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Poker News | PokerWorks Op-Ed

The Back Room – Rimshot

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The only mouse you’ll find in the back room of the Farm Barn is one that scurries away from the light and the sound of a poker game that runs late night once a week – no computers, no internet poker, no electronic gadgets allowed.

“He who bluffs first bluffs best!” Rimshot declared.
“And if you don’t get your dusty butt off that table, I’ll inlay with blood,” I said.

I’m Lumbar. I own the custom wood shop in the area, and Rimshot is a local farmer/rancher. We happened to be in the shop just talking, Rimshot being in town to do business with Clovis, at the Farm Barn Siding.

“Rimshot, what’ve you done? You buy a book or something?” I asked.

“Well, it only makes sense,” he says. “If you miss the draw; bluff the river.”

“Oh, boy, and I know which book you purchased.”

“Really? How’d you know?” he asked, looking dubious.

“Because my copy of it is sitting over there on the shelf.”

“Oh. Well, there’s some good stuff in there.”

“Have you tried to use any of it in the game, Rimshot?”




All of that while I’m trying to figure out the best way to clean the sheep dung Rimshot had rubbed into the table surface. He’d been doing some work on a piece of equipment too from the looks of the butt print. He had grease on the seam of his Levi’s.

“Suppose,” I asked, “someone three bet you pre-flop?”

“We-e-e-l-l-l . .” and he pauses, “I suppose it’d depend on my position first.”

“Okay. Then what’d you do if he’s under the gun and you’re the button?”

“Then it’d depend on my hand.” He looks at me like he wants me to give him a hint.

“All right,” I declare. “Suppose I was you and re-raised? Now who’s bluffing?”

“Ah . . .”

“I see,” I say. “Who was it you’ve been bluffing, Rimshot, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I got Clovis the last time out. Twice.”


“Well. Eddie the Droop. Man that was fun. Eddie must have disappeared into his sweater five times that night, and wiped his nose on his sleeve at least three times.”

Eddie the Droop gets his name from the sloppy clothes he wears. It’s something of an in-joke among the group that plays The Back Room that Eddie twists and turns in his seat like a High School Cheerleader at home coming. He also has a bad runny nose when he’s under some pressure. But it’s the way he shrinks and expands inside his sweater or sweatshirt that amuses me the most.

How one man can get his hand up his own sleeve to scratch his same side armpit is beyond understanding. He does it; just don’t ask me to explain how.

“It sounds like reading has done you some good, man.” I say.

“Yeah, I think it has. That and some of the poker blogs seem to have made me more comfortable to try new stuff.”

“You really have time to do all that reading, Rimshot?”

“Truthfully, Lum, the way it was going for a while there I almost had to do something.”

“I guess that’s why you’re a pretty good farmer/rancher, Rimshot. You listen and watch, and aren’t afraid to try some new stuff.”

“Well, now,” he muses, “I’d not get too carried away. If I was you, I mean. I’m not that old yet.”

“Um? Well, tell me then,” I asked, “what’s the difference between a Bluff and a Semi-Bluff?”

“Do what?”

“What’s the differ . . .? “ I’m trying to repeat myself as he interrupts.

“Lum! Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“You’re always trying to pin a fellow down.”

“No problem, Rimshot. But were I you, I’d read somewhat more of that book than the bold print and the first sentence.”

“See you, Lum.”

“Stay for beer next time, Rimshot.”

In case you’re wondering, Rimshot got his name from his High School Basketball team members. Way I understand it he attended every game as the seventh man every year. They awarded him his letter.

He’s a good man.

*Find the ongoing Back Room Tales in our Poker Wall Section - or type The Back Room in 'search.'  And for the sake of discussion, you'll find The Back Room tales in this thread in the forum.

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