Poker Short Stories

Dear Readers:

This is my final column of 2001. Over the past year or so, I've collected quite a few short stories from poker rooms all across the country. I'd like to share a few of the most interesting ones here, and conclude by wishing each of you a very happy new year!

- Nolan Dalla

Take the Money and Run

I was in a $15-$30 hold'em game in Atlantic City. The game was full of rocks, but there was one poor soul who was practically giving his money away. He was involved in every pot, calling raises with horrendously weak cards. It was no surprise, then, that the unfortunate player blasted through three full racks of red ($1,500) in just a couple of hours. He now seemed perilously close to the felt, although no one could quite tell how many chips he had in front of him, given all his worldly goods on display – including cigarette packs, odd trinkets, cocktail glasses, napkins, and assorted lucky charms. I figured that I'd sit in the game until he went broke, and then I'd look for a better game.

Then, the hand came that taught me a lesson. A tough player to my right raised before the flop. I reraised with A-K suited. The clueless player called two raises cold without even blinking. The tough player reraised again, with what I presumed to be aces, kings, or, perhaps (at worst), queens. I called.

Faced with the option of calling another $15, the clueless player miraculously produced a wad of cash that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Another player reminded the man that only chips and cash on the table were playable – explaining that he could not go into his pocket during the hand. The player stood up and loudly protested, insisting that the wad of cash had been on the table the whole time, before the cards were dealt. Since no one could tell for sure which bills were on the table (cash plays in Atlantic City), the man was allowed to call the raise. Naturally, after seeing the man play some pretty weak cards, I was thrilled by the ruling. I saw the tough player grin, sensing he was going to get paid off in full.

There wasn't much remarkable about the flop. The tough player fired away at the pot, I quietly slipped my cards into the muck, convinced that I was beat, and the clueless player instantly called. The turn came, and it was a facecard. The tough player bet out again, and the clueless player made an unflinching call. At the river, the same sequence was repeated – an aggressive bet and a call. At the showdown, the tough player announced, "Ace high, no pair," and turned over A-K in obvious disappointment. This put the clueless player into a state of ecstasy. He began to bob his head like a doll, stood up, clapped his hands together, and proudly flipped over pocket fours – completely ignoring the five overcards on board.

As the "bad" player dragged the pot, the tough player and I looked at each other in stunned disbelief. Both of us were dominated throughout the hand by his tiny pocket pair. We were thrilled initially that he somehow produced additional cash, yet he was the one who ended up teaching us a lesson about humility.

$6 an Hour the Hard Way

I sat down in a pot-limit hold'em game and bought in for $1,000. I posted my big blind and was prepared to fold immediately after I looked down and saw 5-4 offsuit. However, several players saw the flop without a raise – so I was in cheap.

Imagine my delight when the flop came 5-4-4! I had flopped a full house! Somehow, all of my chips ended up in the pot against a maniac who got caught bluffing and ended up pretty much committed to the pot. Unfortunately for me, he spiked a miracle 6 on the river, which gave him a higher full house with his pocket sixes. I had lost $1,000 on the very first hand.

That hurt. Now, the decision was – should I get up and lick my wounds or try to win my money back? I decided I'd be crazy to leave a game in which players were calling $400 raises with small pocket pairs. So, I bought in for another $1,000 and the game continued.

Over the next couple of hours, I managed to win a few pots here and there. The largest pot was around $500 when my opponent failed to hit a flush draw. Anyway, after two hours, it appeared that I was very close to where I had started. A friend approached the table and reminded me of a dinner engagement we had planned earlier. We walked to the cashier together, where I began to cash out.

"It looks like you had a great session," my friend said, as the cashier counted out assorted red, green, and black chips.

"Yeah, but I dropped $1,000 on the very first hand," I replied – interjecting the compulsory bad-beat story of losing with a full house to a higher full house.

As I wrapped up the story, the cashier laid $2,012 on the counter – for a net win of $12 after precisely two hours of play.

"Now, that's what I call $6 an hour the hard way!" my friend said.

Free Poker Lessons

I was sitting in a $20-$40 hold'em game on a busy holiday weekend. The table was situated directly in front of the high-limit podium, where it always generated a fair amount of interest from railbirds. A well-dressed man with his girlfriend, who was wearing a fancy mink coat, approached the table. They watched the game together and seemed fascinated by all the activity. There happened to be an empty seat in the game. A friend of mine named Russ, who was sitting in the game, made eye contact with the couple. Sensing the man's interest, he began to make conversation.

The man stated that he had never played, nor even heard of, Texas hold'em before. He asked Russ how the game was played. Russ stood up and politely gave the man a few "free" poker lessons on the basics of hold'em. The conversation was hilarious, without obviously being so, as you have to put yourself in the man's place and imagine what it would be like to try to learn chess in a three-minute lesson from a stranger.

To everyone's shock (and delight), the man indicated he might be interested in playing. Trying to engage the man further, Russ asked him what he normally played when he visited the casino. "Baccarat," the man said proudly.

"What kind of marker do you normally take out at the baccarat table?" Russ asked.

"$5,000," the man said.

"Oh, then this game is definitely for you," Russ said. (Sadly, the man declined.)

Be Careful What You Say – and to Whom You Say It!

Here's a gem of a poker story from this year's BARGE event in Las Vegas. I've attended BARGE six years in a row. It's one of the highlights of the year, not only for me, but for everyone who attends.

On a busy Sunday night, I was in an $8-$16 game comprised mostly of tourists, with a smattering of locals. It was a friendly game with lots of laughter and storytelling going on – the kind of low-limit game commonly found on the Las Vegas Strip.

The woman next to me was a local. She was in her mid-50s, had peroxide blonde hair, was well-dressed, and, from what I could tell, was a serious poker player. We got into a discussion about the Las Vegas poker scene.

Woman: If you wanted to find a good game, you should have been down at the Horseshoe last night.

Me: What do you mean?

Woman: There was this poker group called BARGE. It was a bunch of computer people loaded with money. They were drinking and playing every hand to the river. They played any two cards! They were terrible!

Me: Oh, really? What happened?

Woman: I was in a $10-$20 game. (The woman went on to tell a bad-beat story about how one of the BARGE people played bad cards and scooped a huge pot, crushing her set.) They were awful!

Me: So, how did you do?

Woman: I dropped two full racks. But if I could have stayed up all night, I'm sure I could have gotten it all back – and then some. They were playing every single hand, and most of them had at least a thousand dollars in front of them! There was a $4-$8 game at the next table over, and the white chips were stacked up to the ceiling (referring to a chip castle contest that was going on)! It was ridiculous!

Me: Well, if they were such bad players, how did they get all those chips in front of them?

Woman: Hell, I don't know. You know how rich those computer people are. Money means nothing to them. (At this time, a few of my BARGE friends started milling around the table and I could see them getting ready to approach.)

Woman: (Tells another bad-beat story about how one BARGER's 5-3 offsuit snapped off her pocket kings.)

Me: Well, it sure sounds like there was some great action at the Horseshoe.

Woman: As bad as they played, they were very nice people. I mean, they were really a lot of fun. Of course, every one of them was drinking a beer and a shot at the same time. The cocktail waitresses must have made a killing. Most of the room was totally bombed!

(At that very instant, one BARGE friend of mine came up and asked, "Are you going back to the Horseshoe?")

Suddenly, the woman turned pale. As I began to rack my chips, the woman seemed unable to speak. She pointed and said, "Y…..y….y…….you?"

I gave her a wink and a genuine smile, affirming the old axiom that you should always be careful what you say and to whom you say it.

What Happened to All My Chips?

It was about 3 a.m. at a game in Las Vegas. I'd been in a $20-$40 razz game most of the night busting my chops and managed a decent win. After the game broke up, I decided to sit in a low-limit game for another hour or so before calling it quits.

Since the poker room cashier was closed, I had about $1,200 in red chips stacked up in trays in front of me. A few minutes later, poker pro Mike Laing walked into the room and sat down behind me, and we began chatting.

Laing is one of my favorite tournament players and one of poker's most colorful personalities. That's for sure! I decided to take a break from the action and asked Mike to play my chips for me. He was glad to play a few hands and kill some time.

I left the room, ate a late snack, and took a break in the sportsbook. I soon began to doze off. After about a half-hour, I returned to the game to see how Mike was doing with my chips.

Imagine my horror upon walking back into the room and seeing all of my chips piled up in the middle of the table! There they were – towers of red chips spread all over the green felt in a huge pile.

"Mike, what in the hell happened?"

"We decided to make it pot-limit," Mike explained. "I got involved with this hand here, and I think we need some help."

"How much help do we need?" I asked – afraid of the answer.

"Lots of help," Mike replied, as I watched in stunned disbelief.

It's surely not a good sign when all of your chips are in the pot and you need help from the deck. All of my chips were gone as if they'd been sucked up by a vacuum cleaner.

The real kicker to the story is that Mike felt so bad about what happened that night that he sent me back the money later on.