Retired & Triple Dippin'

I retired from the Army late in 1986, and started with Boeing early the next year.  For the first 5 years I was a consultant/contractor, and wore a grey badge. 

Back then I used to wear my hair
 on the top of my head.
Since then I've had to move it
down to my chin.

Then in '92 I hired on direct, and got a white badge.  Last Tuesday, April 30, was my last day on that payroll, and I had to surrender that badge.  Then May 1, between Boeing and SSI, began my second and third retirements.  All these years, I expected that SSI would be the smallest of the three, but it turns out to be the biggest.  Go figure.

Another retirement surprise was an epiphany that hit me out of nowhere, last Friday.  Did not see this coming; never anticipated this paradigm-shift, this new way of looking at things, a whole new attitude.  At my point in life you spend some time thinking about resource allocation — income versus living expenses, and longevity expectation compared to adequate savings.

All those years working for a paycheck, I always thought I should try to hold back some of that income, for eventual retirement, and for rainy-day emergencies.  If those paychecks were to stop coming in, for whatever reason, I still had a family to provide for.

Unfortunately, in the early years, I didn't make much, so could hardly save anything, even when I knew I should.  When our first kid was born, I was a Sergeant E5, base pay $383.70 per month.

Fortunately, in the middle and later years, we did a little better, and were able to save a little.

Thing is, the other day I suddenly realized that my long time "gotta save some" mentality doesn't make sense any more!  Save for retirement?  This it it!  We're there.  Rainy-day fund?  For what?  I'm not going to get laid off from my pensions, and don't have to show up at the office, or make any effort, or even get out of bed.  Even (especially) if I were disabled, the entitlements would continue.

So I had to smile when it dawned on me that, when retiring on a set income like this, you might as well just go ahead and spend it all, and live the best lifestyle that income will support.  I mean, why not?  Seriously, if you can give a reason why not, please comment.

Also, all those years working for a nice paycheck, playing poker on the side, and having fun with it, I was always thinking that, once I retired, and the paychecks stopped, I'd kind of being playing poker on "scared money."  I think we all know that's never good.   But, you know, I wouldn't have the job any more to back me up if I lose my ass in the game.   That worried me some, and I used to joke that, once I retired, I'd have to play better.

And here again, now I realize that's not a problem either.  Worst Case:  I'll be that pathetic guy you see at Diamond Lil's around midnight on the last day of the month, sitting at Table 11, the dead-spread near the cash machines, watching the clock, and trying the machine every little while to see if my monthly entitlements hit the bank yet, so I can get a buy-in.

OK, so then my only remaining problem was kind of a feeling of emptiness, maybe a lack of purpose,  when I gave up the badge, left the campus, and drove home on that last day.  Sure, I'm excited about starting this new chapter of life.  Freedom to do whatever, whenever.  But that's just it—  do what, exactly?   People at work and at DL kept asking me, like, "What are you going to do now?" and I could only mumble some lame and meaningless answers, because, well, I didn't really know.

Ah, but then when I got home, and we took a walk around the neighborhood, inspiration struck.  We have 3 grandkids, and the oldest starts college this Fall.  How cool will it be, I wondered, if he can casually tell his classmates, like, "Yeah, my Grandpa plays poker to pay my tuition."  I mean, just the thought of how incredibly impressed (if not jealous) that should make them just gives me goosebumps, because, well, like Fast Eddie Felson (Paul Newman) says, in The Color of Money:  

      "Money won is twice as sweet as money earned."

So that's my new game plan:  Play lots of poker, and win enough to put 3 grandkids thru college, one at a time.

So after that very short last day at work — was outta there by 9:45 AM — I got to DL mid afternoon, for my first session as a "Professional Poker Player."   OK, that may be a bit of a stretch, but if you loosely define it as someone who does not have a J-O-B, then I just might qualify. :-)

Right away, first hand, I got stupid, got lucky, and took a big pot when I had no business being there.  Pocket Sevens in the big blind and I get trapped for 3 more bets, but seven way action, so nothing wrong with that.  Yet.  Flop it or drop it, right?  Well, no. 

Flop comes J96 rainbow, the original preflop UTG open-raiser on my left bets it, and when it gets back around to me it's two bets, with 38 bets in the pot, and a few more to go in when the players behind me call.  So I call two cold.  Considering future bets if it does hit, just about good enough odds to chase spiking a 7 on the turn, right?  

No, wrong.  Faulty, bogus thinking; a rationalization.  There is no reason at all to think the guys behind me will just call.  Probably way more likely they gonna put in another raise or two.  And of course they do; it comes back around to me capped again, and I put in two more to see the turn.  Bad play!

The good news is how my 23-to-1 against longshot came in, a seven did hit the turn, I check-raised and got in several more bets there, and a couple more on the river, and stacked lots of chips.

The bad news is how, bottom line, in the play of this hand, I put in way too many chips when the Cost, Chance and Payback (with that escalating Cost!) spelled Negative Expectation.  Sure, I got lucky and won the pot, and from a results-oriented loser's viewpoint, that's good.  But didn't we just say a minute ago that I need to play better now?   This wasn't it.  

Making calls like that all the time will lose money, period.  Fortunately, that kind of trap situation doesn't come up too often, and I hope I usually play them better than I did this time.

Diamond Lil's $20/40 Hold Em is still solid, two games most every day, 'cept three games most Friday nights.  And the seven-way action capped preflop that I describe above is not at all unusual.  Action games, chasers galore, straddles, suckouts and slowrolls, bizarre play aplenty, dealers cursed, cards thrown, short stack, all-in, re-buy, short buy, NEW SETUP!  

But a funny thing is how little real acrimony we see in these games.  Certainly less than at, say, Commerce, or even Bellagio.  Most of the DL players are regulars, and know one another all too well.  Sometimes the loser might actually get mad, but more often they will laugh, and taunt, and fist-bump the other guy when they beat each other.  In other words, most of the time, it stays light, with players cracking jokes, and lots of (friendly) trash talk.

An exception the last few days, though, was Misanthrope Marty.  Here's a smart and experienced guy, but a World Class Whiner, goes on and on and on about how the guy who just beat him is the worst player on Earth, and how could the dealer bring that river card, and how could she call me on that flop, and can't believe I lost that hand, and did I mention that this goes on and on and on?  After a while nobody is really listening any more, but the whine continues anyway.  God Bless my noise-cancelling headphones.

- - - 

I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Dos Equis

Have you seen those commercials, featuring The "Most Interesting Man in The World?"  The voiceover one liners are killer.  There's a new one out, with:

  -  In a previous life, he was himself.

  -  If opportunity knocks, and he's not home, opportunity waits.

  -  He gave his father "The Talk."

Several collections of the older ones are out there on the web, and a good one is here.

Yet Another Nightmare Laydown

Yes, nightmare story to follow, but first, for balance, a tale of victory and triumph.  Late night full 20/40 limit hold em game at Diamond Lil’s.  Eight Pacific Rim ESL guys, and me.

Seats 1, 2 & 3 are Mikey, Smilin’ John, then me, followed by six misc. chasers, whiners, and suck-out artists.   Mikey folds UTG, John open raises, and I 3-bet with pocket Fives.

Inside the Poker Mind, by Dr. John Feeney, a 2+2 book from 2000, has a section on "Bad Plays Good Players Make,” and the first one he discusses is:  “Overuse of the small pair isolation play.”

He talks about pocket sixes and below, cautions about re-raising very selectively, only when the situation is just right, and says that “...it is crucial that you have a very high probability of isolating the raiser.”

And I agree with all that, too, and in this case did NOT have that high probability to isolate.  But damn, against these guys?  Not sure how or why it happens, but at Diamond Lil’s it turns out that I have a table image, and reputation, appreciably better than I actually deserve.  I know, right?  Hard to believe!  Especially if you know me, and what a dingaling I really am.
 

But it’s true.  Where Rodney Dangerfield got no respect, Sgt. Rock gets too much respect.  Not sure why, but I’m not complaining.  No, I just try to exploit it, maybe a little, now and then.  Like this time:  it just felt right.  Button, Small Blind and John call.

Flop comes AK9, all Diamonds.  Blind checks, John bets, and I don’t even know — or much care — if I have a Diamond or not.  I Raise.

I’m thinking that there’s already a little dead money from the Big Blind in this already getting-big pot, and if I can get lucky, and can fold one — or hopefully both — of the players behind me, and get John heads up, well, won’t that be way better?  Yeah.

I rarely need to check back after the flop.  I usually check back one time before the flop, verify what we got down there, and I’m good.  But this time, small pair, I didn’t think suit was gonna matter. Bzzzzzt, wrong answer.  Now I’m just hoping the two guys behind me have overcards, no big diamond, and I can get them out right now and NOT let them still be there to catch anything on the turn.

And, dang, this time I get lucky, and that’s just what happened.  They both fold.  More dead money.  Equity advantage.

Turns out John has AK!  He flopped two pair, but is afraid of the diamonds.  So rather than protect his hand, he just calls. Thank You!  I’m checking back and see that I DO have a diamond, just as the turn hits.  It’s a blank.  I bet again, and John, top two, could easily have raised me out right there, but he just calls.  I wonder if I’m gonna need another diamond, or a miracle 5, to suck out here.
 

Jack of Diamonds on the river, check, check, then John and Mikey both go half nuts with disbelief when I turn over my 55 baby flush to beat his Aces and Kings.  It really bothers them to know that I was behind, but betting and raising, while he was ahead, and just calling.  And it should, too.  :-)

It’s fun to write about that hand, where I got lucky and took the chips.  It’s not so much fun to write about hands like this next one.  But I don't want to forget the hand, or the situation.  And so, painful as it is, I want to make a record of it.  Next time this comes up, I want to not be so stupid.

SS; DD.  This was a few weeks ago; before Thanksgiving. It's like 2 a.m., I'm in seat 8, big blind, with Ms. T on my right in the small blind.  Steve open-raises from seat 2, Ms. T 3 bets him, and I call with 67 spades.

OK, maybe that’s Stupid #1 right there.  But these two been making those kinds of raises and re-raises with pretty much any damn thing,  and if I do make something, I can expect to get paid off more than I should.  At least that’s my thinking, or rationalization.

If I do make something.  Heh.  Flop comes 8, 9, 10, two diamonds, and we go three bets again.

Turn is a blank black deuce. Ms. T check-raises me, then caps it.  Steve is in there calling everything, too.  WTF?  By now I’m worried T may actually have me beat, with Queen Jack, and maybe calling her cap on the turn was Stupid #2?

Anyway, I'm watching her, not the board, when the river hits.  Long pause.  She doesn't like it. Finally, she checks, and I look.  9 of diamonds makes the flush, and pairs the board too.  Shit.  I check too.  Steve bets.

T shows and throws her Queen Jack, off the table and onto the floor, and if you know her, well, that’s not unusual.  Nobody says anything, even though house rules require that the deck now be replaced.  

Meanwhile, I have to stop and think.  Could Steve have been calling all those raises with just a 9?  I mean, at this point, trip 9s is about the only hand he could bet, and that my low end straight could beat, right?  42 bets or so in this pot, and I really hate to, but I fold.  

So Steve doesn’t have to show, but he does anyway:  Ten Eight.  Flopped two pair, rivered a slightly better two pair, and dumbass Sarge just GIVES him the pot, without thinking nearly hard enough about what Steve could have had all along, that he’d bet now, and that I could still beat, and, for those odds, should pay off.  Didn’t even consider that 10-8, or maybe Jack-9.  Sure, T had me beat, but she threw away, and my brain went into vapor lock and let me down.  Damn.

Felt pretty bad about that hand for ten days or so, but Thanksgiving weekend changed my mood a bunch.  Came in after the turkey dinner, played an all-nighter,  and it was my best score this year.  Then back two nights later, another good score, plus a table share when KKKK beat TTTT and they hit the jackpot at 5am.  Overall, a *real good* weekend.

$938.57 per inch

I’m opening a male enhancement clinic, and that’s what I’ll be charging.  Flat rate.  

No, wait, just kidding; that’s not what this is about.  It’s about our beloved smartphones, and how they’ve taken over our lives.  My first really smart one was the HTC EVO, a couple years ago.  Loved her, too, until we took a surprise swim together, at the Commerce, on Friday, July 13.  I dried out OK, but she was never the same.

I wanted to replace her with the Samsung Galaxy Note.  I’m with Sprint, for the unlimited data, and the 25% off the service plan, that they give my company.  But they didn’t have the Note in August, so I settled for the Galaxy S3.  Android Jelly Bean on a dual core.  HD Super Amoled under Gorilla Glass.  32GB memory.  Heaven.

Then a few weeks ago I see this Sprint commercial on the bigscreen at DL, for the Galaxy Note TWO!   Damn, I must have that phone.  Called them the next day.  Sure, available right now, but you just got hundreds off the S3, new contract, so eligible for nothing, no break, no discount.  Full price:  $650.  

Gulp.  Must have.  Big bucks.  (Former) World Class Cheapskate.  Tech Junkie.  What to do?  Ah, WTF, it’s only money, and I go for it, and upgrade from the 4.8 inch S3 to the 5.5 inch Note II.  And that 0.7 inch screen growth comes out to $938.57 per inch.

But it’s not just size that matters.  :-)  Back in 2008 I got all excited to be able to go to Fry’s and buy the CPU, motherboard, disks, memory, case, etc., and build myself a couple Quad Core desktop PCs.  Now I have a Quad Core freakin’ phone that thinks it’s a tablet.  I just love my awesome Note II Phablet.

And like I said, these electronic leashes have indeed taken over our lives.  Well, certainly mine, and looks like half the guys and girls I play poker with, too.  They all got their face buried into some game with moving dots, or letters, or cards, or are posting to Facebook, or texting some booty-call bimbo, or if not just surfing the web, then they’re watching Netflix, Hulu, or YouTube.  

One woman I know relentlessly searched YouTube and the web, and found, and watched, every mob performance of, possible variant of, or takeoff on, PSY’s GangNam Style.  And there are thousands.  How you gonna pay attention to the game with all that distraction?

Now I’m not denying how incredibly convenient it is that, upon rising, our first two most compelling activities can now be performed simultaneously.  Of course I refer to sitting on the john, and checking Facebook.  And doesn’t everyone? 

And now I hold more computing power in my hand than my desktop PCs had just a few years ago.  It’s remarkable, and I love it.  I'm even looking at putting my Note II into the Samsung cradle that supports USB and HDMI cable to a big screen, plus Bluetooth keyboard and mouse, and see how much everyday desktop PC functionality that will give me.

But I'm also thinking about all this technology, and the rapid cultural and societal changes it brings. How will all that play out over time? I think we already know that internet privacy is a joke. When I visit tvguide.com to view tonight's listings, it shows me adverts for the products I shopped yesterday, at Amazon, and elsewhere. And I had to laugh when my Google account on my phone evaluated my movements, and started showing me this all the time:

The Graveyard Shift

20/40 Limit Hold Em at 3:00am, and it’s capped 6 ways before the flop, then checked around on the flop!   It’s a mini-epidemic of FPS (Fancy Play Syndrome), and I'm the sole ethnic minority in the game, again.  Only at Diamond Lil’s.

The main attraction right now is Madeline, a remarkably cute young woman who deals pit games in some other casino.  She played fairly tight and conservative all evening.  Like a girl.  Doh.  

But then she chugged couple drinks with her friends right at last call, and went completely nutso.  Now she’s playing every hand, straddling, betting, raising and folding out of turn, and often “in the dark,” and, in general, just burning chips like they were soaked in gasoline.

Madeline takes a break, an Asian kid I’ll call Nelson open raises from early position, and I three bet from the middle with 99.  Button calls, and blinds fold.

So we see the flop 3 way:  K 8 7 Rainbow.  Checked to me, I bet, button calls, and Nelson check-raises.  Oops.  OK, if he has a King I’m screwed, but the situation, pot size, and the guy behind me combine to say that maybe I shouldn’t hike my skirt up just yet.  So I 3-bet, trying to buy the button.  

Wrong answer; the button calls.  Then Nelson caps it.  Well, shit, my game plan for this hand sure went to hell in a hurry.  I was trying to dominate, thought I might be best, but it looks like I’m toast.  Only a miracle 9 on the turn, or maybe turn some kind of draw, can save me now.  Should I chase it?

I smile, and remind myself that this is exactly why I count bets going into the pot, and I call.  The button is “telling” me that he’s just calling.  Once he does, there will be 22 bets in there, and I’m 22-to-1 against spiking a 9, with plenty of additional (implied) bets to be made if I do hit it.

And probably I wouldn’t be telling about this hand, except, yes, all that practice finally paid off, and a lovely two-outer nine did hit the turn.  Turned out Nelson had AK, and the button flopped 2 pair with his 87 suited, so plenty of action.  Then the button “gets lucky” and fills up on the river, but of course I have the bigger boat, so lots more action there too.  Then I stack a big pot and also get to hear some ranting about how far behind I was on the flop, and how lucky I got.  So this hand made me look like an Action Player, and that’s good too.

---

It was Charles, last December, who got me hooked on the Graveyard Shift.  After the kitchen and bar are closed, the bigscreen subscription music thing in the bar that plays mostly 80’s hits all night gets turned up so loud that you can hear it at Table 1.  Charles knew every lyric for every song they played, and would sing along, and damn he was good.   If you don’t know Charles, just imagine Mr. Clean of cleanser commercial fame, in chocolate-- same physique, same smooth dome, same infectious smile.   And a really entertaining one-man karaoke show most nights, up until year end.  Then nothing.  Hasn’t been in at all this year.  MIA.

Charles, if you’re out there reading this, please know that we miss you!  A couple other guys tried to take your place a few times, and do the sing-along, but THEY SUCKED!  Please come back.  Nobody sings it like you.

So I’m keeping a vigil, waiting Charles’ return.  I work my real job Monday thru Thursday.  Then I’ve been coming in during swingshift — early evening — on Thursday, Friday and Saturday, staying through last call, and then until the kitchen opens back up at 7:00am.  Then I either have or skip the free breakfast, go home and sleep until late afternoon, then get up, shower, go back, and do it again, three consecutive looong sessions per week.

Sometimes it’s is a rammin and jammin thing, capped five ways before the flop, hand after hand.  Other times it’s surprisingly passive — a limpfest.  In any case, it’s pretty much a sure thing that DL’s small cadre of winning players have all gone home by the time Graveyard Shift officially arrives, and we’re left with the boozers and the losers.  One recent Friday night there were FOUR 20/40 games at midnight, then three, then two, then around 2:30am it got down to just one, at Table 1, full, until breakfast.  And there I was, parked in Seat 8, my home away from home.  After breakfast we’re down to eight:  Brad, Mr. Lee, Saejin, Kelly, Ms. T, Steve, Me, and Cal.  One seat open, no board, and this was the last hand I played before I packed and went home:

Three limpers, including the button, small blind folds, and I get a free play in the big blind, with ten seven offsuit.  Flop comes 874 rainbow, and I check, expecting to fold if there’s much action.

But there’s not much action.  Limpers check to the button, who bets, but this guy would bet pretty much anything in this spot.  So I raise, although with a pot this small, that may have been a flakey move.  Anyway, limpers fold, and he calls.  

Turn is a 9, making me an open-ender along with my pair.  Heads up; I bet, and he calls again.

Jack on the river makes my straight, I bet, and he raises me.  Wait, what?  Now I’m as confused as a hungry baby in a topless bar.  If he has a ten too, I can call and we’ll split it.  If he has exactly Queen Ten, I’m screwed.  

Thing is, with this particular guy, there is often no rhyme nor reason for his actions.  You have to be able to put them on a rational thought before you can put them on a hand.  In this case, I can do neither.  

So I just call, and he shows 9 7.  He made two pair on the turn, but “slowplay” is this guy’s middle name, so he waits for the river to raise.  If I were a better player, maybe I could have better understood where I was at here, and realized how likely it was that he was raising with some lesser hand.  Then I could have raised back and won a couple more bets.  Maybe.  As it was, the surprise raise made me fear Queen Ten perhaps more than I needed to.


The Short List

In a post last January I thinly disguised his name as “Will Kagen,” and wrote unkind things about a venerable player named Bill.   I was still piqued about how skillfully he knocked me off pocket Aces, but that’s no excuse.  

I regret those remarks now.  Well, not too much; I was mostly just kidding around.  For instance, I wrote that he talks a lot, without actually saying anything.  You know, just noise.  

Well, that’s not right.  Actually, his table talk is pretty entertaining, and lately I better appreciate how it keeps things light, keeps keeps the players laughing, and doesn’t that make the game better?

Also, when you see The Other Guy play his hands quite differently than you would, it’s way too easy to condemn his play as “bad.”  What’s not so easy, is to admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe, The Other Guy is smarter than you, and knows and understands things you don’t, and the play just seems bad to you,  because it’s a level or three over your head.

Then, one night last week, over a shared monster Burrito Supreme at Baja, Mrs. Rock and I were talking, and we made a list.  We tried to see how many DL 20/40 players we could name, who never, ever, show any anger at all when they take a beat.  Several got honorable mention for keeping their cool most of the time, but almost everyone seems to get mad, and show it, at least once in a while.

But not Bill.  He made that list, and let me tell you, it was a mighty short list.  How short?  Well, in the end, we were able to count if off on one hand, with some fingers left over.

I’ve written before, a couple times, about how “Everyone’s true character shows itself in the poker game, sooner or later,” and making The Short List says a lot about character.  So now I have this new-found respect for Bill, and needed to say so.  Couldn’t just leave that old post out there.  Thank you.  I feel better already.

Lady Luck Smiles on Me. Again.

Some days, everything you touch turns to shit, but some days it all turns to gold.  Yesterday was a Golden Day.  Played ‘til 5:00 am the night before, and it was past Noon before I could even drag my ass out of bed.  But then I got to Diamond Lil’s just before 2:00 pm, and took the last open seat in the 20/40 game.  A forecast of snow later kept lots of people home, and it was really slow for a Saturday afternoon, with just one game at each of the 4/8, 8/16, and 20/40 limits.  Eventually, things picked up.  Way up.

I bought in for $1,000, and cashed out $7,502 seventeen hours later.  I’ve won more than that at higher limits, but for 20/40, I think this was my best-ever session win.

I’d like to say I played really good, but the truth is that I flopped sets, made flushes and straights, and had Aces and Kings, and AK, and especially AQ, hold up WAY more than usual.  In other words, I got lucky.  REAL lucky.  Repeatedly.  And maybe I did play well in a couple spots, but for sure I also got stupid a few times, here and there.  Again.

One time the UTG player open-raised, and I, right behind her, mucked AQ.

One time the UTG player open-raised, and I, right behind him, 3-bet with KT.  Offsuit.  Showed to down to take the pot, too, then heard about it, repeatedly, for the next couple hours. :-)

---

Traffic Stop

I’ve played 20/40 with Steve nearly 20 years.  Right before New Years we were in the game, and he was table-talking to the other guys about his nightclub in a neighboring town, where hostesses entertain the male clientele.  He emphasized again (I had heard this from him before) that his “ladies are very clean.”  OK, fine.  Snap.  Got the picture.

He also mentioned that his hostesses were from overseas.  We’d recently watched some shows on MSNBC about such things, and this ugly buzzword was fresh in my head, and, well, sadly, my big mouth got away from me.  Again.  So I jumped in and asked:

   “Wait, there isn’t any Human Trafficking going on here, is there ??”

He didn’t seem to hear me, or to understand, not sure which.  But Dealer Doug did, gave me a WTF look, and said “Eeeeew, how can you even say that?”  Couple other guys groaned too, as if I had asked a Scoutmaster taking his troop into the woods if anyone was gonna be molested.  I felt about an inch tall, so I STFU, and tried to shrink down in my seat and be invisible.

Last week I even talked to Doug about it, and told him how bad I felt about that comment, and some other smartass remark I had made another time.  Guess I’m not friends enough with Steve to apologize to him, even if he had heard me.  But I respect Doug’s opinion, and feelings, and it seemed the remark put him off.  I felt like I had probably crossed the line, and wanted to make it right, so I apologized to him instead.  I think he forgave me.  At least he said he did.

Then, last Friday, I had to go back to Doug, and un-apologize!  Turns out last Thursday came the FEDERAL bust, and Friday the FEDERAL grand jury indictment, apparently charging club owner Steve, and seven others, with exactly what I said, plus a few other unsavory crimes that might tend to put one away for many many moons.  News from a couple days ago said “held without bail.”  Hey, maybe they’ll get real good lawyers, or plead way down, or at least make bail; who knows?  But my money says orange jumpsuits love you long time.

These remarkable events were, or course, the main topic of talk at the table, if not throughout the room, all the time I was stacking chips during that mega-rush yesterday.

= = = = =

If you're reading, will ya please leave a comment and let me know there's an audience out there?  Thanks.

The Perfect Storm

($20/40 Limit Hold Em at Diamond Lil's, Renton, Washington)

Late Saturday night, well, actually early Sunday, like 3 a.m. or so, and it's a wild game.  Seat belts are mandatory, and be sure to take some Dramamine, or whatever other anti-puke pharmaceutical seems appropriate.  Betting is often capped before the flop, even when players' holdings don't justify it.  Big Al, for example, just capped with ten seven offsuit, and now is busy smiling, and stacking an XXL pot.  The guy with AK flopped top two, but the river made Al's flopped pair of sevens into trip sevens.  And yes, he happily took LOTS of heat (called several raises) along the way.  Even put in a couple raises himself.

This is the kind of game we all say that we love to play in, and some come a long way, like from Portland, or B.C., Canada, and points in-between.  One guy even flies in from Boise now and then.  But before you come into these pots with, well, with pretty much anything, you gotta be willing to go four bets, cuz likely as not, that's what's gonna happen, and with, on average, 5.853 players seeing the flop. Give or take.

So it's scary.  And if, like me, you're trying to be Performance-Oriented, then it's often hard to know what the best Performance is, or what the best plays are.

And if you're Results-Oriented, then beware, because playing in this game could actually make you lose your mind.  That's not a problem for me, as I have mine backed-up on a 2GB USB thumb drive, with room to spare.  But if you come to play it, well, watch your ass.

On the next deal, I 3-bet with AK, but Saejin caps it right behind me.  Four of us see the flop: 222. Saejin raises my bet, and the other two fold.  I’m thinking he has a pocket pair, don’t quite know how big, and I may respectively have 0, 3, or 6 outs, if he has AA, KK, or some smaller pair.  Yes, I forgot that one other out, and was immediately notified of my oversight, like a slap in the face, when . . .

Bang!  The case deuce hits the turn, and it becomes The Perfect Storm.  Seen other guys with this hand a few times, but don’t think it ever happened to me before, to hold that nut Ace, when the board makes quads.  I’ve counted 14 Royal Flushes over the years, but never that hand.  Randomness works in strange ways.

Then I blow it, and bet right out.  He expresses some disgust, but politely, and folds immediately.  Right away I was sorry I didn’t check, and give him an opportunity to put in some more chips.  I mean, why should I bet?  So I promised myself that next time I’m in that situation, I’ll just check.  And I hoped that I wouldn’t have to wait another nineteen years for the opportunity.  All this happened a couple weeks ago.

Then, last weekend, it actually came up again.  This time I held an Ace, and two 10s came on the flop, then two more, on the turn and river.  This time I was last to act, so I had to bet the River.

The other Perfect Storm that I’m still waiting for, is to be heads up with some guy, where you both make Broadway straights on the turn, and have a raising war at a place like Bellagio, where there’s no cap on heads-up betting.  And he puts in a whole bunch of raises without realizing that you are freerolling the nut flush draw along with your straight, and, well, you know the rest.  This almost kinda sorta happened to me once, but he ran out of chips, and my flush didn’t come in, so the pot was split after all.

---

Another Nightmare Laydown

I open-raise with Aces from middle position, and this rather Clueless Stranger calls right behind me.  Will Kagen calls from the small blind, and we see the flop three-way.

The board comes :  Q57,9,6

I bet the flop, Clueless Stranger raises, I re-raise, and he calls.  Kagen is in there calling everything, too.

I bet the turn, and they both call.  At this point, Clueless Stranger is all-in.  Then I really have to stop, and think about it, when Kagen bets out on the river.

Hit the pause button a minute, and let me tell you about this guy.  He’s a little older than me, and been playing way longer.  Smart, and long on experience, cunning, and card-sense, but short on class, couth, discipline, and self-restraint.  Doesn’t have much to say, but talks loud and incessantly anyway. Plays lots of hands, and so he takes big swings.  Most importantly, he almost certainly knows how to play way better than he does.  This is probably true for most of us, but for him the condition is particularly acute.

And when it comes to sex, this guy is something of a legend.  I mean, everyone knows he does it better, and way more, than anyone else his age.  All he needs now is a partner.

Anyway, he’s totally capable of any kind of bluff you might imagine, and even a couple you never thought of.  So just because that scare card hit the river and a straight looks likely, I still want to call him.  Sure, he might have 34, or an 8, for the straight, or two pair, or spiked a set; who knows?  But with Kagen it’s equally likely he’s betting just because it looks to him like a real good bluffing opportunity.

Except we got Clueless Stranger all-in right behind me, he can’t be bluffed out, and the side pot is tiny.  I think about that a moment, and am convinced that Kagen MUST have a hand.  I muck.

Kagen announces “Straight!” and turns over pocket fours, then expresses great surprise when it’s not a straight after all.  Claims he misread the board. Clueless Stranger has KQ for a pair of Queens, takes the main pot, and I sit there dumbfounded a minute.

Did he really misread his hand, or is he just saying that?  Did he deliberately bluff me out just to give the pot to the other guy?  That sounds crazy, but with him, all or any of those things are quite possible.

I posted before about a wacky call on the end with absolutely nothing, heads up, big pot, just for the odds that the bettor is bluffing, and will muck rather than show down.  I’ve considered that call a few times, and actually made it ONCE, with 54 suited, no pair, and took the pot, when the tilted bettor did indeed muck.

So now, on the end, do I also need to consider the possibility that the bettor is misreading his hand?  Probably not, happens too rarely, but damn, I never before imagined how that scenario could trick me into folding the best hand.  Being outplayed is bad enough, but when it’s an accident?  Ouch.

---

Funniest. Website. Ever.

And maybe also the crudest, rudest and lewdest X-rated textual site you ever saw, too.  So if you don’t want to see college kids’ uncensored and often quite nasty texts about sex, drugs, alcohol, booty calls & hookups, FBs & BJs, etc., then DO NOT visit  textsfromlastnight.com   and do not click on Best (or Worst), and pick All Time, or you will find 2300 archived pages under both those categories.

I’m sure it speaks badly of me, my character, and my worth as a human being, but damn, I just couldn’t stop reading this stuff!  Blew much of my ten day holiday break reading a couple hundred pages into both sections.  If you do go there, and after you read some, and see what it’s about, search on keyword   “rollover”   to see the funniest post of all.

Cheap Thrills, and Another Brilliant Business Model

Saturday night, and I'm listening to my favorite radio show, and playing 20/40 at DL.  Most NPR stations around the country play Classical music in between the news and views, but here in Seattle, NPR on KPLU at 88.5 FM, it's Jazz and Blues instead.  Saturday and Sunday nights is "All Blues" from 6:00pm to midnight.  I just love, and rarely miss, this show. It's streamed, and you can check it out at http://kplu.org

So I'm minding my own business when this younger smartass player, JT, points at me, and says "Is that a Walkman?  Damn, Sarge, you still use a Walkman?  Hey, look, he still uses a Walkman!"

Yes, had the headphones plugged in to a 10 year old Sony Walkman Cassette/AM/FM player.  Well, the radio is digital, not analog, so not THAT ancient, but still.  And it reminded me how some other smartass kid had made fun of me over the exact same thing at the Muckleshoots, about 4 years ago.  The implication then, and now, was that the old fart is laughably behind, still living in the yesteryears of technology, not even into the new millenium yet.  Well, this time I just wasn't gonna take it. Can't deny the old fart part, but . . .

"Look," I tell him, producing the Sprint HTC EVO from my innermost t-shirt pocket.  "Here's my 4G phone & mobile hotspot."  Then, from another shirt pocket, "And here's the corporate BlackBerry."

Then I hoist the clear plastic (security-friendly) small backpack with my Sony VAIO mini-laptop, and various accessories, from the floor at my feet:  "And you know I got half of Radio Shack in here.  So WTF you talkin' about?"  All this got a good laugh from the table, as well as a look and a gesture from JT, that said I had successfully redeemed myself.  Fine.

Just about then the dealer starts pitching cards for the next hand.  I'm UTG, and I don't have time to put the EVO back into the t-shirt pocket, so I set it on my chair, and kind of "tuck it in" to hold it there, until I can play this hand.

In other words, I'm half sitting on my phone, and look down at pocket Eights.  I limp.  The guy right behind me limps too, but then a raise from late position.  Both blinds call, and I call too.  But then the guy between me and the raiser 3 bets, then raiser caps, both blinds still calling.  Well, shit, let myself get trapped good this time!  I call.  20 bets in the pot.

Flop comes 446, two hearts, blinds check, I bet, and it's three bets when it gets back to me.  I cap it.  You might think that preflop action should scare me, make me think someone has a bigger pair, and I'm just just burning chips.  Yeah, maybe.  But with these guys, it's just as likely they're all betting and raising draws or overcards.  So what really scares me is the two more board cards yet to come.

Nobody folds, now pot is 40 bets, and the radio is playing Janis Joplin, Piece of My Heart, from the Cheap Thrills album.

Dealer brings the turn:   9d.   SB checks, BB goes all-in for $20, and Janis sings:  "I need you to come on, come on, come on, come on and   TAKE IT ! "

Before continuing, I should mention that my phone, which I have in the heat of battle forgotten that I am sitting on, is always on vibrate.  And did you know that it's actually the battery that does all the vibrating?  And the EVO is a notorious battery hog, so I got the double big, double capacity extended battery in mine.  Point is, just as I'm contemplating Janis' advice, and considering putting a move on this pot, my honey texts me, and it was one of those times that the carrier's text server, or maybe her phone, decided, for whatever reason, to break her message into two parts-- you know, (1/2) and (2/2).

So my phone vibrates twice for each part, four times in all, rapid succession, and I get a totally unexpected Cheap Thrill, while listening to Cheap Thrills.  Well, if that's not a sign, a signal, that yes, it's time to make my move, I don't know what is.  Plus, when those surprise jolts arrived, I kind of involuntarily twitched a little, maybe squirmed in my seat some too, enough that a couple opponents noticed, and looked at me questioningly.  Seems like I have, quite accidentally, given off a fake tell that says I *really* like that turn card.

So I ask the dealer, "How much can I make it?"   I know damn well I can make it $60, but I want the table to hear me ask!  I make it $60, and everyone but the BB folds!  42 bets in the pot after the dealer pushes my raise back to me (cuz nobody called it.)

So now heads-up, the dealer puts the Jack of  Spades on the river, and my all-in opponent just mucks!   Dealer pushes the pot to me.  Mikey and the crew are just dying to know what I have.  Should I show it?

Probably not.  Keeping it a mystery would be best.  But my opponent should have shown, and made me show, and yet he didn't.  So I was overcome somehow by the idea that, in all fairness, the table was entitled to see my hand.  Yeah, I know, this surprises me too.  Fairness?  In Poker?  Don't make me laugh.

But I did turn it over.  One guy groaned-- folded his Jack on the turn.  Results-oriented thinking.  Mikey says "You raised with just pocket eights?"

"I didn't play just pocket eights," I tell him, perhaps saying too much.  "I played THE SITUATION."

Cost, Chance, & Payback.  This time the $40 Cost of that turn raise was small, compared to that BIG $800 Payback, and the Chance seemed good enough.

Taking that pot down was nice, but even sweeter is the dynamite business idea inspired by this whole episode of  "surprising new application for a phone on vibrate."

Have you ever paid money, maybe put a charge on your credit card, for Phone Sex?  No, of course not.  Me neither.  Shoot, I don't really quite know what the hell Phone Sex even is, or why anyone would want any.  What's the deal?  You pay to talk on the phone with some supposedly hot young babe (but who probably is actually a 62 year old Grandma in hair curlers) and she says sensual things to get you excited?  I don't get it.  What good are words, without touch?  Where's the tactile sensation that real sex is all about?

So my new startup company, Vibraphonexxx.com, will coach clients to use a bluetooth headset for the voice part, then put their phone on vibrate, and SIT ON IT throughout the encounter.  This way, the operator can punctuate all the sexy things she says with brief but frequent texts, thus augmenting the erotic dialog with actual physical stimulation, at exactly the right moments.  Can you say "Leaves the competition behind, buried in the dust" ??

Yes, I know you are completely in awe of, and overwhelmed by, the sheer genius of this entire concept.  Thankyouverymuch.  Sometimes I do come up with ideas so clever, so brilliant, that I amaze even myself.  This was one of those times.  Patent Pending, and  © Copyright 2011 Sgt Rock/Ada-Z Systems.

But I also like to share, and so for you, my readers, I offer a special opportunity.  Would you like to ride this gravy train along with me, and make a bundle too, like I will?  If yes, if you want to get in on the ground floor, and invest in Vibraphonexxx.com, just give me a call.

Better yet, text me.  I'll be waiting.

Diamond Lil's here in Renton, WA, is still THE place to find really good $20/40 limit Hold Em games every day.  Really good games.  At least one game until the wee hours, or often overnight, two games most afternoons and evenings.  Sometimes even three.  And did I mention that they're really good games?

A week ago Saturday night I open raised with QTc, three callers, flopped a Royal Flush, and bet right out.  One guy kindly called me all the way to the river.  In addition to the pot, I also won a $1900 progressive Monte Carlo and the $200 High Hand, and even got a voucher for a free dinner.  What a country!

Afterwards I thought about it a some, and was surprised by how relatively simple it seemed to calculate the probability of flopping a royal, when you hold suited broadway cards.  Unless I got this wrong, it should be one time in:

 50         49       48
————   x   ————   x ————   =  19,600  (19,599-to-1 against)
 3          2        1

But my rare event was nothing, compared to what happened to Eileen, the DL daytime cashier, about a year ago.  I've been trying to think of, or imagine, something else that, in the course of random events we see in the casino, could be more rare than what happened to her.  I keep coming up empty.

Eileen was dealt QTh, and made a royal.  Nice hand! But then, on the very next deal, she got QTh again, AND MADE A ROYAL AGAIN !

The only thing I ever heard of that comes close is a supposedly documented hand at the Sahara, Las Vegas, something like 40 years ago, where two guys both made royals.

Before you call that impossible, and me a dummy, I should mention that it was a 7 card stud game.  They didn't play Hold Em in Vegas 40 years ago.  So who you callin' a dummy? :-)

If I had time to kill— and I don't, barely finding time for a blog post— but if I did, wouldn't it be interesting to figure out which of those two is the rarest event?  Been considering that, but find my math skills inadequate to the task.   Might be able to figure it out, by really working at it, but so far just thinking about it makes my head hurt.

Anyway, just guessing, my money's on Eileen.

I mean, whatever the odds are against back-to-back royals, multiply that by the odds against getting identical starting hands in 2 consecutive deals, which is just another way of saying probability for any two specific cards— say QTh, or black Aces, or whatever— in a given deal:

 52         51
————   x   ————  =  1,326  (1,325-to-1 against)
 2          1 

Natural Talent vs. Philosophical Poker

Some people are born with a natural talent for playing the piano, or the violin, or for playing baseball, or maybe tennis, exceptionally well.  Some have natural talent for acting, painting, singing, dancing or maybe even for lying convincingly.  And certainly there are people with a natural talent for playing poker.  Indeed, I think that Mrs. Rock must be one of those, and even has some of whatever it is that people like to call "card sense."

Me?  Talent?  I score a solid zero on everything mentioned so far.  Nada.  Zip.  My only real talent is: "Communicator," which is really just a polite way to say Bulllshit Artist, and, no bragging, just telling the truth, I truly do excel at that.  But BS never won me any money.  Maybe it did help me land a job a time or three, but that's not the point here, and let's not get too far off track, ok?

Thing is, Natural Talent is NOT the only possible path to winning Hold Em.  At least not in the $20/40 limit games I play here, where so many opponents are hopeless chasing wannabe suckout artists, or morons who think it's all about Luck, or over-aggressive chip burners, or some combination of the three.  Being completely bereft of any talent whatever, I must take a philosophical and scientific approach to the game.  For the last couple years, now that I have it developed a little better, this has actually done as well as, if not better than, than Mrs. Rock's talented play.

The other day I thought of a new way to describe my approach: "Try to imagine how Mr. Spock might play, and do that."  I mentioned this to someone, and they said "Oh, you mean like instantly calculate the odds for everything, down to the 9th decimal place?"

No.  He might be able to, but that's not what I mean at all.  I mean to do everything in that analytical, logical, and dispassionate Vulcan way.  But since Spock is half-human, there's also room for some imagination, maybe even a little creativity, now and then.

So when the flop comes down, would Spock's eyes be glued to the board, like everyone else?  No way.  After analyzing *everything* about the game, he would decide to watch the players, not the cards.  And he would know the pot size at all times.   And he would not get angry when someone sucks out on him; he'd just smile (the human side), and await the next deal.  And he . . . well, you get the idea.  He would think long and hard to identify the best +EV for every action, every decision, and do whatever that turned out to be.  And when up against the kinds of players I face in my game, he would do very well.

Is that talent?  I don't think so.  If you have enough talent, you might not need to even think about those things; you might just "do the right thing" instinctively.   And if you have just *some* talent, then those instincts and your play might be just pretty good sometimes, but maybe not as good as it could be from a thorough Philosophical, Scientific and Analytical approach.

The Scientific part refers to poker math, of course, but also to the Psychology.  Lately I'm an amateur psychologist wannabe, or at least am reading some and studying the topic.  Example:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Microexpression:

"A microexpression is a brief, involuntary facial expression shown on the face of humans according to emotions experienced.  They usually occur in high-stakes situations, where people have something to lose or gain.  Unlike regular facial expressions, it is difficult to fake microexpressions.  Microexpressions express the seven universal emotions: disgust, anger, fear, sadness, happiness, surprise, and contempt.  They can occur as fast as 1/15 to 1/25 of a second."

"Fascinating," as Spock would say.

Below is a short list of some of my Philosophical Convictions for poker.  But first— Most people who already looked at this weren't familiar with that ± symbol.  So in case you aren't either: It's just a minus sign ( - ) moved down to the bottom of the line to get it out of the way ( _ ) and then a plus sign ( + ) superimposed, to become plus and minus signs together ( ± ).  You read this as:

      "Plus or Minus"

And that's just what it means.  Could be plus, could be minus.  Depends.  For example, suppose you're a poker dealer who plays a couple hours after a shift.  Your net income for the day will be:

(hours worked x min. wage) + Tips - Tax ± poker play result

It has to be "Plus OR Minus" the poker play because, hey, who knows if you will win or will lose?

OK, so here, then, from those Philosophical and Scientific viewpoints, are some basic "Beliefs" that become the foundation for my game:

1. Result = Performance ± Luck. In terms of what they think about, focus on, most players are mostly Results-oriented, but also somewhat (or sometimes MAJORLY) Luck-oriented.  Forget all that, and be strictly Performance-oriented.

2. Random is Random.  Any "pattern" or "trend" observed in random events is meaningless; thinking it will continue is stupid, and acting on such thoughts even stupider.  Streaks happen, but that's history; you are never "on" a streak, never "running bad" (or good.) The next deal is random.  Period.

3. My goal: Win The Pot. No! My goal is to make the best decisions I possibly can.

4. Every decision comes down to: Cost, Chance, & Payback, and the Expectation ( ± EV) derived from those three factors.  If (I think) it's +EV, put the chips in.  If not, don't.

5. "Chance" is the factor where Psychology comes into play.  Most times, trying to run over these guys is a big chip-burning mistake.  But paying close attention to their play, and to everything they do, can help a lot with fine-tuning #3.

6. My Delta— "The Difference between me and them." Find it.  Create it.  Know it.  Exploit it.  Love it.

A funny thing is that nothing said above is particularly original or profound.  Nothing new; most of us already know all that stuff, don't we?  And yet too often we act (perform) like we don't.  Too often we may call for a draw when the odds aren't really there, or make the aggressive raise that was a real good play yesterday, but obviously not this time (overplay), or make that crying river call even when it's hopeless.  What, you never do any of those things?  Then why are you wasting your time reading my blog?

My Self-assessment for 2010: I performed fairly well 91.23% of the time, was inspired, creative, or particularly insightful, and impressed even myself 4.15% of the time, and got inexcusibly stupid the other 4.62%.  Approximately.

Those stupids cost too many chips! Tim asked the other day what my main poker goal is for next year, and after thinking some I told him "Get stupid less often!"

Maniac Play

Waited until New Years Eve to make my craziest play of the year.  Hao open raises in middle position, I 3 bet two seats behind him with AJ clubs, and Tim caps from the button.  Both blinds in there calling too, so 20 bets.

Flop comes 722, one club.  Capped again, nobody folds, now 40 bets.  How can I call 4 with nothing?  Easy, I can't.  So I wasn't calling, I was raising.

Turn is 5 of clubs, Hao bets, I raise, Tim, Hao, and one blind call.  So now 56 bets in the pot.

3 of clubs on the River makes my flush, and Tim and Hao both call my bet.  Three guys say "Oh my God" when I turn it over.   Of course they both had me big time on the flop and turn, and the runner-runner suckout, while jamming it with nothing at every opportunity, suggests that I probably ain't gonna get much respect from these guys for a while.  :-)

Lucky Me

"...when it comes to hold 'em and stud, I already know everything there is to know..."
-- Mason Malmuth, renowned author/publisher & veteran professional know-it-all, 2+2, 2002

"...I know everything there is to know about luck..."
-- Sgt Rock, obscure poker philosopher & novice amateur know-it-all, rec.gambling.poker, 2001

We used to fly 866 miles, or drive 1150 miles, and pay big bucks for nice hotel rooms, to play 20/40 at the Mirage, then 30/60 at Bellagio.  Now we drive 2.1 miles from our home to Diamond Lil's, both in Renton, WA, and play what today are probably the only daily 20/40 games this side of Vegas, LA, or the SF Bay.

Nowadays there's poker pretty much EVERYWHERE, but so much of it is No Limit, or Spread Limit, or tournaments, and we just have no clue about any of that stuff.  And of course there's Low Limit all over too, but I've explained before, in detail, why I can't afford to play games like 4/8.

So am I lucky to have the 20/40 game I want to play so ridiculously close to home?  Yes.  EXTREMELY LUCKY.

The day, lo those many years ago, that I first met Mrs. Rock, a chance encounter, is another, even better, example of getting EXTREMELY LUCKY.  And we got hitched way too quickly, barely knew ourselves at that age, much less each other, and had different nationality, race, culture, language, different every damn thing.  So the initial probability for our marriage to survive?  Low.

But it all turned out way better than I ever deserved.  It's like I put up a live straddle, was dealt pocket aces, and even hit the flop.  More extreme luck.

Those are examples of Getting Lucky when a single major life event or circumstance has profound effects, maybe for years and years.  Bad luck can come that way, and be that profound too.  Like if Soccer Mom is driving through an intersection, and gets T-boned by a cement truck that ran the red light at 50 MPH.  Ouch.  REALLY bad luck.

In a gambling venue like the WSOP Main Event, getting lucky can be a one-time life-changing event too.  I mean, let's face it, some of the World Champions who won that bracelet over the years had lots of talent, and earned it, but more than a couple are just bozos who got real lucky that week.  And took home millions.

In the daily grind of playing limit Hold Em, luck does not have any such long term effect.  The examples above are all single random events with far-reaching impacts, but the daily game is a series of many independent random events, and no one of them should effect more than a single pot.

I've posted before about how "running good" or "running bad" are such bogus concepts, and how fascinating is is that the average player seems to be so clueless when it comes to luck and randomness.

We know that a pocket pair will flop a set around one time out of eight. Yesterday I was dealt pocket nines three times, and pocket Queens twice.  Played them all, and each one of those pairs hit a set on the flop, and won the pot.  Most of them filled up.  Lucky, huh?

We also know that Pocket Aces and Pocket Kings will each come to us once in every 221 deals, on average.  This summer I played 30/60 at Bellagio during WSOP, and for the first five days played maybe 12 hours/day x 34 deals/hour x 5 days = 2,040 deals (conservative estimate) and never saw either of those big pairs in the hole even once.  Bad luck.

So was there some special significance to those streaks, something I should have done in the midst of them, some adjustment maybe, to maximize my win or minimize my loss? No.  Nothing.  "In the course of random events, streaks happen."   Those particular streaks were a little deep, so were slightly remarkable, but certainly not *amazing.*

What is *amazing,* at least to me, is all the guys who believe that they can be ON a streak, and if they flop a set five times in a row, or don't see those biggest pairs five days straight, like me, that HISTORY influences the likelyhood of (probability for) those events on the next deal.  You would think I should have gotten over this by now.  I realize that I should have gotten over this, and just come to expect it, by now.  But no, I still just can't for the life of me understand why the amazingly simple concept of RANDOMNESS is so difficult for so many players to grasp or to accept.

But just because I can't understand it doesn't mean that I don't love it.  I do.  I deeply love that so many players in these games embrace superstitious beliefs, find imaginary "trends" in random events, and even think they can benefit by exchanging one bucket of random numbers for another (different!) bucket of random numbers.  Change the deck!

In the second example above, in addition to not seeing Aces or Kings, I was just plain "card dead" those entire five days.  Didn't get beat up too badly when I did get a playable hand, but got one so rarely, that it was a struggle just to win enough now and then to cover the blinds that kept coming around.  And that's basically what happened; I went pretty much nowhere for nearly a week.

And ya know what? Being card dead is actually a good thing.  Huh?  WTF is he taking about?

Well, look at it this way.  When you go hours and hours being dealt agonizingly few playable hands, remember that the same thing happens to everyone else just as much as it happens to you.  So it's a Performance Delta Opportunity.  Delta as in Difference.

Inevitably, your opponents will experience those same streaks of crappy starting hards that you do.  If you can maintain discipline and resolve anyway, where they get impatient, maybe tilt a little, and make poor preflop decisions, play hands they shouldn't, if only out of boredom or frustration, then that is your Delta.  It's your chance to play (Perform) differently (better) than they do.

OK, so maybe I don't exactly rejoice when dealt 7-2 offsuit nine deals in a row.  But I do smile inwardly, and remind myself to patiently wait for the run of real good cards that's going to come sooner or later.  And remind myself also that my opponents may, in this situation, be less patient, and how that's a Delta that can potentially help me beat them over time.

If you think I'm wacky to call being card dead a good thing, try this on for size:  I also like to "suffer" bad beats.  The badder the better.  Lay it on me!

Say somebody chases a shitty draw against me, like a 2 or a 4 outer, getting bad pot odds, but they get lucky and suck out anyway.  Should I get upset?  What, like I wish they would play better and not do that next time? If I were RESULTS Oriented, then yes, that would be an unhappy Result.  But being PERFORMANCE Oriented means not only trying to optimize your own Performance, but also, well, *liking* it when the other guy's Performance is bad, no matter the Result.

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The Book

If beats and bad luck don't annoy me, there's still a few things that do.  One is writing usenet or blog poker posts, but then having to censor myself.  More than once I've written something, then looked at it and realized, hey, have I said too much here?  Do I really want to share this with my opponents?  Some of the guys I play with read my blog.

So I try to just be entertaining, tell some jokes, maybe get philosophical or thought-provoking some, but nothing too deep.

OK, fine.  But what about those strategy gems that beg for discussion? Can't. Frustrating.

So I started putting all those things into an unpublished draft document, and now it has grown to become kind of an outline or skeleton for what could maybe be a book.  Lots of rough and unpolished, but real, content.  Do's and Don'ts, Tips and Tricks, Q&A, Concepts, Strategies and Secrets, all trying to be real and serious "Beat the Game" information.  Some if it may even have a little value.  I'm not sure.

Trouble is, I wouldn't want The Book published until after I'm dead, or at least DONE playing.

I mean, imagine this:  You write the bare-your-soul tell-all poker book, hold nothing back, explain everything you know, or think you know.  Then one day you sit into a game, and there's some guy you never saw before, with a big stack, and upon seeing you he points, and smiles, and says "Hey, I know you! I read your book!"

Sheesh. Guess I'd have to get up and leave.

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A Golden Oldie, eight years old.  Worth repeating?

Character and Psychology for Everyone

Everyone's true character shows itself sooner or later in the poker game.  Good, bad or ugly, every opponent will eventually show you what they're really like, deep down inside.  You may not like what you see. If you're there to win money, then you're there to take advantage of the other guy's character flaws, his tendency towards denial, his emotional instability (tilt), and sometimes, his simple stupidity.  This is why Abdul advises us to "Surround yourself with idiots."

Everyone knows that poker is a combination of math and psychology.  Most think that the "psychology" part pertains to your opponents— reading them, deceiving them, psyching them out, and defending yourself when they try to do those things to you.  Yes, that stuff is important.  But even more important is understanding that the player who can do the most psychological damage to you, your game, and your bankroll, is the one you see when you go to the restroom and look in the mirror.

-- Sgt Rock on usenet:rec.gambling.poker, May 2001

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Pucker Factor

Do you know that slang expression?  Basically, it tries to quantify how severely the anal sphincter involuntarily constricts, when one is under extreme stress.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=pucker+factor

I heard it a lot in the Army, but not so much any more.  Back then we used to say that the ultimate PF maximizer was: Landing a jet fighter, on an aircraft carrier, at night.  I guess being shot at was way up there, too.

Mrs. Rock didn't know the expression, never heard it, but came up with a pretty decent ESL equivalent of her own, without hardly even trying.

We drove round trip to Vegas for WSOP this year, June 12 thru July 12.  I do most of the driving, but she switches in for an hour or so now and then.

Thing is, she's a little acrophobic, and gets freaked out driving on a highway with a steep drop over the edge, like along a canyon rim.  So I do those roads, but this time, on the way home, I inadvertently let her drive, and took a nap, forgetting that were approaching Yakima, WA, where there is just such a road.

After a while I wake up, and look over to see her with a two hands white-knuckle grip on the wheel, staring straight ahead, not daring to look to the side, and maybe even perspiring a little.  Uh oh.  I look to the side, and yeah, we're on the edge of the mountain, sheer drop, and I just know she's not liking it at all.

"You OK?" I ask.

She's concentrating too intently to answer right away, but after a long pause she manages to say:

"My rectum is tingling."

And that, friends, is Pucker Factor.