Thursday, December 22, 2016

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I have a small problem that only you can help me with.

The problem is that I’m super lazy, a world-class procrastinator, and have had this blog content “In-Draft” for more than a year now!

Meanwhile, Diamond Lil’s closed, Seattle 20/40 Hold Em moved to a new room a couple miles away, and the DL stuff written months ago might seem stale now, unless read in the context of that move.
 
And all the change it brought?  No, and that’s the point.  Nothing changed.  Same game, players, management, dealers, floormen, and rules.  The biggest change I can think of is how I can't get a tiny dab of hot Chinese mustard for my Kung Pao or General Tso's Chicken any more.  Lil's kitchen had it, but the new place doesn't.  Bummer, right?

So can you please help me out here?  All you gotta do is (1) Forgive how long since the last post, and; (2) Keep in mind that some of this is from DL, and some from the new room.  To help with that, it’s divided into Parts I (Before) and II (After) the move.


Part I - Before the Move



The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly


My last post whined some about various bad behaviors seen in poker games, so for balance, here's some good things I've been seeing.

Good #0:  That post also mentioned Henry's and his wife's car, with the REALOVE vanity plate.  Can’t count it, since it's a repeat, but that one grabs me so much I can't help myself, so can you please let me just mention it again?  Thanks.


Good #1:  Then there's Yvonne, Board Lady at The Commerce, who while seating and getting chips for a player, managed to say "please" three times, and "thank you" twice.  Those words are like an endangered species in the Poker Room, so I couldn't help myself there either, and had to call her out on it.

"Oh," she allowed, with perhaps a slightly embarrassed smile, "That's just how Dad and Mom taught me."

Good #2:   Seattle Seahawk #85 came back!  They traded him to “the other” Washington- The Redskins, last year, and I didn’t think we’d ever see him again.  But then, in December [2015], the only NFL player I ever knew personally, and most successful Hold Em Player I ever knew, period, somehow was ¿traded? BACK to Seattle, and briefly came back to the DL 20 game.  Now that the season is over, well, who knows if or when we’ll see him.

[Update:  Seems A.M. retired, and moved back home to his vineyards in Fresno, CA.  Most successful cuz he came to our game with a single, simple goal:  Have a good time, and he never failed.]


Good #3:   Live Straddle at Lil's.  Can't complain, nor explain, about surprising popularity of the Live Straddle in the DL 20 game.  Some of these guys just love to gambool.

Lots of them also like to act (e.g., fold) out of turn, or *tell* that they’re folding, or just throw away when they don’t like the river, and so on.  I have no complaint about any of those behaviors either.

Good #4:  Recreational Retirement Benefits.

A couple years ago I reached that age, and started getting Social Security, thanks to American wage earners and taxpayers.  Thanks!  Now, there’s this other benefit I never expected or knew about, until I discovered it quite by accident last year.  And now, I’m using this to save tons of money— and someday, you can too!
 
Turns out, once you’re old enough, you won’t need to spend even a nickel, ever again, for alcohol or drugs, when you want to get high.  Turns out, when you want a quick buzz, all you gotta do is stand up real fast!

Good #5:  Good Save for a Good Ruling.
 
Barry Tannenbaum’s superb Limit Hold ‘Em book calls Pocket Nines (Early Position) a marginal hand that will probably lose money.  I throw it away sometimes, too, but more often will look for an excuse to play it.
 
DL 20/40.  This time, with 99 Early, enough guys on my left are *telling* us they’re folding that I promote myself to Middle Position, and open-raise.  Chae, in late position, and the Button, both call.
So I’m watching them, not the board, when the flop comes.  They both look puzzled and confused, then give each other, and me, a WTF? look.

So I ask Tyler, on my right, “Did I miss something here?”  Then, before he can reply, I look at the flop:  K Q 9.  Nice.  I check, Chae checks, Button does nothing, and they start talking about how something was wrong with how the flop went down. 

I’m listening, trying to follow, but I didn’t see whatever they saw, so I don’t get it.  Then, any issue was apparently resolved; action was still on the Button, and he finally goes ahead and bets out.  OK, fine.  If there was a problem, seems like they're happy now.  So I raise.

Oops, wait.  Now they want to question the flop [again][some more], and summon Junior Floorman, a well-meaning good guy, but who might not have what it takes to make a the right decision in a tricky situation.

They say the dealer accidentally brought five cards off the deck for the burn and flop, put one back, but the wrong one, and now the flop isn’t right.  I don’t get that.  Doesn’t the burn card come off separately, by itself, then three more for the flop?  But anyway they’re discussing all this, for too long, Junior Floorman looks unsure, and appears to be on the verge of declaring a misdeal, and refunding everyone’s bets.  Time for a save.

So I speak up, and make my case for how that might have been OK earlier, but questioning the flop, then betting it, then questioning it again, after you’ve been check-raised, just ain’t right. 

So now Junior Floor really doesn’t know what to do.  I even told him I had made my case to put on some pressure, and please don't take the easy way out.

Fortunately, the Poker Room Manager, done for the day, coat on, wasn’t out the door yet.  They got him over, and repeated everything, I made my case again too, and The Boss made the right ruling.  With all that action on the hand now, it will be played out.  And it was, and my set held up.  Thank you.

Good #6
:  The Boss.  After our 2 month Summer 2015 trip to Bellagio and Commerce, we got back to DL in late August, and met M.W, the new Poker Room Manager.  The Boss.  This time, they found a smart and funny guy who:

  • *Really* knows what he’s doing.
  • Is decisive, but without being overbearing.
  • Is always friendly, but don't take no shit from nobody.
  • Always just plain "Gets It."
Hallelujah.  Plus, he's funny.  But don't rejoice too much yet, because see Bad Thing #1, below.


The Bad


I'm not sure either of these two things are actually bad at all.  At first glance they sure seemed to be.

Bad #1.  The King is Dead; Long Live The King

On December 11, 2015, management announced that, early in 2016,  Diamond Lil's will close!  Successful business, makes money hand over fist, and generates tons of tax revenues too, so sure, why not shut it down?

It's been a cardroom for over 40 years, but now there's some hassle with the city, over zoning, and also with the supermarket chain that owns the empty lot where most DL customers park.  Or something.  In any case, they say the lease won't/can't be renewed, they're closing the door, and everything/everyone will supposedly move a couple miles to a new "Fortune Casino" that's getting ready to open, right across the street from Renton Honda.

Diamond Lil's is a unique, wacky, and totally lovable collection of extraordinary people, players and staff both.  We started coming here 23 years ago, to play 4/8, and now it's been the primary home for us (and the Seattle 20 game) for 8 years.
  
So I didn't like this news one damn bit.  But I didn't like it when they said the big limit games in Vegas were moving from Mirage to Bellagio, either, and look how that turned out!  They say the new place is bigger and better.  And it is even closer to our house.  

I put this item down under "Bad," but who knows?  It may turn out just fine.

Bad #2.  Exquisite Deception

Truthfully,  this one isn't really so bad either, except for the embarrassingly shameful way that I fell for it.  So let’s just say this one was My Bad.

Suppose that whenever it's your big blind, 4 chips, you put out 2 instead, as though it were your small.  Occasionally, you're going to get over.  Occasionally, the dealer, and your neighbors, will all be oblivious to the "mistake," the button will go "wrong," and you'll avoid the blind and save (steal) a bet.  Could this move expect a 10% success rate?  More?  Less?

I don't know.  But I do know a couple guys who pull this stunt every single time.  Don't you?  Or are you paying attention closely enough to notice?

Or how about this one:  Bet and raised on the flop, so to call you might put out two stacks of four chips each.  But instead, you slap down four chips, then two more, then two more, still just calling, but now three stacks.  Why?  Because occasionally — maybe once in a blue moon — an opponent who would call two bets might fold, thinking you made it three bets.

These are examples of the kinds of moves in Roman Fingers'  repertoire, and he's got a couple dozen others—  some that might cross the line, and some that just edge up against it, like these two.  In any case, Roman, aka Mr. Atlantic City, is for sure Seattle 20/40's undisputed King of Slick Tricks and Sneaky Moves.

I often think I shouldn't, and you might think I shouldn’t, but somehow I just can’t help liking Roman.  In spite of all his tricks, we are [were] "poker friends," and I even have a grudging admiration for his "skills."  Go figure.

And the move he put on me this time did not seem at all unethical to me, so I won't claim that there was anything *wrong* about it.  Poker is, in part,  a game of deception, and I actually have to admire how beautifully, if not masterfully, he executed this one, and deceived the crap out of me.

The dealer is nearly done pitching cards, and it's Roman's Big Blind, but he hasn't put it in yet.  Just as she's telling him, again, that it's his blind, he's folding his hand.  Oops.  Haven't we all been there a time or three?  He grabs his cards back, puts in four chips, and the action proceeds.

Muck, muck, muck, I find Ace Ten suited in the middle, and open-raise.  Action folds around to Roman, and he surprises me by calling.  Heads-up.

Flop comes Ten high, Roman waits for the turn to raise, and I had to laugh — at myself, I guess — when the hand he "fake folded" preflop, and shows down at the river, turns out to be pocket Queens.


The Ugly


So those two items under "Bad" weren't really bad all.  So far this post seems upbeat and positive.
 
But there is one truly Ugly story that needs to be told.  And this story needs a couple prefaces to tell the entire story, and to paint the full picture.

Preface I  —   The Ambiguous Muck

My last post mentioned Dr. Torture, the sadist who takes an end seat, then puts his bets and folds his cards right in front of his stack, and makes the dealer strain and reach.
           
That's physical abuse.  A cousin of that despicable move is psychological abuse:  The Ambiguous Muck.  A player is *maybe* folding, and pushes his cards forward, but just an inch or so.  Or perhaps he's beside the dealer, and just picks up his one chip card protector, and gives a little wave.
 
So the dealer has to ask herself:   "Is he folding?"  Maybe.  Or maybe he’s giving that chip to the waitress, and is trying to shoo away a fly?
 
Any player with half a brain should understand that the last thing she wants to do is accidentally take his hand, when he’s not really folding.  That’s a dealer's worst nightmare, and The Ambiguous Muck is a jerk move that makes dealers crazy.  If you don’t believe me, just ask one.

Sometimes the player is just careless, or clueless, and inconsiderate.  But sometimes it’s a deliberate act, where the player knows damn well the doubt, the uncertainty, and the anguish that he cruelly creates by *maybe* folding.

So the player who inflicts that mental torture, either carelessly or deliberately, making the poor dealer wonder if he wants to fold or not, is at best being inconsiderate, or at worst is harassing her, and being a sadistic asshole.

Preface II  —   Gender-Specific (Misogynistic) Pejoratives

Ain't that a mouthful.  It was a “horribly misogynistic pejorative” in that post a couple years ago, where Old Dirty Mouth asked Ducky about Ms. T:  "How do you like having that [shock word] run over you?

Being a word I had never written or spoken until then, I looked it up before posting, just to be sure.


Pejorative
adjective
expressing contempt or disapproval.
Synonyms:   disparaging, derogatory, denigratory, deprecatory, defamatory, slanderous, libelous


Yup, that's what we're talkin' about.  Any bad names one person calls another, in anger or contempt, or to ridicule, is probably a pejorative.  These include ethnic slurs, racial epithets, and all manner of discriminatory insults and put-downs. 

Bullies and bigots, haters and harassers, those seeking to abuse, intimidate or denigrate, all tend to use pejorative speech.  A lot.

I've used that other word a lot in this blog, and, oddly enough, it came up a lot in the recent election campaign.  Still, let's quickly review one time:


Misogyny
noun
1.  dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women.  (Google)
2.  hatred of women  (Meriam Webster)

Even before the Ugly incident came up, I had for some time been thinking about, and talking about, how quickly and easily we jump right into a Gender-Specific (Misogynistic) Pejorative.

 
For example, if someone cuts us off in traffic, and we’re angry about it, we might exclaim:

   "What a stupid asshole!"

...unless that someone was a woman.  Then, some of us might focus on gender also, update the pejorative, and exclaim:

  "What a stupid bitch!"

Why is that?  When the target is female, why do we so easily add gender to the condemnation?  And if we do, is that misogyny?  Does that make one a misogynist?

Probably yes.

Thanks for your patience.  Now we can tell the ugly story, where The Ambiguous Muck, and Gender-Specific (Misogynistic) Pejoratives both apply.

The Ugly:  Larry Doesn’t Play Here Any More


I used to think that I basically liked Leisure Suit Larry.  Sure, he’s a world-class narcissist, self-centered, selfish, and arrogant.  Wait, was that redundant?  But he also really, really likes to put chips in the pot, with little regard for his holding, and even more so if he’s drinking.  And how can you not love that?  Right?

Then one weeknight just before Christmas, there he was in Seat 5, I was in 1, Kitty was dealing, and suddenly, everything went straight to Hell.  Somehow, in the middle of playing a hand, medium big pot, Larry’s cards disappeared into the muck.
 
At first he didn’t know what happened.  “Where are my cards?” he yelled.  Then he claimed that Kitty had reached across the table and taken them from beneath his hands.  Lots of words back and forth between Larry, the floormen, and some from Kitty, but nothing resolved.

That tedious preface about The Ambiguous Muck seems germane here, since Larry is a guy very much prone to doing that.  In other words, if you’re one of those players who oftentimes makes the dealer wonder, makes her guess, whether you are folding or not — and Larry sure is one of those — then you really can’t be surprised, and can’t complain, when — inevitably — she might get it wrong one time.  Just sayin’.

A couple more hands are played, but Larry’s sitting out, grumbling, getting more and more pissed, and racking up, preparing to leave.  Maybe on his own, or maybe the floor told him to pack it up; I’m not sure.

But I am sure that, after racking his chips he sat there, still in 5, and loudly told Kitty “You’re a fucking bitch!” 

Then he stood up, and leaned in, almost in her face, and loudly said it again.  Twice. 

Then he cashed out and left.

A little later the floorman came back, said he had viewed surveillance video, and that, yes, Larry had left his cards, unprotected, right by the betting line, and yes, of course, the dealer scooped them.

It’s too bad M.W., The Poker Room Boss, was off that night; if he were there, things probably would never have gone that far.
 
Larry showed up again about ten days later, and it’s too bad The Boss was off that night too, and not there to tell to him why, until they had a chat, his floormen wouldn’t let him play.  Larry hung around half an hour anyway, telling anyone who would listen the whole story about his cards being taken.  He had no clue how that was all moot now, eclipsed by his Gender-Specific Misogynistic Pejorative speech to the dealer.
=== === ===


Part II - The Fortune Cookie


So Lil’s closed on April 25, and Fortune Poker opened 2 days later.  Since the change was first announced, I had been thinking (worrying) that another cardroom might throw some kind of big promotion, time it just right, and try to steal the Seattle 20/40 game, much like Emerald Queen stole it from the Mucks some years ago, by spreading 20 with a $1 rake.

That didn’t happen, and now the 20/40 is alive and well, and stronger than ever, at The Fortune Cookie, now UNDER half a mile from our house.  Often three 20/40 games, sometimes four.  Action Games, too.

I mean, get this:  Lately the live straddle has become so popular in the 20 game that, often as not, all the players in one of the games will by agreement all straddle, deal after deal, for hours on end.  And pound shots of Remy Martin 1738.  God Bless America.

The Tipping Point

Friday, October 14, 2016 - 6:40pm
Fortune Poker $20/40 - Table 12

I’m in late position, Seat 2, am distracted on my Galaxy Note 4 during the deal, and as the action nears, I look to the felt, and reach for my cards.

But I can’t find them, and for a moment think the dealer forgot me.  “Where are my cards?” I ask him.

“Somebody mucked them,” he says.

“What?  Somebody...who?”

He doesn’t reply, but nods and looks towards my neighbor in Seat 3, so I look left too.  Roman Fingers.  Should have known. 

“Did you touch my cards?”

“Not exactly,” he giggles.

Long story short, I ask the dealer to call the floor, and ask the floorman to please pass on to the poker room manager my complaint about Mr. Fingers’ fingers being where they should never be, and doing what they should never should do, yet again, and how much more of this are we gonna take?  Calmly and politely.

Two days later, I’m head up on the river with Smilin’ John, opposite ends of the table, and he shows down, in turn:  Ace Queen.

“Straight!” declares Mr. Roman Fingers, who has no cards, and is not involved.

It almost kinda sorta looked like a straight, too;  board was 6 7 9 T J, and if I said I’ve never been fooled or tricked by something like that before, I’d be lying.

But not this time.  My Ace King took the pot.  Then I had to wonder:  What motivates Roman to say that?  What is he trying to accomplish?  I kept asking myself that, again and again, over the next couple days, kept getting the same quite obvious answer, and I didn’t like it one damn bit.

So that was the tipping point, where my take on Roman went South.  Used to see him as clever, amusing and entertaining, but tricky and needs watching.  Now, however, I must consider him a real threat to game integrity, and my stack, and watch him as closely as I would any other cheat.

Plus, my outrage over how he took (stole) and mucked my hand preflop before I even saw my cards probably should have subsided some by now, but instead it keeps growing.  So now Fingers is the Atlanta Braves' new draft pick; it's open warfare, and he’s the target.

About a week later Fingers is sitting right next to me, and pulls his signature move:  He reaches out, and helps himself to a peek at another player’s card that is face down on the table.  Bingo.

So I (ask the dealer to) call the floorman to complain again about Roman Fingers’ roaming fingers.  I’m looking for some kind of sanction, and Roman inadvertently helps me!

Most rooms have a rule about foul language, but it’s rarely enforced.  No clue why, but for some reason Fortune Cookie got serious about it, recently put a new list of conduct rules by the front door,  including “No F-Bombs Permitted.  Period.”  Turns out they’re enforcing that — sending violators home — way more strictly than the constantly-violated but never-enforced English Only rule.  Go figure.

At first the floorman tells Roman that he’s barred for 24 hours for touching another player’s cards.  Great!  Good Job!  Maybe that’ll get his attention, and get those fingers under control.

But then, during the ensuing “discussion” Roman lets fly the F word not once, not twice, but THREE times.  Thank you!   So I interrupt to remind the floorman about that new sign by the door, then lie with a straight face, and tell him how deeply disturbing and offensive all that foul language was to me in particular, and probably to everyone else.

So the 3 F-Bombs turned a one day barring into one week, and over the next few days, when more than a couple people mentioned how “...Sarge got Fingers kicked out…” I had to correct them, with the truth:   “No, Fingers got Fingers kicked out.”

He’s back now, but under permanent close surveillance every second.  By me. 


Ladies Love Me



OK, now we’re finally caught up to present day.  Day before yesterday was a bad one too, when with pocket Kings I got even more stupid than usual, and screwed it up so badly that—

  • I don’t wanna talk about it.
  • I just cashed out and went straight home, to sulk.

So then next day, yesterday, I came into play, but felt tenuous about it, wanting so very much to avoid getting stupid again.  Fortunately, some ladies came along, and showed me some real love, and after that I felt all better.

Fortune 20 Main game, seat 3, 0100 hours, UTG, and when my first card was Queen of Spades, The Lady with a Blade, I somehow got this feeling of expectation, and just had to squeeze out the second card to find — Yes! —  her sister, Queen of Clubs.  Raise!

Jungman three bets right behind me in Seat 4, and random white guy in Seat 8 says four.  SEVEN players in, so 28 bets already, and we ain’t even seen a flop yet.

Then it comes:  Nothing much.  Turn and River bring nothing memorable either;  Ten high, no flush, maybe a real unlikely straight possible.

Sometimes you need to bet and raise to protect your hand, or for value, or both.  This time I’m thinking there’s not much I can do to protect these ladies; nobody is gonna fold overcards, and preflop action says I may already be up against Aces or Kings anyway.  But maybe not :-)

Capped again on the flop, five way, one raise on the turn, and every time it gets to me I’m getting better than the 23-to-1 pot odds needed to spike a set!  Remarkable.  Jungman and Seat 8 are doing all the betting, and I just hang on like a wuss.

Jungman bets the river too, and still gets two callers!  I don’t much like overcalling, and can’t remember EVER over-over-calling, but holy crap, now there’s 62 bets in this pot!  So is there better than one chance in 30 that my ladies are good?

They were.  Jungman shows down Jacks, everyone else moans, and I stack a small mountain.

Pocket Queens again an hour later, and I three bet from the blind.  Different guy in Seat 8 now, a young Maniac; he had just limped, but now it’s been raised twice behind him, and he caps!  Sandbagged a monster?  No, more likely he’s thinking “Hey, let’s build a big pot, and maybe I’ll get lucky!”

And he did, too.  Kind of.

Board comes 9 8 4, 2, 2.  Capped five way on the flop again, this time with a flush draw out there, and another (backdoor) flush draw on the turn card, so this time I am protecting the ladies, pumping it every chance I get.  But the Maniac is pumping too, and I tentatively have to put him on 9 8, for two pair.

Close.  Turned out Maniac capped preflop with 9 4 offsuit, so has a different two pair, and that  lovely deuce on the river counterfeits him, disappoints the drawing hands, and makes me a better two pair.  Thank you!  I was pretty sure I liked that river, *almost* bet it, but still five handed, SIXTY EIGHT bets in this pot, and if I were a better player maybe I could have read them all, bet, and won a few more chips.  Instead, now I checked, inviting someone to bluff at it, but nobody did.


Real Big Brass Balls


Remember the guy who held up a Bellagio craps pit at gunpoint a few years ago, scored a boatload of high denomination chips, then ran out and escaped on a motorcycle?  When they finally caught him and a photo was published, Mrs. Rock and I looked at it and both said "Wow. I know that guy!  Played with him at Bellagio!"

Rolling Stone recently published his story, here.  Interesting read.