Two more hands to chew on

These two hands both came at home games.

The first one was at something called “The Meridian World Series of Poker,” which was a fundraiser for a private Seattle school.  Last year, I won it.  This year I came in sixth, but I think I was the only player at both final tables.  Since the host is moving out of town, I doubt there will be another one.

Understand that at this game, many of the “players” hardly play poker at all; some don’t even know the hand rankings; a few I would bet haven’t ever seen playing cards before.  So the goal is just to play straightforward poker.  Don’t bother trying to bluff or try fancy plays.  Just wait until you have the nuts (or near-nuts) and value bet, value bet, value bet.

Anyhow, the following hand came up early in the tournament.  The table, as you might expect, was astonishingly loose, with everybody calling everything and then turning their cards up at the river and trying to figure out who had the best hand.  Frankly, it was a bit frustrating, and quite a demand on my patience.  (If I hadn’t been really sick that night, I’m sure I would have finished higher than sixth.)

I was in the small blind.  The player first to act had a micro-stack.  He called the big blind, which left him with three chips ($75).  Three more players called.  I looked down to see a Ten of Diamonds and Three of Diamonds, true garbage, but the pot odds were begging for a call.  So I completed the blind.  The big blind checked, and the six of us saw the flop.

The flop came out Queen of Hearts, Three of Clubs, Eight of Diamonds.  So I had snagged bottom pair and a backdoor flush draw.  I looked at that trashy rainbow flop, looked at all that dead money in the middle of the table, looked at the player with three measly chips left, and then said, “I’m all in”.

Most good players would have seen how tight I was playing and been a little bit afraid I think.  But even at this amateur level, I wasn’t dealing with suicidals.  The big blind mucked immediately.  The micro-stack fingered his three remaining chips gingerly, and then put them in for an all-in.  (Really, what else could he have done at that point?)

The next player was actually pretty decent – he’d finished second to me last year.  He pondered for awhile, and then said, “Well, it’s obvious that you have the Queen, I’m just wondering how big your kicker is.”  I could have leaned across the table and kissed him for saying that!  Eventually, he mucked, and the remaining two players also folded, so I had achieved my goal by getting heads-up against the microstack.

I turned over my Ten-Three, and you could literally hear the gasps at the table.  My opponent turned over a Ten of clubs/Four of clubs.  I said, “Oh, my ten has a better kicker.”  The rest of the board bricked out, and I had felted a player and taken a nice-sized pot.

I also earned the respect of the table.  Well, maybe respect is the wrong word.  Contempt might be more accurate.  One guy in particular couldn’t stop complaining about it.  (He’d laid down a Queen-Ten.)  But actually, I think I played the hand perfectly.  Plus I gave myself an image so contrary to reality that it propelled me all the way to the final table.

The second hand was at another home game.  John in Kent hosts a home game from time to time, which is almost always structured as a tournament.  (I call him Poker John, and tell my friends that he lives in the Poker House.)  He attracts a sizeable group of players, sometimes as many as 30 or more.  A few of the players are pretty dreadful, but most of them are quite good.  It’s terrific competition, and whenever I manage to cash I feel as though I have really accomplished something.

It was still rather early in the tournament.  I was in the big blind.  The player under-the-gun called the blind.  Another player called.  The button called too (the button was Jan, a good and very aggressive player who ended up winning it all much to my non-surprise).  The small blind folded.  I looked down and saw Eight of Diamonds, Six of Clubs, and checked my option.

The flop was Ace of Spades, Eight of Hearts, Six of Diamonds.  Yee-haw!  A flopped two-pair!  As first to act, I decided to check and find out where the aces were.  The UTG player immediately mucked.  Then the next player put out a half-pot-sized bet.  Okay, one Ace located.  I began to calculate how big of a re-raise I should put in.

The action went to Jan … who put in a HUGE re-raise!

This froze me for a minute.  Change of plan.  With just about anyone else, I would have thought there was a flopped set involved.  However, I finally realized that this would be exactly how Jan would play an Ace.  (I had played with him many times before, and I know he likes to bet big whenever he catches any piece of the board.)  So, that’s what I tentatively put him on.  I decided to call and see what came on the next street.  (Natch, my plans for my own re-raise went right out the window.  What a tight donkey I am!)

The turn brought another Ace, the Ace of Clubs.  My interest in the hand went straight to zero.  I couldn’t fold fast enough.  I checked to the first Ace, who put out a nice bet.  Jan re-raised all-in.  I threw my cards away before he even finished his sentence.  The first Ace called, and Jan’s superior kicker sent his opponent to the rail.

I’m glad the case Ace popped out on the turn, because as aggressively as these two were playing their aces, I would have had some very challenging decisions to make.  I don’t know whether I would have folded the best hand or had the courage to take it to the river – I probably would have folded.

As it was, I made it to the final table and finished in third place for a decent payday.