By Matthew E. Milliken
June 22, 2015
It is, in fact, the third hand of a tournament. There are about six people at the table. I’m in the big blind.
Players fold until the action gets to Dave, a player I’m fairly familiar with. He raises to 700. Another player — I believe the man in the small blind, immediately to my right — calls.
Action comes to me. I peek at my hand and see dual kings.
Well now. I’ve got to do something with this. I ponder for a moment, then raise to 3,800 total.
Dave thinks about it and then calls. The third player drops out.
Now comes the flop: ten-ten-jack.
Dave hesitates, then goes all in.
I think about it. Dave sometimes bluffs — makes big bets on junk. I’m pretty sure I had him going into the flop.
After a while — not too long a while — I call.
Dave flips his cards. He has fishhooks — pocket jackets. Combined with the flop, he has a full house — an excellent hand. I can win, but only with a king.
It doesn’t come. And so I’m knocked out on the third hand of the tournament.
The following day, I played in multiple tournaments. In one, I pushed with pocket queens. My opponent had aces. I lost; tournament over, at least for me.
Later, in another tournament, we were working our way toward the final table. I had pocket kings — an excellent hand, or so I thought. I pushed all in.
Action went around the table: Fold, fold, fold…
Rather to my surprise, a player called me. He was the only caller.
We flipped. I showed my pocket kings. He showed his pocket aces. I lost; tournament over.