.

A colleague is repeatedly skewered by a well-known snark site, often unfairly. It’s even  worse than that. It’s mean-spirited and the comments are beyond anything you’d expect to encounter. And it makes me wonder, how can these people wield such poison keyboards? How can they make wholesale assumptions and judgements about another person who they do not know?

They’ve not made any attempt to do that, of course, merely convicted someone based on the view they’ve been given, the twisted prism offered with the sole goal of transparent superiority. It bothers me that people think such behavior reflects well on them, because it seems the opposite to me.

I’ve lost my cool at an online poker table. I’ve acted out of character and called someone out for shitty play. I’ve even leapt to the bait a few times. By making assumptions. Another blogger once described my online table image as “patient, nice and ruthless.” I’ve barely been the first of those in recent times.

I’ve taken a different approach, a defiant one, and it’s been to my detriment. Where I used to chat up the table (much like my “drunken idiot” live image), I now brood silently in my darkened apartment, scotch at the ready and pass judgement on the actions and comments of the others. People I don’t know. People to whom I haven’t paid enough attention to have any idea how they play, let alone whether I think they’re an asshole or not.

Staying civil can take you places and staying focused can extend the trip. I can’t always be right, but I can always use all the information to do the best I can. Look at Celtic Frost. So many great songs and it was the scariness of a menacing lead singer that made the decision.

Forget that when I finally saw them live, Tom G. Warrior was gnome-like in stature, about 5′4″ 120 lbs, and about as scary as a butterfly. I went with the information I had, which is better than going with none at all.

So I played poker tonight. For you. Dear Reader. And for me.

I signed up for the $28K after a long weekend of semi-debauchery (in the non-gam00000ling sense). A long weekend of beverages, company and driving an Effing Truck. That’s right. Like a Peterbilt. Long haul. Eggs sunny side up in sloggy diners near dirty locales.

Or, a Toyota with radient friends riding shotgun, feet propped on the dash and giggles in the air. Your call.

So, where was I? the $28K. I’m gonna cash. Unless the Earth decides to stop rotaing on its axis, this assured, being as we are on the bubble and my stack is safe. Not big, but safe, as the blinds have just passed me by in the manner of the Angel of Death seeing the lamb’s blood on my door jamb. What is interesting is I’ve gotten here without benefit of good cards and I tend to be a player who needs cards, at least on a sporadic basis.

Fully 70% of my current stack was achieved at Level I, where I flopped trips in the BB against a min. raise who had the misfortune to be fucking stupid enough to min. raise on the button with 88. I suppose he initially liked the 552 flop, though less so when I re-raised him all-in. He called nonetheless. Since then, it’s been reads and guile that grew (minimally) my stack enough to stay alive through hour two (plus a level).

The last I played, a week, 10 days, lifetime ago, the results caused me to shut it down. I’m a big believer in positive mental attitude when you play any game, let alone one in which money is at stake. Twice in the first hour, I stared at JJ, got multiple callers and saw three overcards on the flop. Three. When forced to cast my meager lot with AK, 66 easily faded my overs. And it was what I expected. Hence, it was returned. Poof. Gone.

Tonight, I played for fun. I have always maintained that a white-knuckle insistance on the drop of a card rendered that card against me. Whether it be a penny game with my friends or high-stakes blackjack, I have ALWAYS cashed out more chits when the money was not an object, not a device accounted for, meticulously, in my head.

“I’m down $40.” Counting money at the table.

I recently had occasison to recount one of my finest moments at a poker table, not because of the racks taken to the cashier, but for the totallity of enjoyment which the experience gave me. As I told the tale, I realized winning and cashing and money was not the part that really gave me the buzz. It was the fun.

I do not aspire to poker greatness. I did, I think, at one time. I want to do my best every time I play. That is simply part of my competitive instinct. My Pride. Deadly sin notwithstanding.

All of which is secondary to the experience. I’ve known that all along. I’ve resisted it because it’s a cold hard bidness. There’s no room for melancholy or rose-sniffing or grand works. It’s down to results. To money.

It’s hard to say. That I’m not cut out for sharp percentages, steely glares or the Bottom Line. It’s liberating, though.

It’s the other where I continually find myself stuck in mud.

In the FTOPS Event the other day, I entered the fourth hour of the tournament with a stack roughly a grand below par and with an M that would keep me in a comfortable zone for a couple levels. Hour Three had been a struggle, but one that revealed the tendencies and patterns of the other players at my table. It helped it was the only table I’d been on in the whole tourney to that point.

It was an aggressive group, a reasonable assumption considering the structure and level of buy-in. Once the antes kicked in, players attacked those chips, ramping up the action from the tight-ish manner in which we conducted the first two hours. Shifting gears.

So, my goal was to combat that change. Normally, I’d want to be the aggressor at this point. I’m comfortable in that role, but less so against this high level of aggression. I discussed the lay of the land with some in IRC and we concluded that my read was right and that I would have to lay back a little and pick good spots, i.e. a big hand or sneaking into cheap flops.

Unfortunately, neither of those conditions ever arose. I was actually pretty card dead the entire day. A few Big Slicks helped me out (and one huge flopped set), but I never had a pocket pair over JJ. And in the last 6 levels I played, I had one AKs to show for it.

So, even though I vowed to be patient, things quickly went awry in Hour Four. I laid down AQs pre-flop, with two pushes behind my open-raise. Correctly, I’ll add, but there went a chunk. I whiffed a flop with KQ and check-folded to the button who just flat-called my raise. These were the best I had to go with and ran into better hands or bigger stacks or bigger cajones.

I tried one bald-faced steal, from MP (tricky!). Almost worked, as it got folded to the BB–a highly aggressive player–who raised my bet…oh…4x. I couldn’t really play with K8o there.

And that sealed my fate, or at least limited my options. Three pre-flop raises, nothing to show, a couple trips through the blinds and my stack is halved into push monkey mode.

I’d like to say this is a rare occurance, a perfect storm of table conditions and card dearth, but I find myself in this situation all too frequently, unable to make a move when it’s most necessary, when the dead money has been skinned from the stalk and it’s time to move forward into a position to win tournaments. I know, for a fact, I sometimes lack aggression at these vital points, specifically when I’m sitting at a tighter table with people bent on protecting their stacks as much as they are building them. The other trait I can identify is that I get skittish. That was certainly the case on Sunday. Part of it was the magnitude of the tourney. I know I got in for $31, but a lot more than that was at stake. It’s easy to say you should play like the money doesn’t matter, but more difficult to practice that ethic when tourneys like these are not everyday experiences. The overhwelming bulk of tourneys I play are ones where I feel I belong, where my skill level fits with my opponents. Another aspect was the way the third hour played out, where, despite chipping up slightly, I found myself in several pots where I had little to no idea where I stood and had to fold out of simple bafflement. I felt, at times, out-classed.

But still, I can’t help but think there was more I could have done in those fateful six levels. I’d been gifted what was, at one time, a big stack. And I couldn’t parlay it further. I couldn’t use it to my advantage. Part of me believes I do something counter-intuitive. A lot of players who find themselves stacked early, go into drunken sailor mode, making sketchy calls or getting over-aggressive. I don’t do that. Even when drunken. I go the opposite way and tend to value those chips more. I’m lucky to have them and don’t want to give them back!

Maybe it wasn’t the last 6 levels that doomed me, but the three before that, where I sat miserly on my stack and didn’t try to win some small pots when the action was more rigid. Add on, so when the stakes do get raised, I can handle more than three hits to my stack.  Like storing food for the winter.

Maybe then the mud won’t be so deep.