Just a quick bit of poker blogging. I finished a semi-respectable 316th out of ~1400 in the PokerStars blogger tournament. I never really had cards so I mostly stayed at around the average stack by stealing blinds and making continuation bets. When I finally did get a hand - QQ - I couldn’t bring myself to lay them down when I really should have. It was pretty much the only hand I played that took any skill and I failed the test.
I had ~6000 in front of me and the blinds at 100/200/25 and The average stack was ~7300. I raised preflop UTG to 800. A guy two seats my left who had been at my table since I logged in (and who, I think, was tired of having me raise him out of pots) called. The button, who had me chipped almost 3:1 raised another 2000. He hadn’t played a hand since getting moved to my table, and I just noticed how much he had in front of him. A caller and a big raise from a tight player. Not a great situation for my queens anymore and I thought long and hard about letting them go. I thought too much, actually.
I’m in the middle of Volume 2 of Harrington’s excellent book - apologies to those who will think the next sentence is gobbledegook. M at ~10 and Q at <1. I had just laid down to a raise from another big stack, so my table image was weak. He had me grossly outchipped and was on the button. (Short explanation: The blinds were going to start chewing me up and the other players thought I was a poor wimp.) All of these things indicated that he wouldn't have reraised me - and the caller - unless he had a real hand. And then I pushed. I smelled Aces or Kings and I pushed anyway.
The guy on my left called. This wasn't good news. He called a lot of standard preflop raises but could usually be counted on to fold to a large reraise. Then the button called and I knew I was fucked. Jacks to my left, aces on the button. I could almost see that Pauly Painting hanging inside a utility closet, but no help from the dealer (for me or the jacks) and I was out.
I was finally at a table with bloggers that knew me (Bobby Bracelet, Daddy from Snail Trax and Studio Glyphic) and the chat was starting to feel like a home game. It sucked getting bounced when I was enjoying myself after grinding for hours. Because two players were eliminated on the hand, they broke up my table. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to anyone. Stupid Hiltons.
Since this was probably very boring, I give you something that is not. I found this Rounders parody via Paul Phillips’ blog. If you are familiar with the movie or Omaha, I invite you to enjoy EuroRounders.
