Where the Battle of Algiers rages on ...Rick's Cafe Americain

It was a dealer calls night, and despite my best efforts to steer the table towards nothing but 2-4 hold ‘em or Omaha/8 the dealers really were using their perogative.  This was OK when the call was 7stud, even 7stud hi/lo, but when people started calling follow-the-queen (at least 3 variants) and threatened to call Guts there was almost a riot and I felt obligated to just call bullshit on the whole direction the game was headed.  It turns out that the advantage to being amazingly even-keeled with spasms of outrage is that people tend to not want to fuck with the outrage.  Silly games didn’t really continue.  With the notable exception of Swish’s call of “5 card draw, Jacks to Open, Trips to Win.”

Using his perogative as dealer, Swish announced (after a rules debate that was only slightly less contentious as a session of the Diet and only slightly more coherent than the new description of Saddam’s weapons capabilities) not only did you have to prove that you had a pair to open, you also had to prove that you had trips to win even if everyone else folded.  Needless to say, I bailed at the first bet on the first deal to avoid what would clearly be progressive pots until the lucky draw of trips. After six hands, they abandoned the trips conceit and Swish won when he was dealt a straight right off the bat.

He got two callers even though he took no cards.

Getting back to hands I was involved in, I lost a decent pot to Ferarri when he caught a flush on the river. We disagree about whether he should have called me on the turn, but there was no excuse for me failing to notice that a third ♥ hit the river.  I didn’t even realize a flush was a possibility.  That hand was part of a slow spiral that saw my bank dwindle from a buy-in of $60 all the way down to $7.  Then I finally got some cards I could play.

I’ve been told that I play too tight for these games because the table will allow me to reasonably play K and Q with average kickers but I am trying to stay strong and play good starting hands.  Then I said the hell with it and decided to play any ace, kicker problems be damned.  With A6o in late position I called and was not raised.  I even ended up in last position when the button mucked his hand. 

The flop came A-K-6. Top and bottom pair can be dangerous, but when the board checked around to me - combined with the lack of preflop raising - I felt comfortable that AA, KK and AK were nowhere to be found.  I was worried about someone slowplaying sixes, but I’d cross that bridge if someone raised me.  I bet, got three calls but no raises.  The turn brought another A. In what may be the biggest tell in the history of tells, something that even Mike Caro wouldn’t believe if he saw it, I reached for my wallet to get my cash before it was my turn to bet. (We technically play table stakes, but nobody complains when somebody goes to the bank in the middle of a hand. Side pots are such a pain in the ass. It would be different if it were NL, I assume.)

Despite my oafish tell, Christain and Simon still hung in there with me when I bet with my new chips.  The river brought an 8, which had me a little nervous, but when the board checked to me again, I bet again.  And the same two people called me.  They mucked, so I don’t even know if either caller had an ace.  Probably not.  $45 and I am starting to climb back.

Another cycle around the table, I am in middle position and I call the BB with A5o.  I don’t remember how many people saw the flop, but not too many people were willing to tangle with the 9-9-9 that came up.  Checked to me and I bet.  If someone had a 9, they could raise me but I just didn’t see it happening. I was worried about getting outkicked, but again, I had to get the bet out there to see where I stood.  I stood with two callers, Christian and Simon again, who muttered to each other that I was trying to steal the pot.  The turn brought an 8.  Christian and Simon checked and I felt even better about my ace.  I bet, they called.  What do I want on the river? A 9, of course.  Do I get it? Nope, but I’ll take that bullet, thank you.  Nines full of aces and I have no worries.  I bet again.  Simon folds and then ... in a shocker, Christian raised me! 

He was obviously representing an ace, which is ordinarily a smart play, but I’ve been representing an ace since the flop and his calls have been representing bupkis. Sorry, Charlie; I believed you on the turn, not the river.  I reraised and he threw away his cards, muttering about a lack of respect for his raises.  You’ll get more respect if you don’t bet into the nuts, my friend.  Another pot of ~$40 and I’m in the black, baby!

After that was a slow drift back into the red, but I saved the session from being a total disaster.

Before the next game I will repeat to myself this affirmation: “I am not weak.  I am not weak.  I am not weak ...” As always, I will tell you how it goes.

The final tally has been revised to compensate for my lack of a notepad at the chips were cashed in:
Big winner: Ferrari, again in the neighborhood of +$170
Moderate winners: Christian, Swish and Coach
Person who didn’t quite win: Ugarte (I’m not calling myself a loser.) -$9.50
Big losers: Helmut and Simon, both in the neighborhood of -$100.

Poker blog news:
Time for another shoutout.  Sean at Anisotropy called me a “sharp player,” and for that I deem him a great man.  It seems as if the rest of my days will be spent making him rue that judgment.  I will note that he didn’t notice the gutshot straight draw that his opponent had in his 1/26 entry, relevant since he pegged the guy as “ace-rag.” I figure he still would have made the crying call, but the additional outs for the guy may have given him pause.  This ends the public service portion of our broadcast.  Even had he not complimented me, I’d have eventually linked to him anyway.  His 1/24 entry is the epitome of bait-and-switch, even if it has a happy ending.

I helped Richard, the Poker Penguin, with his maths (a King’s English expression that sounds so much better than the American singular).  If I ever sat down with him, though, I would assume that he knows the pot odds better than I do. I have to just commit them to memory.  I think I would end up folding less often, not more.  My current self-diagnosed ailment is weakness.

Pauly was invited to the game at the last minute but couldn’t make it.  While this would ordinarily garner a libelous link to a picture of a chicken, his blog indicated that he was out of town.  When he got the email upon returning at around midnight he insisted that he would have come.  At least he didn’t call me a fish.  So we’ll see next time.  Or will we?

Online Play Update
Online play remains at the back of the report, as there is nothing much to report.  Another SNG, another 6th place.  This time in PL Omaha, with the added bonus of two hair-tearing flops.  Dealt 2-2-K-x (perhaps two of one suit, but not K2).  I decided not to call only to see the flop come 2-2-x. Lovely.  A mere 10 minutes later I mucked another hand with a 2 only to see the flop come 2-2-2.  I know I made the right play the second time and I think I made the right play the first time but it is still killing me.  It isn’t that I am folding what turn into winning hands - that happens all the time and is part of playing smart percentage poker.  I just keep seeing sick, monster hands come up after I’ve thrown my cards away and I am starting to get the feeling that someone is just messing with my head. 

I bought in for $50 over at pokerstars and I’ve blown almost all of it.  I regained a little pride over at the .10/.20 table.  Or I would have if just sitting down at that table didn’t crush me beyond recognition.  Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to go have a good cry.