By Matthew E. Milliken
MEMwrites.wordpress.com
Dec. 16, 2022
On Tuesday morning, Nov. 22, I vacated my room at Harrah’s just before checkout and stowed my duffel bag in the trunk of my car. Then I spent a while strolling outside, mostly around the Borgata property. After nearly an hour, having covered more than 3.4 miles, I found my way to the outdoor parking lot that had functioned as a sort of home base for part of my earlier trip and headed inside to the nearby food court, where I pulled on a collared shirt.
Then I went upstairs to the poker room and put my name on a list for a $1-$3 no limit Texas holdem cash table. About 20 minutes later, a dealer sat down at table nine, near the room’s main entrance. I settled into seat four and bought in for $240. A few of the players bought in for the maximum, $400.
At 12:43 p.m., less than two hours after I’d left my hotel room, I played the very first hand against Ballcap Redbeard, or BCR, the younger white man to my right in seat three. He said he was a Maryland native who worked for a national intelligence agency. I raised to $10 from the hijack and was called by BCR. I made lower set on a flop of ace-seven-six with two hearts. I bet $15, but BCR folded.
Around 1 o’clock, seat seven raised to $11. Holding sixes in the big blind, I re-raised to $22. No one called.
Thirty-five minutes later, I folded A♦️5♦️ in the small blind. The preflop action had included a limp, a raise to $12 and a call. A suited ace is a great hand to defend, but not a great one to take to the flop in a multiway pot. I released my cards. It turned out that the board would not have been helpful — good fold, me!
It turned out that the players in seats seven and two were twin brothers, white men in their 30s. The man in seat six was an older Filipino man wearing a surgical mask, a bulky brown sweater and a black-and-green New York Jets hat. He pulled up a picture on his phone of his mother, and himself and his two brothers as babies. They’re triplets!
I counted my stack at 1:56 p.m. I had $250, an extremely modest $10 boost over my buy-in for the session.
Shortly before 2:27, my A♣️7♣️ turned three aces. I checked. The twin at the far end of the table, in seat seven, bet $20. Seat one called. I went all in. Both opponents folded.
As the time approached 3 p.m., I made a note that the players in seats six and one both wanted to see runouts. The masked man in seat six shifted to be on my immediate left in seat five.
Just before 3 p.m., I chased a flush with K♠️Q♠️ — the second hand in a row I’d had those exact cards. The turn was a brick. The twin in seat seven bet $100. I folded having spent around $85 on the hand.
Seemingly nothing of consequence happened for an hour. When I counted my stack at 3:51 p.m., it contained $221, a $19 session loss.
Over the next hour and change, I won a few hands.
The major one pitted me against Ballcap Redbeard. Holding pocket eights, we saw a rainbow flop of 4-5-6. A seven would give me an eight-high straight, so I figured that if I was behind, I at least had a chance of leapfrogging ahead. I bet $50. BCR considered and folded. He tried to find out what I had, saying that he was holding pocket nines. I told him I didn’t like giving out free information.
BCR left around 5:20. A few minutes later, another player took the seat.
A few minutes after that, I counted my stack again. I had $280, putting me $40 to the good.
I belatedly realized that when BCR left, I was the last person at the table who had been playing from the time it started that afternoon.
But my energy was flagging, and I still wanted to get in another playing session at Harrah’s. I cashed out for $262 at 5:41.
My poker profit for the day was a very modest $22 over more than five hours. Not great; better than losing.
I walked back to Harrah’s and took seat two in a $1-$2 no limit Texas holdem game at 6:04 p.m. I was tired, so I did not take much in the way of notes.
I jumped into the action with the $123 that I’d taken up to my room after my late-night Harrah’s session. I got pocket eights and made a set in my very first hand.
Soon afterward, I paired my ace on the flop while holding the ace of clubs and either the queen or jack of clubs. I bet the flop and was called by the big stack in seat seven, a white guy in his 30s or 40s whom I suspected was a professional poker player.
Out of concern that my foe had ace-king, or possibly two pairs, I checked the turn.
The river seemed harmless. I bet $25. The villain raised to $100. I suspected that he was bluffing. After some consideration, I called. He was not bluffing; rather, he’d played a speculative hand that had rivered a 10-high straight. Another player noted that the villain had been chasing; my opponent responded that he was able to see a river for free. I silently cursed myself for that turn check…
I’d gone from $147 to $27. I added on for $120.
Not long after that, I played king-10 off-suit on the button and made two pairs on the flop. I was playing a diminutive older woman in seat three, to my immediate left. She checked the river. I bet it. She shoved for $40 more.
Reader, I called, and found that her eight — I didn’t note what other card she had; maybe a six? — had given her a queen-high straight, 8-9-10-J-Q. Oh boy…
At 7:24 p.m., I was down to $45. It was a loss of more than $100.
I was too tired to continue, especially given the drive I needed to make to get back home. I left the table with $42. Rather than endure the humiliation of cashing them out, I pocketed them for future use.
By my calculations, I lost about $533 playing poker over the course of about two days. Pretty bad stuff.
MEMwrites 
Leave a comment