PEACHFRONT SPEAKS

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steal magnolia redux 2010-05-15 - 11:51 a.m. Peachfront's Note: Don't forget to check out my Seattle to Whistler trip report starting right here. A mostly bad table yesterday, and I had to wait almost three hours to get it, thanks to the crowd and the inadequate number of tables -- only four 2/5 NL games in total. The funny thing is, that I mostly played small ball and ended up winning more than I did at the previous night's donkey fest. No one at the table knew me except one guy from Biloxi, but IMOM had pointed out the famous writer (I guess I'll call him Ima Noted Authority Too or INA2 for short), and the rest of the pros and semi-pros pointed themselves out by their discussion with him. Indeed, for much of the evening's festivities, I was seated between two honest-to-god rocks. My story stars not a rock but rather the wily old dude, probably late sixties or early seventies, who actually confessed to having read INA2's book, and I suspect that he truly did, because he made a lot of aggro plays. The Old White Dude nit impulses had a way of coming out at times though. For a long time, we mostly avoided each other because I was in seat 1 and he was in seat 5, but at some point fairly early in the session, when some people were walking or whatever, I picked up A9 offsuit and a perhaps ill-advised steal from the hijack when he was on the button. He smooth-called, so the blinds call, some limpers call, and away we go with a $125 pot or so to see this flop: A ♠ 9 ♠ 2 ♣ At this point, I'd better note that I had around my original $350 buy-in, which I played with all day, never needing a re-buy. There were ups and downs, but the ups came first...so anyways at this time I was by far the shortest stack at that table, so the effective stacks for this story are $350. Anyway...back to my monster flop. Hey, I has top two, and you don't. Checks to me, I make the standard two-thirds pot C-bet at this two-flush board, and now the old dude wants to raise me. He's perfectly capable of trying to steal something with a flush draw here. He could have anything from a flopped set to a big Ace to a stone cold bluff trying to pick off my C-bet. I can't make any more money from the bluffs, a set of Aces or Nines is highly unlikely, and I decide that the sensible plan is to play defense against the flush draw. So I smooth-call the raise instead of three-betting and wait to see what the turn brings -- some irrelevant blank I don't remember. All that's important is that it wasn't a spade. Time to make it ugly and plug ugly for him to draw at his flush. I shove in the rest of my stack, which isn't a huge overbet thanks to his flop raise, tee hee, and he agonizes a bit, and finally he folds his A2, for flopped top and bottom, face up. Now I'm sorry I made him fold but FFS. With my short stack, I never hold a AK, AQ, or even AJ here? That's what I mean about his inner nit coming out. Finally, after this lengthy set-up worthy of a David Foster Wallace novel, let's get to the humor hand. Sending a Message After the Telegram Has Been De-Invented The two rocks that surround me are gone, and Wily Old Dude moves into the seat immediately to my right in order to take advantage of a laggy player who almost immediately gets moved to 5/10. Now we're in nit/semi-pro hell, and Wily Old Dude develops a simple plan of limping/raising to steal pots. I've observed him for hours while he sat across from me in the 5 seat, so I know he's overly enamored of the flop donk to steal pots from possible steal-raises in later position. In seat 5, he doesn't get in my way, but when he's the cut-off every time I'm the button, he's going to become a big nuisance. I decide to send him a message that I know exactly what's going on, and if he wants to play that way, it's gonna be a gambling game. So I pick up the mighty 7 ♣ 4 ♦ on the button. I've got maybe $850 at the time, and I'm still the shorty at this table, so I can make my move without having to worry that some shorty is gonna to do a "what the hell" push and interfere with my fun. So here goes. Early guy limps, Old Dude limps, and I raise to $25. Big blind calls, limper calls, Old Dude calls. $100 pot. I didn't bother to write down the flop, because we were playing a card-independent strategy, but it was something like a dry King high board -- about perfect for my purposes. Check, check, Old Dude donks out his $25. Now that's just plain excuse my French un-fucking disrespectful, I have to apologize for adult language here. He really thinks he's going to steal a $100 pot with his quarter. I raise, the two players behind me fold, he twitches and itches and finally decides that there's no way I was bluffing with two players behind me, and he folds. I burst out laughing and flip my cards over as I scoop the pot. "Oh my God, is that your hand, ma'am?" asks the kid next to me. "Is THAT your hand, or is that just two random cards you pulled out of the muck after he folded?" In other words, my side of the table is laughing our asses off. Wily Old Dude, completely stone-faced, without saying a word, picks up some racks and leaves the table. The fun was over as far as he was concerned. Hey, don't go away mad, just go away. Talk about a play paying off in spades. back - next All Rights Reserved, Copyright 2002-2017 by Elaine Radford