Draw Poker
Shorthanded $40-80 at Bay101. I was in the big blind with ace-ten. The button openraised. The small blind folded. I called. Headsup.
The button was one of these guys who bets with his mouth, not with his hands. When the action is on him, and he is planning to bet, instead of putting his chips in the pot, first he says, “I bet,” and then he puts his chips in the pot. He doesn’t do this all the time, but if he starts out a hand doing it, he tends to keep doing it for the rest of that hand. A certain sort of pacing and scripting develops, and by now we all knew our cues and lines.
The flop came 9-4-3 rainbow. I checked. He said, “I bet.” I called. Then he bet.
The turn was a 3. I checked. He said, “I bet.” I called. Then he bet.
The river was a jack. I checked.
This is when time yawns for me.
If he had said, “I bet” in tempo, then I might have folded right away, or I might have called right away, or I might have waited to decide until during or after when he actually put his chips in. I had not decided yet when I was going to decide.
If I decided to call right away, then I would put my calling chips out before he put his betting chips out, like on the other streets, and then he would turn his had over, even if he had nothing. That’s how we had been doing it. If he had me beat then I’d muck and he’d get shoved the pot without having had to put his final bet into it. If I turned over my hand after he turned over his hand, then we would wait for him to sloppily toss four chips at a time toward the pot before the dealer pushed it to me. This is all normal sixth-street stuff and on script and fine.
But that’s not what happened.
What happened was.
The moment of tempo passed.
Suddenly I was alive in a place where time’s passage in itself carried meaning, in addition to the meanings included in the sounds and motions that came into existence during it. And what it all added up to meaning to me, this time, was that I had the best hand.
But he had not said, “I bet” yet.
I decided I’d call if he did.
Another elastic moment passed.
I grew stronger, from kind of sure I had the best hand to really sure to inexplicably sure. I decided on something else. If he said, “I bet” now, I was going to checkraise. Just to make him fold, again. Just so I could tip without showing, again.
Go ahead.
Say it.
I dare you.
Go ahead.
Do it.
Draw.
Reach for your gun.
And die.
Or turn away.
And walk.
Either way.
You lose.
Just a matter now.
Of how much.
…
…
…
All of a sudden he collapsed and mucked. He was last to act on the river, I had already checked, and he didn’t even bother to check behind to see what I had. He just mucked. Maybe he felt my power surge.
I will be still more. There will be still more. Practice.
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