Poker and Gambling

Well it’s been six months, I suppose that’s a long enough delay between blog posts. To dip my foot back into the waters, let me describe a situation that always sets me on edge: Whenever I hear poker defined as gambling, especially by people who should know better (like poker pros). It’s not. At least, not by my definition.

Perhaps that’s where the disconnect is. Allow me to define the term my way. “Gambling” to me is putting money at risk when you can have no impact whatsoever on whether you win or lose. The lottery is gambling. Slot machines are gambling. Roulette and Craps are gambling. Keno is definitely gambling … the worse game in the house. In fact, just about everything in the casino is what I would call gambling – you have no impact on the outcome. The only exceptions for me would be Blackjack (if you’re counting cards), Sports betting (but only if you are REALLY studying the game … maybe 2% of all sports betters are good enough to do this), and of course poker. In fact, I think it’s something of a tragedy that poker is generally found in casinos … I end up having to walk past all of this real estate that doesn't interest me in the slightest to get to the small room where I can personally affect my own results.

There’s certainly an element of luck involved in poker, no doubt about it. And that’s actually a good thing. If there wasn't any luck in poker (as Phil Hellmuth, Jr. once astutely observed), the best player would win all of the money and everyone else would lose. But because of the luck factor, sometimes bad players win. And sometimes, they win a lot. And sometimes they win over a long stretch of time, although it’s unlikely that they will. But the best players will lose sometimes … and win more often. And they'll win more when they do win. I've heard some players refer to poker as an “investment”. I don’t think they’re far off.

It’s worth noting that the IRS agrees with my definition, and allows “Professional Poker Player” to be used as a valid employment definition. For this, we owe a debt of gratitude to Billy Baxter, who sued the US and won. The IRS at first would not permit Baxter to identify himself as a professional poker player, a position which would have bumped his tax rate up to around 70%. The judge turned to the prosecutor and said, “Son, if you think poker is a game of luck, let’s have you and Mr. Baxter sit down here with $50,000 and a deck of cards, and just see who wins.”

Enough of an entry for one day … hopefully it won’t be another six months before my next post. Meanwhile, Merry Christmas to one and all!

It's the WORLD SERIES!!

The World Series of Poker is in full swing at the Rio in Las Vegas. Three massive rooms in the hotel’s convention center have been set up with hundreds of poker tables to handle the 10,000+ players coming in from all over the planet to sit down and play a game of cards. With nearly 70 bracelet events and every cash game variant imaginable being dealt during a six week timeframe, there really is something for everyone. And those who sit down at the table bring with them the distinctive style of how the game is played where they’re from – East Coast, West Coast, Asia, Scandinavia, etc.

Into this milieu I entered, ready for a session of $2/$5 No-Limit Hold’em. If it weren't for the fact that this was the World Series, and my opponents were literally from all over the world, the fact that I had decided to play the cash games wouldn't merit much attention. But there were two people in particular at this table – Europeans – that I kept my eye on. They had the loose, hyper-aggressive style common to that continent, which required my concentration and largely kept me from playing on autopilot.

One of these opponents was from England, although from his looks he could pass for Mediterranean or even Arabic. But he was on the opposite end of the table from me, and we didn't clash all that often. When we did, I knew enough of his style to parry his attacks and largely hold my own.

The other European was directly on my left. Although she was French-Canadian, she was originally from Bosnia and played that way. Whenever she decided to enter a pot preflop, she almost never limped but bombed the pot. Post-flop, she bet every time she was checked to, and her bets were close to pot-sized. Her sheer aggression was earning her far more pots than she deserved, and nobody was quite sure how to play against her.

From my perspective, the fact that she was right next to me was the most problematical issue. It was very hard for me to make any moves in a hand, because she’d come over the top of me frequently and blow my strategy out of the water. Bottom line – I ended up having to surrender the smaller pots to her due to her aggression and my inability to read her or figure out how to counter-attack. But with a monster hand, I was more than willing to let her bloat the pot, and then take it on the river. And the two big pots I did take more than made up for the many small ones I released to her.

Early in the session, I was dealt Ac Qc in UTG+1. The player on my right, the first to act, raised to $15. With a hand this good, I would frequently re-raise. But at this table, I didn't have to bother; I knew one of my aggressive opponents would do it for me. Sure enough, like clockwork, the lady on my left popped it to $60. Everyone else folded, and I called, so it was head-up. Effective stacks were roughly $400 (I had a slight edge on her chipcount).

The flop was Qd 8h 3d. I was convinced that I had the best hand, so it was only a matter of trying to figure out how to get the most money into the pot. I paused and thought and eventually checked. Sure enough, my opponent pushed out a bet of $85 into the $140 pot, leaving around $300 behind.

Here’s where I went into Hollywood mode (something I very rarely do). I looked at her bet, looked at the pot, looked at my chips, counted out the call, looked over at her stack, asked how big it was, and then put out the call. I realized that I was representing a diamond flush draw, so I went with that.

The turn was the 8d, and so I immediately donk-shoved. It didn't take her long to muck, and I stacked a $300 pot without having to show my hand. Maybe if I’d played it slower I’d have won more; a turn c-bet from her was a near certainty, and there couldn't have been too many river cards I had to fear. But I was happy with the pot I got.

The second big pot of the two I won from her happened late in the session – sort of a bookend to the whole day. I think I played this one better. I’d spent the previous hours getting to know her a little bit better, and she has a fascinating story. Grew up in Bosnia, fled to Quebec during their civil war not knowing a word of either French or English. Now, twenty or so years later, she speaks both, as well as her native Bosnian. Since she was taking so many pots from me, I was constantly teasing her about how she was outplaying me and stealing my action. “Cut it out!” I complained. “Let me win a pot, will ya?” She just smiled and kept up her aggression.

I was dealt Kc Tc in the hijack, and in a true rarity at this table action was folded to me. I knew this was going to end with us heads-up, and I had a hand I liked, so I kicked the action up to $15. She re-raised to $60 on the button (of course), and the two of us went from there. As I put in my call, I continued to needle her: “Well, I guess I can kiss these chips goodbye too.” This actually got a laugh from the table (poker humor has a low bar for success). The intervening hours had given us both the chance to grow our stacks; and while I’m not sure which of us had the bigger stack, they were both around $2000 by now.

The flop was Qc 8h 3c, which was far and away the best flop I could have hoped for: Second nut flush draw on a board unlikely to hit her range. I checked and let her continuation bet. She did, for a $90 bet, and I called, complaining the whole way. I figured that even if I was behind, any club, King, or Ten would put me ahead.

The turn was 6c. Unlike the previous hand above (where I was falsely representing a flush), this time I checked; certain of the fact I was way ahead at this point. She bet again ($200), and I called again.

The river wasn't really what I wanted: 9c. An Ace was definitely in her range, and the club Ace outkicked my turned flush. But while I couldn't bring myself to bet, neither could I bring myself to fold when she fired the third bullet. I called her $200 river bet, and when I showed the flush she mucked. Well over $1000 in round plastic disks were pushed towards me.

It doesn't matter how many pots you win; only how big they are.

WSOP is Drawing Nigh

The annual World Series of Poker (WSOP) begins next week. Currently, I've made plans to play four bracelet events: The Seniors Tournament ($1000; first year I'm eligible); the Little One/One Drop ($1111 buy-in); and two others ($1000 and $1500 buy-in). I am NOT going to be able to play the Main Event; not because of the cost ($10,000) but because I just can't take the time off work.

With a little luck, I might be able to put in some time at the cash games as well. Now, whether that aforementioned luck is good or bad is a matter of debate ... as tight as the scheduling is, probably the only way I'll get to the ring games is if I'm knocked out before I get to the cash.

This year I'm doing something I've never done before: I'm selling pieces of my action, in three of those four planned events. People have been asking me to do this literally for years, but I've always held off. I've swapped pieces in tournaments before, and I've run last-longer bets, but I've never gone to this extent before now. Frankly, I'm still conflicted about doing this, for many reasons. Here is some of my thinking on the whole process, both pro and con:

• This is EXTREMELY common in the poker community. Folks buy, sell, and swap pieces all the time in tournament poker. It helps to cut down on the overall variance. I can completely respect that.
• I don't need the money. I've been saving for this for over a year, and have plenty of money stored up to go the distance without looking for backers.
• The whole process of looking for backers strikes me as a bit ... unseemly, I guess I'd say. I'm not accustomed to it, outside the context of fundraising for a nonprofit or something along those lines.
• I really don't know what the added pressure of playing on behalf of a crowd of people is going to feel like. Will it take me off my A-game? I guess if I felt it would, I wouldn't be asking for money. Given the amount of experience I've got by now, I'm feeling better about this than I would have, say, even a year ago.
• It requires my backers to have trust in my integrity and honesty. I could literally just collect the money and skip the tournament, then report that I'd been knocked out early, and keep the funds. I've even heard of players who sell over 100% of their action and then skip the tournament. But my reputation being what it is, I doubt anybody believes that I would ever do something like that.

On the other hand, something like this did actually happen to me: I joined a bunch of other guys who backed one player, a major pro, in a WPT event. He got knocked out the first day. Or so he said. Then he re-entered the second day (with a different backer, according to him), went deep, and cashed for a big score ... none of which came my way, because I hadn't backed his re-entry. Shame on me for not investigating the details of this tournament, or putting conditions on his re-entry and my participation in it. But I probably won't back this guy again.

Pendleton Poker Round-Up Main Event

In no-limit hold-em, a single hand can mean the difference between a winning session and a losing one. This is particularly true in cash games, but the principle generally holds true in tournaments as well. Play enough of these correctly, and you will win tournaments.

Yesterday, during the Pendleton Poker Round-Up Main Event, I was dealt Ace/King off-suit in early position. It was early in the tournament, before antes had kicked in. I had a slightly above-average stack. I brought it in for a rather small raise. I got four callers, including the big blind, who was a very good (and observant) player. Of all the callers, he was the one I was the most concerned about. Fortunately, he’s also the one I had position on.

The flop came King, Six, Three … all spades. I did not have a spade in my hand.

Now, in years past, my thinking would go as follows: “Oh no! I have a terrific hand, but look at that flush draw! I need to bomb the pot and chase out the drawers so I can take it down right now!” Then I’d follow up with a monster bet of 75%-80% of the pot.

But since I've started working with the guys at the Portland Poker University, they've helped me think about these types of situations differently. If I bomb the pot, the only callers I get will be the ones who've already flopped the flush and have me beat. And I’ll get no value whatsoever from players with worse hands.

So I decided to take a different tack. I bet about half the pot. This was plenty enough to scare away all but the big blind, who called. We went to the turn heads-up.

The turn was the Queen of Diamonds.

The big blind checked. I bet again, this time a bit more than half the pot. I felt I probably had the best hand, and wanted to charge my opponent a high price if he was on a draw and wanted to continue. He called.

The river was the Eight of Clubs. No draws hit. My opponent checked, and I checked behind. When I showed my top pair, he mucked. There’s no question whatsoever that I made more money in this hand than I would have if I’d played it the old way.

One reason why I think my opponent called me down was that just a few hands earlier I had fired three bullets on a missed draw (but hadn't really lost that many chips). I’m sure he’d seen that, and since I pretty much played this hand the same way, he might have had a bluff-catcher … a lower pocket pair, or a hand like Ace/Six with the Ace of Spades.

If there was any error in the way I played this hand, it might have been that I missed a river value bet. But if he raises me, what would I do? I figured a river bet probably only gets called by a hand that has me beat, and the pot was big enough to take down.

Live and learn. I wonder what improvements in my game will come next?

Pendleton Poker Round-Up: The Cash Game

Here I am in lovely Pendleton, Oregon for their “Round-Up” series. I've mentioned before how much I enjoy this tournament. It rivals the WSOP in my totally subjective judgment. But it’s the incredibly juicy cash games that first attracted me to this location; and it’s still the cash games that bring in most of the money while I’m here.

Last night was a particularly noteworthy session. I was playing the $2/$5 no-limit game, which has a $800 max buy-in. One guy sat down, bought in for the max, and immediately started winning. And winning big. He busted four players, two of them twice. He was winning pot after pot. His style was maximum aggression – when someone came in for a raise to $15 or $20, he’d re-raise to $80. He basically blasted people out of every pot, and when he was called down, he’d flip over two pair or some other genuine hand. It was amazing to behold. By the time he cashed out, he had around $3000 sitting in front of him.

And I can confess in all honesty … for all those chips of his piled into massive stacks, not a single one of them came from me.

Oh, I suppose it’s possible he picked up a small blind or two from me. But for whatever reason, the two of us just never tangled. It helped (significantly!) that I had position on him. But the table dynamics being what they were, I just played massively tight overall. Once I folded Ace/Queen from the big blind; something that I almost never do. That’s tight!

But I still came out winner, doubling my buy-in and busting two players myself. Two big hands come to mind (these are the hands that busted my opponents). Before I go into the details, I’m certain that one of the reasons why I did so well at this table had to do with Mr. Luckbox being there. His shadow loomed over every hand, even the ones he wasn't in. Everybody – except for me – wanted to take shots at him. And on those few occasions where he wasn't in a hand, his spirit still infused the overall table action.

I’ll also admit something else right up front: Pretty much all of these players were clearly, demonstrably better than me. It’s always been one of the things I do, almost instinctively, when I sit down at a poker table: Figure out which players are better, and which are worse, and then adjust my game against each of those players. And it was pretty obvious that most of these folks were master players. This usually doesn't intimidate me, and I’m willing to play a game with better players – occasionally – but with the weird spirit of this particular table, my plan was to just play ultra-tight (for the most part) and let the cards, and hopefully the chips, come to me.

In the first hand that I want to share, I was on the button. The first player in raised, another called, and the player on my right (an excellent player who’d already been felted once by Mr. Luckbox) also called. I looked down and saw King of Hearts/Jack of Hearts, and called the bet.

Now, after emphasizing just how tight I’d been, playing King/Jack doesn't fit that profile. Pretty as it looks, it just isn't that good of a hand. Frankly, it’s so bad that I’d frequently raise with it rather than call. That sounds like an odd thing to say, but in most games it would be the better play. I’d have to admit that it’s a rather advanced concept though. The reason I didn't raise here is that I didn't really want to re-open the betting at this crazy-loose table. And I trusted my post-flop play to keep me out of the worst danger.

The blinds both completed the bet, and six of us took the flop: 8c Ks 7h. So I had top pair, yucky kicker.

The preflop raiser dutifully put in a continuation bet. The next player folded, and the player on my right put in a healthy raise. I actually thought my hand might be best, so I called his raise. Everyone else folded, so it was just the two of us.

The turn was 9d.

My opponent bet about a third of his stack – a little over $100. I gave this a lot of thought. For whatever reason, it was really tough for me to put him on a hand. He’d just lost all his chips to Mr. Luckbox, and re-bought. There’s a decent chance he was on tilt. The only hands I needed to fear were Ace/King, King/Queen, or a straight/set/two pair. While these were all possible holdings, I thought a tilt play was the most likely … Ace/Eight or Ace/Nine, for example. And my weak King beat those.

Once I decided to continue in the hand, the only other question was precisely how. Should I call, or should I raise and put the pressure on? He only had around $200 left, so that would essentially mean putting him all-in. Even if I my read was off and I was behind, I had a draw to a straight. I decided to just call.

The river was the 3h.

I had been thinking for some time about the relative weakness of my hand, and strongly considering a river all-in. If my hand really was weaker than his, it might be the only way to win. But before I could carry through with this plan … he shoved himself. This was a rather unexpected, and undesired, wrinkle. I knew I should fold … but I just couldn't. I kept thinking about how he could be on tilt. I started thinking about how I would shove myself in his position with a weak hand. I started to realize that perhaps my hand was best after all. Eventually, I called.

He showed King/Ten. I dragged in an $800 pot while the rest of the table marveled at how I could play a King/Jack the way I did.

The next hand was near the end of the session. The player under-the-gun raised. He got one caller in middle position, and one in late position. I was in the big blind. I looked down at two red Kings, and re-raised. The UTG player called, as did the mid-position player.

The flop came 8s Kc 7d. I checked. The UTG player made a very large, pot-sized bet. I was the only caller. My hand was so huge that I just couldn't raise … and why bother, when I can just let my opponent do the betting for me?

The turn was the 9h. I checked again, drawing another pot-sized bet from my opponent. I thought for a very long time. I just couldn't put him on a draw, and I still didn't want to scare him off. So rather than shove, I just called again.

The river was the 4h. Now I went ahead and sprang the trap. I shoved, and he beat me into the pot. I suppose he thought I was betting a busted straight draw. But my set of Kings cracked his Aces, and I pulled in another $700 pot. I can’t imagine that this hand would have played out this way if it hadn't been for the presence of Mr. Luckbox, who essentially tilted everyone at the table. Except for me.

Poker is BORING

Every so often a friend of mine tells me that he (or, on occasion, she) would like to go to the casino with me and watch me play poker. Sometimes they even do. (The technical term for this is “to rail”.) But they only do it once; and after having done so, they never offer to rail me a second time. And I’m not hurt by this dismissal, because I know exactly why they don’t want to come back:

Poker is BORING.

Excruciatingly, mind-numbingly boring. Stick-a-needle-in-your-eye-to-pass-the-time boring.

If you come rail me during a game, I can tell you exactly what you are going to see: You’re going to watch me fold every hand I’m dealt for an hour and a half. Then I’m going to play a hand where, possibly, I’ll put a whole bunch of chips in the pot. I’ll probably win the hand; or I might lose it. Regardless, after that hand, I’ll go back to folding for another ninety minutes.

If you watch me play a tournament, you might see me playing a few more hands. I've got to; in a tournament one just doesn't have the luxury of sitting around waiting for a big hand.

You’ll leave the poker room glassy-eyed, and likely with me still at the table. You’ll wonder how I could possibly spend ten or twelve (or more) hours straight doing this kind of thing. And I’d be happy to answer that question.

To me, poker isn't boring. Not in the slightest. In fact, it is riveting. There’s nothing I can think of (besides football) that’s more exciting to watch on television than ten or twelve hours of poker. I’m on the edge of my seat with the turn of every card. My mind is whirring at a thousand miles an hour, considering:

·         The math of the hand – who has the best chance of winning it at the moment, and why, and what cards could change the math on the next street.

·         How this information could (and should) affect how the players play the rest of the hand.

·         What the players might be thinking about their opponents’ holdings, and impact that could might have on the way they play their own hand.

·         How I would play the hand, and why.

·         How the hand could be played more effectively to extract more chips from the losing player.

·         How the hand could be played more effectively to minimize the loss to the winning player.

·         And an uncountable myriad of other concepts.

Sometimes I’ll even back up the recording and replay a street, or a hand, or even the entire episode, to make sure I haven’t missed anything.

Being at the table in person isn't that much different, although I have less information to go on because I can’t see the cards unless the players decide to show them. However, the stakes of paying attention to what’s happening are infinitely higher, because these are the players I will be going up against myself. That’s sufficient inspiration to maintain my attention.

It definitely takes a special kind to be a poker player.

Playing Poker with James Woods

WHO HAS TWO THUMBS AND KNOCKED JAMES WOODS OUT OF THE TOURNAMENT?

One of the highlights of the tournament I played at Foxwoods over the weekend was knocking James Woods out of it. Playing against him was very interesting. He has an unusual and distinctive style, but it’s one I've seen before and so it didn't take me too much effort to adjust to it.

James plays a lot of hands, which means by definition that he plays a lot of garbage hands. And he sticks around in pots for multiple streets, especially if he's hit a piece of the board such as middle pair. Believe it or not, it's because of this fact that his middle pair ends up being best; his opponents become so frustrated that they will start playing back at him. But James has a decent post-flop game, so he ends up winning more than his fair share of hands that make it to later streets.

In addition to his general loose style, he also overbets on every street. For example, during the 25/50 level he brought it in for 400 in middle position (I’m more likely to bet 125-150). This bloats the pot early and takes opponents out of their comfort zone. He also has a rather deliberative pace, shall we say. This doesn't go over well with the typical fast-acting, East Coast player. Sometimes you can put a player on tilt just by playing very slowly against him. (It doesn't work against me though. I don’t care how slow you are.)

Too many opponents will try to play back at someone like this by also playing garbage and seeing if they can win as well. But since James has more experience at that, it's not going to be a winning strategy for them. My approach is to play tighter than usual; i.e. play only really good hands. This is obviously something I'll have more experience with than James does, so now we’re playing poker on my ground. If I don't flop good, I let it go. If I DO flop good, I'll be more likely to let him bet for me until showdown, when I scoop.

It definitely helped that I was three to his left; not counting the blinds I had position on him in every hand except once each orbit. Any hold'em player will tell you what a huge advantage this is: I was able to see what he was going to do before I decided to commit my action.

We played a total of four hands heads-up. The first hand was early, before I’d gotten the hang of his particular style, and he won that hand. The other three hands I won, including the one that knocked him out of the tournament. (In case it matters, my AK beat his A9).

Including James, there was a total of 251 players in this tournament, and I ended up cashing in 21^st place, so not a bad result I must admit.

From -$1000 to +$1000 : A $2k swing in just two hands

This is what a $2000 chipstack looks like.

I worked a 12-hour session at $2/$5 no-limit yesterday at Foxwoods. This is a tough room for a lot of reasons; one of which is that most of the folks who play here are professionals, semi-pros, or at the least regulars who show up frequently and play long hours. There are very few tourists such as me who just show up on a lark to play cards for a while. This isn't Vegas.

The maximum buy-in at this table is $500. I always like to buy in for the max, because if I strike gold I want to be able to win the most I can with it. If my stack drops below $400, I’ll add another bill to the table to bring it back up again.

Well, yesterday started out as one of the driest sessions I can remember. At one point, I went four hours without playing a single hand. I kept adding bills to the table, one after another, and after ten hours I was down $1000. I guess you could say that since I had around $500 on the table, I was actually net down only $500, but personally I don’t count the win until I leave the table. So in my mind, I was down one grand.

It wasn't any single hand that put me down. A loss rate of $50/hour on a 2/5 game isn't very much at all. I just wasn't getting anything worth playing.

As I always do, but especially when I am in the midst of a tough session, I examine my game very closely to see if I can figure out where I’m making mistakes. If I’m playing poorly, I’ll just get up and leave and admit I've been beaten. If I’m playing well, I’ll blame the cards and stay at the table. In this case, I knew I was playing very well. I folded Ace/King preflop in one hand when I could tell it was beaten (it was). In another hand, I folded pocket Jacks preflop for the same reason. The flop came A-K-J and the winner had pocket Aces, so I would have lost a fortune if I’d stayed in. I was clearly plugged into the table and making great reads. Nevertheless, a loss is a loss, and the competition was extraordinarily good, so even though I usually can beat the 2/5 game at Foxwoods I decided that on the next day I would drop down to 1/2 – an easier game for me, but one that doesn't bring in nearly enough money.

One of the things that so intrigues me about no-limit poker is how a player can spend hours building up a monster stack, winning hand after hand, and then lose it all in a single bad call. It's something I see nearly every session (although it hasn't happened to me yet). But I didn't think I would be on the receiving end of this experience.

It was ten hours into the session when this hand came up. I was dealt 66 in middle position. I limped in, deciding ahead of time to call the raise that would surely be coming. Sure enough, the player on my left who was a very good loose aggressive player (but then they all are at this room) popped the bet up to $25. There were four callers, including me, so five of us went to the flop.

The board came out K-6-4, so I hit complete Yahtzee. An early player checked; I checked; the opener popped in a good continuation bet and got two callers. When it came back around to me, I check-raised half my stack. The opener folded and the other two callers came along.

The turn was an Ace. It checked to me; I bombed the pot with an all-in. One player folded; the other hemmed and hawed and then called. The river was a brick and I nearly tripled up with my flopped set. From $500 to $1500 in one easy hand!

The very next hand, I was dealt pocket Kings. This time I played it fast. I raised a decent amount and got two callers. The flop was T-8-6 with two diamonds (one of my Kings was the diamond). I c-bet big and the two callers came along. The turn was another diamond. I bombed the pot again, and both players folded. So now I was up even more.

I stayed with the game for another two hours, and kept building my stack, but fatigue finally took its toll and I decided to leave before I started making mistakes that shrank the stack back down. But there’s more poker to be played today!

Steve's Poker Blog: The Next Generation

Welcome to my new blog. Same as the old blog, just a different address. I couldn't remember how to log on to my old blog, as it'd been so long since I posted regularly. So rather than continuously hack into it (until Google finally shut me out once and for all, that is), I just decided to leave it there and start a new one.

The old blog is still there; feel free to check in on it if you ever want to experience "Steve's Poker Blog The Early Years." www.StevesPokerBlog.blogspot.com

I have copied over the last two posts from that blog to provide some continuity. All future posts will be exclusively here. Enjoy!

Peru Poker Trip

In the summer of 2012, we took a two-week vacation in Peru. We have friends who are Peruvian, and they invited us to come back with them. We did all of the touristy things while we were there -- went all over Lima, and then on to Cusco (the Incan capital), but the (literal) high point was Machu Picchu. I blogged about it thoroughly as "Notes" on my Facebook page and posted dozens of pics ("Mucho Machu"), so you can go read it there if you want. And if you're not my Facebook friend, why not? I've been told I sometimes post some funny things.

Lima has a handful of casinos around the city, and a few of them have poker rooms. I of course could not resist checking them out, and so even though I was somewhat hampered by the language barrier I made sure to sit down in a game or two and see what it was like.

First of all, you can forget finding a game that starts any sooner than midnight. The Peruvian currency is called the sol (plural soles, pronounced using two syllables). Each sol was worth, at the time, around 35-40 cents, so we're not talking high stakes.

The players are terrible; there is a good reason why Peru has never produced a championship player. The game plays much more slowly than in Vegas, sometimes as long as five minutes per hand. If you want to check, you say “Paso”. I found this is a bit confusing, because in England if you say “I pass” that means “I fold”. So I was afraid to actually say “paso”; I just tapped the table to check.  “All in” is how you push all-in, although it’s pronounced more like “all een.” “Llamo” is call, which makes sense. A Flush is “Colór”; a Full House is “Full”, pronounced “fool”; and they call Four of a Kind “Pokér”.

There were almost no female poker players to be found. Then again, the conversation around the poker table is of the locker room variety. Very useful for learning Spanish slang, if nothing else.

One of the more notable things about the game there had to do with the rake. In the states, the poker rake is 5% up to a cap of $4-$5 (sometimes more, sometimes less). This, by the way, is probably the single biggest reason why low-limit games are so difficult to beat. The competition at higher limits might be tougher, and you may not win as many big blinds, but the amount of dollars might end up being more because the juice hits a ceiling. In Peru, however, there is no cap on the rake! So even if the pot gets to a thousand soles or more (and it sometimes did), the dealer will pull in a rake of nearly a hundred soles before he pushes the pot.

All in all, I think I'd rather play in Vegas. But the game was very good and definitely lucrative, and I would go again if I had the opportunity. And by the way, one of the Latin America Poker Tour stops takes place in the casino I visited, the "Atlantic City" casino.

Resurrecting the Blog

I had literally forgotten all about this blog. I was (virtually) cleaning out an old laptop, and found some old entries, and well … I guess we’re back in business.

I never really stopped playing poker, although it lightened up significantly after “Black Friday”. Like the death of JFK or the attack of 9/11, if you were a poker player you’ll always remember where you were when you heard about it … I was in Pendleton, playing their Spring Round-up, and in the hallway I overheard some poker luminaries discussing the shut-down (Linda Johnson, Jan Fisher, Susie Isaacs). I wasn’t sure what they were referring to … a temporary outage of some kind?

Anyhow, I finally learned the whole tragic story.

So there’s not much online poker anymore, and of course none at all in Washington State since it’s a felony. But as I travel a lot for my day job, and since there are plenty of card rooms across the country, it’s easy to find a game to sit down in. I’ve been playing a lot in L.A. lately, as well as Foxwoods and A.C. on the East Coast. I even checked out Mohegan Sun once, but the games there are very hard and I don’t know that I want to go back.

I’m pretty happy with where my cash game is nowadays. Lately I’ve been trying to sharpen up my tournament game. I played a WPT main event at Borgata last year (made it to Day Two but didn’t cash); a WSOP bracelet event (made it to Day Two but didn’t cash), and of course Pendleton’s Round-Ups (in the last one I cashed in two out of four tournaments, which is an extraordinary accomplishment).

I met a couple of guys at the last Round-Up, Grant and Jonathan, who are poker coaches. Their operation is called the Portland Poker University (www.pdxpkr.com). I went ahead and hired Grant – the tournament expert – and my tourney game has gotten a lot better just in the few weeks since then. I knew that my successful cash-game style was too tight to work in tournaments, but I wasn’t sure how to loosen up. Grant has shown me how and where to do that, and we’ve also worked on overall hand-reading (which is very helpful). He’s a terrific instructor and the investment is already paying off.

Portland does have poker rooms, which I never realized before. Actually, they’re more like private clubs. You buy a membership ($5/day or so) and play all the tournament poker you can stand. During my on-site visits with Grant, we’ve been playing some of them. Last weekend, cousin Dave and I played a tourney at a club called “Aces”. I finished in the money (sixth out of 80 or so players), and there’s no doubt at all that my results have improved because of the coaching. For example, here’s one hand that tells the story:

It was very early in the tournament, before antes kicked in. Blinds were something like 200/400, and we all had deep stacks of over 50,000. I was in the big blind. Action folded all the way to the button, who limped. The small blind completed. I looked down at QQ and decided to pop it … made it 1300 to call. The button called, and the SB folded.

The flop came nine-high with two diamonds, and so I continuation-bet around 1600. The button put in a giant re-raise to 5000. This was such an odd move, that I had to stop and think about it for a while.

I gave some serious thought to just folding. There wasn’t much in the pot, and I didn’t want to risk losing a lot of chips so early in the tourney. But I tried to figure out what hands could be ahead of me right now.

First of all, my opponent was a really good player. I could tell that just from watching the action at our table. He’d seen me continuation-bet a lot of flops and clearly knew that I’d stolen a lot of pots holding nothing. He probably thought I was doing it again … he can’t have known just how strong my hand was. It was a good move, if that’s what he was doing.

But what could he have that beats me? AA or KK would probably have raised pre-flop, rather than just called the button. A flopped set or two pair probably would have raised less on the flop, or even just called, to keep me in. I couldn’t put him on a flush draw either. Frankly, his raise showed me that he didn’t want me to stick around. The best hand I could put him on was something like A9 – top pair, top kicker. But even that might be an overestimation. (This is the kind of thinking that Grant has been encouraging in my game.)

I called that flop bet, and he was visibly displeased. Since the pot was big enough to satisfy me, the turn and river went check/check, and when I showed my unimproved Queens he mucked disgustedly.

I won another big pot from this same player later in the game, which ended up tilting him beyond any possibility of repair. Again, he was the button and I was the big blind. He raised preflop with AA, and I called with KQ offsuit. The flop was King-high, so I check/called his bet. Turn was a rag, so I check/called again. I actually thought I might have the best hand. The river was another King, which pretty much took away any doubt. I put out a very big value bet, he made a crying call, and when I showed my hand he literally bolted from the table and ran out the back exit. He lost over half of his stack to me on that hand. He did come back to the table – walking through the front door, so he’d literally stomped all the way around the building – but he didn’t last much longer, given his dark mood.

I have some poker trips coming up, and some tournament play planned, so we’ll see if I can keep this blog updated a bit more regularly.