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Poker Blog established in 2003 as the first stop for poker news, poker stories, and bad poker advice.

June 18, 2005

AMILV--Day 2

by Otis

"First, you put the sour cream on it, and the kitty cat, it slurp, slurp, slurp."

The mad Russian who could've been Howard Stern's brother was sitting one table behind me talking about his #1 rated fetish porn site.

We were two tables of late night $10/$20. The Russian's table was the live one. A priest had wandered by my game twice and administered last rites.

Three times I'd considered getting up and going to bed, bit it was still relatively early, my work was done for the day, and I wasn't tired. The game was exhaustingly boring though. The die-hards at the table had done everything we could to get the action going. We straddled, we tried to drink a bit, and we even brought the rock into the game. It was all to no avail.

I was scanning the room for a rack to fill with my meager stack of blinded-off reds when the Russian's table broke and three of the players came to our short-handed table. The Russian took the seat to my right, while another player (also Russian, perhaps, but I'm not sure) took the seat to his right. We'll call him Eddie.

On the first hand, Eddie stood an announced he would play the entire hand blind. He put his chips on his cards and when it a raise came around to him, he grabbed a handful of checks, and said, "Hey, hey, hey, watch this..." Then he wound up like a fat minor league pitcher, threw his arm forward, said, "Blooooooooop!" and rolled out three bets.

I looked around at my old tables mates--every one of them locals--and raised my eyebrows. They nodded, and we waited.

Yes, on that first hand, the betting was capped pre-flop, capped on the flop, capped on the turn, and two bet on the river. Blind Eddie's T6o hit a runner-runner straight to snap off the solid's player's flopped set of nines.

"Fucking amazing," the guy said. "Fucking amazing."

And then the idiot stood and left. Like walking outof a goldmine beacause your pick-axe is scratched.

I ran to the bathroom and when I came back, a red-haired lady who I'd been playing with all night grabbed me and said, "Just sit back and wait for cards."

The sentiment wa unnecessary but nice. After all, the lady and I had spent a couple of hours trying to take each other's money and now, with six other players, we were looking to take the Russian and Eddie's stacks...and the stacks of bills behind. The game had shifted just like that.

And after all, now Blind Eddie and the Mad Russian were bothplaying blind, usually to the river, usually in pots that were three bet ("Bloooooooop!") or capped pre-flop.

Just three hands later I found pocket sevens UTG +2 and limped in, knowing full well I'd be playing them for thirty or forty dollars. Indeed, Blind Eddie and the Mad Russian raised and re-raised blind. Before he flop we had six players in a capped pot.

So, imagine my poker player's joy when the flop came out 753 rainbow. The boys came out firing and I slow-played my set until the bets got back around to me and gave me a chance to cap it. My former opponents got the message. get out and get out now.

The turn was a deuce. Three bets from me and the boys made it to the middle. I was ever-so-slightly worried that one of the boys had 4-6 for a flopped straight, but it didn't slow me down.

And then the beautiful river...another deuce. Not quite the nuts, but close enough for me. The mountain of red chips that slipped to my corner of the table was too big to stack before the conclusion of the next hand. I figured if I could catch one more hand, I could end the night with a very nice profit.

And then the worst possible thing happened.

I wasn't in the hand, but the field had limped around to Blind Eddie who had raised (he said blind, and I think I believe him). The Mad Russian three-bet and the rest of the field folded). So, the boys said they would check it down. Eddie showed KK. The Russian showed 6-9 offsuit.

The guy to my left exploded, screaming that he had had enough of it, accusing the pair of cheating, colluding, etc. Now the boys were screaming back. Then a guy who had just won $12,000 in a small tournament in the back of the room got into it, screaming, waving his brick of $100s around. The floor tried to come to the rescue, but it was too late.

While I sat in the middle, eying my chips, and hoping everyone would calm down, it happened. Blind Eddie grabbed his chips and bolted for the door. The the Russian stalked off. And there we sat, the same rock garden as before.

Now the original accusers who had been nice guys before were surly and calling the red-haired lady "chick" and "broad." And that was enough for me. I played the rest of the orbit and then racked up and went to bed. The game was done.

Rule #1: When you have a good thing, don't fuck it up.

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