That Was One Weird Hand

I recently played a session of $3/$5 no-limit at Muckleshoot, and ended up winning a hand I had no business winning (and, arguably, no business being in). It ended in a most bizarre way; providing me with an experience I’d never had before.

I was on the button in this hand. By the time action got to me, there were four limpers. I looked down to see 4h4d, the hand nicknamed “Barack Obama” (since he is the 44^th President). There were a few ways I could play this hand:

·       I could fold. However, even though this is such a small pair, I just couldn’t bring myself to make such a wimpy play. The opportunity to flop a set and double my chipstack (or more) was just too enticing.

·       A raise might be in order. However it would probably have to be on the order of a $35-$40 raise to clear away the deadwood, and from playing at this table I realized I wouldn’t be able to shake all of my opponents. A low pair is good for winning a pot preflop; but once the board cards start coming one generally loses.

·       I decided to go with the third option; the smooth call. This gave me the chance for a big score, while risking a minimum of chips.

Action moved on to the small blind. He actually DID take the opportunity to raise, to $40. He was a younger guy; extremely aggressive, but no maniac. It was tough having him on my left, and I knew whenever he was in a hand I would need to be extremely alert.

The big blind folded, and all the limpers called (this was precisely why I had decided not to raise). By the time action got back to me, there was a little over $200 in the pot, and I was being asked to commit another $35. I found these odds irresistible; and as I was closing the action, I decided to call.

The flop came Qh As Qd. At that point, I was done with my hand. I had failed to flop my set, and with such a dangerous board I just wanted to move on to the next hand. However, everyone mysteriously checked this flop; so I checked as well and bought a free card on the turn.

As an aside, the only opponent I was really paying attention to was the preflop raiser on my left, who was the first to act. When he checked the flop, I took all the hands which had an Ace or a Queen out of his range. Given his terrible position and such a dangerous board, I would have expected him to bet these hands if he had them (I know I certainly would have). When he didn’t, I realized he didn’t have those hands.

Things got worse on the turn, with the Jd coming. But once again, it was checked all the way around. I decided to remove Jacks and King/Ten from my opponent’s range, as these are hands he would be obliged to bet with such a scary board and myriad opponents.

The river card was the Jh. Now, the preflop aggressor suddenly came alive, betting $60 into this pot of nearly $250. All the field insta-folded, except for me. I decided to think it over for a bit.

I had already removed so many hands from my opponent’s range, what was left for him to value bet on this river? Pocket Kings? I suppose a monster hand such as quad Queens or Aces full. Or perhaps I had my ranging wrong; but I really didn’t think so. Aside from Kings, I couldn’t put him on a hand that beat the board. And his bet was so small, it was hard to take seriously as a value bet. So I called.

Almost immediately, a number of things happened in somewhat rapid succession:

1.       My opponent said, “You’re good,” and picked up his cards, preparing to helicopter them into the muck.

2.       I turned my pocket fours face up.

3.       My opponent mucked his hand, and the dealer immediately buried it.

4.       I said, “I play the board.”

5.       The dealer pushed me the entire pot.

6.       My opponent realized he’d mucked a tying hand.

And that, boys and girls, is how I won a pot of nearly $400 that I never should have.

The only thing that made this experience better was what actually happened: My opponent started to berate me for my call, enumerating all of the winning hands he could have had (which also happened to be all the hands I had removed from his range as the hand played out). The only reply I gave was, “I know. I’m a really bad player.” And I have all of your chips. It took me three hands to stack them all.

How a Poker Player Thinks

I’ve been spending this week playing at the Ameristar in St. Louis. I’ve been playing nearly all of the Heartland Poker Tour events (including the Main Event), but also plenty of cash games. These games are among the juiciest I’ve ever seen. Outside of Aruba and the Florida rooms, I can’t recall anyplace I’ve played where the chips came so easy. Here’s one hand as an example:

This was a 1/3 game. Having started with $300, I’d been able to grind it up to around $400 after a half-hour ($395 to be precise – see below to learn how I came to know that).  Lots of limping taking place; it wasn’t at all uncommon for six players to see a flop. This isn’t to say there wasn’t ANY preflop raising; on two occasions someone raised $100 into a pot with a few limpers. Both times, after everyone folded, they tabled pocket Kings face-up. Everybody respectfully and solemnly congratulated the winner on their immense skill and judgment for how they avoided a potentially dangerous flop. I felt like congratulating them on winning the absolute smallest amount of money humanly possible with poker’s second-best starting hand.

The following hand happened while I was in middle position. By the time action got to me, we’d seen two limpers (including the older player on my right). I looked down to see pocket nines, and raised to $15. I’d been raising every pot I entered regardless of the number of limpers, which threw some of the other players off since it was so unusual. Not that it made that much difference; my preflop raises didn’t get much respect, and I knew I’d have to trust my post-flop game to be successful in this room.

My raise got cold-called in two spots behind me. The small blind folded; big blind called; and the first limper also called. Now action was on the player to my right. To recap: Four players plus me, with one left to act.

Suddenly, this player shoved all-in; nearly a $400 re-raise.

My first instinct was to fold. After all, pocket nines generally don’t play well in a hand that’s been three-bet preflop. But I decided to give the matter a bit more thought. I asked myself, what hand would someone limp/shove with … that could beat pocket nines?

We’ve already established that folks will raise preflop with premium hands at this table. This means that my opponent probably didn’t have Aces, Kings, Queens, or Jacks, because he would have raised with them himself. Maybe even Tens. So what hand would he reraise-shove with? Let’s say Tens, Nines, Eights, Sevens, and maybe Sixes. Against this range, 99 is a 65/35 winner. So I should call.

Let’s add a few more hands to his range. Assuming he’d also raise AK and AQ, that removes those hands from his range. So maybe AJs and ATs … KQs, QJs, and JTs. I can’t think of any other reasonable possibilities, and even these might be stretching it. But even so, I’m still 60/40 against this range.

Again, the key for me was his limp/shove, and what preflop raises tended to mean at this table. If he’d raised a reasonable amount himself preflop, I’d have just called (and given the exact flop, bluffed if checked to or folded to a bet). If he’d three-bet a smaller amount, I might have folded. But his shove, paradoxically, just looked too weak, and WAY too polarizing.

I called.

Everyone else folded, so it was heads up. The board cards were KKQJ4 rainbow. I showed my 99; he showed 77; and since I had him outchipped by around $5 (that’s how I knew exactly how much I had above), he was completely felted. I stacked towers of chips, while he rebought.