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Miserable Old Bastards

October 17, 2010

Is it just me, or is it really dusty in here. And what’s with all of these spider webs? It’s like no has been here in quite some time.

Oh, wait….

Well, I’m here now, so I may as well tell a couple of stories from a night of live poker. It’s been a while since I’ve played – well, not counting a couple of small tournaments earlier this month – and I decided to make my way down to the Venetian last night for some fun and games.

I started with the 7 pm tourney where I was supposed to meet Michalski. Of course, he ran late (as always) and showed up just as I busted in the middle of the fourth level. Unfortunately, there was really nothing interesting to report from the tourney and the bust out was pretty standard – I raised Ks Qs early and got flatted by the guy on my left. I bet the flop, which came A-K-8 with two spades, and my opponent moved me all in. I made the easy call and my hand fell to his AK when I failed to improve.

Like I said, pretty standard.

Anyway, since Michalski showed up late, I figured I’d play some $1-$2 while he donked around the tourney tables. Things started pretty well, and I built up my stack pretty quickly in the first few orbits. The highlight of my early going was a hand I played against an aggressive young kid who had raised his button every time for the previous three orbits.

In this hand, he raised again, and two other people limp called in front of me, so I figured I’d see a flop with my Kh 8h. I hit second pair on a board of Jh-8c-7h, and action checked to the raiser. He C bet for $20 and I was the only player who made the call. The turn brought the Qd and I checked again. This time, the raiser bet $60 and I took a few seconds before making the call. When the river brought the 9d, I took the lead and moved all in for my last $130. My opponent insta-mucked, and I picked up a nice pot.

Soon after, I donked off my stack in the one hand I played completely wrong all night. It all started when I raised pocket 7s in middle position. The BB – who was also the table rock – called, as did another player in early position. Action checked to me on a 10-high flop with a couple of spades on board, and I put $20 into the pot with my pair and a straight draw.

When the rock check-raised to $80, I should have known I was in trouble, but something misfired. I studied the board for a few seconds and put him on over-cards with something like the nut flush draw. Since our stacks were about even and flat calling would leave me with just about $200 to push with on the turn, I decided to come back over the top re-raised all in.

The rock thought the hand through for a few seconds before making the call and turning over Kings. So, I was half right – he did have overs. Needless to say, I didn’t improve. Rebuy!

From there on, I didn’t play very many interesting hands except for one near the end of the night when, after folding for two complete orbits, I got bored and decided to raise 3c 7c to $15 after five people limped into the pot in front of me. I got absolutely no respect, and was called in four spots, bringing the pot to more than $70 before the flop.

And what a flop it was, coming 3-7-10 rainbow. When action checked to me, I put $50 into the pot and everyone folded. I couldn’t help but revel in that hand a little, telling the table they were right not to respect my raise before flipping my hand to show bottom two pair.

While I didn’t get a chance to capitalize on the image that play earned me, the hand did accomplish one thing – it tilted the miserable old bastard on my left.

Let me point out, this was the second M.O.B. I sat next to last night. The first was a pensioner somewhere in his 70s who started off by bitching about the fact that he could never get paid off on his aces or kings. Of course, I declined to point out to him that betting $20 into a $7 pot was a pretty obvious tell that he had a monster, but still, the bitching wore thin.

Things got worse when he lost a big hand to a Chinese woman who joined our table. It was obvious this woman knew how to play, but the M.O.B. didn’t process the information. The hand that tilted him started normally enough… four people saw a flop for $10 each. The board came 8-high with two diamonds, and the M.O.B. bet $25. Two players folded, and the Chinese woman made the call.

When the Ah hit the turn, the M.O.B. grimaced, and bet $75. The woman thought about her action for a few seconds before making the call and leaving herself just $62 behind. A third diamond hit the river and the M.O.B. counted down her stack, and bet exactly $62. She snap called and turned over the Ad-9d for the nuts, setting the M.O.B into orbit.

“I should have known not to play against a woman. They call for the flush every time. They don’t know anything at all.” When a couple of people pointed out that she had the odds to call with her hand, he went even more ballistic.

“Bullshit. She had no idea what she was doing. I had her beat the whole way.”

At that point, I put him into even higher orbit by telling him that if I had been holding her hand, I would have moved all in on the turn. “Bullshit. You wouldn’t do that,” he responded.

If he only knew.

Shortly after this hand, I got a table change where I ended up seated next to M.O.B. #2, who I tilted with my mighty 7-3. This guy was younger than M.O.B. #1, but bitched about everything, including and – especially – about his bad luck.

My first taste of his bitterness came on the third hand I saw at the table. In this pot, the 1 seat and the two seat got tangled up after a flop of J-Q-3 with two clubs on board. The 1 seat bet and the 2 seat shoved for about $140. The 1 seat took a quick second before calling, and the turn brought the As. The river paired the Jack, and the 1 seat jumped up before tabling his pocket Aces for the nut house. Almost as quickly, the 2 seat turned up his pocket Jacks for quads and the monster pot.

As the 2 seat was scooping up the chips, the M.O.B. asked about the jackpot for the hand. I told him the Venetian doesn’t run a bad-beat jackpot and he went apoplectic, bitching about how he felt robbed and following up with “If there’s no jackpot, why they hell did they play the hand?”

Aside from pointing out that the hand played itself and that all of the money went in on the flop, there was nothing else to tell him. And, honestly, nothing else I wanted to tell him.

From that point on, M.O.B. stayed true to form, check calling hands on the flop or turn, and then folding to a bet on the next street. In every case, he took the opportunity to bitch about nothing ever held up and how unlucky he was.

What’s more, he bitched about how slow poker was, and then tried to berate me for checking my phone during hands in which I wasn’t involved. “You’re slowing down the game, and I think those things should be banned from the table. How do I know you’re not cheating?”

I pointed out that I wasn’t using my phone while I was involved in actual hands and followed up by telling him that even if I was inclined to cheat, the effort would be wasted against a player as bad as him. Needless to say, he left the game a few minutes later.

Apparently, I’m a miserable, middle-aged bastard.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. October 17, 2010 3:25 pm

    More like a jovial middle-aged bastard …

    Is there anything better than tilting MOBs?

  2. katkin permalink*
    October 17, 2010 3:34 pm

    You’re absolutely right – tilting M.O.B.’s is certainly one of the most satisfying things to do at the poker table. And, you can see I was channeling my inner CRAAKER with that 7-3. I know that’s well within your range.

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