a.k.a. Screwed on the RiverWarning
: much bitching and moaning here follows...
In most variants of Hold 'em poker, the players receive some number of cards, and the dealer sets apart five cards as "the board." These are the community cards--they are revealed after set rounds of betting. Usually, in games such as Texas or Omaha Hold 'em, the dealer shows the first three cards after the players have placed bets based on their own hands--this is known as the "flop." Here follows a round of betting--often accompanied by groans or folds. The fourth card to be revealed is known as the "turn." Following yet another round of betting, the dealer then flips over the final card--the "river."
On Friday night, following our birthday dinner for sassica
, and Thomas, and Robb, we went to play poker at Casa Ghetto. I was looking forward to the night, having been bereft of poker for the past few weeks.
Once I sat down to play, however, I realized that my anticipation would bring me only suffering.
On one of my first key hands of the night, we played Texas and I had an A7 suited (clubs). The flop came as AQ7. I bet it up, and most other people folded. Amy, however, stayed in. When the next card showed another seven, I bet the maximum, and she called. When the final card dropped, a 10, we both traded raises for a bit, and then flipped our cards over. Amy had pocket 10s, giving her a 10s full of 7s, beating my 7s full of Aces. I got really perturbed at myself for not seeing that, but since Amy tends to call a lot, and she wasn't really betting it until the end, I thought she may have had the straight to the Ace.
A few hands later, I tried to bluff an 86 low in Screwy Louie against Tony. While I later learned that he had a 76 low, he was hesitating in the bets, so I played it aggressively, raising the maximum bets to the maximum number of raises. On the final round, I suggested we just put eight in, and Gene called me on my tell. "He did say to put eight in awfully fast." I'm not quite sure I could hide the anger on my face, but Tony put his chips in, and I lost my entire stack. Gene would tell me later that he thought I actually had the winner, and that Tony had glanced at him for advice--he was trying to entice Tony into losing money.
At the time, though, I got extremely irate about the hand, to the point that I grabbed some of Gene's chips. I didn't intend to keep them, I just wanted to show how upset I was. I didn't intend to throw them back at Gene either. I was just really, really pissed off.
The night would pretty much continue this way, with my good hands getting beaten on the river by better hands, until the final hand I played of Pot Limit Omaha Hi-Lo. It was about 4:00 AM at the time, and I had worked my way back from being down around sixty dollars to a loss of just thirty. I glanced at my hand and I had A2 suited and 67 unsuited. The Flop showed a 579 of Spades, and the Turn had some random club (I recall it was the King of Clubs). The river was the eight of Spades. Once that card came out, tiiguy
started betting it up. I could only call, seeing as how I had little chance at the Hi, and a definite possibility of splitting the Low. Part of me thought to fold, but then I'd lose all
of the money I'd put into the pot, and I still had an off chance that I could take the high with the straight.
Jason confirmed what I suspected when he flipped over an A2 to tie me for the low and the same A with a 4 of Spades to take the high.
Having lost near half of my money on that hand, I decided to call it quits. I dealt a few hands for a fifty cent-1 dollar rake (a dollar for every hand whose pot went over five dollars), and made about twenty dollars that way, but Ollie decided we'd play between the sheets and my rake profits fell to seven dollars playing that game...
With the night full of bad beats and lousy bluffs, I decided to devote Saturday to sulking. I spent a good portion (likely about 12 hours or so) watching TiVo, and another two or three hours reading comic books. I would get up only to eat a large bowl of raisin bran around noon when I awoke, and cook myself a can of beans and a Gardenburger Riblet around dinner time. It would be the only redeeming thing about the weekend.
On Sunday, we held
the latest Eight Ball tournament at DuPree's. I bought parts of khubli
(about a quarter of $120), Natalie (about a quarter of $50), and Patty (half of $50), as well as half of myself (half of $31). Unfortunately, Jeech and Natalie would be eliminated in the first round, and Patty in the second.
I played against Ollie in my first round match. He would take the first game, and I would take the second. He won the next two, and I would win the fifth game. The next game, I broke, and sank four stripes on the break. I would sink little else as Ollie would leave me poor on all my shots, and I could only play defensive shots to prevent him from running out. He would take that game, and the next to win the match. Beat on the river, again...
All told, I lost about $150 dollars this weekend. Thinking the worst was behind me, I decided to drive to Costco to get my tires balanced/rotated. On the thirty-or-so-minute drive up, I called flattop
to see if he wanted to meet me there, since he needed new tires. He started driving up while I was about halfway there. Arriving around 4:30 PM or so, I spoke with the salesman, who informed me that the shop (which closes at 6:00 PM) wasn't taking any more work. They were short-staffed as it was, and couldn't fit my work in. After calling John and letting him know not to come up there, I spoke with a manager, who informed me that there was nothing he could do, despite their inability to take appointments. Sigh. Whatever.
Tired of getting dicked over at the last possible minute in everything I was doing that weekend, I went home and continued reading Life of Pi
for Wednesday's meeting.
Hopefully, the pervasive shit of this weekend is now past...Current Mood: