Where things can get pretty igry ...Rick's Cafe Americain

Wednesday’s game was my monthly game. Most of the poker I play has its moments of frivolity, but the laughter is a facade.  Underneath the smiles, the game is sullen and competitive.  From the first deal until we go to collect our coats, I think we actually hate one another.  (Of course, we like it that way and keep going back.) But perhaps I am projecting.

My monthly game is a respite from that.  We take the poker seriously, but it is a relaxed affair involving various whiskeys and cigars and a lot of laughing.  The core of the game, Churchwarden and Sean, have been playing together since time immemorial.  Leo Bloom, another longtime player, invited me into the game a year ago.  I brought in Rick and Helmut when the game roster was the real casualty of an internecine squabble regarding the office space in which we play.  (No, I won’t give you the details.  But I will say that continuing to play puts me on the side of justice, truth and light.)

This game, despite the short table had all the marks of the usual cheer, bolstered by Helmut’s contribution of 12 year old bourbon and egg nog.  To egg nog, I say: the goyim can keep it.  To bourbon, I say: between the contributions of this and tobacco I think Kentucky gets a very bad rap. But we are here to discuss poker.

Today when the cards fell, they fell hard, and they fell hard primarily on the Churchwarden.  Tom was in the middle of a successful run, but he came down with a serious case of Second Best Hand, and it ended up costing him his whole stack.  Plus 50 cents.  It turns out that felt-burn is a frequent side effect of Second Best Hand.  He lost a lot of this money to Sean, who finally hit the big time after a year in which the game would only have been useful for him had we incorporated as a charitable foundation. I had a bad inverse-Rodney problem.  If I raised, the table folded, and while I am still winning, I’m running break-even after the cab to Brooklyn.

It has become clear that a river runs through Helmut.  Most of his success owed to some good old fashioned aggressiveness.  Churchwarden and Leo were playing uncharacteristically weak, calling Helmut on drawing hands all the way to the river and then folding when Helmut made the expected final bet.  And then Helmut nailed me good when he called me to the river.  My A-9 looked pretty good when the first four cards were 8-9-10-9, but Helmut hung in with his 7-x, got his J on the river, and took a decent pot.  I’m sure Helmut did his share of bluffing, but calling him Wednesday brought only pain.  The final reported tally (which somehow doesn’t add up):

Helmut +$64.75 US
Sean +$34.25
Ugarte +$13.25
Leo Bloom - $45.75 US
Churchwarden - $60.50 US

There is a tournament on Sunday, but I don’t think I am going to play. (Interesting.-ed.) I’ll report if I change my mind.

Monday’s game at Ferrari’s apartment, my first game since my meltdown at The Tournament of Which I Promise Not To Speak Again, Or At Least, Less Frequently started slowly.  Despite promises of seven to eight players by Ferrari, most of the prospective players—including Rick and Sam—begged off on gameday claiming work commitments.  Ferrari panicked and solicited players to fill the table on craigslist, but only drew in one more player.  So with only four people expected, and Brother of Ugarte likely to show up only to watch football, we resigned ourselves to playing at a short table. 

The games I typically play in have a buy in around $60.  People rarely lose that much.  With a high buy-in, relative to the low stakes we play for, we avoid having to slow the game down for people to buy more chips.  Upon reflection, that is a wise decision; we really could have used a cashier.  While we waited for the stragglers to arrive, Ferrari, Helmut (friend of Rick’s and host of TTOWIPNTSA,OAL,LF, henceforth TT) and I figured a little lowlowlow stakes action ($1 max raise) meant that a low buy-in was appropriate.  So we bought in for $10, figuring that we couldn’t lose money so quickly.  A plan quickly scuttled by Helmut, who decided that every hand was worth seeing to the river.  The quick burn led us to quickly change the buy-in to $20. Ferrari bought $30 so he could bully the table before the next card fell.

Our craigslist friend, Christian, eventually arrived and was also bit by the short-stack bug.  Despite evidence that he played often and with enthusiasm, he had a rough night.  He shared Helmut’s passion for seeing all of the cards but lacked Helmut’s good fortune (Did I mention that for Helmut the third time was the charm?  After investing $60 to play, he cashed in $100.) After draining his third $20 buy, Christian bid us good night.  I think we will see him again.

Brother of Ugarte chose to play, and as the most novice of a table of novices held his own, though how well he held his own depends on whether or not he was paid back for dinner.  Ferrari started strong, but faded late and finished either barely down or barely up, depending on whether he paid back Brother for dinner.  Ferrari’s reputation and character were allowed to override the failure of anyone else to recall the payback. So the night finished:

Helmut +~40
Ugarte +~20
Ferrari +~3
Brother -~3
Christian -~60

Come back, Christian.

I play again tonight, so another report will follow anon. 

With all of those caveats out of the way, I should set the scene.  A friend of Rick’s Cafe hosted a No Limit Texas Hold’Em tournament over the weekend.  $50 buy-in, with rebuys.  Winner take all.  12 players guaranteed a pot of $600, but five rebuys (including me) meant the winner would walk away with $850.  The level of play ranged from the awful to the mediocre. Although some players (including, sometimes, me) overrate their own ability it was not a very talented table, so it was no surprise that the winner was much luckier than she was talented.  But I wasn’t upset that I lost (really!) or that she won (really!) - but I did have something of a meltdown and I sort of stormed out of the apartment at the end of the game.  And it all comes down, ultimately, to etiquette - poker and otherwise.  If you can’t be bothered to care, all of a sudden I care a lot.

Act in turn.  Keep track of what the blinds are.  Make a note about the denominations of your chips; you shouldn’t have to keep asking.  When you are in the big blind, don’t throw in an extra bet unless you really intend to raise. If a misdeal is called, just redeal.  After you muck your cards you may not “take a quick look.” If you have thrown your cards away, don’t react (and especially don’t shriek) if the flop happens to improve the crappy cards you were dealt.  If you win a hand after a dubious call, show a little humilty.  Specifically, if you win a hand with a card on the river, don’t call your significant other from the poker table to giddily gloat when the person you beat is still sitting right in front of you.  (Incidentally, don’t do it even if you played with extraordinary skill.) And don’t, if you have a single drop of humanity in you, just don’t - when already taking the dubious step of asking the fallen to gather for a picture - say “I’d like to get a picture of all of the people I beat.”

Maybe I’m the crazy one, but I don’t get mad often, and I was steaming on Friday.  Two things made me feel better.  First, a cab driver was driving around at 2:00 AM with his “Off-Duty” light on.  He does this so that he can pull over, decide that he doesn’t want to go to Brooklyn, and say “I’m sorry.  I can’t go to Brooklyn - I am at the end of my shift.” So I was happy that he got tagged by a cop when he drove away after trying to pull that shit with me.  At 2AM.  In the freezing cold.  I hope it is an expensive ticket.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to go call our poker host and apologize for being something of a turd in the punchbowl; even if I feel my behavior was justified (I do) it is still poor form to act out at someone else’s house.