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.
