Sunday, November 29, 2009

The League of Ordinary Gentlemen

In 2009 we created a league with a prize pool and a point system. We play tournaments every other week, twice a month, with part of the buy-in going to the nightly prize pool and part going to a bigger pot. In here we will eventually have thousands of dollars to use to send the top four players to Vegas in May of 2010 to play in the World Series of Poker. One percent of the winnings go to each member of the league. Last year the first prize for the $1500 No Limit Hold'em event was nearly $700,000. One percent would be $7,000; or a 15.5-1 return on my total dues. It's still a crap shoot but everyone in the league is a decent enough player to have a shot, some more so than others. If one of them does win, I too will win. Any gambler would tell you that that's not a bad bet.

I fear that it will not be me going to Vegas in May, because I am stuck in the middle of the pack with only 9 games left. I need to final table each time to maintain and place 5th or higher to move up. My friend (and our host) believes I can move up if I play tight ABC poker. I did not believe so because tight play is too predictable and exploitable. I do not consider myself loose but I am very aggressive with my calling hands; usually with suited connectors, two big cards or pairs. Having played with most of the people in the league for the last three years I feel that my ability to read them is significantly above average. Also, my image in these games is that of a wild, loose, aggressive player who cannot fold top pair.

I now realize that my friend is correct. Tonight, in a non-league tournament, I played much tighter than I am comfortable with. I was raising and betting with Big Slick (Ace-King for you non-pokering types) and pairs of 8's or higher. I was calling with suited connectors, Ace-Queen, Ace-Jack suited and Ace-Ten suited. I'll be damned if I didn't get paid off every hand. There were only 19 people there but I finished in 5th. There are 21 people in the league. I hope I don't need to accentuate my point.

I still prefer cash games. My friend tells me to avoid the casinos and the raked games in the area, that my strengths are in tournaments but I feel like it's the opposite. I walked into his basement with $150 in my pocket and plunked down $60 for the tournament. After being knocked out of the tournament in 5th place (and no prize money) I sat at the cash table. It's a fairly small stakes game that fluctuates from .25/.50 all the way up to $1/$2. Lately we've more or less agreed to keep the stakes at a friendly $1/$1 and nobody ever buys in for more than $50. I had $90 in my pocket so I bought in for $50, and in 5 hands I was reaching for my other $40. Soon after I was down to only $27. I was very upset, but I focused and waited. I was dealt Ace-Jack in middle position and was allowed to see the flop for a small raise. It came Jack high and one player led out for a bet of about the pot, nearly $10. I shoved and she called, showing me King-Jack. I proceeded to double up and then started to clean up, eventually topping out at nearly $230. I reiterate, I feel like I'm better at cash games. Regretfully my biggest problem is my love for the game and my inability to leave while the game is still going on. I was put in an awkward situation while holding King-Jack on a board of King-Queen-Five with two clubs. I held the Jack of clubs but that was not important. What was important was the all-in bet of the host for $21. It folds to me and I think of the two people behind me. I decide to raise $40 more, making it $61. One of the two people behind me, one we affectionately call "Tuna", shoves for $87 more. I tank (deep thought) for a minute or two and call, expecting him to show me Ace-X of clubs. He instead shows me Queen-Five for bottom two pair. The board did not improve for me and I lost most of my profit, leaving with $140 when my big blind came around. I need to learn when to leave, and when I do, I will be considerably richer.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Start'em Young

I remember the night I stayed up late hoping to catch my parents coming home from the airport. They were coming home from Las Vegas, a city my mother told me was "Not for children." She should've known better. "Not for children" sounds suspiciously close to "Really cool stuff" to my ears. My older brother and younger sister were already in bed but I was unable to sleep from the excitement. As I sat on the couch in the family room, reading comic books and sneaking a cookie, my grandma walked into the room and scolded me, citing I needed sleep. I argued that I wanted to see mom and dad as they had gone for the week. In reality, I had talked to my father the night before and he said he had some presents for us. Almost by fate, my parents walked through the front door and I rushed to them, hugging my dad. He was just as happy to see me and he pulled me aside to give me my gift. He handed me a set of dice from the Aladdin Hotel, a deck of cards from the MGM Grand and a blackjack felt. And at the tender age of seven, my father taught me how to play craps, blackjack and roulette. To me they were just games we would play, something to we shared interest in. It was not until my dad purchased a game for our Nintendo that I understood what these games were about and how you kept score.

At the age of nine my father helped me buy a video gamefor my GameBoy™ at Johnny's Toys in Milford, Ohio. It was called Vegas Stakes and I still have that gray, square cartridge to this day. The game gave you a bankroll of $5000 and the choice of Blackjack, Roulette, Craps, Slots and Seven Card Stud. I was thrilled that my two favorite games (Roulette and Blackjack) were on there, but was intrigued by this new game I had never seen before. My parents were lovers of card games, especially Euchre and Bridge. I had been introduced to 5-Card draw by them and some of my friends. I confess I was no good at draw, not really understanding what I was doing and having no one who knew better to show me. But this 7-card stud game, it fascinated me. I played it alot and I drained many batteries trying to win at it. The computer proved to be harder than I expected but one of my many talents (humble, I know) is adaptability, something that proved very useful later in my life several times. It took god knows how long, but I built that damn bankroll from $5000 to $500,000. And then like many young boys, I lost interest in it and switched over to play Mega-Man 2. Dr. Wily was proving to be a more... entertaining challenge. How was I to know that that year, 1994, Russ Hamilton won the World Series of Poker Main Event doing what I had just done on a video game. He made a cool million and his weight in silver. I would've been happy with twenty bucks and some arcade tokens.

Looking back on these experiences, I can't help but say my father is the reason I gamble. It was something he enjoyed and he had passed his love for it on to me. My brother and sister were both exposed to these games, but only I have carried on this torch. It was not til I was in my late teens that that torch touched kindling to ignite my fire. But that's a story for another day.

I hope I have caught your attention with this post. I intend to write more. But like any journalist would say: A story is nothing if they don't know who wrote it.

My name is Donald "Otter" Moore and I am a native Cincinnatian. (Go Bengals.) My screenname online is Deyna_Otter, a name adapted from a book that I loved and my favorite animal. I would say people call me Otter, but in reality they don't. I will be the first poker player to admit that I gave myself that nickname. It's stupid, I know but I thought it would sound cool. Some of my friends call me Otter, and that's as far as I got. Who knows? Maybe it'll catch on. Until that day though, I am Donald or just Don. It is a pleasure to meet you.