The Makings of a Degenerate

I suppose it might be time to tell how I got into poker. Or rather what reignited my passion for card games.

It started with a friend I met at the bar I worked at in 2007. His name was Jim, and he worked for the police department. I later found out that he was a homocide detective and worked nearly all the gang murders and questionable deaths in the township. We discussed lots of topics and finally found a common interest in the game known as poker. I had not played a lot of Hold'em but had learned to gamble at a young, impressionable age. My father taught me the poker rankings when I was a kid and had shown me how to play 5-Card Draw. On casino video games I played 7-Card Stud. But poker had no meaning for me back then, not being able to understand the subtle nuances of the game or how it even worked. Jim found out I was a gambler and invited me over to his house that Sunday night to play poker with "the guys." I was fascinated at this concept, being a bit of a loner with not many friends, and promptly accepted. I was one of those people who lived vicariously through TV, and saw poker night on sitcoms such as Roseanne, Home Improvement and even on my favorite show Star Trek: The Next Generation. (Picard over Kirk any day) They seemed like a simple pleasure, a little slice of Americana, and I wanted a piece to see if I liked it.

The first Sunday I showed up I knew nothing of these people. I didn't even know their names except for Jim. I played aggressively and loosely, as I'm sure they all expected me to, being a young person. (I was only twenty-one, the next oldest was Winston who was nearly thirty.) I ended up bluffing my way into the ground and was eliminated halfway through. It's strange that I came back the next week to play again. Usually if I lose in such a poor way I don't bother trying it again. I recall trying to learn to play Dungeons and Dragons as a teenager (yes, I'm a nerd) and going to my local game shop and asking around for groups who would be able to show me the ropes. I was told that a "session" was held on Saturdays and I showed up promptly with dice, books and pen and paper, ready to pretend to be a halfling rogue named Gimbal Frinsheets. After only half an hour, I realized I had no clue what I was doing and no one was willing to help me. So I left. I chalked it up as a learning experience, something to talk about in conversation some day if it comes up. Why didn't that happen with poker? I suppose the gambler in me was curious and probably a little hungry. I had given him a taste of action that can only be found at a poker table, and it fascinated me. The second Sunday I played with this group, I adapted my play, folding more, bluffing less. I won. Three hundred and thirty dollars. Almost a week and a half's wages in just six hours. Needless to say, I was hooked. A poker addict was born, and he wanted more.

I started playing every Sunday with this group, watching and observing. I realized the distinctions between each player and what they were capable of playing. It was not until 6 months later that I realized that I was not going to learn everything through observation. My mind was not wired to take in every minute detail and decipher it's meaning. I resolved this issue when I read a book for beginners and learned the terms and math behind each move and play. Not only that, I had learned the names of each type of player and who in my group fit in there. I had been given the lessons for Poker 101. For the next three years, I punished myself with losses and scrutiny and rewarded myself with wins and praise. And I learned. Constantly. Every loss is a learning experience. Every win is proof of concept. But every game is my life, no matter the stakes. The sound of shuffling decks is my rapid pulse, coursing with adrenaline. The clicking chips are my abacus, counting E.V. and pot odds. The poker table is my home. I wish it hadn't taken me so long to find it.

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.

Online Poker: A Donkey's Perspective

I don't consider myself a donkey, but according to online players I am. I who will play suited connectors for a small raise and flop a straight flush draw with two cards to go, then check and call with my draw, hit my draw, check, re-raise my opponent all in and win with a made flush when his Ace-King fail to pair. These are the same players who will call my raises with King-six offsuit and flop three Kings while I hold Aces and re-raise me 2,345 into a pot of 250.

I started an experiment with $30, or 300 big blinds in $0.05/$0.10 No Limit Hold'em, and was wondering if it indeed was possible to build a bankroll from nothing. I am very far from a casino, and the casino I play at is not an easy one to win at. The players all travel in excess of 40 miles one way to get to this casino, which results in players who are actually very talented and want to be in the poker room. I have found several games that are filled with not so strong players who are looking for a convenient outlet but sadly these games either do not run everyday or are raked and therefore illegal. With the sad state of police/poker player relationships, I'd much prefer to leave those alone. Too many times I hear of police busting up a poker game because it is gambling/illegal/dangerous/bad influence to good Christian children/etc./etc. So playing poker online is definitely in my favor, no? Seeing how I can play in my own room with my music as loud as a I want as I scratch my testicles through my boxer shorts, shouldn't online poker be an obvious choice? Apparantly not.

While it was my intention to tell you how well my experiment is going, it proves to frustrate me more than anything that I am a donkey when I play online poker. I do not believe anyone since large bets are just as easily made with Jack-five offsuit as they are with the nuts. And if you call with your measly two pair you are a donkey who doesn't understand pot odds and should'nt have called that bet because he was representing Quadruple Suited Connecting Aces and any professional would know that he had it. However if you call with your two pair, only to be beat by his runner runner straight/flush/full house, you are a lousy poker player who can't even tell when a player has the nuts and should just quit breathing all together since you are obviously a waste of skin and bones and brains. LOL.

I cannot deal with online players. The strategies they employ escape me. I have seen more min-betting and min-raising in a no-limit game online than I have seen at the limit tables at the casino. I see people three-bet with pairs of sevens and eights pre-flop and then flat call with Ace high to shove in 450 big blinds on the river when a scare card hits the board. I don't understand it. These moves are mathematically unsound in live play, what makes them special online? And the aggression level is off the charts. You better hope three connecting cards don't come down, or three to a flush, especially when you have a big pair, because someone will raise you for ungodly amounts no matter what their cards are.

The way I play poker is akin to martial arts. I prefer to be a Judo master, using my opponents aggression against him. When my opponent strikes with a punch, I block and roll his energy around and redirect it back to him. When I see a weak spot, I strike the point precisely to maximize the effectiveness of the strike. But when your opponent is a UFC Heavyweight who hammers on you with pure muscle and strength, technique is not going to save you from the blows you have to absorb in order to get your strike.

So, the moral of the story, I have lost that $30 after running it up to $113. The number of bad beats I took were enough to make me sick to my stomach. I am not suited for online play, as my aggression level is too controlled and focused and my hand selection to small and obvious. I have to date dumped nearly $900 online. I do not think I will put any more on. My experiment has shown me that while I may win for a while online, I just don't have what it takes to make it as an online pro. The live play experiment is still in ongoing, and the results to date are inconclusive.

TYVM Google Maps! >=(

So I had intended to report on a new player's club in nearby Dayton, Oh called the GoodFellows Club. I was intrigued to see if it was anything like the club in Rounders. However that plan was foiled, spoiled and ruined by Google Maps' inability to direct me. I had a GPS but it broke, so I write down directions on pieces of paper before i go somewhere and if I get lost I buy a map of the area. Seeing how I don't travel all that often anymore, and when I do it's to places I'm familiar with, I've never seen the need to replace my GPS. I fear I might have to now. Google Maps gave me directions to the club but omitted a very key step that sent me 2 or 3 miles in the wrong direction. Apparently the U-Turn still escapes the computer's grasp.

I will simply delay that report for another time.

I will instead tell you about my birthday which was just last Sunday on the 6th. I am now 24 and exponentially smarter than I was last year. Or so I hope. I have a whole year to prove myself wrong on that. I wish to give thanks to my friends who hosted a little get together with beer, liquor and "stuff" as well as to my roommate and good friend Jim who took me to Benihana. I had a great time at both and I hope someday I can return such kindness.

What made my birthday even better was the fact that I got to play poker with some of my local poker buddies. A friendly $1/$1 game was arranged and I was invited, and I very gladly accepted. When I showed up the game was a little short with only six people but I sat down anyway with my usual buy-in of $40. I was not expecting what happened next. I sat down at around 8:30pm and we ended the game around 12:30am. When we finished I had $354 in front of me. I busted four people from the game and though a few came back for more, I was on the best heater of my life.

Only downside was a hand where I held Q-K offsuit in the small blind. My friend Jim (not my roommate) limped from Under the Gun and I raised it to $6 when it go to me. We were short handed and I believed that if I was called and I hit the right flop I could take it down either there or on the turn. Jim called me and we went heads up to the flop which was 8-A-Q rainbow. I checked my middle pair and Jim bet $12. I should note that Jim, while a very tight-aggressive tournament player, is a really loose and aggressive bluffer in cash games. It was with this in mind that I called, preparing to take it down on the turn with a big bet if I thought he was bluffing. Amazingly, the turn was a King, giving me two pairs. I checked again, letting Jim make the action. He obliged by betting $12 again. Jim has never slow-played a big pair in his life, and he puts a lot of value into big aces (royal and broadway draws), preferring to open-raise with those hands under the gun, so I put him on at least a medium Ace. Remembering the old adage "Give an idiot enough rope and he'll hang himself." I flat called and took it to river. unfortunately a 10 came off on the river and I was now worried. Jim's range of hands in this spot has alot of Jacks in it. I make an idiot move of checking, hoping he will check behind with his medium Ace but instead he goes all-in for $64, which at this point was nearly half my stack. I talked it out, trying to elicit a response but Jim is a homicide detective and knows how to withold information. Finally I let it go, knowing that I couldn't call for that much with just two pair on that type of board. I know in my heart that I made a very bad laydown, but I more than made up for it later.

An Observation

In 2008, Peter Eastgate from Odense, Denmark beat Ivan Demidov from Moscow, Russia heads-up to win the World Series of Poker's Main Event. Peter, born 12/13/1985 is one week younger than I am and won almost $9 million.

In the final hand, with the blinds at 500K/1M, Peter had a huge chip lead with over 120 million in chips. He limped in on the button with A-5 offsuit and Ivan checked with his 2-4 of hearts. Peter seemed a bit nervous but never gave off any sign of weakness. Ivan looked calm but with only 16 million I'd bet you his heart was thumping like crazy when the flop came down 2-K-3 with only one heart. With bottom pair and a back door flush draw, Ivan checked to Peter, who was watching him closely. Peter, with only a belly buster straight draw bet 1.25 million, almost a pitiful 1% of his stack but a devastating 9% for Ivan. After a very pregnant pause, Ivan calls, with only 14 million behind him and 4.8 million in the pot. The turn that rewrote record books was the 4 of clubs, giving Peter a straight and Ivan two pair. Peter's eyes dart around to the flop, Ivan, the dealer and then back to Ivan as the Russian checked to him. To bet or to check? What to do? Peter's face gives nothing away as he bets 2 million. Ivan stares blankly ahead, contemplating his response. If Peter has a pair of Kings, then Ivan has the best hand. I believe that was his thought process as he check-raised Peter to 6 million, a healthy 42% of his remaining stack, leaving him with 8 million behind. He is pot comitted and cannot fold now. Peter flat calls the raise, going to the river which will be meaningless unless it is a 2 or a 4, giving Ivan a full house. Instead it is a 7 and Peter has the best hand. Ivan has one last move if he hopes to win this pot and after a lengthy pause he says "Allright, I'm all in." Turning his head sideways slightly as if he expects a hard punch to the face. Peter quickly says "Call." and won the greatest prize in poker.

While this last hand was exciting to watch I noticed something odd about something Peter did when the hands were flipped over and the dealer pushed up the winning hand. Before the crowd exploded and Peter turned to embrace his friends, Peter stacked a few chips on top of his chip towers. Many Main Events were won after someone has pushed all-in either pre-flop or on the flop, so both parties are standing and sweating the last few cards. But Peter, after winning almost $9 million calmly restacked his chips before he was engulfed by his friends. It was a mannerism that struck me as odd at first but I come to realize that it explains a lot. Peter won the Main Event because he was calm, cool and collected. Every play he made was made after serious internal deliberation and every move was strategic and methodical. Peter Eastgate truly earned his bracelet, using his intelligence and his intuition to beat over 6500 other entrants. Some might only see a young man who won $9 million but I see a poker pro who has made his big score and is only destined for greater things.