Poker Night

Anyone who knows me knows that I love playing cards.  Any cards.  My grandmother, Gigi, taught me various kinds of solitaire as a child.  I watched my mother play 500 as a kid.  My dad played gin rummy, and my uncle taught me cribbage.  I like just about any kind of card game you can imagine.  But I really enjoy playing poker.  There are so many things you have to consider when playing poker; there is math with odds and implied odds.  There is psychology with reading other players, posturing and just the fatigue that comes with keeping your head in the game at all times.  I don't play often enough to be good, but I'm not bad, and most times I play, I come out ahead.

Tonight, Stacy watched Grayson while I went to the local casino to play Limit Texas Hold 'Em.  I'm proud to say I was up tonight.  A whole $29 up, but up is still up!  This wasn't always the case, though.  The night had plenty of ups and downs for me.  I haven't played in a while, and my ability to read the table is rusty.  Even the fact that I ended up on the night, I still couldn't read the table consistently.

Early in the night, I was playing well.  I was able to disguise my hands, identify bad players, and bluff a few pots too.  (Bluffing is more challenging in limit poker because you can't make large bet to get a player off a hand... you have to sell your bluff the whole way.)  Soon, though, my cards went cold, the bad players were replaced by better players, and I had lost most of my table presence.  I was quickly becoming the mark at the table, the person that everyone takes a shot at, and I did little to protect myself from it.

Basically, I had resigned myself to being down for the night.  In truly bad form, I decided I was going to take a flier.  I had a decent hand to disguise, 8-7 suited, but there were some pre-flop raises in front of me, so I knew that I was going to be up against some bigger hands.  Mentally, I was done playing cards, and I had committed myself to seeing this out.  The flop came K-8-7 with two hearts (not my suit).  Betting ensued.  I caught enough to be dangerous.  I could only lose at the moment to pocket Ks, 8s or 7s.  The turn came up the 6 of diamonds, making a possible straight on the board.  With two pair, and so much money in the pot, I was committed to calling and seeing the river.  The river was the 4 of hearts.  My two pair looked miserably weak.  There was a flush on the board; any 5 would have made a straight.  And I was still losing to Ks, 8s, or 7s... plus anyone with a K and any other card on the board.

I knew I was dead.  I was last to act.  The first guy bet out.  The second guy called.  I made the call of $6 out of pure frustration at this point.  I had resigned to losing, and I had resigned to walking away at this point.  The bettor didn't even show his cards.  He mucked his bluff.  The next guy turned over big slick (A-K).  I was shocked.  I couldn't believe that I had won.  I flipped over my cards, called my hand, and raked in the pot.  It was one of the worst hands I played all night, and I managed to win my largest pot.  This got me back to even and better... after tipping the dealer, I was up $29 for the night.  I had just played my button.  It was time to go home.

Sometimes, it is better to be lucky than good.