Very soon I’m going to move this content to a new shared site, or else I’m going to throw this site open to some other authors. Several people that I play with have expressed an interest in throwing their two cents in and I’m all for it. I doubt we’ll ever get the respect that the writers of Poker School Online get, but hey, it’s more fun to read about hands when you know the people involved.
About two weeks ago I was involved in quite a bit of poker at Anthony’s house. I had been way up early, but then gradually lost that and a little more. I was about nine dollars down, and then managed to lose three ten-dollar tournaments in a row. I thought poker was more or less over for the evening and started to get drunk (it was mainly a party). I eventually got bored though and started playing again and lost quite a bit of money. I was right at the point where I had just started to sober up, while my nerves were still on edge, and for me that’s the worst possible time to play. I don’t have the relaxation of a little bit of alcohol; instead I have the exact opposite. I’ve never played with a hangover, but I guess it would be similar to that. Anyway, I dumped a fortune and was ready to just go home and to bed, but first I sat down and sat around talking for forty-five minutes or so. The game moved from the kitchen table, where it had recently begun spontaneously, back to the poker table. The people playing and the amounts being played for were very tempting. I thought about it, and realized the last effects of the booze were mostly gone. I bought in for thirty and doubled it up in no time. While I was trying to turn that sixty -five or seventy into something approaching what I’d already lost for the night, there came the Omaha hand that I want to talk about. I look at Ace-rag-rag-rag, one suited. My flop has an ace, and the river has another. No straights and no flushes on board. Anthony checks the river, and I bet, fairly strong. He raises all in. Now if I call and my three aces no kicker are no good, I’m back to ten or fifteen dollars. On the other hand, if they are good, I’m up for the night. Now let me go back to a few things that happened earlier in the evening. We had been playing Omaha almost exclusively for the first couple hours, with a $1-$2 blind structure, no-limit. I had been making a lot of money on hands where I had the nuts. In Omaha it’s much easier to have a lock on the hand that it is in Hold-em. It’s one particular of the game that often the very best hand possible is the winner. I like to specialize in making the most out of my winning hands, and since I could have the lock I was doing well when I did get it. I was also losing a tremendous amount of money, however, on hands where I had the near nuts. Aaron and Anthony were even giving me a hard time, saying, “You know, Brinton does pretty good when he can’t lose, but he loses his ass on all those marginal hands.” I was a little indignant, because those “marginal hands” were often the second or third best possible hands. I began to see that they might be right though. Omaha is incredibly cruel to second and third best hands. It was a facet of the game I had not really thought about. That’s why when late in the night, faced with probably coming back for an approximately even night if I just folded my three aces, which was most likely the best hand, or in calling and maybe making money or maybe getting to see Anthony’s Ace-paint, and going home a big loser, I chose the easy way out. I folded it. Maybe it was a misplay of the hand, but I feel like it was a wise play of the game.
Last night I was back at Anthony’s for about five hours of heads up action. I eventually took a twenty dollar loss, after my eleven dollar all-in bet with AsKs faced up to Anthony’s Kh7h when two sevens came on the flop, but before that I lost money thanks to an amusing situation and an interesting play by Anthony. I had been betting all the way, and hit a straight on the turn, to the queen I believe. I bet out, for maybe three dollars. Anthony makes a remark that he wonders whether his nine high straight is good enough. He’d been pumping me viciously for information all night, and I had been pretty much giving it to him, mostly because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, and also because I realized it was good practice for him. If I don’t win, I like to see Anthony win, and mostly I don’t play against him, so if he was getting as good at his little technique as he seemed to be… let’s just say it amused me to see it in practice. Of course I couldn’t resist. I came back with, “I guess that means you aren’t going to raise.” As if that wasn’t bad enough, after a few more seconds I finish it off with, “Of course if you did raise I guess I’d have to fold, wouldn’t I?” Now if you’re reading this and your game is weak, you may have thought that remark represented me telling Anthony that his straight to the nine was good, and I’m begging for a raise, and if you were a little better than that, you’d think that what I was saying is that I’m telling him it’s no good and to just get out because the only way he could win would be to bluff at it, and try to make me think he had more than the straight, while leaving open the possibility that the straight might be good after all, and that was what I wanted him to think. If you’re pretty good though, you’ll see that I carelessly ignored the possibility that he really was lying about the nine-high straight, and that I really did have that beat, and that I really should fold if he bet after what he had said. He bet about six or eight dollars, and suddenly my mistake was clear to me. That opened up the likely possibility that he did have me beat, because he couldn’t expect me to fold at this point, knowing that I had a nine high straight beaten. Of course, he could have just been bluffing at it, simply because I had stated that if he did bet I would have to fold. Suddenly he knew everything about my hand and I knew nothing about his, and I just had to judge whether to call on the size of his balls. Given the size of the pot and his lack of timidity, I had to call, and I’m sure he knew that I had to, and I paid him off when he showed his full house.
About two weeks ago I was involved in quite a bit of poker at Anthony’s house. I had been way up early, but then gradually lost that and a little more. I was about nine dollars down, and then managed to lose three ten-dollar tournaments in a row. I thought poker was more or less over for the evening and started to get drunk (it was mainly a party). I eventually got bored though and started playing again and lost quite a bit of money. I was right at the point where I had just started to sober up, while my nerves were still on edge, and for me that’s the worst possible time to play. I don’t have the relaxation of a little bit of alcohol; instead I have the exact opposite. I’ve never played with a hangover, but I guess it would be similar to that. Anyway, I dumped a fortune and was ready to just go home and to bed, but first I sat down and sat around talking for forty-five minutes or so. The game moved from the kitchen table, where it had recently begun spontaneously, back to the poker table. The people playing and the amounts being played for were very tempting. I thought about it, and realized the last effects of the booze were mostly gone. I bought in for thirty and doubled it up in no time. While I was trying to turn that sixty -five or seventy into something approaching what I’d already lost for the night, there came the Omaha hand that I want to talk about. I look at Ace-rag-rag-rag, one suited. My flop has an ace, and the river has another. No straights and no flushes on board. Anthony checks the river, and I bet, fairly strong. He raises all in. Now if I call and my three aces no kicker are no good, I’m back to ten or fifteen dollars. On the other hand, if they are good, I’m up for the night. Now let me go back to a few things that happened earlier in the evening. We had been playing Omaha almost exclusively for the first couple hours, with a $1-$2 blind structure, no-limit. I had been making a lot of money on hands where I had the nuts. In Omaha it’s much easier to have a lock on the hand that it is in Hold-em. It’s one particular of the game that often the very best hand possible is the winner. I like to specialize in making the most out of my winning hands, and since I could have the lock I was doing well when I did get it. I was also losing a tremendous amount of money, however, on hands where I had the near nuts. Aaron and Anthony were even giving me a hard time, saying, “You know, Brinton does pretty good when he can’t lose, but he loses his ass on all those marginal hands.” I was a little indignant, because those “marginal hands” were often the second or third best possible hands. I began to see that they might be right though. Omaha is incredibly cruel to second and third best hands. It was a facet of the game I had not really thought about. That’s why when late in the night, faced with probably coming back for an approximately even night if I just folded my three aces, which was most likely the best hand, or in calling and maybe making money or maybe getting to see Anthony’s Ace-paint, and going home a big loser, I chose the easy way out. I folded it. Maybe it was a misplay of the hand, but I feel like it was a wise play of the game.
Last night I was back at Anthony’s for about five hours of heads up action. I eventually took a twenty dollar loss, after my eleven dollar all-in bet with AsKs faced up to Anthony’s Kh7h when two sevens came on the flop, but before that I lost money thanks to an amusing situation and an interesting play by Anthony. I had been betting all the way, and hit a straight on the turn, to the queen I believe. I bet out, for maybe three dollars. Anthony makes a remark that he wonders whether his nine high straight is good enough. He’d been pumping me viciously for information all night, and I had been pretty much giving it to him, mostly because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, and also because I realized it was good practice for him. If I don’t win, I like to see Anthony win, and mostly I don’t play against him, so if he was getting as good at his little technique as he seemed to be… let’s just say it amused me to see it in practice. Of course I couldn’t resist. I came back with, “I guess that means you aren’t going to raise.” As if that wasn’t bad enough, after a few more seconds I finish it off with, “Of course if you did raise I guess I’d have to fold, wouldn’t I?” Now if you’re reading this and your game is weak, you may have thought that remark represented me telling Anthony that his straight to the nine was good, and I’m begging for a raise, and if you were a little better than that, you’d think that what I was saying is that I’m telling him it’s no good and to just get out because the only way he could win would be to bluff at it, and try to make me think he had more than the straight, while leaving open the possibility that the straight might be good after all, and that was what I wanted him to think. If you’re pretty good though, you’ll see that I carelessly ignored the possibility that he really was lying about the nine-high straight, and that I really did have that beat, and that I really should fold if he bet after what he had said. He bet about six or eight dollars, and suddenly my mistake was clear to me. That opened up the likely possibility that he did have me beat, because he couldn’t expect me to fold at this point, knowing that I had a nine high straight beaten. Of course, he could have just been bluffing at it, simply because I had stated that if he did bet I would have to fold. Suddenly he knew everything about my hand and I knew nothing about his, and I just had to judge whether to call on the size of his balls. Given the size of the pot and his lack of timidity, I had to call, and I’m sure he knew that I had to, and I paid him off when he showed his full house.
posted by Brinton at 10:26 AM
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