Where feminine hygiene is no laughing matter ...Rick's Cafe Americain

Simon hosted the game, and he invited four of his friends.  I, dear readers, was the fly drawn into the web this time.  I should have known that playing with five loosely connected strangers was a bad idea, but this was merely the first in a string of gruesome mistakes.  I would turn this into a game in which you, the reader, could count my mistakes if I could count them myself.  Alas, too much of the evening was a blur to recall everything I did wrong.  I remember nothing from my first buy in to my first taste of felt.  $60 down the chute and I don’t remember a thing.  I think the denoument involved a flop to the bottom two pair for a pre-flop caller (Peter) with rags when I caught the top pair.  Then I blacked out as his improbable two pair morphed into a flush with running diamonds.

In any event, mistake #2 was to decide I was OK with a game of 2-4 NL hold ‘em.  The players at the table were Simon, Nash, Gabe, Peter, Joe and yours truly.

Wait a second, Ugarte.  Rewind that back.  Did you just say NL?  As in No Limit? Yes, I did say “no limit.” More importantly, are you talking to yourself? Yes, I am talking to myself, but I think it is indicative of the state of mind I was in all night.  Consider playing under those conditions mistake #3.

Actually, I’ve gotten way ahead of myself. We need to restart the mistake count.  The night was full of omens and portents.  Signs that a merciful god exists and believes in me, even though I don’t believe in Him - and he tried to keep me away from this game.  The bad weather came overnight, screaming at me to go home, build a fire and give myself some much needed sleep.  Simon cancelled the game twice for want of a full table, practically begging me to make alternate plans.  The 3 refused to go further than Chambers Street, but I walked crosstown to the 5 and continued on to my doom.  Then He mostly gave up and let free will reign.  Not that he didn’t keep screaming from outside for me to leave. The wind whipped and the snow swirled up from the ground, only hinting at what He wanted me to hear.  $160 later, I know what he was saying. (Seriously, Dude.  Just learn English.  I know it is easier to learn a second language when you are young. I know that You are infinite. But it is clear that I will never learn your language, so the burden is on you.)

It didn’t help when I flopped a baby straight when I got 36o in the big blind.  My modest raise on the turn got everyone to throw away their cards. It didn’t help when I was dealt QQ because the flop came A-K-x.  It didn’t help when I was dealt JTs and the board came T-x-x because I ended up betting into QQ.  (Confession: I should have seen that coming.  Nash raised preflop and read me as top pair after as if my cards were face up.  Note to self: Shit. Second note: Why, exactly, did you call that preflop raise?) However you slice it, that QQ broke me for most of what remained of my second $60. It left me enough to give the rest of my chips to Nash to pay for dinner, since I had no intention of playing anymore that night.  I spent the next hour dealing the cards for the table and learning ... nothing about the rest of the table.  I learned nothing so well that I dipped into my wallet for another $40.  Cue the violins.

Most of that money went away on a hand that I should have bet differently (though much of it was a victim of some severe tight-weak on my part).  Holding Th8h, I limp in hoping for some of the flop magic I have been witnessing all night to come my way.  The flop comes Ah-8-3 with one heart. Nash (the only other player, and the BB) checks to me.  I make a modest bet ($5).  I am sure that my middle pair is the best hand at this point and I am surprised when he calls; I figure him for two overcards to my 8s.  A low heart comes on the turn and we both check.  A fifth heart (again, small) comes on the river, he checks to me again and I go all in with the AT flush.  I am badly outchipped, and with less of his stack on the line, Nash makes the call with Jh2h, saying “King or Queen?” Damn that check on the turn.  I knew my 8s were still good and his odds weren’t good enough to risk drawing to the river for the runner-runner flush.  There goes the last of my chips and with it just a little more of my pride.  As it turns out, it goeth right along with the fall sometimes.

Actually, to say I didn’t belong is a bit of an exaggeration.  Nash is really the only guy at the table clearly out of my league (despite what you will soon read).  The shocker here is that Nash didn’t come out the big winner.  Peter - who spent the night ramming and jamming - blew away the table.  He caught a couple of great flops with rags early in the night and used his stack see almost every flop and then to steal the preflop bets when the board showed low.  Lest this be seen as a criticism, it really isn’t.  He was in a position to profit from being a bully and he profited from being a bully.  Kudos to him.  More kudos than I thought I would ever give to someone in one stinking night.  Gabe spent the night treading water and Joe dug a deep hole and almost made his way to the surface.

Were I to make a modest defense of myself, I would say that my cards sucked all night.  But it wouldn’t be much of a defense.  I deserved at least 75% of the beating I took, and one can only hope for the future.

Once again the math doesn’t add up and I fear that it is because Simon doesn’t keep track of how often he buys in.

Final, gruesome tally:

Peter: +315 (Yes, you read that correctly.)
Nash: +69
Gabe: +7
Joe: -4
Ugarte: -156
Simon: -160 (reported), but my addition skills say it is closer to -230. Sorry, friend. You hit some very rough seas early in the night.

Lesson learned? Not exactly. But I really have to play limit against these guys until I figure out what the fuck I’m doing in the world of No Limit.  The Churchwarden’s game is on Monday, and I really need to get my head on straight before I sit down or it could be another long night in a rough neighborhood.

I thought this was a case of throwing out tens of thousands of babies with the bathwater, but frequent (only) commenter Danny disagreed.  The ensuing dialogue can be found here.  The back-and-forth ended when I wrote, “I will reserve comment, but I expect you to apologize publicly when we start hearing about how there aren’t enough teachers in Iraq, and Bremer is forced to consider re-hiring all of the “Baathists” who could have been retrained already.”

Well, in light of this story in today’s LA Times ("Coalition Revisits Purge of Baathists”, registration required), I’d say I’m due an apology.

I don’t want to be identical to anyone or anything
I don’t even want to be identical to myself
I want to look in the mirror and wonder,
“who is that person? I’ve never seen that person before;
I’ve never seen anyone like that before.”
I want to call into question thevery idea that
identity can be attached
I want a floating, shifting, ever changing persona:
Invisibility and obscurity,
detachment from the ego and all of it’s pursuits.
Unity is useless
Comformity is competitive and divisive and leads only to
stagnation and death.
If what I’m saying doesn’t make any sense,
that’s because sense can not be made
It’s something that must be sensed
And I, for one, am incensed by all this complacency
Why oppose war only when there’s a war?
Why defend the clinics only when they’re attacked?
Why are we always reactive?
Let’s activate something
Let’s fuck shit up
Whatever happened to revolution for the hell of it?
Whatever happened to protesting nothing in particular, just
protesting cause it’s Saturday and there’s nothing else to do?

Lyrics to “It’s Saturday”, by King Missile.
thanks to elyrics.net for the lyrics.

Once again Ferrari drew flies into the web via Craigslist.  (These particular flies played with Ferrari in the past, but they were new to me.) Current count of craigslist players to win at a Ferrari-hosted game?  Ask the Babylonians.  I doubt this will last, but have no regrets so far. 

Coworker Coach brought his friend Swish to join the staff of Rick’s (absent Sam).  Simon and NotForProfit of craigslist filled out the table.

You would think that enough shocks would make even the bravest rat wary of the lever delivering the food pellets.  You would be wrong.  Of course rats are not the only creatures vulnerable to the lure of rewards produced at irregular intervals.  Swish and NotForProfit kept riding the river over the falls to their peril.  Wise’s first pre-flop fold came after more than an hour at the table, and he apologized for betting out of turn.  “No problem,” said I, “Fold whenever you want.  It’s like witnessing a comet.”

Swish’s day grew longer still when he couldn’t find his hat.  He must have felt that life was mocking him, as Simon was sporting the same hat (albeit in a different color) on his head.  Swish was left to go out into the cold New York night with nothing to warm his head but the warm dreams of next time.

The table spent the day tilted toward Ferrari, but Coach and I were able to catch some of the runoff.  Rick will once again have to take solace in tax advice.  Simon spent most of the night close to the felt, but caught a big hand to close the night and finish roughly even.  This left Swish and NotForProfit to fund the pot.

I think I detected a tell in my own game. I hope nobody else noticed.  I will probably sit down again twice in the next week or so and report back.

Final tally:

Ferrari: +~170 (!!!  This is the most I’ve ever seen won.  Well, except for TT.)
Coach: +~60
Ugarte:+~30
Simon: -/+0 (-2, to be exact; gotta separate the winners from the losers.)
Rick: -~30
Swish: -~100
NotForProfit: -~130 (This seems like too much.  I am forcing this to make the math work, since I didn’t ask him about his final total.  I think that there was probably more rebuying or betting with cash than some of the other negatives recall.)

Harvard tried to change the environment at Bright by refusing to sell single-game tickets to Cornell students and alumni.  The strategy was apparently moderately successful in limiting the numer of Cornellians at the game, but the Cornell fans still shouted them down.  Cornell took the lead early, allowed Harvard to get back into the game and then slammed the door shut.  Good win.  Harvard was supposed to be an excellent team this year, but something has gone horribly wrong.

The game against Brown did not go as well.  I listened to the game, so I can only comment vicariously. Cornell appeared to have plenty of chances to score, but one of the top goalies in the country made save after spectacular sounding save and held the Red to one goal. Of course, it is difficult to tell just how spectacular the saves were on account of the Brown broadcasting team.  These guys ceased being believable the fifteenth time in the first period that they accused Cornell of “interference.” For all I know, every time Brown’s goalie touched the puck behind the net, the guys yelled “another sprawling save by Denis.”

Cornell has decided to turn all sports programming over to a paid service.  This is a pity, because the Cornell hockey broadcast crew is damn good - but I’d rather listen to the opponent’s broadcast for free.  The Brown crew is a treat.  Homerism in local broadcasts is no surprise, but it isn’t pleasant.  Even though I root for the Yankees so that I have a reason to watch the playoffs, John Sterling’s pathetic closing line makes my ears ache.  Brown’s guys, however, established a new standard for home team whining and yesterday’s game was no exception.

According to the refs, Cornell committed 3 penalties and Brown committed 6.  According to the Brownies? Cornell committed a penalty every time Brown touched the puck and Brown was screwed on ALL SIX CALLS.  The high point came when Mike Meetch was called for a penalty during the overtime.  Overtime penalties are rare, so it is typically a grievous infraction that draws a whistle.  The Brownies were apoplectic.  As part of their rant, one of the guys called out “Even the Cornell broadcaster is laughing!” Apparently Adam yelled back “I’m laughing at you.” Of course Meetch got the last laugh; he scored the game winning goal 45 seconds after getting out of the penalty box. 

Brown scored with 1:30 left on a 3-on-2 breakaway that I could see as if I were sitting in the rink.  The call was perfect - the players on the ice, the direction of the passes, the positioning of the goalie, the exultation at a game-ending goal over a favored opponent.  That’s when I realized the tragedy: these guys can really call a hockey game.  They have a sense of drama an ability to vividly describe the action and instead choose to turn the broadcast into a littany of perceived injustices and petty gripes.  They referred to a conspiracy to send calls Cornell’s way so often, I was tempted to send them tinfoil hats so they could rest easy, knowing that the ECAC Commissioner would not be sending messages to their brains.  Maybe then they could just call the game.

Next week @Union and @Rennselaer.  If the hockey teams still exist.

In Genesis, God creates the heavens and the earth, and then he rests.  Then, as an afterthought, he creates man, and puts him in a garden.  In the center of the garden, he puts the tree of knowledge of good and evil.  Then, the very first thing he says to man is, don’t eat from that tree, “for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.” If you ignore the fact that God didn’t have to put the tree there at all, it sounds almost protective.

But the snake tells Eve, “Ye shall not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.” And guess what?  The snake was right.  They eat from the tree, and they do not die.  Instead they are cursed by God and sent forth from Eden.

Why does God so punish them?  It is in part because they broke his commandments, but also because he seems to fear mankind:  “Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever.”

Is any of this starting to sound familiar (other than the obvious)?  The ruling party establishes policies designed to ensure its own hegemony, at the expense of the governed.  To do this, it withholds critical knowledge.  When a sinister (from the Latin, meaning “on the left") creature (or, in our case, creatures) reveals the truth, the dominant party curses that “subtil” creature/party “above every beast”, and sets up cherubim ("mysterious composite being[s],” sort of like the USA Patriot Act, or Johnny Ashcroft) to guard the source of its secrets and power .

Praise the Lord.

The Rams had fallen behind 23-12 late in the game with just enough time for the Rams to drive quickly for a score, stop Carolina, get the ball back and score again.  Showing questionable use of time management (not much sense of urgency, some questionable run calls that ate precious time, and eating 2 of 3 timeouts) the Rams scored a touchdown with 2:44 remaining and got the two-point conversion to climb within three points.  With only one timeout, the Rams all but had to go for the onsides kick, which they managed to recover with 2:38 remaining.  On first down, the Rams completed a twenty-yard pass (in bounds) to reach the Carolina 38 and let the clock run down to the 2 minute warning.  So far, so good.  Next play, the Rams complete a 13-yard pass (in bounds) and let the clock run down to 1:24 before snapping the next play.  It is arguably questionable to let that much time run off, but, then again, there are two competing clock management concerns in this situation.  On the one hand, the Rams want to make sure they don’t run out of time.  On the other hand, if the Rams score too quickly they give Carolina’s offense a chance to come back.  The goal, of course, should be to score a TD to take the lead with as little time remaining as possible, but, in attempting to do this, not jeopardize the field goal to tie the game.  Consequently, somewhat conservative play is warranted; i.e., no forced passes, throw out of bounds to avoid sacks if first option is not there, etc.  It was at this point that Mike Martz (who, ironically is often criticized for being too aggressive) lost his mind.

On the next play, the Rams completed a six-yard pass down to the 19.  Somewhat surprisingly, the Rams show no sense of urgency and they don’t snap the next play until only :42 remains.  However, there is still plenty of time to get a first down and then take some shots at the end zone, so the play calling is still viable, if a little questionable.  But on second down, the Rams ran Marshall Faulk for 4 yards and the first down and then Mike Martz decides to run the clock down to kick the field goal to send the game into overtime. This was an unbelievably stupid decision.  Martz took away a chance to win the game outright in order to avoid the more minimal risk that the Rams would lose their chance at a game tying field goal.  This is a mathematically insane decision and has no tactical purpose.

The odds of making the 32-yard field goal are probably 90-95% (Jeff Wilkins was 27/29 inside of 39 yards on the season).  The odds of winning in overtime are essentially 50/50, but if we give the Rams the benefit of the doubt (at home, have momentum, more high powered offense and perhaps the slightly better kicker) we could up those odds to 55-60% (but either way, whichever team wins the 50/50 coin toss would be favored, something Martz has no control over).  On the other hand, what are the odds of the Rams scoring a touchdown with a 2nd down from the 19 with 1:24 to work with and one time out (let alone from the 25 with first down and 2:00 minutes remaining)?  Or from the 15 yard line with :42 seconds remaining and first down (three shots into the end zone)?  In 2002, all teams converted for touchdowns inside the red zone 53% of the time.  I am guessing that the high-powered 2003 Rams offense had a higher percentage than that (though I could not find any 2003 stats online).  Of course, this percentage must be lowered to account for the fact that the Rams’ options would be somewhat limited because of time (though if they had managed for this from the 2-minute warning on this would have been much less of an issue) and because they would, of course, play more conservative than normal in terms of turnovers and sacks.  Conversely, however, the Rams were clicking on all cylinders and the Panthers defense had to be exhausted after having to defend two straight possessions, which would click the percentages back up.  And, I am not even taking into account, at least not mathematically, the possibility that showing no faith in your quarterback/offense to try and win the game might actually decrease the Rams chances in OT. But let’s be ultra conservative and say that the Rams had a 20% chance of scoring a touchdown (which would essentially end the game, but for the statistically insignificant chance that Carolina could drive the field and score with very little time left). 

So what are the risks?  A turnover would end the game.  A sack or a penalty would lower the field goal percentages (though Wilken’s percentage up to 50 yards is still 90%+, so they would have to lose a lot of yards for that to make that much of a difference) but there would still be opportunities to get more yards in the case of a penalty.  So what are the odds?  In 2002 all NFL teams committed turnovers in the red zone 6% of the time (with the highest team turning it over 15% of the time, the Rams turned it over 13% of the time in 2002 inside the red zone, but they were 7-9 in 2002, compared to 12-4 this year).  Of course, Martz should tell the quarterback to not take any chances with the passes and to throw the ball away if the first option is not there in order to lower the risk of a sack.  Additionally, the Rams would only be running a few plays, which further lowers the risk of a turnover.  But let’s be overly risk adverse and say that there is a 10% chance of a turnover or a negative play that significantly diminishes the chance of a field goal being made.

If we give the Rams a 95% of making the field goal and a 55% chance of winning an overtime game and 20% chance of winning before OT if they go for a touchdown, compared to a 10% chance of losing without getting a chance to kick, the Rams chances of winning the game are 52% if they follow Martz’s strategy and 57% if they attempt to score the touchdown.  That may not sound like much, but it is an undeniable difference and considering how many football games turn on a single play or call, any coach would kill for a 5% increase in their odds of winning (and you might want to ask the Vikings or Dolphins if they find the 6% difference in winning percentage that kept them out of the playoffs to be significant – or better yet, ask a bookie what a 5% margin means to them).  Further, if we change the percentages to something that is probably more accurate (95% chance of making the field goal, 52% chance of winning in OT, 30% of scoring the TD and 5% chance of a turnover or a devastating sack or penalty) the ratios change to 49% following Martz’s strategy and 62% trying for the touchdown and that is a huge difference – to put it differently, the Rams are more than 25% more likely to win by trying for the touchdown (for the mathematically challenged, that is the percentage differential between 49 and 62%).  Or, to put it more clearly, Martz is an IDIOT!

So, the Rams kick the field goal and, as the Tuesday Morning Quarterback would say, the football gods made their displeasure known as Carolina, naturally, won in OT. 

The OT was crazy, and quite entertaining, as both teams missed field goals and presented another, though more debatable, example of risk adverse coaching.  Carolina took the opening kickoff and promptly drove down to the Rams’ 21.  On first down, rather than trying to get more yards, the Panthers ran a QB sneak to center the field goal and lost one yard.  Carolina lined up for the field goal and kicked it through the uprights, but they let the play clock expire (which is itself inexcusable as they had THREE TIMEOUTS to use) and lost five yards.  Changing their minds, Carolina then tried two very conservative run plays, lost one more yard and then lined up for the 40+ yard field goal and missed it, barely.

This style of coaching is much more debatable.  Most NFL kickers are 90%+ inside of 40 yards and defenses have every incentive, once the offense is in field goal range, to gamble and try to force a turnover or a sack.  I don’t have any problem with playing for a field goal instead of going for a touchdown in such a situation, but I personally would not turn off the offense until I was at least inside the 15 and, if there was a large enough statistical sample, I bet I would be proven correct (especially in a situation where the game is tied such that a turnover does not mean an automatic loss).

But either way, Carolina’s tactics are much more defensible.  Martz, however, is simply an idiot and there is no excuse for his end of regulation decision.  While in football, like poker, one cannot always run the “percentage” play because if the other team expects it, the percentage play may not actually be the percentage play.  So sometimes you roll the dice, like on 4th and 1 down three with less than 2 minutes to go, instead of running up the middle as everyone expects, you play action pass, throw deep, hit the WR for the game winning TD and Holy Buckeye! continue on your season of destiny.  But there was no tactical misdirection in Martz’s decision, it was a question of pure mathematical likelihood and he failed miserably.  And, for the record, if the Rams had scored that touchdown, I would have won my bet on the game.  Thanks Mike.