By Matthew E. Milliken
MEMwrites.wordpress.com
June 13, 2017
Time for more tales of free poker!
Last night, shortly after the late tournament consolidated from two tables to one, blinds were 10,000–20,000; as it happened, 20,000 was all that the fellow in the big blind had. I was sitting in first position with suited ace-10, both hearts. Naturally, I called. So did Robert, the player on my left. A third player did as well.
The flop, it seemed, could hardly have been better for me. The first card out was an ace; then came a four, followed by a second ace. That gave me three of a kind. I checked.
Not so Robert, who went all in for 65,000. The other live player folded; I counted Robert’s chips, sorted through mine and announced that I would call.
In making my decision, I’d considered what Robert might have had. It occurred to me that he might have the fourth and final ace. A hand of ace-four would have given Robert a full house, a.k.a. a boat — three of a kind (aces, two on the board, one in the hole) over a pair (fours, one on the board, one in the hole). But if that were the case, I’d have a shot at catching up if, say, a 10 came out, or if another pair appeared on the board.
In fact, Robert had pocket fours, meaning that he’d flopped a house — fours full of aces. Since I only had trips, I was behind. But yes, I still had a chance to catch up.
The turn was an eight. That didn’t directly help me, but it sort of did indirectly: If the river was also an eight, I’d have a better boat than Robert.
So now I had seven outs: The fourth ace, any of the three remaining eights, or any of the three remaining 10s.
I forget what the river was, but I can tell what it wasn’t: Neither an ace nor an eight nor a 10. Robert knocked out the player in the big blind and collected the vast majority of my chip.
“Oh man,” I declaimed loudly, among other demonstrative expressions of disappointment. When Robert asked if he was owed a pile of chips that had been sitting in front of Rich, the all-in player whom he’d just knocked out, I tried to deny him.
The other players discussed the hand. “That’s a perfect hand,” one said admiringly, meaning that there was no way for me to detect that Robert was ahead of me based on the available information.
Two hands later, I was all in for less than the big blind. Robert was in the big blind; a player named Betsy also called. There was no betting as the board came out five, six, seven, eight and 10 (although not in that precise sequence, I believe).
I hadn’t yet looked at my cards. “Jack-nine would be good to have,” I muttered. I flipped over my pockets to find — jack-nine! I raised my hands in excitement over a rare seven-card straight, which I was almost certain kept me in the tournament.
Someone said that I’d known what my pocket cards were, but Betsy confirmed to the table that I hadn’t looked until I’d exposed my hand.
However, the hand wasn’t over yet, as Robert reminded me before he turned over… the king and five of clubs. Crestfallen, I looked back to the board, only to confirm that, indeed, it contained three clubs. This gave Robert a flush, a better hand than mine.
I put my head on the table. Robert had outfoxed me again.
Of course, the hand still wasn’t over, as Betsy reminded us this time. I was beaten for certain, but I watched curiously as she turned over her hand. Had she the ace of clubs and another club, which would have given her a better flush than Robert’s king-high?
Nope; she was just teasing us. Betsy turned over the ace of clubs and an unsuited royal card. Robert scooped up the pot while I stood and moaned aloud in frustration and despair.
A few minutes later, after I finished paying my tab, I turned away from the bar and back to the poker tournament. An all-in hand was in progress, and the result was… Robert knocking out two players at once. In a matter of minutes, he’d eliminated half of the final table. “Who will stop the rampage of Robert?” I cried as the defeated players rose to depart.
Reader, that was when I went home, and the tournament results haven’t been emailed as best I can determine. So that’s the story of how a mean nasty fellow named Robert did me dirty at the free poker table.
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