Mugged?

12/14/2008 10:08:00 pm / The truth was spoken by Rich /

As it was a non Pigeon's Sunday and the Washington Redskins weren't on TV, I had the superb idea of venturing over to Abingdon to play a £50 freeze-out and possibly have a little drinky poos while I was it. Good job I didn't order Guinness as I wasn't there long enough for it to have settled.

Two hands of note really that saw me distribute my 7,000 starting stack amongst two of my table mates. The first one I played badly, the second I'm still processing - at the time of writing I think I executed a perfectly good bluff Daniel Minieri style, but was called by a guy who had no where near the odds to call and in my opinion no where need the brains to be aloud out without supervision.

But it's an emotional event busting out so early in a tournament so I'm quite prepared to concede that I played both hands like the progeny of a village idiot and a glamour model.

Let's look at the evidence, see what you think:

Hand of doom number 1: Blinds are 50/100, levels are 20 minutes, this is the second level, nothing too exicting has occured as yet. I'm in the big blind with Ace-Three off.

Two limpers, small blind completes and I think a limpers tax is called for. I make it 500 to go. Everyone folds to small blind who calls. This man looks like a photo-fit of a typical bank robber seen on Police 5, a sinister type usually called Barry Gardner - so my intention was to play the hand very cautiously from here on in.

Somewhere between that initial intention of prudence and the flop I must have started thinking of something else and lost my focus because when Barry Gardner checked the flop of 9-A-9 I decided to bet 700 into a pot of 1400 - insta called. The pot is now 2,800 and I'm alarmed. Keep the fucking pot small man, god damn me this is elementary stuff.

What I should have done was check behind Barry on the flop, because when the turn card came a blank, Gardner bet out 1,500 and I suddenly had no idea where I was at. Had I checked the flop, he'd have still bet the turn - but probably only about 700, which I can call and have the same monies invested as my flop bet, but I'd have got to see the river.

Instead I had to muck my hand to his bet as I had no info on this potential bank robber/rapist/cottager and had to assume he either had a 9 or a better ace. I still don't know, but I really need to give myself a few extra seconds to think these moves through otherwise I may as well just burn my money and stay home. Very badly played hand by me. The end.

Hand of doom number 2: This is a fucker. I'm sure I played this perfectly logically, but I thought that after I busted out of a game at the Venetian back in May. "Logic don't pay the bills honey" - who was it who said that? Monroe probably.

Anyway..so it's 100/200 I'm still on about 7,000 maybe a little over and I'm in the small blind this time. I know there's a pattern emerging. I have problems playing my hands in the blinds. A blind spot if you will.

I have nothing, 10-3 off - I have no intention of getting involved until two people limp in and there's suddenly 700 in the pot (including the blinds) and it's only 100 to me, also Mr Big Blind appears completely disinterested in taxing the limpers. I complete. Mr Big Blind checks his option.

So now, with 800 in the pot we see a flop of 5s-2c-7s - immediately I decide to try a Daniel Minieri style check raise if the opportunity presents itself. I check, Mr Big Blind checks after looking at his cards for a few seconds and dude in the cut-off makes it 500. Button dude folds and I decide he's not going to call a re-raise and make it 2,500 to go.

So with 3,800 in the pot the initial raiser does indeed fold. But he's folded out of turn as Mr Big Blind is still in the tank. Eventually he calls and I'm mildly irritated as I'm almost certain he's drawing and he's not getting anything like the odds he needs to do so.

The turn was the Jack of diamonds, I put in the rest of my stack which was approximately half the pot and astonishingly after three or four minutes of dwellage he calls and shows the Ace-Eight of spades. It's worth noting he had won a fairly decent sized pot so still had about 5,500 - 6,000 had he folded.

"If I didn't have the Ace I'd have folded," he says almost apologetically as the rivered 8 of diamonds sends me packing. What in the name of fuck does it matter that you've got an Ace? That's what I wanted to say to him. Did he really think that had he made a pair of Aces that it would have been beating my hand? Obviously he did...but what did he put me on that was good enough to check-raise a dude and then put my whole stack in, but was losing to a pair of Aces?

I'm sure his play was bone headed, but I'm scared to say it out loud in case I've missed something really obvious. I know I should not have even gotten involved with 10-3 in the first place, but once I was in I thought I'd executed a nifty little bluff.

Tell me peope, am I silly twat? You can tell me, I can take it.

Labels:

0 comments:

Post a Comment