Gbob
01-17-2005, 01:41 PM
This is the second story in an ongoing series detailing the weekly Sunday night home game here in Buffalo, New York. The first part is located here (http://forumserver.twoplustwo.com/showflat.php?Cat=&Number=1522193&page=5&view=colla psed&sb=5&o=14&fpart=1) It’s mostly an excuse to get the nights events on paper to help teach me to be a better player. As always, feel free to ignore.
Buffalo. Once known as the city of lights. When the last century rolled around, Buffalo was the nations eighth largest city. It was the Paris of the states, a city of unlimited potential. The city of Buffalo led the country in the arts, sciences and manufacturing. Today it has half the population it had in the 1950’s. Abandoned factories litter the landscape, and architectural treasures lie vacant as the city dies.
A cold wind from the north has enveloped the city. Earlier in the week the temperature was 65 degrees. Today it’s 8 degrees out and the snow is blowing. Surrounding areas are under a foot of snow, and the idea of going outside is less than appealing. Still, it’s Sunday night, and that means that “Casino Buffalo” is opening its doors for another card game.
The doors might have well been closed. I show up before midnight and the card table hasn’t even been cleared off. “K” is at the computer checking on football stats. “M” is asleep after a hard day of…of…well, drinking and watching football. Nobody ever said the bachelor lifestyle was easy. Everyone else has stayed home because of the weather. My wife is asleep at home, and my son is staying with his grandparents. Might as well hang out and have a few beers before calling it a night.
As I settle down, drink in hand, to watch a bad sci-fi movie, “D” walks in. “D” is a former co-worker who ran off to live in the woods for a year. He’s back now, trying to figure out why he’s in Buffalo. There are a number of people like that around here. With three people, it’s enough to wake “M” up and throw some cards around.
If the weather wasn’t enough to keep people away, outstanding debt finished the job. “M” counted his markers the other day. He’s holding over 1400 dollars in markers and declared that the only re-buys from now on would be cash. It’s a situation that had been growing for a year. Finally something had to be done. That meant that some regulars would be avoiding Casino Buffalo for a few weeks. One declared, after getting deep in the hole, that he was “bored with poker”. Another decided to sober up and quit drinking. Thankfully there will always be new players, but it’s hard to lose regulars who enjoy putting money in the pot.
Four-way action, and I’m in the groove. If I had to name my strength as a player it’s small tables. The math, obviously, is a great deal easier and table reads of your opposition counts for a great deal more. I’m doubled up and have the momentum. Then my archenemy, “N”, walks through the door.
“N” is a young hotshot who, after graduating culinary school, interned at a casino. He became a really good player. He can switch gears mid table without giving anything away. Is he playing smart or bluffing? I can never figure it out and he kills me. I’m not sure if he’s the best regular player we have, but he’s the one guy I can’t seem to win against.
I’m on the button with A4 suited. The flop comes up with a flush draw, a straight draw and an ace. “N” bets, and I have him on an ace. I know his kicker is better than mine. One other caller and it’s on me. I like my outs. I raise, and he goes over the top. This confirms my suspicion. He has an ace. “N” has the ability to read me perfect. I know that he knows I have an ace. That means his kicker is better than mine. I miss the flush and the straight, and “N” has made it expensive for me to chase. He played it perfect. He has me beat with his kicker and I know it. The only way to win is to chase him off. I toss in ten dollars and hope my reputation as a tight passive player does the trick. He calls and I’m kicking myself. He turns over AQ and I’m beat….until I realize that I had been playing with A5 instead of A4 like I thought, and I actually had two pair.
“That’s what I had you pegged on” he says as I collect my chips. Funny, I think, I didn’t even have me pegged on that, and I even got to look at my own cards. Sometimes the poker gods smile on us fools.
“Anyone catch ‘Tilt’?” “N” asks.
“Yeah.” I answer. “Pretty much sucked. Who knew African Americans took poker etiquette so seriously? If they pull a gun because of a string bet, imagine what they would do if you showed a card while play was going on. Those black people sure look scary. Hope I never meet one.”
“M” shakes his head in agreement. “I hope they show underground Indian card games next. Someone bets out of turn and the Indian pulls out a bow and arrow. ‘wait your turn kemosabe!’. It’s not a good show.”
The poker gods keep protecting me. The game is Omaha hi/lo, and there’s good money on the table. I throw my A3 on the table and exclaim that I both the straight and low cards. I’m reaching for chips as the table informs me that a straight is usually made up of 5 cards, not 4, unless I was playing some variation of the game they had never heard of before. A look at the board confirms that I am, indeed, a complete idiot. Then again, I’m a blessed idiot as I split the pot and make some money…if at the expense of my dignity.
My only other winning hand for the evening is a lucky one. I’m holding top pair with a bad kicker, and I’m on a flush draw. “K” bets big enough to force me out, but I call anyways because, as I mentioned, I’m an idiot tonight. Naturally, I get lucky and catch the flush. For the second time in the evening I’ve sucked out “K” on the river, and I’m starting to feel guilty about it.
“K” is a great player. I really like how he thinks. He’s not a great bluffer, but he knows the cards. He makes smart plays and he’s as solid as they come. That makes it difficult to watch him recently. Between bad judgment and bad cards, he’s been getting killed at the table recently. Best guess is that he’s about 800 dollars down the past month. One hand, earlier in the evening, I had a straight and he had two pair. I knew he was a smart enough player to be able to read the board and what my betting indicated. He knew I had that straight and he called a big bet anyways. One of my weaknesses is that I hate winning at the expense of my friends. It’s stupid, since it’s poker and they don’t feel the same way, but it’s an emotional thing I can’t keep in check. Part of me really did wish him to fold rather than make a bad bet. Then again, the part of me that was collecting my chips after was pretty happy he called. I need to work on this.
The rest of the evening kills me with pre-flop play. Omaha is a game I just can’t figure out. I know the math, I know the strategy, but for one reason or another I just can’t commit enough to win. I know that there are hands where I have a positive expected value and that in the end I’ll make money from it. The problem is that in Omaha the short turn losses could cripple me for the evening, and I’m too timid to play it out. I fold trips when there are flush and straight combos. I fold straights when there are boat possibilities and I wind up losing money by folding good hands to some joker playing two pair with no outs.
By the time the night is through I wound up with a measly 20% return on my investment. I guess it’s foolish to complain about this. I now have a streak going where I’ve made money every Sunday for a couple of months. I have Casino Buffalo figured out enough to where I won’t lose money, but not figured out enough to where I really win either. Doubling up a short stack is different than walking home rich like some players manage.
The game breaks up early as the siren call of Jim’s Steak-Out beckons. The steak out is famous for it’s chicken finger sub. It’s an oozing mass of greasy goodness that few Buffalonians can resist. Besides, it's open untill 4 and there was 15 minutes to get there before the doors close.
Next week I must not rely upon the poker gods, and instead concentrate on playing smart. Perhaps learning how to count and looking at my cards before the play will help. Then again, I did just fine this week without having to actually think.
Bob "G. Bob" Roland
http://gbob.onlinegamers.com
Buffalo. Once known as the city of lights. When the last century rolled around, Buffalo was the nations eighth largest city. It was the Paris of the states, a city of unlimited potential. The city of Buffalo led the country in the arts, sciences and manufacturing. Today it has half the population it had in the 1950’s. Abandoned factories litter the landscape, and architectural treasures lie vacant as the city dies.
A cold wind from the north has enveloped the city. Earlier in the week the temperature was 65 degrees. Today it’s 8 degrees out and the snow is blowing. Surrounding areas are under a foot of snow, and the idea of going outside is less than appealing. Still, it’s Sunday night, and that means that “Casino Buffalo” is opening its doors for another card game.
The doors might have well been closed. I show up before midnight and the card table hasn’t even been cleared off. “K” is at the computer checking on football stats. “M” is asleep after a hard day of…of…well, drinking and watching football. Nobody ever said the bachelor lifestyle was easy. Everyone else has stayed home because of the weather. My wife is asleep at home, and my son is staying with his grandparents. Might as well hang out and have a few beers before calling it a night.
As I settle down, drink in hand, to watch a bad sci-fi movie, “D” walks in. “D” is a former co-worker who ran off to live in the woods for a year. He’s back now, trying to figure out why he’s in Buffalo. There are a number of people like that around here. With three people, it’s enough to wake “M” up and throw some cards around.
If the weather wasn’t enough to keep people away, outstanding debt finished the job. “M” counted his markers the other day. He’s holding over 1400 dollars in markers and declared that the only re-buys from now on would be cash. It’s a situation that had been growing for a year. Finally something had to be done. That meant that some regulars would be avoiding Casino Buffalo for a few weeks. One declared, after getting deep in the hole, that he was “bored with poker”. Another decided to sober up and quit drinking. Thankfully there will always be new players, but it’s hard to lose regulars who enjoy putting money in the pot.
Four-way action, and I’m in the groove. If I had to name my strength as a player it’s small tables. The math, obviously, is a great deal easier and table reads of your opposition counts for a great deal more. I’m doubled up and have the momentum. Then my archenemy, “N”, walks through the door.
“N” is a young hotshot who, after graduating culinary school, interned at a casino. He became a really good player. He can switch gears mid table without giving anything away. Is he playing smart or bluffing? I can never figure it out and he kills me. I’m not sure if he’s the best regular player we have, but he’s the one guy I can’t seem to win against.
I’m on the button with A4 suited. The flop comes up with a flush draw, a straight draw and an ace. “N” bets, and I have him on an ace. I know his kicker is better than mine. One other caller and it’s on me. I like my outs. I raise, and he goes over the top. This confirms my suspicion. He has an ace. “N” has the ability to read me perfect. I know that he knows I have an ace. That means his kicker is better than mine. I miss the flush and the straight, and “N” has made it expensive for me to chase. He played it perfect. He has me beat with his kicker and I know it. The only way to win is to chase him off. I toss in ten dollars and hope my reputation as a tight passive player does the trick. He calls and I’m kicking myself. He turns over AQ and I’m beat….until I realize that I had been playing with A5 instead of A4 like I thought, and I actually had two pair.
“That’s what I had you pegged on” he says as I collect my chips. Funny, I think, I didn’t even have me pegged on that, and I even got to look at my own cards. Sometimes the poker gods smile on us fools.
“Anyone catch ‘Tilt’?” “N” asks.
“Yeah.” I answer. “Pretty much sucked. Who knew African Americans took poker etiquette so seriously? If they pull a gun because of a string bet, imagine what they would do if you showed a card while play was going on. Those black people sure look scary. Hope I never meet one.”
“M” shakes his head in agreement. “I hope they show underground Indian card games next. Someone bets out of turn and the Indian pulls out a bow and arrow. ‘wait your turn kemosabe!’. It’s not a good show.”
The poker gods keep protecting me. The game is Omaha hi/lo, and there’s good money on the table. I throw my A3 on the table and exclaim that I both the straight and low cards. I’m reaching for chips as the table informs me that a straight is usually made up of 5 cards, not 4, unless I was playing some variation of the game they had never heard of before. A look at the board confirms that I am, indeed, a complete idiot. Then again, I’m a blessed idiot as I split the pot and make some money…if at the expense of my dignity.
My only other winning hand for the evening is a lucky one. I’m holding top pair with a bad kicker, and I’m on a flush draw. “K” bets big enough to force me out, but I call anyways because, as I mentioned, I’m an idiot tonight. Naturally, I get lucky and catch the flush. For the second time in the evening I’ve sucked out “K” on the river, and I’m starting to feel guilty about it.
“K” is a great player. I really like how he thinks. He’s not a great bluffer, but he knows the cards. He makes smart plays and he’s as solid as they come. That makes it difficult to watch him recently. Between bad judgment and bad cards, he’s been getting killed at the table recently. Best guess is that he’s about 800 dollars down the past month. One hand, earlier in the evening, I had a straight and he had two pair. I knew he was a smart enough player to be able to read the board and what my betting indicated. He knew I had that straight and he called a big bet anyways. One of my weaknesses is that I hate winning at the expense of my friends. It’s stupid, since it’s poker and they don’t feel the same way, but it’s an emotional thing I can’t keep in check. Part of me really did wish him to fold rather than make a bad bet. Then again, the part of me that was collecting my chips after was pretty happy he called. I need to work on this.
The rest of the evening kills me with pre-flop play. Omaha is a game I just can’t figure out. I know the math, I know the strategy, but for one reason or another I just can’t commit enough to win. I know that there are hands where I have a positive expected value and that in the end I’ll make money from it. The problem is that in Omaha the short turn losses could cripple me for the evening, and I’m too timid to play it out. I fold trips when there are flush and straight combos. I fold straights when there are boat possibilities and I wind up losing money by folding good hands to some joker playing two pair with no outs.
By the time the night is through I wound up with a measly 20% return on my investment. I guess it’s foolish to complain about this. I now have a streak going where I’ve made money every Sunday for a couple of months. I have Casino Buffalo figured out enough to where I won’t lose money, but not figured out enough to where I really win either. Doubling up a short stack is different than walking home rich like some players manage.
The game breaks up early as the siren call of Jim’s Steak-Out beckons. The steak out is famous for it’s chicken finger sub. It’s an oozing mass of greasy goodness that few Buffalonians can resist. Besides, it's open untill 4 and there was 15 minutes to get there before the doors close.
Next week I must not rely upon the poker gods, and instead concentrate on playing smart. Perhaps learning how to count and looking at my cards before the play will help. Then again, I did just fine this week without having to actually think.
Bob "G. Bob" Roland
http://gbob.onlinegamers.com