Fifteen Minutes Of Fun
2007-02-09 10:21:21
By: Gene Bromberg
Even though I jested about the poker scene here in Florida, there was no doubt that I'd check it out eventually. It's my duty, you might say. So last night my buddy Mark and I headed out into the night looking for a little fun. We decided to find out where the Daytona Beach Kennel Club is and, maybe, play a little poker.
Turns out the dog track lies in the shadows of Daytona International Speedway. The track is so long that it's address stretches about six blocks. So we parked, paid the $1 admission to enter the premises, and took a look around.
About what you'd expect--a big room with a low drop-ceiling, big enough to comfortably hold about fifteen oval poker tables with deep-red felt. Sitting around those tables was a nice demographic mix--there were players of different ages, ethnicities and localities. No women playing, though. Odd.
"So, you wanna play?" Mark asked. Well, sure! We went up to the front desk and spoke to "Aunt Sally", a very enthusiastic and friendly woman who cheerfully informed us that they were looking to fill a 2-table tournament. That sounded good, that way we wouldn't be stuck there all night in case we (well, I) went on to win the whole thing. Heh heh.
Now, I've been playing poker a good long while. I've been writing about poker a good long while. I'm not your typical tourist stumbling into a poker room looking to have a little fun. Thing is, that's exactly what Mark is. The two of us certainly looked like clueless tourists, in our Polo shirts and running shoes. Mark's shirt had the logo of the hospital he works for, in case anyone didn't know that we were out-of-towners.
"So," Mark said as we waited for the tournament to fill, "how should I play this? Wait for a big hand and push, or..."
I gave him a quick tutorial of No-Limit poker tournament play...well, actually, this is what I said. "We won't have enough chips to get fancy, so if you get a big hand, raise. If you hit the flop, push. If you don't and someone else bets, fold and hope you get another hand before the blinds eat you up."
I recalled that the Kennel Club's website said their tournaments started off as limit then switched to no-limit, and I told Mark to be aware of that. He decided to make sure and asked Aunt Sally. "Oh no," she said in her big, cheery voice, "you can bet all the chips you have whenever you want. You can push those big boys out at any time!" So our reputation as utterly clueless tourists was now firmly established.
We were called to our seats, Mark and I were at different tables, and to my dismay I found that Table 2, Seat 5 was against a support pillar. I wedged myself in and waited to see who I was up against. The gentleman to my left looked like Don Imus; the guy to my right wore a Detroit Tigers cap that had fur-lined earflaps. The rest of my table seemed to be Kennel Club regulars, with the exception of a very quiet guy in the 11 seat who was probably another tourist.
Yes, that's right, the "11" seat. We were playing 12-handed, and we were packed around that table cheek-to-jowl. We were given $2,000 in chips, which was $500 more than I expected, and the blinds went up not every 10 hands, but every 15 minutes. That was probably a wash, but the time limit sounded better to me. I settled into my seat, riffled my chips (just to show that I wasn't completely at sea sitting at this table) and waited to show my stuff.
Thing is, it's hard to show any stuff when you're dealt garbage like 10-3 and 8-4 and you're facing a raise, call, and re-raise before it's your turn to act. I folded those first few hands when, from the other table, I heard a familiar voice announce "all-in". Nothing much happened for a few moments...and then I saw Mark get up and start walking my way. Uh-oh.
"Well, I'm out," Mark said as our dealer ladled out our fourth hand. "I had A-9, I raised and one guy called. There was a nine on the flop, I bet, he raised, and I had to go all-in. He had kings."
Trying desperately to sound like I knew what the hell I was talking about I quickly asked, "Was the flop nine-high?"
"Yeah."
"And he had pocket kings?"
"Yeah."
Whew. OK, that was fine. Someone slow-played KK and got lucky when Mark made top-pair, top-kicker. Nearly impossible to get away from that under these conditions. I was afraid the flop came K-9-3 and Mark lost to something like K-8. No, an unfortunate situation, but nothing too fishy about it.
So it was up to me to defend our honor, as it were. Thing is, I was stuck at the table with all the maniacs. While Mark's table remained eleven players strong, mine saw somone knocked out nearly every hand. The other tourist at the table won a big pot when he called with J-5 (sooted) against the all-ins of players holding J-10 and A-8. He spiked a five on the flop and no one else got any help. So that freed up some space around our table...and it also made the blinds come around a lot faster.
I saw my first flop with the K-10 of clubs from the big blind in an unraised pot. After missing completely they too went into the muck. A guy proud of his biceps and wearing a size Medium T-shirt paid off a friend of his when, after thinking for about 60 seconds, he called with pocket Jacks on a Queen-high flop. "Blinds are going up, come on," the Imus lookalike to my left muttered as the buff dude pondered his bad call.
Then the guy wearing the hat with the ear-flaps crippled another young gun when he called with 5-3 on a K-J-J-8-3 board. "I think you have AQ," he said before calling off 2/3 of his stack with bottom pair. His opponent showed A-10. They know each other, probably play against each other all the time, so maybe that was a really great call. At the time, I thought it was plum loco.
And then I finally got a hand, King-Jack! I know what you're saying--King-Jack ain't no hand at all. But all that paint looked so pretty in my hand...right up to the point where there was a raise, and all-in, and a call ahead of me. Did I want to call off all my chips with K-J? Not really. I didn't like it, but I mucked it. The other players rolled over A-10, pocket sevens, and A-9. The guy with A-9 ended up making a flush...thing is, I would've made a full boat, as the final board read 7-7-3-J-J. Ugh.
Another player or two went out and we were down to six-handed. While the other table still had eleven. There would be no balancing of tables--each table would keep on until both had six (or fewer) players, and then they'd consolidate. There was some confusion about this, our dealer and the floorman went back and forth about this before we started an apparently this was something that'd never been done before. And, hopefully, won't be done ever again.
Because all too soon I had to pay my big blind again, and I was pretty much committed to going with my hand regardless of the card. Mark was sweating me so I lifted my cards and saw the King and Queen of spades. All right! Not a bad hand to shove with. Not a good, hand, either. In fact, not a hand you want to risk your life with. But it wasn't like I had any choice.
I got my first glimmer of bad news when the guy to my left, who'd only played one hand so far, announced "Raise". Well, maybe he had QJ. Or pocket threes, something like that. I'd take a coin flip, yes indeedy. It came around to me and I grabbed my meager stack and announced "Call." Here I goofed--I actually had $100 more than his raise. "You should've just gone all-in," Mr. Earflaps said. Thanks, pal. Never would've come up with that myself.
The flop was a ragged mess and I tossed in my remaining black chip. He of course called and rolled over A-Q. Barf. I tabled my cards and watched as the dealer magically kept the three remaining Kings in the deck. "Nice hand," I lied, before wishing everyone good luck and morosely walking away.
"Oh well," Mark said with more equanimity that the situation called for. "So let's see, I paid $45 for...about three minutes of fun."
"Shut up," I grunted as we headed for the door. We were both hungry and neither of us much wanted to sit in an cash game. We bid Aunt Sally good night and pushed through the turnstiles.
Sigh. Oh, to have a nice, deep stack in front of you, to set traps, to jab and bedevil your opponents with probing bets, to bully them into submission with crushing re-raises! Hmm, Mark's at his conferences all day...I have the keys to the Mustang...the poker room is only a 20 minute drive away. Could put the top down, hit the road...and take my revenge.
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