Horrendous Plays: I Make Them, Too - Part III

Just to ensure that you don't get the false impression that I am trying to convey a holier-than-thou, arrogant, or beyond reproach demeanor through my series of "Horrendous Plays (that other people make)" columns, allow me to do something that few poker writers do – illustrate, by specific example, a poorly played hand of mine.

I was sitting in the No. 8 seat of the $75-$150 stud game at The Mirage, where my playing skills should be at their sharpest, and I made not one, but two blunders in the same hand. Yes, it was pretty ugly, now that I think about it.

Third street: I had split jacks with a 4 in the hole. To my immediate right, the No. 7 seat had the low card, a 3. I was staring at a group of doorcards that contained three fives and nothing higher than an 8. I liked my chances, from all appearances. The first to act, I raised, and my only two callers each had a 5! That was highly unexpected. Due to the careless discarding of his hand, I happened to notice an ace among the No. 7 seat's holecards.

Fourth street: Going clockwise, the 5 caught an unsuited ace, the 5 caught an unsuited 9, and I caught a 4, giving me two pair, which I assumed was a near-cinch hand. Predictably, the action went: check, check, my bet, call, call.

Fifth street: The 5 caught a 7 that was unsuited with both open cards, and the 5 caught the A. I caught an unsuited 10. First-betting position now shifted, and the A led with a $150 bet. My initial instinct was to raise. With three exposed fives and three exposed aces, all in different hands, the only logical hand I could give him was getting back on the diamond draw. I had no positive idea what the 5-A-7 rainbow could have had at that juncture, but I assumed it was very weak, unless it also was a draw (straight, not flush) that missed on fourth street but got back on fifth, or at best was a 5-6-7 that just made a pair of sevens. I should have raised, making the flush draw pay for his draw and hopefully reducing the field to heads up, further diminishing his pot odds. In hindsight, the hesitant and contemplative call on fifth street of the 5-A-7 told me that a raise would have surely knocked her out of the hand. Frankly, I am not sure why I didn't listen to my first instinct. I can only account for the debacle with the reasoning that by not raising, I was "trapping" what I assumed was a bad hand further weakened by its containing a dead 5 and a dead ace, which rendered it virtually impossible to improve. Of course, I secretly hoped for the unlikely making of her second pair. I planned on raising on sixth street if bet into.

Sixth street: Sure enough, my full house jack fell right in front of me, which, of course, would have hit my hand had I raised her out, but that was purely random and not where the crux of my error lied. It was just icing on the cake. She caught an irrelevant blank and I caught a queen. My board looked semithreatening now, with J-4-10-Q giving rise to my straight possibilities in my opponents' minds. It was checked to me and, naturally, I bet with a great deal of certainty that I held the best hand, especially when assuming that the jack that would have filled me shouldn't have helped his hand. I got two calls, which was no surprise.

Seventh street: The dreaded circumstance occurred. The A, who had been the first to act since fifth street, bet into me. Of course, I didn't fill up, and actually found myself sighing. I reluctantly, and foolishly, called with great certainty that I was beat. The only potential salvation I hoped for was that he put me on a straight draw that didn't materialize, and was betting at a huge pot, hoping she and I would both fold. The pot was substantial ($1,745), but my call on the river constituted my second error, despite the fact that I was getting almost 12-to-1 on my money at that point. Sure, there was a chance of that bluffing fantasy occurring, but not even close to an 8 percent likelihood, in my mind. Although my read of his diamond draw that missed on fourth street and restarted on fifth street was dead-on, what I could not have known was that the jack that I so badly wanted on fifth street gave him a gutshot Broadway draw, because he had the K 10 in the hole. "Extra outs" is the name of that tune. Sure enough, he turned over the black queen he caught on the river and took the pot.

So, as you can see, I am not immune to making mistakes. In fact, I very rarely play what I deem to be a mistake-free session. We all make some mistakes during most of our sessions. Seven-card stud is such a complex and tricky proposition that it cannot be helped by even the best of the best. The winning player does not play "perfect poker" every day, but he makes fewer mistakes than his opponents. However, a winning player would like to think he is immune from making absolutely horrendous plays. The two mistakes I made in this hand are classic, typical, and common. They probably don't quite rise to the level of "horrendous," despite the title of this column, but they are worthy of noting, analyzing, remembering, and, above all, avoiding.