Wednesday, June 07, 2006
I made my triumphant return to Genoa Club last night, an underground card club that apparently has survived the recent raids. From what I learned last night, Genoa, a shit hole room with three tables, had been in existence at that location for about 60 years. It's small room and low key clientelle are probably what keeps it from getting raided. I'm sure some bribe money helps, too.
I roll in at 7:15 with Roose, and the place is dead. Oh well, I think. I chat with the floor, and usually they have a good two tables for the $50+10 daily tournament. While I wait, Roose and I have a cigarette outside. A skinny dude walks up and we start chatting. It's Sean, a Jewish kid that I played with at Genoa in the past. To our mutual surprise, we had both taken time away from the underground clubs for several months. We get along, Sean and I. I think it is because we respect each other's game. More accurately, he's seen me tear it up, and I like his game because I have him read like a paperback novel. But I don't tell him that. Instead we make idle chit chat till we head inside.
We sit at an empty table and Sean begins teaching me Rummy. It's not the type you play with your Grandma, unless your Grandma likes to gamble. I have a rudimentary understanding from reading the Stuey Ungar book. Apparently, Stuey was one of the best there ever was. I'm merely adequate.
When the tournament starts, Roose and I are at different tables. At my table is a skinny, black wife-beater-wearing d-bag kid who won't shut up. I like him immediately. I almost picture him as Fluxer in the flesh, mostly because of his aggressive gambling style and obvious youth, but he's not Fluxer. He's more a sucker. I found out later that his name was Sampson. Also at my table is Sean, two seats to my right. I'm sandwiched between two black guys who are friends. I buddy up with them at the first opportunity, agreeing with them that skinny faux-Fluxer is a weak ass bitch player. But before that, a lovely lady sits at my table, and its Dawn from I Had Outs. I pull my hat down low and hid behind my shades, hoping to surprise her. When she barely looks in my direction, I let out a sarcastic comment, something along the lines of not being concerned about cussing in front of her, since she's got more balls than most of the table. She looks up and smiles. What a pleasure! Karol, meanwhile, was at the other table with Roose.
The game starts off, and I finally get a hand in the CO with AcKc. I bet from 50 to 250. We started with 1500. I get one caller, a tight-looking guy. The flop is Q93, rainbow. He bets 250. I consider calling, but I know better. I fold.
I win a pot by limping in late position with 37c and flopping top pair and betting out. I get called on the flop, but he folds to my bet on the turn. I take the BB from the SB with my KQ when I turn a Queen. Otherwise, it's mostly uneventful.
I lose some chips, mostly to re-raises that I have to fold to. I don't think it is bad play. It's a bit conservative, but that is necessary if I want to go the long hall with these gamblin' bastardos. Sampson makes an ass of himself. He's betting a ton, and he's so see-through, you'd think his name was ZipLock. In one hand, he is against the SB, while he is in the BB. The flop is Q87 and Sampson bets out after the SB checked. His bet is 250 into a 100 pot. What a chump. SB calls. The turn is a blank. Sampson bets out again, this time 600. He doesn't have much else left. The SB calls. The river is a blank, and the SB checks. Sampson pushes, and SB calls. SB has 82. Sampson has 73. He's amazed out how well the other guy played, while he's busted. Meanwhile, me and my two table buddies are laughing as we whisper "Good read, my ass. EVERYONE knew you were bluffing."
On a short stack, with blinds of 75/150, I bet 450 in LP with the hammer and take down the blinds. I show. Dawn and I smile. All is right in the world.
Eventually, though, I'm at 1100 with 200 blinds. Not good. I'm in the BB with 25o, and while I'd be glad to fold. There is one limper and the SB folds. We see the flop: 455. Sweet. I check. He checks. I know he is a loose bastard, so I'm waiting for him to steal. The turn is a Q. I check. He checks. God damnit. The river is a 9. I have to bet. I put in 350 of my 900, hoping he'll reraise me all-in. He does. I show my cards and smile as I say call. He flips A5.
That was one of those inevitable moments. I saw the flop for free. MAYBE, I could've pushed pre-flop. That would've been the only way I could win that hand. But checking was the right move, bottom line. The cards are what they are. I walk...over to the cash game.
The cash game actually hadn't started yet. Instead, I found myself with busted Sean, who had been in a rough patch before he took his 4 month poker hiatus. He finishes teaching me rummy and we play a game. I suggest $20, so that its worth his while, even though I'm at an obvious disadvantage, having never played the game before. He asks for something lower. He's broke, after all. $5. I couldn't help but feel an ounce bad for him.
Of course, I still trounce him, winning every hand. Apparently, that means he owes me $10, but since we didn't go over that rule (and it doesn't come up until the middle of the 2nd game) I let it slide. Fortunately, while he was whooping me in Rd. 2, the cash game started and we had to fold up.
The cash game at Genoa is insane. 1/2 and players buying in for $700. I sat with $200. By that time, a busted Dawn had joined me. Sean was also at the table, with what looked like $100 at most in front of him.
I played tight, mostly because of the Sampson and his friend, who looks like the red-headed kid from Sandlot dressed as Vince Vaughn in Swingers. I kid you not. So, fatty Vaughn and skin Sam are all buddy buddy, and they are overaggressive bastards, too. If I had an unlimited bankroll and an unlimited amount of time, I'd bust them both. Hell, if I had 1k behind me and 5 hrs, I'd bust them both. But I didn't. I had $200 and an hour, so I played tight...until...
I was very tight, due in large part to a drought in the cards department. Finally I get K9 and there are a bunch of limpers, so I figure I'll try to exploit my image. I bet out 15, which is an average to small raise for this table. Fatty Vaughn and Dawn call. Maybe someone else called too. The flop was ragged, so I decided to continuation bet, painting a JJ picture. Dawn and Vaughn call. The next card is a King, and I'm elated. They won't expect the King. However, Vaughn acts before me, and he pushes all-in for his last $79. I insta-call. After all, he bets big a lot, and I'm sure it's usually because he "senses weakness". Besides, he won't expect my King. Dawn, to my surprise, calls as well, as she announces that, "I have outs." The river is a blank, and I say, "I'll be a gentleman and check" to Dawn. She checks and shows her busted flush draw. I show my K9. Vaughn shows K2. It takes me a moment to realize that he hit two pair, a 2 from the flop and my K on the turn. He called 15 cold preflop with K2 and then a turn bet with bottom pair. But I can't control him. I can only control me. I shouldn't have played K9 in the first place.
I wish I remembered the other hands. That crippled me, down to under $100, and I played tight. Finally, on the last hand, after joining my neighbor on some Sampson smack talk (that kid got VERY riled up), and with $40 left in front of me (I was waiting for them to ask for the next time before I left), I got A6 on the button. There were 7 or more limpers, so I pushed. Either I was going home busted or I was doubling up. Everyone folded to Sampson, who was still pretty steaming. He called...with 46. The flop was all blanks. The turn was an Ace. I took down the pot. I lost $120 at the cash game, but decided to walk. Enough was enough.
Overall, it was a -$180 night. It's not the best way to mentally prepare for AC, but it'll do. After all, sometimes the cards are just not with you. I didn't see any pocket pairs. I saw AK once. That was it. So, I made due, and I played fairly well in the tournament. I need to be more fearless in the cash game, but I also need to set aside more money and time. Playing tight is the right way to play there. I just need the patience and the fundage.
Thanks for reading. By the time you read this, I'll be on my way to Atlantic City. Enjoy the rest of your work week. And if you are at Okie Vegas, have a great time.
posted by Jordan @ 11:33 AM,
- At 1:45 PM, Karol said...
Which one was Roose at my table?
- At 3:46 AM, DP said...
When you're playing tight, you really should show them a hand when you do play, otherwise they try and run you over at a table like that.
Also, relying on table image too much in any given hand is usually a mistake unless it's an image that's been created over multiple sessions against a certain individual -- that's just my experience, because I used to over-value table image.
- At 10:15 AM, Own the Flop said...
That other kid never should have sat down in the cash game. $100 at a table like that is just bringing a knife to a gun fight.
Re: table image
You have to know how observant your opponents are, because at some tables it's not even worth trying to set up a table image. Besides, the only image you ever really want is that of being hard to read. Forget tight, loose, etc. Those are all beatable.
- At 2:48 PM, Hammer Player a.k.a Hoyazo said...
Best of luck in AC my man. Looking forward to your recap post(s) upon your return, as always. Just make sure you get into a character and totally take control of a few tables. Those always make the best writeups, I find.
- At 6:00 PM, HighOnPoker said...
As for table image, well, I knew I was pegged as tight. I wasn't just relying on it, since I knew I'd get action no matter what. I just didn't expect to get it from K2. I suppose the bet on the flop was an error, but I don't think it was catastrophic. Whatever the case, I think you will see from my upcoming post that I do see some error in my ways, and hopefully I can get it in check.
And Hoy, the AC trip report is coming. It just might not be what you hoped for.