We've all seen them; those hyper-aggressive players that
bomb the pot on every street, frequently winning a hand by doing nothing more
than bullying the opposition out of the way. And we just know that they can’t have a real hand every time they do this; but
whenever we try to fight back, we discover that (at least that particular time)
they in fact do; alternately, we chicken out before we get to the river.
These players used to befuddle – if not downright
intimidate – me, but nowadays I know how to fight back effectively.
It was early afternoon, and my opponent had been playing
all night long. He had a stack of nearly $10,000; a respectable showing in a
3/5 game when the max buy-in is only $500. And he was one of these
hyper-aggros. Helpfully, he was in Seat 1 and I had Seat 4, so I at least had
position on him. I pegged him right away for who he was (his gigantic chip stacks
were something of a clue), and assembled a strategy for how to play against
him, should the occasion arise.
For the most part, we stayed out of each other’s way.
When he came into a pot, I’d generally get out; and if he passed on a hand, I
found myself more likely to stay in. But inevitably, the big confrontation took
place … and I was ready for it.
I was in the big blind, and he was in the cutoff. This
being a Seattle room, the field limped in with hardly any folders, until it got
to Aggroboy. He tossed in a huge two-fisted raise, and it was folded to me. I
looked down at a pair of black sixes, and thought, what the heck? This was, after all, exactly the kind of hand I was
looking to go to war with. I called, the rest of the table folded, and it was
heads-up.
The rainbow flop came Ace, Queen … Six. Precisely the kind
of hand to hit the Villain’s range, and of course I had just struck Yahtzee. I
meekly checked. Villain cut out a monster, pot-sized bet. I hemmed and hawed,
and eventually called.
The turn was a three, completing the rainbow. Once more I
checked. Once more, Villain bombed the pot. Once more, I hemmed and hawed and
called.
The river was a seven, and now was the time to drop the
hammer. After a brief, respectable delay, I softly said, “All in” while tossing
in a single white chip, and waited. Villain visibly melted. He knew exactly
what was up now. However, he also knew that he just had to call; he’d watched me playing for some time now, and he
realized that the river bluff was part of my repertoire. His Ace-Jack was no
match for my flopped set.
While I was stacking my double-up, I saw that he was
muttering to himself. Not in a mean way; he was primarily beating himself up
over how he played his hand. Then, just slightly louder, he said, “Well, you
hit your hand and just sat back and let me bet it for you.” I said, “Yep, I
appreciate that.”
He ended up moving to Seat 6 as soon as the opportunity
arose, so that my positional advantage would no longer be there … but by then,
the damage had been done.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was at a table blessed with a textbook fish; a rich noob
with a bottomless supply of $100 bills, giving away stacks of chips at a time
to whoever happened to be in a hand with him, and happily rebuying whenever he
hit felt.
The player on my left, on the other hand, was quite good;
and ultimately found himself heads-up against our generous Villain. The Hero
had turned two pair, and shoved all in. Villain called with his flush draw, and
had at most seven outs (roughly a 15% chance to win the hand). As sometimes
happens with really bad players, Villain hit his hand on the river and doubled
up. Once the hand ended, as my neighbor was cutting out the chips he needed to
make the pot right, he said (only half-joking), “I hate you. You know that
right? I mean, I really hate you.”
This got some chuckles from the rest of us at the table,
so he continued: “I mean, if you got hit by a truck on the way out of the card
room, I wouldn't miss you.” I very quickly chimed in, “Well I would!” This brought more laughter
from the rest of the table.
Poker humor. You either get it, or you don’t.
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