Under The Gun

To some poker seems like a sensational game. Perhaps part of this is due to the sensational way that poker players describe the situations they face.

I'm afraid I am no different.

I was staring down the barrel of a dangerous gun, and I didn't know if it was live rounds or blanks. The man who holds this gun is tall, fat, loud and most importantly a real jackass. We shall call him Lou, because that is his name. (Anonymity is so overrated, don't you think?) I find myself holding a hand that is strong, but not the best. The suited Queen-Nine in my hand plus the Jack-Ten-Eight flop gives me a Queen high straight, the best possible or "nut" straight. My elation is short lived though, since all the cards on the flop are spades, and I hold clubs. Six players limped in (just called the minimum bet) and Lou has led out for a decent bet, nearly half the pot. I suspect him to have a pair or maybe two pair and just wants to semi-bluff this pot. Little does he know, I have a hammer and I'm about to punish him. I raise him to eighteen hundred, three times his bet. Everyone else folds, waiting to see this hand played out, a battle for little pieces of plastic that have no value. Lou makes some noises, muttering to himself, and I know that something is wrong. Lou is always quick to fold if he has a weak hand. I've seen his cards hit Mach two when thrown into the muck. I quickly and surreptitiously drop my gaze to his hands, with which he is shuffling his two cards back and forth. Quickly. I know that move, that mannerism. It's his biggest tell. He might as well lean over and yell in my ear, "I HAVE A HUGE HAND!" Lou acts confused about my raise and then suddenly raises me two thousand more, using two purple chips. I realize that either he has made a fantastic bluff or he has the flush now. I've played with Lou for nearly three years, and I've beaten him a lot. I've knocked him out with hands he deems worthless, despite the fact that I scoop his chips with them. But Lou knows how I play as well. Even someone who seems like a loud moron is capable of moments of sheer brilliance, and I suspect that Lou's time has come. He knows that I want to push my remaining stack in and leave it to chance. I talk out loud, trying to gain some information. "Lou, do you have the flush already, or are you bluffing with a big spade? I got a great hand here, and I think you might have me beat." I look at his hands. They're still shuffling the cards. Damn. And that brings me back to the gun barrel I'm staring down, as Lou shuffles his cards rapidly back and forth. He seems very calm and confident. While he may be loud and obnoxious, I know that Lou plays a little bit tighter than people would expect. He doesn't like to bluff unless he's absolutely sure the other person can't call. He's playing with me, goading me into shoving all my chips in. I smile to myself and say "I'll let you have this one, Lou." And I threw my cards in face-up. As I had hoped, Lou could not resist the chance to rub my nose in it and flipped over the Ace-Seven of spades. He doesn't know it but I've played him. He's helped me gain great respect for my reads. Every player at that table was shocked to see me fold that hand to one small raise and they would remember it for quite a long time.