NOT SO RANDOM THOUGHT
NOT SO RANDOM THOUGHT
Is it wrong to marry someone because they folded pocket queens after the flop in a game of 2-4 limit Hold ‘Em came AA4 and one player bet two dollars?
Or is that the kind of story one tells the grandkids after 60 years of marriage?
August 3rd, 2005 at 3:27 pm
This story could only apply to you.
Only you could remember a card hand after 60 years of marriage. Everybody else forgets their card hands in three days.
August 3rd, 2005 at 8:19 pm
Wait, you’re attracted to the weak play?
He should’ve raised to see if, in fact, he was looking at trips.
August 3rd, 2005 at 8:30 pm
I don’t get it.
You like the guy because he’s a crappy card player, that you’ll be able to beat for the next 60 years?
Or you like him because he threw away a good hand because he wanted you to win instead?
August 3rd, 2005 at 8:44 pm
Yeah, I don’t get it. You want to marry an idiot?
August 3rd, 2005 at 8:46 pm
You guys are craaazy. He knew he was beat and made a great laydown, losing the least amount of money possible. Another player at the table kept chasing the original bettor and when she turned over what turned out to be quad aces, he had lost like thirty dollars.
August 3rd, 2005 at 8:49 pm
OK- fair enough, but I think it still makes sense to raise there. It only costs $4 and then you can get out if anyone calls you.
August 3rd, 2005 at 10:05 pm
By the way, Newt Gingrich called and said to tell yall that English, not Hold’Em-ese, is the official language of the United States.
August 4th, 2005 at 12:34 am
There are 8-10 players at the table. Someone has the Ace. It’s very hard to lay down pocket queens after the flop, especially to such a low bet, and it shows a considerable amount of discipline. I folded queens during a tournament recently after the flop of Axx but that was not nearly as impressive a fold because it was nl (pocket kings made his set on the river and won that hand).
August 4th, 2005 at 3:46 am
I need a Poker-to-English dictionary. Do they make Berlitz tapes for this?
August 4th, 2005 at 4:12 am
Laying down a high pocket pair just because an ace flops and someone bets into you is the hallmark of a tight-weak player.
Does the opponent have the ace sometimes? Sure. Does he have it every time he bets into your pocket pair? Nope.
August 4th, 2005 at 4:42 am
I’m with Esther, but i’m happy you’re crushing on someone. Okay, pr at least liking them!
August 4th, 2005 at 5:59 am
F-train: two aces, not one.
August 4th, 2005 at 6:08 am
F-train, I know you didn’t call my boy “tight weak”…that’s it, you’re so disinvited from the wedding.
August 4th, 2005 at 3:21 pm
Karol-
The 2 aces, not 1, makes it an even worse play, I think.
If there was just one ace, that leaves 3 out there, making it more likely one of the other players makes a pair and has you beat.
If there are 2 on the board, there are only 2 for the other players, making it less likely anyone has you beat.
I’m a relative newcomer to poker, so please advise if my logic is wrong.
August 4th, 2005 at 3:24 pm
Ding ding ding, Varones is a winner. I’m less worried when two aces flop then I am when one flops.
August 4th, 2005 at 4:07 pm
There are 9 players at the table. With a pre-flop raise, you know at least one of the people staying in is holding an Ace.
August 4th, 2005 at 5:02 pm
OK, if my math is right, here’s the situation.
If all ten (nine plus Adonis) players stayed in for the flop, there’s a 62% chance someone else has an ace.
But if the table is that loose that everyone stayed in and called a pre-flop raise, then there’s a huge pot, and it’s certainly worth spending $4 to raise to see. The pot odds are way in your favor.
August 4th, 2005 at 5:06 pm
I see it the same way as Dawn: when you know you’re beat, lay your cards down. It just shows amazing discipline and is very attractive.
August 4th, 2005 at 5:27 pm
Karol, the key phrase is “when you know you are beat.”
The analysis by F-Train and others (without additional information) is 100% correct, folding in that situation is absolutely a weak play.
Now, if you have additional information on the player, that is a different story. If you know the player rarely bluffs, or is likely to be scared to bet unless holding the aces, then it may very well bet the correct play.
Most experienced players, holding pocket aces, would not lead out betting there, they would slow play. Unless of course they knew that the table expected them to slow play and they thought that betting would make them appear to be stealing.
August 4th, 2005 at 5:42 pm
but they *weren’t* experienced players…sigh…never mind. Actually, I’m glad that everyone else thinks this play was bad, I afraid that folding the queens was something everyone would have done and that my being impressed would just be further proof of my own poor poker playing.
August 4th, 2005 at 8:23 pm
The laydown was weak because Dreamboat had no information and didn’t extract any. He played a hunch and was right, but that’s it. If he raises and gets reraised the hand costs him another $4 but at least he has a reason to make that play. In limit poker the first to act almost HAS to bet that hand unless (s)he is sure that there will be action behind.
August 5th, 2005 at 6:25 am
I’m not a poker expert, but that play seems really weak. Only pocket kings or an Ace would have beat you.
Statistically speaking, if you fold every time an Ace is flopped (”knowing” someone always has it), I don’t know how you come out on top.
ESPECIALLY if you’re playing against newcomers. The guy could have been chasing the A2345 striaght.
First of all, if there were 10 people after the deal all betting($40 in the pot after the first round), you chase them the f*ck out BEFORE the flop with pocket queens.
January 29th, 2007 at 2:59 pm
[...] I smiled at the floorman and handed him my player’s card. “Hey, you did your hair,” he said smiling. “Yeah.” “Looks good.” He gave me back the card. I sheepishly said thanks and put it in my bag. I took the escalator downstairs and met Karol by the valet counter. “Ugh…the floor guy noticed that I changed my hair. THE FLOOR GUY, guy! I cannot come back here again for like…weeks.” She laughed. “That is bad.” It’s hard to imagine now, but that first trip to Atlantic City with Karol, something like 18 months ago, was one of those spur of the moment impulses that happen once in a million years. And if anyone had told me then, that I would turn into an AC regular, I would have scoffed, rolled my eyes and laughed. Out loud. For hours. I lived with my mother at the time and we had just had one of those awesome “under my roof” fights that ended with someone swearing that when they turned 18 they were “so outta here forever.” Nevermind that said person may or may not have been 25ish already. Not much else was going on in my life. I was changing jobs…again. It was August, so there was no TV and I was marking time watching Netflix movies. I was in a Spielberg phase and was mid-way through Close Encounters when Karol immed about Atlantic City. I was pissed off at her for telling me Hachem had won the world series of poker because I had spent all of July vigilantly avoiding any and all poker sites, magazines and articles, so I could be surprised when ESPN aired the event later in 2005. It was almost five in the evening and I was a very nervous driver so the prospect of three hours on the highway in the dead of night was unappealing. “Come on…you pick me up and I’ll drive.” “I don’t know…where are we going to stay?” “I’ll look up someplace on priceline…are you in?” I thought about it and decided, hey it’s something new and different. You only live once, after all. I threw some clothes in a bag, told my mom I was staying at Karol’s and left the house. I took the bus out to the garage where I stored my car. (Why I have a car when I live in New York, mind boggling.) I was on the bus for ten minutes when Karol called my cell. “Have you left home already?” “Yes…I’m going to get the car…are we not going?” “No…we’re still going…what are you wearing?” I looked down. “T-shirt and jeans…why?” “Um…well…no reason, but be ready to go the distance.” “Huh…what distance?” “Nothing…hurry up.” I got to Karol’s apartment building and she was already waiting for me downstairs. She is never ready on time. I started to worry. She put her bag in the trunk, I got out and moved to the passenger side, while she took the wheel. “What’s all this going the distance stuff?” “Well, you know…just wanted to make sure you had comfortable shoes…layers of clothes, so you aren’t too cold or too hot…you know, be ready to go the distance through the night!” She was being suspiciously cryptic. She lived in a one bedroom with her boyfriend and so I started to look for signs of blood splatter. “Umm…Peter’s not dead in your apartment is he? Cause I really am not prepared for a life as a fugitive.” She smiled at me. But didn’t exactly answer my question. We hit the ATM and finally made it to the Jersey turnpike. “This is going to be so fun! It’ll be like Swingers, but with two girls…and Atlantic City instead of Vegas…we can write a movie,” she was practically manic. “Peter is dead in the apartment, isn’t he?” She laughed. “Come on! We’re young, we don’t have any kids…can’t do this when we’re married and living in the suburbs!” Now I laughed. True enough. “Ok! I think Jada plays me in the movie.” We drove through the night, mapping out scenes and reliving memories. There was possibly some talk of magic love potions and seances. When the Atlantic City skyline finally came into view, we were excited to hit the tables and begin the wild Swingers adventure. But first, we needed a place to stay. Priceline was a bust because you can’t make same day reservations after four, so we just started calling hotels. I had won money at Tropicana the first time I played poker in AC, so I suggested we go there. We formed the line to get Tropicana cards, while we talked to the various AC hotels. Everything was either completely booked or insanely expensive, until we hit the jackpot. A room for $79 at the comfort inn. It was 11 p.m. We doubled checked that we’d be able to check-in at whatever time in the morning we were done playing, exchanged high fives and made a beeline for the Tropicana poker room. We got seats at separate 2/4 tables. I fell in love with a black guy at the table after he folded pocket queens instead of calling the $4 turn bet. As he talked through the hand to me afterwards, I picked out place settings for our poker themed wedding. I went to find Karol and surprise, she was at the blackjack tables! “Dude!” “I was card dead,” she said explaining why she was not playing poker as planned. “Ok, come to my table! You have to meet this guy! He folded pocket queens! QUEENS!” The two of us returned to the table and Karol found out the guy lived in Brooklyn, so she gave him her number and told him that we play in a bunch of games in the city, if he ever wanted to play. We stayed at the Trop until six or seven in the morning. “Man, am I looking forward to getting into bed and going to sleep for like ten hours!” Karol agreed. Adventuring was exhausting. She called the hotel to find out the fastest way to get there. The guy who answered gave us directions, but then he asked “are you coming here now?” “Yes.” “Why?” “To check-in…we booked the room last night.” “Uh…sorry, ma’am…but we are booked.” “But we made the reservation like seven hours ago and asked about checking in late and they said it was ok.” “Sorry…but we have no rooms.” Karol hung up and called the reservations desk. Evidently…we did have a room…the only problem was we had it for that date a year’s hence…in 2006. The clerk asked us if we still wanted the room. Karol gave him an earful and then cancelled it. “What now? I will not sleep on the streets of Atlantic City! My mother thinks I’m with you in Manhattan…if we’re killed down here, I will be in such trouble.” “Actually, I’m pretty awake, I can drive back.” Whew. We put on shades and turned toward the rising sun. We were tired, but rejuvenated. We talked the whole way back to Manhattan. We got back to the city around 10 and partly due to delirium and relishing the opportunity to retroactively not lie to my mother, I slept at Karol’s house. And yes, turns out, Peter was alive and well. Who knew that would be just the first of dozens of trips just like it? Well, not just like it…but when we left on Friday…er…Saturday, it had a similarly impulsive feel. I had been out Friday night hanging out with Pi and Cash money — learning bridge and playing speed Scrabble into the wee hours of the night. Fisch, no doubt still smarting from my 3-0 victory, bailed on our scheduled rematch and I found myself wide awake and bored. I watched some TV and decided to take a couple of Tylenol PM and force myself to get a good night’s rest. I climbed into bed and was close to dozing off, when the phone rang. It was Karol. “Hey, can I sleep over?” “Yeah, sure.” She had been out with her friend Tom at my bar, I might add, and left when the bar closed at 4. She was at my door ten minutes later. I let her in and turned to go back to bed. “Hey! No bed! Let’s play cards,” she slurred. I set up the poker table and we finished our first heads up tournament at around 5. I was shuffling the deck for another, when the lightbulb went on over my head. “Dude…if we’re up playing cards…why are we not in Atlantic City?” “Uh…I am not good to drive…” “What’s that supposed to mean! I can drive…now…sorta!” We headed to the basement, I fired up the Dreamgirls soundtrack and we were once again on our way to the air conditioned city in the dead of night. The night was cold, there was a dust of snow covering the roadside and with only a handful of cars on the road, the night seemed extra dark. I checked the rearview mirror. Nothingness. Black. We fought about the music. “I’m driving, I get to pick.” “Well, you can’t pick songs just to annoy me.” “I can pick whatever I want. When you drive, you always pick whatever you want.” Then we began the usual last minute phone tree to find a room for the night. She scored a free room at the Sheraton. We were about a half an hour away, when I started to feel the effects of the Tylenol PM. “Oh crap! I forgot I had taken those pills…” Karol decided the best way to keep me awake was to talk about the comfortable Sheraton beds. Doofus. I rolled down the window and let the air beat my face until I fingers numbed from the cold. So this is how the Dawn Summers story ends? A fiery crash on the road to AC, with Karol? I hit the brakes and slowed down. We crept to the AC exit. “We’re going to get pulled over for going too slow.” “Look, the last time we took that exit, we were going too fast and Fisch almost lost control of the car.” Safe is better than dead. We got to the Sheraton in one piece…only to find out that they didn’t have a room for us. “Sorry girls…you can come back at noon…we’ll have some clean rooms by then.” Karol looked at me. “Come on…do something. Be crazy black woman or lawyer…” My eyes were closing. “Dude. I don’t even remember how we got here.” Karol yelled at the check-in clerk and the night manager for a few more minutes before cancelling the reservation. We got back in the car and tried to get a room at the Comfort Inn. No dice. We eventually ended up at our old standby, the Holiday Inn Express. We slept till about 2 or 3 and drove out to the Borgata to watch the WPT main event. We spotted some poker celebrities and ate dinner before going to play some 1/2 at the Hilton until around 5 in the morning. We went back to the hotel for the night and congratulated ourselves on managing two nights for the price of one. The next day, we somehow ended up at the Tropicana - a casino we haven’t visited in months. We sat at a table out on the main floor, like we did on our first trip. I pulled out the Tropicana poker card I got that day and stared at the smiling Dawn in the corner. Karol took the card and said “that’s hot.” “Shut up…do you remember that day when we got these?” “Yeah…I lost mine though.” “Ha! Remember that guy folding pocket queens?” “Yes!” We spent the rest of the afternoon at the Trop and had dinner at one of the restaurants on the concourse level. It was snowing when we hit the road back to New York. The air in the car was cold and darkness was interrupted only by the steady breeze of flakes. We rode home in silence. All adventures, I suppose, must come to an end. Hopefully, just in time for a new one to begin. [...]