In poker, the “table bully” is the guy (or, sometimes, girl) who seems to be controlling all of the action. Frequently loose, always aggressive, he’ll come barreling into pot after pot, tossing fistfuls of chips into the middle on every street and winning the hand more by bluster than via showdown. I’m very rarely the “table bully” in the games I’m in, and there are several reasons for that:
First of all, I’m not loose enough. At nearly every table I sit down on, I’m the tightest one there. If there happens to be anybody tighter than me, I watch out for them and proceed very carefully whenever they are in a pot. I’m actually far more afraid of the tight players than I am the bullies.
Secondly, I’m not good enough. I don’t really know how to be the bully. There are plenty of players who fit that role naturally, and I’m not one of them.
That’s not to say I can’t be the table bully, or that I never have been. It’s happened from time to time, and when it does, it’s extremely satisfying.
I haven’t been playing very much poker lately, so I wasn’t sure what to expect when I sat down at a $2/$5 no-limit table. I soon realized that the player to my left was really loose; entering a lot of pots and staying in them for too long. This kind of player will show a lot of variability in his results. By that, I mean he will win or (usually) lose a lot of money in a single session.
I’d much rather have a player like that on my right than on my left, but I can adapt. In this sort of situation, I just play tight and bet perhaps a bit more meekly than usual; my loose opponent will frequently raise my bet or bet for me if I check, so I can lean back and just let him run the action for me, and rake the chips when the hand is done and I show the better holding.
The pivotal hand of the session came several circuits after I had sat down. A couple of folks had stepped away from the table, so there were only seven players, and I was on the button. Given these two facts, I gave myself permission to play a bit looser than usual.
The first two players folded, and the next one min-raised to $10. This player had been making that kind of play a lot since I sat down, so I was neither impressed nor intimidated by this. The next player folded, and then it was to me. I had some suited connectors (8§ 10§), and only a small bet to call, so I called. Both blinds also called, generating a $40 pot.
The flop could hardly have been better: 10© Kª 8ª. So I had bottom two pair; but the board was seriously draw-heavy. Given this fact, I wanted to chase out as many players as possible; or at least make them pay to play further.
The first player – the loose guy on my left – led out with a $15 bet. The next two players folded, and when it came to me, I raised to $60. When my opponent called, I put him on a draw at best, or perhaps (less likely) a King for top pair.
The next hand was the 5©, a really great card for me. It didn’t fill any draw, and made me believe in my hand more strongly. I felt even better when my loose opponent checked. I bet a good-sized $120 into the $160 pot, knowing full well that my drawing opponent would call regardless of the terrible pot odds I was laying him. He quickly called the bet.
The final card was the Q§. This filled a few straight draws, and when my opponent checked again, I checked behind, realizing that he could only call any bet I made if he had me beat. He showed the 10ª 4ª for a flush draw and flopped middle pair, and I dragged in a pot of nearly $400.
From that point on, I started to push people around, just like a table bully should. An example of this came later in the session. The min-raising player from the earlier hand was under the gun, and min-raised from there. The next two players folded, and I looked down at 10ª 10§, a very playable hand under the circumstances. I called the raise; the player in the cutoff called; and the three of us went to the flop.
It came down Kª 2§ 2©; not great but not horrible. When the first player checked, I decided to take a chance. I bet $20 into the $40 pot, and my opponents immediately folded. Obviously, neither of them had either a King or a Deuce, but it was probably my reputation most of all that got them to fold.
Another hand showed this even better. I was in the big blind with Q© 9¨. An early player called the $5 bet; everybody else folded, and I checked, so it was heads-up to the flop.
The J© 7ª 8© came out. Not a great flop for me. A ten would complete my straight, but aside from that all I had was a Queen-high. I checked. My opponent bet $8 into the $12 pot.
Now, 99 times out of 100, I would have folded right here. It is undeniably the best move. But today I was the table bully. I enjoyed the fact that players were afraid of me, and I wanted to maintain that dynamic. I decided to call, and see what happened on the next street.
The next card was the 5©. I decided to bet the pot here (around $30), as if my heart draw had come in. If I got called, I still had outs. If I was raised, I could release my hand here (or re-raise if I sensed weakness).
My opponent went into the tank for awhile. He asked me questions about what I had (“Did your flush draw come in?”). I tried to look completely uninterested and thought about dead cats. Eventually, he folded.
It wasn’t a big pot, or a terribly significant hand. But it did show how my image was intimidating players, and I think it landed me some extra chips that I probably wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.
