Hella Hold'em

I was in the process of writing a post about how it has been a long 16 days since I last played any form of poker, and how that's the longest I've gone without playing since I started (in fall 2003). I was announcing my excitement over my plans to go grab a bite to eat and head over to Empress to play cards, when all of a sudden my power went out. (Thunderstorm)

Now, I am a prisoner in my own home, as my car is in the garage, and my garage door is powered by that magic juice that I so take for granted - electricity.

Now I'm thumbing away in misery on my Blackberry, after having called the electric company to report the outage. The have no information on restoration at this time.

I know there's some way to disengage the power thingy on the garage door, but I'm not quite sure how to do it, nor am I certain I'd be able to lift the door anyway. My luck, I'd get out only to find that the casino lost power too. (It's 15 minutes away and was likely subject to the same storm that blew through here).

Now I will sit, listening to the warning beep of my computer's uninterruptible power supply and the ticking of the only battery powered timepiece in my house - my Philadelphia Flyers wall clock.

Today concludes my semester of work. For the most part, I have the summer off (except for having to go in for a few days through early June).

NO poker was played this week, unless you consider the video persuasion.

Wednesday night, I headed out with the girls to Empress Casino to do everything but play poker. I knew I was going to blow a buy-in of my bankroll, but had great fun playing nickel slots and quarter video poker.

The last few Friday nights have been spent at my cousin's house playing drunken "poker" (if you can call it that) with some friends. Tonight will be no different.

I'm busy this weekend with a graduation ceremony to attend and my niece's christening, so no poker will be had. Then, I'll be out of town Mon-Fri next week at a conference for work.

I'm already twitching from withdrawl....

I'll try and post something worthwhile, but if you don't hear from me till next weekend, at least you'll know why! Cya's on the flip side...

Many of you have probably already read about a little girl named Peyton Novoa. She's 2 1/2 years old, and lost her mother recently to small cell ovarian cancer.

I've been working with Spaceman and Bobby Bracelet (RIP One2Many) to put together a web site for Peyton. We're working to raise money to help Peyton and her family through this tough and tragic loss. Several poker pro's have already contributed to the cause. Gavin Smith and Phil Hellmuth have made generous cash donations of $2,000 a piece for Peyton. Phil Ivey, Michael Mizrachi, Mark Seif, and others have donated items for an upcoming auction to benefit the cause. I hear that a poker tournament with Gavin Smith is in the works.

Please help us to spread the word by posting a ForPeyton.com banner or link on your blog. Save a copy of the banner below, or drop me an email if you'd like a snippet of HTML code that you can paste into your blog template to display the banner. (Email - phlyersphan at gmail dot com).

You can also make cash donations via PayPal through the ForPeyton.com web site. Help us reach our goal of raising $100,000 for Peyton. Thanks!



See Card Player Magazine's article about ForPeyton.com: Poker Community Opens Its Heart

More in the "new blog pimpage" department...

Check out JusDealEm over at http://whatrtheodds.blogspot.com/

Chicks with chips... always a good thing!

Well, I'll be damned.... my friend Jim is now a blogger.

Railbird's Nest - http://railbirdsnest.blogspot.com/

Pretty soon I'm gonna need two hands to count all of the Chicago bloggers!

Ed's not the only one winning these micro-rebuys on PokerStars... my friend Jim (host of the Nice Table games) won one too.

Damn, I could really use one of these! Congrats, Jim :)

My friend Jim of the "Nice Table Games" hosted a tourney last night - NL holdem, $20 buy in with rebuys the first hour and one optional addon. 25% of the proceeds went to sponsor Jim and his wife in the American Cancer Society walk-n-ride marathon event.

Baz and his wife made it out to the game, and it was nice to finally meet Bob's better half :) We had a starting field of 13 or 14 people, and Jim purchased some software that managed the seat selection, prize pool, and blind timers. That was much nicer than dealing with egg timers all night.

Early on, I thought things were going well. I found myself raising preflop when I should, which shouldn't be a big deal, but I've spent the last year of my life playing weak-tight in tourneys with this particular crowd (for reasons unbeknownst to me). I was pleasantly surprised to see that I'd broken out of that shell, without even really thinking about it. I flopped a monster hand against Baz when my KQ flopped a boat of with KQQ. Baz bet it the whole way, much to my puzzlement, and when his river bet put me nearly all in and I pushed, he folded. (What'd ya have, Baz? I'm thinking a K?)

I was beating Mike (to my right) out of a lot of small pots. My pair of 5's rivered the ass end of a straight in a mostly checked-down pot, and I raised his bet on the end (which he called). Pocket 10's held up against his smaller pocket pair. I outkicked him in another pot, A8 vs A6. It didn't stop Mike from playing in pots with me, though.

Things started to go south when I hit AA for the second hand in a row. (The first hand, everyone folded to my preflop raise). The second time around, I raised it up again (4x BB was about the standard for the table, except for Dan the Man, who preferred raises in the 8-10x range). Mike called, and we saw a flop of A-x-x, 2 hearts. He pushed all in on the short stack, and I called. He turned over 10-7 hearts for the flush draw. At least the poker gods were quick with their delivery; the turn was a third heart, giving Mike the flush, and the river failed to pair the board, so I lost a chunk of change.

Next up was my JJ. I raised and found a caller in Baz. The board came undercards. I bet, he called. The turn brought a K. Based on the smooth-call preflop, I really didn't put Baz on a King. I bet, he called again. The river came a blank, and by now most of my chips are in the pot. I bet, he raised me all in, and I called. Turns out, I was right - there was no reason to fear one K in Baz's hand, because he held two of them. I was dead the entire way. Rebuy!

I made it to the final table of 8, but even with a handful of double-up's, the blinds were so big that my stack never grew about 10xBB. The final twist of the knife was when I pushed from the big blind preflop with 33 after Ed had raised 3x. (I had about 6x in my stack, total). He'd raised 4 of my previous big blinds at that table, and I had folded all of them. I decided to make my stand with 33, and it turns out I pushed into his pocket Aces. Nice play, Shel. No help onboard, and I went home a frustrated girl.

I had a frog of tears in my through as I drove home, and it wasn't because I got knocked out of the tourney. I thought I played well - better than I've played in a year or more. But the reflection off my windshield as I drove through the rain told tales of recent past that rang bitterly true. This game I play has mirrored my life, and I'm disappointed in how I've played.

I've played a weak-tight game for the past year or so, and it's no coincidence that it's been a very unhappy year in my personal life. I'd lost my confidence at the poker table, fearing that any move was liable to backfire anyway, so why bother. I'd limp and watch, wishing and wishing and wishing that my hands would hold up. I'd bleed away chips, lose in another tournament, and then wonder, why me? Even the monster hands betrayed me. Aces looked so beautiful when they did come around, but the board would dessimate them and I'd wish and wish and wish that they'd hold up anyway, because the just looked so right. I couldn't let them go, and would lose more me each time I held on for too long.

I've played the cards of my former relationship with Randy the same way. I don't think that playing any other way would have changed the outcome; I think we were destined to lose this game, as much as I wished otherwise. However, if I'd have played my cards and not tried to manufacture luck out of wishes, I might have been able to see the inevitable sooner and fold my hand. As it stands, I've bled away so much of myself and so much time that any realistic hope of ever getting married and having kids is dim at best. (I'm no spring chicken...)

Maybe that's just not in the cards for me. I'll take whatever the universe has in store for me and make the best of it. It's just ironic how life never seems to turn out the way you expect that it would.

Empress is finally starting to feel like home, as Trump once did.

The other day, a dealer called me by name for the first time. The brush folks recognize me now, and I'm on a first-name basis with a handful of regulars (the social ones, anyway). Poker life is good.

I headed over there after work tonight, to sit the 5/10 game (as per usual). I wish I had some hand stories for you, because something must have gone right (I left up $155 in 4 hours). I just can't seem to remember anything spectacular. I had QQ 3 times - lost big twice, and won small once. A suited 7-8 made me a straight, which was nice. The only other hand I recall is an A-T offsuit holding up for top pair, Aces.

I did enjoy the company of my tablemates tonight, which is not always the case. It was a pretty young table. Early on, I had a crazy Asian gambler to my left, and he had me cracking up. By the time I moved to the main game, I got to join a few poker "friends" (if you can call anyone at a poker table your friend). A woman Renee was there, and she's great fun to chat with. I see her a lot on Wednesday nights. She talks about golf so much and so highly that it makes me want to try it someday. To my right was a guy I'd have pegged as my age (turns out, he's 33). I've seen him a few times, though hadn't talked with him in the past. He was cool. He mentioned being married for 7 years, and it made me think, wow... I have to remember that I'm not crazy for expecting a 33 year old guy to be ready to get married after dating for 3 years. It's not crazy... there are obviously guys out there doing it (getting married, that is).

There was a kid at the other end of the table who I would have pegged as a solid player, except that he sucked. I know - that statement is a contradiction in terms, but he acted like a solid player. Then he'd flip over Q7 suited, having played 2nd pair 7's and raised all day long. Scooby. The guy to my right got into a few verbal sparring matches with the kid, outwitting him at every turn. It was enough to keep me amused while watching Joe Crede fail to get the tying run home from 2nd base, and even kept me laughing while the White Sox got soaked an inning later (literally and figuratively).

I stayed a couple orbits longer than I'd intended, and won back $50 for my time. My straddle buddy Joe was still nursing his Coronas, hoping to take a few more stacks off of a table that had gotten too tight-aggressive for my taste. I bid farewell to Mr. 33, Joe, and the rest of the table, pleased at my take for the day.

As I stepped out of the casino and into the exposed hallway leading to the parking lot, my lungs filled with rain-soaked air. I love the smell of rain. It no longer fell in Joliet, but the skies off in the distance were angry. I love an angry sky. Some people draw strength and comfort from bright, sunshiny days. I find the best versions of myself under an angry sky. Maybe it's the underlying threat of danger from the storm - the adrenaline rush of what could be. It reminds me how small we really are in this big, big world. It puts me in my place, and that is somehow empowering.

The first song to hit the airwaves off my iPod once I reached my car was, "Don't Fear the Reaper." Seasons don't fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun or the rain - We can be like they are....

I was leaving Empress last night, and saw something that struck me as bizarre. I was walking through the parking lot to my car, and off in the distance, a handful of what appeared to be grown adults were tailgating in the parking lot. They had a blue cooler full of beverages, and tunes blaring from the open car doors. One guy sat on the trunk of his car, with his lady friend nestled between his legs, and another couple was making out like school kids against the car next door. The others were whooping it up and having a gay ol' time.

Tailgating outside a suburban casino on a Monday night... OK... is it just me, or is that weird?

The poker inside was loose and passive. I sat at the $5/10 game for about 2 1/2 hours. I was up a nice $140 until my very last hand - JJ. I raised the action preflop (and capped it when a raise came behind me), and bet out on the Q-high flop. My two opponents were a solid player across the table from me, and a loose "cool-guy" who thought he was playing for WPT millions, often pushing his 2nd pair like Aces. I was last to act, and the solid player was just calling calling calling. Cool guy popped me for a raise on the flop, but the Q-3-8 board just didn't look scary to me, and coming from him, his raise was nothing more than a bully move.

Both guys checked the turn to me (4), and I bet again. Solid guy looked decidedly uncomfortable but called anyway (he was pretty textbook - strong meant strong, weak meant weak), and Cool guy sighed as he called. He totally had AK. I had no doubt.

The river paired the board with 4's, and the solid player bet out excitedly. Mother Effer. Cool guy reluctantly folded, and though I knew I was beat, for one bet into a mountain of chips, I had to call to ward off the bluff. (You only have to win 10% of those crying calls on the end in big pots to make it profitable over the long run...) Had the other guy called, I would have folded, since I'd get to see the hand anyway, but there's no way this pot was getting shipped uncontested.

The solid player had 3-4 of diamonds. No wonder he made the comment after the turn that he never should have even been in this pot. The poker gods sure rained down on his river. No pair, no draw after the flop.. nice call, guy. He must be psychic.

So, that pot cost me $60 or so and brought my profits for the night down under $100. Just then I got called for a seat change (I was at the must-move table), and was so annoyed with the JJ loss that I decided to take my winnings and leave, lest I tilt off the rest at a new table.

+$87 (8.7 BB)/ 2.5 hours = 3.48 BB/hour

Average that out with Sunday's results:

7 hours, + 0 BB

Seriously. I left exactly even after 7 hours of play. I was never up more than $50 and was never down more than $50. If you count all of the diet cokes, I was probably up ten bucks on the day. Ugh.

So my two-day run came out to: .92 BB/hour

Ayayay.

No poker tonight. Must work. Maybe Wednesday.

Blame this guy.

the Idiot Savant (47% dark, 42% spontaneous, 42% vulgar)

your humor style: VULGAR | SPONTANEOUS | LIGHT You like things silly, immediate, and, above all, outrageous. Ixne on the subtle word play, more testicles on fire, please. People like you are the most likely to RECEIVE internet forwards--and also the most likely to save them in a special folder entitled 'HOLY SHIT'. Because it's so easily appreciated, and often wacky and physical, your sense of humor never ceases to amuse your friends. Most realize that there's a sly intelligence and a knowing wink to your tastes. Your sense of humor could be called 'anti-pretentious'--but paradoxically enough, that indicates you're smarter than most. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Johnny Knoxville - Jimmy Kimmel The 3-Variable Funny Test! - it rules - If you're interested, try my best friend's best test: The Genghis Khan Genetic Fitness Masterpiece

This test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 43% on darkness You scored higher than 28% on spontaneity You scored higher than 60% on vulgarity

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

My apologies for the song lyrics posted the other day. I know - very 9th grade of me. The observant amongst you might have noticed Randy's removal from the sidebar of this blog, and the song lyrics were my announement to that effect. (We broke up). I don't plan to speak any more of it here, except to say that by the time I see you all in July, I will likely be embracing single-hood once again. For now, I'm in recovery mode. So - that's all I have to say about that!

I headed to Empress yesterday for the first time in a week, thinking that my emotional state was at least back to the point where I could focus on poker on not the other trials and tribulations of my life. Thankfully for my bankroll I consciously avoided poker all of last week. I signed on to Full Tilt last night to play a bit online, and it seems that I'm not as able to focus at home as I am at the casino right now. I think it's the combination of being at home (Randy is still living here while finding a new place to live) and the iTunes factor. I was definitely off my game, and took a couple dings to the online bankroll as a result.

Not much happened at Empress. I played for 4 hours until the poker room closed for the night, and ended up down $47 (-4.7 BB) at $5/10. Not once did I go to showdown with a losing hand, but I very rarely found myself at showdown. If you figure that I saw about 3 orbits of play per hour, that's at least $21/hour spent in blinds ($5 big+ $2 small = $7 x 3). So, at least I outran the blinds.

I won two nice pots that kept me afloat. The two times in the 4 hours that I saw pocket pairs, they flopped sets: 3's and 5's. With the 3's, I cold-called a preflop raise in position. Four people had already limped into the pot, and the button and blinds were still to act after me. The guy that raised was immediately to my right, and was a solid player. Not too many players at Empress earn that designation - at least not too many I've played with. So I knew this guy had a premium hand. He was very TAG. I figured, though, if I could flop my set, I could probably crack him off, and because it's a general rule that if you limp into a pot you HAVE to call the raise behind you, I knew all of the previous limpers would come along for the $10. The blinds were also likely to call, so I was looking at a pot of at least $80 preflop, including my reds. With odds of 7:1 against flopping my set, the pot looked about right.

Glory be, I flopped my set. I was calling down to keep as many of the other people in the pot as possible (risky with a low set, yes, but there were no straight or flush draws possible). On the turn, the last of the former limpers folded, so I was heads-up with the original raiser. I raised him on the river, and he knew he was beat. He sighed and broken-heartedly folded. I showed him my 3's, and he patted the felt. "Nice hand," he said. "You had me all the way." I think he had AK, and flopped a K. I don't normally show hands, but I appreciated his pain, and he wasn't the type of player that I felt bad about giving the info that he made a good laydown. He was getting cracked off all night, and I hoped he could at least go home thinking that he played well despite his bad luck. We've all had those days.

Believe it or not, I'm thinking of breaking my "no live poker on Saturdays" rule today. Empress is closed on Saturdays, but Resorts isn't.... We'll see what the day brings.

Congrats to my friend Ed, who is on quite a roll with the $5/rebuy tourneys on PokerStars. I think Ed needs to start a blog and share some of his secret strategies :)

It would be wrong to ask you why
Because I know what goes inside
Is only half of what comes out
Isn't that what it's about?
To remind us we're alive
To remind us we're not blind
In that big, black hole
Comfortable
Digging the grave, I got it made
Let something in, or throw something out?
You left the door open wide

I know you have a reason why
The knot is better left untied
I just went and undid mine
It takes some time
And the shadows so big
It takes the sun out of the day
And the feeling goes away
when you close the door
Comfortable

Another weekend is upon us! Hallelujah, eh? I was up with the birds this morning for my bi-weekly Friday morning meetings at work, and while I'm no fan of the alarm clock going off in single-digit hours, it did ensure that I was conscious and upright in time to get to Empress for a few hours before they close for the weekend.

Yes, the poker room closes for the weekend. Crickets start chirping around 6pm Friday night, and the sharks do not awaken until early Sunday morning. Illinois' gaming laws are screwy, but hey. It's the midwest. I expect nothing less than ass-backwards.

I was seated at the 5/10 limit feeder table a little while after arriving at the boat. I think the guy running the room had a bit of a confidence problem, because there were 2 open seats in the main game when I arrived, and despite the dealer informing the floor man 3 times that he had open seats, I wasn't seated. The floor man just kept walking up to the feeder game, as if afraid to interrupt them to tell players to move. When he finally did approach the table, it took him 3 different halted half-sentences to get the guts to say, "Joe and Shmoe? Your seats are open in the main game."

It turns out that the wasted 15 minutes or so literally might have cost me money, because the table was just brimming with fishy goodness. Holy cow. Remember a few trips ago, when I spoke of the guy that donked off $500 in less than an hour, betting and raising all the way to showdown with bluffs? It was like that - except there were TWO of them! Even better - they were drunk out of their gourds, and very clearly members of the blue collar comedy fan club. The claimed to be Illinois residents from an hour or so south of here, but I'd put them in the back woods of the deep south any day.

I managed to pull a couple of lucky hands off of that table. Q9 offsuit from the big blind flopped me top two pair, and with Larry and his other brother Larry taking turns raising, the betting was capped all the way down on each street, and my hand held up. (I was against Q4 for one pair, and a guy who reluctantly folded on the river and mucked). I must have dragged $150 on that pot alone - with a measley two pair.

When I got moved to the main game, I was disappointed, but only for a few moments, because Larry and Larry busted out of the feeder table shortly after (but not before rebuying a few times). Unfortunately, I wasn't catching any playable hands at the main game, and my AA got cracked off by Play-Every-Hand-Marge, so I took my money and ran after 3 hours or so, up $109.

I came home to find an amusing reply to an email I sent out the other day. As most of my fellow bloggers are probably used to, I get lots of spam email for various tournaments and freerolls and the like. I rarely read them, much less respond - but one caught my eye.

Why? Well, I was put off by the fact that the invitation directly insulted my profession (while simultaneously casting condescention on new players). I replied, wishing the tournament sponsor good luck with his game while mentioning that he might not want to insult people in his tournament invitations. (I don't know - maybe more people would actually play in a game where the sponsors came across as decent human beings? Just a thought). Apparently he took offense, getting all caps-lock on me and saying I should "chill." I'm still giggling, because it amuses me how people project their own ignorance and insecurities on others. Someone who can't take a bit of constructive criticism gets all uptight upon confrontation, then says everyone else needs to "chill." Ahhhh baby, I am cool as a cucumber :)

No matter, though - further investigation led me to realize that the sponsors of this tournament are members of the scum-of-the-earth search engine whore community, using self-described "shady search engine optimization tactics," like keyword stuffing and comment spam. I then found "informational articles" on their web site, describing link dumping techniques and tips for abusing cross-site scripting bugs and other exploits in your web pages. They also have affiliate links to those wonderful RSS-to-Blog programs that scrape our content and display it on shill blogs.

Good people, these black hats are! Good people!

I hope all of my fellow bloggers are wearing White Hats, for the sake of the ethical reputation of poker-blogger-kind. If it isn't OBVIOUS, I'm not a big fan of black-hatted [errrr hearted] people.

Not much going on over here...

The fishes took me for $45 Sunday night at the Empress poker room, over 7 hours' time. At one point, I called Randy, after about 5 hours and up $80 or so. I said, "I was going to head home, but the table just got reeeally good... I'm think I can milk a few more chips off this table." He wished me luck and I went back to the table. I watched in disbelief as the new guy at the table donked off just shy of $500 in less than one hour.

He was on the waiting list for the no-limit game (which is why he had so many chips at the 5/10 limit hold'em table). This guy amazed me. L-A-G doesn't even begin to describe him.

On one hand, on a flop of JJx, he re-raised after 2 limpers, a raiser, and a cold-caller. The turn and river were blanks, though he raised the whole way. At showdown, he calls his opponent's bet, and goes, "Do you have the Jack?" The other guy goes, "Yes," and showed Ace Jack.

The muppet goes, "Nice hand, I didn't think you had it," and showed Queen Four Offsuit for no pair, no draw.

WTF?!?!?!

This was not an isolated incident. He literally went to showdown with hands as strong as nine high, bluffing his bets and raises all the way down. Hand after hand after hand.

Unfortunately for me, I started catching big pairs, which don't hold up well against 8 opponents, and are even more costly when a LAG keeps raising to build monster pots.

On one hand, I had JJ under the gun. I raised, and the usual gaggle of monkeys cold-called two bets to see the flop. It came Queen high, and I bet out. I had one caller. The turn put a 2nd club onboard, and the river the third. I checked behind my call-me-down opponent and saved myself ten bucks when he showed 8 3 of clubs for the flush. I marveled at his gutsy chase of the backdoor 8 high flush with no pair, and... well, I did the unthinkable.

I tilted a bit.

A few hands later, in the cutoff, I saw 6 people limp into an unraised pot. With the button and blinds still to act after me, I raised. What did I raise with?

I'm almost embarrassed to say. 10-5 of hearts.

Mind you - I never, never, ever raise with junk. I hardly ever even PLAY junk, let alone raise with it. (The Hammer does NOT count as junk). I don't think I have ever raised a junk hand in a live casino poker room, ever. I play straight up, grind-it-out, profitable-over-time poker.

Anyway, so the flop comes 10-5-x. From late position, I went on a raising frenzy, and got paid off by a poor guy who had AA.

You see, it wasn't so much the 8-high club flush beat that tilted me. I'd been building up some frustration with my game. I was playing weakly preflop and missing bets because of it. I wasn't raising my big cards in position, instead limping with AK and AQ and TT and such. I'll limp with those sometimes from early position, but not from middle or late. I was angry at myself because when I'm playing passively, it's almost always a sign of a losing day for me. It's not like I'm an aggressive maniac to begin with, but when I'm in a pot, I prefer to be betting or raising, because it's not all too often that I'm in a pot. I play good cards and push my slight edges when I can.

So, the 8 high club flush just twisted the knife. After the 10-5 hand, which paid back most of what I lost on my JJ, I vowed to myself, "No more limping with big cards..." You see, if I put in the extra raise up front and get 4 or 5 or 6 or 8 callers, and then manage to hit my flop, that's $20 or $25 or $30 or $40 extra dollars in my pocket. If I miss the flop, I've lost an extra $5. You do the math. It's my new "thing" lately. Sunday, though, it just wasn't in me.

Funny - raising just one of my AK's that hit probably would have turned Sunday from a losing session to at least a break even one.

So then comes this hand:

The guy to my left was a decent player. Semi-loose aggressive. Raised preflop with any two cards 10 or higher, any pocket pair, and almost any ace (8 seemed to be the minimum kicker he'd raise with). Under the gun, I found KQ of clubs and - keeping with my mantra of not limping with big cards - I raised. He re-raised me, and the rest of the table folded. When it got back to me, I capped it, because it's unlucky to play for 3 bets. Honestly, I don't believe that, but if I'm playing a hand preflop for 3 bets, it damn well better be worth 4, and again - if my hand holds up, I make more money than I lose by putting in the extra bet early (assuming I have more than one opponent).

The guy then says to me in surprise, "You're capping it??!" I said, "Yup." He threw in another red chip and we saw a flop of Ace-clubs, rag rag. I led out, because I was the preflop aggressor, and if he was holding anything less than an Ace at that point, I might take the pot right there. He smooth called. Knowing that he doesn't play junk (and that he's also capable of raising preflop and then throwing away a hand on the flop when action stirs up), I'm not a big fan of that call. I figure I'm going to need to slow down.

The turn, however, brought a 2nd club, giving me the nut flush draw. Well, we all know the mantra - bet your draws hard! I find this to be useful especially in limit (particularly in big multiway pots where, again, if you hit, you're making a boatload of extra bets). So, I bet out with my flush draw. Again, he smooth called.

The river brought a 3rd club, and I bet out again. He raised me. I re-raised him. He sighed and said, "You've got the flush?" With some mercy, I shook my head and said "Yes," giving him the chance to save the extra ten bucks. (If I really meant to be merciful, I should have just called his bet on the end - so I guess this whole mercy thing is just a bit of creative storytelling. I really wanted the extra ten bucks). He tossed in one last red chip to see my flush.

The guys at our end of the table gasped, "Oh my gosh! Runner runner flush!" as my opponent turned up his pocket Aces, for the flopped set. Brutal. My opponent, who was getting killed by the fishes as well, said, "Nice hand," in a dejected tone. I looked at him and said, "I'm sorry man... I raised preflop so I had to put in the continuation bet on the flop, and then the second club came on the turn..." He said, "I know, you played it well. It was my fault for slowplaying the set and not raising you."

True enough. A raise on the flop would have likely gotten me to lay down the hand, with no pair and only the backdoor draw. In Tilty McTilt mode, though, who knows.

I felt so dirty after that hand! That and my 10-5 suited. It was as if I was possessed by aliens for the evening.

I probably shouldn't have been playing poker. I was pretty upset Sunday, after hearing news that a friend's husband died suddenly that morning, completely unexpectedly and at way too young an age. I was enjoying the distraction of poker, concentrating better than ever on players and their patterns, but my emotional state wasn't good at all (as was evidenced by my late-evening tendencies toward tilt).

I used to be a member of the frequent tilters club. That's how I got my nickname at the local home games - Shellmuth. After seeing though how much damage tilt can cause to my game and subsequently my bankroll, I've made great efforts to keep the tilt under control and remain emotionless and "in the moment" at the poker table. Sitting down to the poker table in an already emotionally unstable state, though, is a recipe for tilt disaster. I'm probably lucky that I escaped with only 4BB damage over the 7 hours I played.

I toyed with the idea of heading to the boats again tonight, but opted instead to watch the Flyers game on TV. (Each playoff hockey game I watch likely shaves a year off of my life due to the added stress and rapid heartbeat that ensues). That ended up being a total waste of time, as Esche got shelled and the Flyers ran around the ice like Mites on Ice, making dumb plays and taking stupid penalties. All that, and they didn't even have their Enforcer (Donald Brashear) on the bench to crack some skulls. If the Flyers are going to suck ass in-game, the least they can do is beat the hell out of some people for me. Come on, now, boys! Revenge will be ours in Philadelphia (particularly against Wuss Man Connelly for the hit on Umberger which, despite being a technically "clean" hit, still deserves some retribution). I still can't believe Hitchcock sat Brashear tonight. He had to at least suspect the possibility of requiring some fisted assistance.

Anyhoooo, I think I might head to Empress on Wednesday night. We'll see. I've got to make right those errors of Sundays past...

No fun at Empress tonight. Four big pocket pairs got cracked (twice by blind hands chasing gutshots to the river). That is the prescription for dropping 20 big bets in 4 hours. Such is the game some days...

I came home and had similar luck online, and played a bit longer than I should have trying to catch up. That is never a good idea.

Not a fun day. I hope the felt was more kind to you guys. Better luck tomorrow...

Welcome back to the felt, Baz!

So, I hit up Empress last night for some poker, and who should come sit down about an hour into my session but the man, the mystery: Baz. At first I did a double-take, because - well, it was a Wednesday night. Yup - that's Baz alright. Cool! I said hi, but didn't want to make it obvious to the table that I knew him, so I let the boy settle in and see a few hands.

The table had been a bit grumpy, which means - the fish were not paying off bets, and instead did a lot of folding in disgust. A woman had arrived a little while before Baz, and was seated to my left. She was a very jovial type of person, and her chatter was helping to liven up the table a bit. Then, a kid from down south sat down. He was a self proclaimed bible-belter, and was up in Chicago for work. He was quite conversational, talking all about his work and his son and his ex-wife (though saying nothing bad) in a thick southern drawl. By now, the table was loosening up and things were getting fun.

When the woman to my left decided to leave, Baz got a seat change and moved across the table. One thing we marveled at was the frequency of which Hammer boards came out. I have never in my life seen a more Hammer-friendly table. I couldn't get my hands on a Hammer to save my life, but Baz was sitting in the Lucky Seven's seat, so I had high hopes for him. The woman that sat there before him literally won every single pot where a seven was on the board. She hit two full houses with K7, one with Q7, a boat with pocket 7's, and various other monster hands involving 7's. Twice, Baz was in hands where he raised preflop and Hammer boards came out, and I prayed that he had a Hammer to show down (since I was not in those pots!) Unfortunately, he didn't have Hammers, and the times he did see a Hammer in the Hole, he was not graced with a coordinating board. It sure would have been funny to tilt the remaining Grumps with a Hammer win, though.

I can't recall too many hands from last night. Pocket 3's hit a set for me, which paid off well. Big pocket pairs got crushed at every opportunity. I saw KK once, JJ twice (3 times if you count the misdeal... grrrr), and AA once. None held up. 'Twas brutal. Baz had similar luck with his large pocket pairs.

After playing for 5 hours, I was up $100 and decided to take my nice, even number and go home. Baz stuck around after I left, and if I'm not mistaken, he was up when I left, so hopefully he cleaned out the remaining Grumps before heading home himself. :)

Card Player Magazine has one of those fill-in-the-blank letters that you can have sent to your representatives opposing the bills that propose outlawing online poker playing for money. Do your part - contact your representatives. It literally takes less than 2 minutes to fill out. Maybe even less than a minute.