Of all the games I can remember, last night was the one game where I would most have loved to have had the whole thing recorded with card cams and close-ups the way they do with the WPT or the WSOP. I was on fire from beginning to end. We played at Kyle’s and I took an early lead, taking Nathan W.’s first buy-in fairly quickly. He was to my left, and he normally plays very aggressively, but I was playing pretty aggressively too, and he got caught holding second best. We took a break and set up the big table (that I LOVE to play on) out in the garage. That was a good thing because the medicated body powder Kyle had sprinkled on the kitchen table smelled heavily of turpentine. I continued to bully everyone around all evening. I took the rest of Nathan W.’s money, Kyle’s money, some of Misty’s money, some of Tina’s money etc. The whole while, Nathan J. is building a nice little stack of chips. In Rounders, Matt Damon’s character says something to the effect of the pros not playing to help each other, but not exactly playing against each other, either. While a whole lot of crap in that movie is non-sense, it does make sense in one way. When I am playing with someone who I reckon to be about as good as I am, I find myself not getting in confrontations with them. I try not to get down to me and Anthony for big money, and I try not to get down to me and Nathan for big money. This went along pretty well all evening. I was building a considerable chip lead, and he had perhaps tripled up. Then, the most terrible thing happened. I got pocket tens, and was bet into moderately by Nathan. I smelled some blood, and secretly I had been waiting for my chance to take him down as I was sitting to his left. I came over the top with an all-in bet. He had about sixteen or seventeen dollars left (I can’t remember). He paused for just a second, and then apparently liking his chances or just assuming I was trying to bully him out, he called. He turned over a pair of eights. I turned over my tens, and I was of course hoping for a long run of “not-an-eights” but when the first card on the flop was a ten, I breathed a sigh of relief, having been given some insurance. My insurance was quickly taken away, however, as the second card of the flop was an eight. Still, with each of us holding trips, that only left one card in the deck that was going to do any good for Nathan: the fourth and final eight. The eight of hearts I believe it was, and it was the final card of the flop. The hand was a monster. My only hope lay in the other ten, and the bastard just wouldn’t come up. I couldn’t help but smile. Suddenly I was in a precarious position, having lost over half of my chips, and creating a new chip leader at the table. The precarious position turned back into cautious optimism, as over the next few hands I went from about fifteen dollars back to about twenty one, and I was just glad that I had not been put on tilt. I knew that Nathan’s quad eights were just the luck of the draw, and I had not misplayed the hand, and I felt good about it, so I wasn’t really ready for what was about to happen. Along came the first hand of the night that I did misplay. I got an A7o and wasn’t too happy about it, but I was in good position. The flop came 7TT. I thought, “Well, here’s a chance to give Anthony’s theory about ignoring the pair in the air another go.” Nathan checked to my right, and I bet a dollar, partly for value, but mostly hoping to run everyone off. Everyone folded, except for Nathan, and he called. For a second, I wondered if was slow-playing a ten, and I wondered if maybe he had a rolled-up pair, or a seven with a poor kicker. The turn was a king, and he checked again, more or less confirming my suspicion that he had another pair, or a seven, so I bet two dollars to try to get him off hands like QQ, or to take his money when he stayed on a seven. He called, and I thought, “Oh no, he’s made a pair of kings, and now he has two higher pair.” Honestly, the murk in my mind was mostly just murk. I had already screwed up and I just didn’t know it yet. I just felt that at the turn he had me, and what was worse, I should have never bet the two dollars anyway, since the expectation was too low. The river however was a seven, which was my savior card. It made my full house. He checked once again, and I bet three dollars for value. Nathan goes all-in. At this point, I’m thinking, “Damn, he had the seven after all, and he possibly could even have the ten. For the better boat.” I just couldn’t get off it. I wanted my half, and I was hoping it was a bluff, which Nathan is capable of, but not usually for that amount of money. I called, and he flips a ten. I’m doubly disappointed when I figure out that e still had the chip lead, and suddenly I’m out of money. I realized after the fact that it was plain that had the ten from the beginning, even though he did try to play deceptively, he just couldn’t call with much less. For a few seconds, I considered going home. At this point I was seriously on tilt, having been very disappointed in myself. Then I remembered that all that action had happened on my first five dollars, and more players were already on the way, so I decided to buy back in and give it a go. I half expected to lose my money to Nathan and go home, but I just took right off again. It was as if the whole ordeal of losing all my money had never even happened. By the end of the night I was back up to thirty-three dollars, so with Tina’s fifteen dollar loss, I made eight dollars on the night. There was, however, more drama before the end of the game.

As everyone knows, Daylan blames his poker losses on bad beats and bad luck in general. He particularly thinks that I am very lucky, while he is very unlucky. Of course, I don’t mind perpetuating this myth, and after last night I’m not even sure if it matters to him that I admit that it’s a myth. I took his first buy-in fairly quickly, having re-amassed just enough chips to be dangerous before he arrived. He complained about his bad luck, of course, and that’s why I had a moment of hesitation before I raised him two dollars after his eighty-cent raise on the blind. I did it anyway, though, as I was holding pocket kings. He raised all-in, and I thought, “Well, I guess he really is unlucky, today.” I called his all-in bet, assuming he probably didn’t have rockets. He flipped, as did I, and five not-a-jacks later he’s throwing his cards and getting up to go home. That’s when I was a bad person. I confirmed that it was only bad luck that put him out that time. He threw five more dollars at me, and I counted him out some chips. The very next hand, I started with Jd9d. That’s not a bad hand, as skippers are practically connectors if they’re toward the middle of the deck. I called the blind. The flop was Tc7d6d, giving me an inside straight draw, and a flush draw. The hope was in Daylan’s eyes already, but I could tell he was on a draw. I bet a little hoping to drive everyone out. He called. The turn was the 8h. Daylan bet a dollar, and I raised him what he had left. Before I raised him, I thought, “This is just cruel. I should just call.” But then I thought, “No, I’m not going to let his theatrics, even if they are genuine, affect the way I play. It would be dishonest, bad play, and morally reprehensible to take it easy on him just because he’s in the middle of a bad run.” I went all-in with my straight. I figured he had the same flush draw I had and was probably drawing dead anyway. As soon as I threw my money in, though, I told him, “Just fold man. You don’t want in there. Even if you have the nine, you should fold it.” I really wanted him to fold. I felt terrible about taking all his money so quickly. He thought for a while, but then he called. He showed the 4d5d, so he needed the 8d or the 3d to get the straight flush. In fairness, he could have misread my earnestness as a bluff, and he did have the little straight and the four-flush. Whether he believes he is unlucky or not, he bet all his chips on either me just trying to make an ass of him or one of two cards showing up on the river. They didn’t show. Come to think of it, I think he thinks that I make an ass of him on purpose.