Another Drunken Tourist Story

Most close decisions in poker come down to being a function of how your opponent plays. Some opponents play very predictably, and their range of hands in any given situation is very narrow. Other foes present accurate tells to those who are aware, and in some cases, they might as well turn their cards faceup.

Some adversaries, however, are impossible to read, with no rhyme or reason to their play, making logical analysis useless in reading their hands. Often, their range of hands in any situation is so broad that defining the mathematics of reading hands is far too complicated an equation for my poor little brain to handle. This tends to be true of those who have an overaggressive style of play, the stuck and steaming, the occasional true lunatic, and, of course, drunks. These people have generally earned the right to be paid off. Of course, there is also a major detriment to that style of play.

In a recent $60-$120 game at Bellagio at 4 a.m. on a Sunday, a drunken tourist, buried and steaming, was looking to get out in a hurry. Folding was not part of his plan for getting even, but raising was definitely in the recipe. He was so drunk he could barely hold his head up between raises. The rest of the table sat back and salivated, loving the action.

The drunk raised the pot from up front. Two seats behind him, I peeked down to see the Q 10. Even though my hand was likely a better holding than the drunk's, there wasn't much value in trying to isolate him. The field behind me, mostly quality players, would recognize the play, thus decreasing the value of attempting to quarantine the drunk. I just called. Two players called behind me, as did the big blind.

The flop came A-A-8 with two clubs. I had flopped the second-nut club draw, but if someone held an ace, the value of my flush potential diminished greatly. The big blind checked and, predictably, the drunk bet.

I was in a difficult spot. Three players still remained to act behind me, and if one of them raised, the drunk would probably reraise no matter what he held, likely creating a capped flop if anyone held an ace or, even worse, wired eights. Still, the size of the pot made calling worth the risk. There was no point in trying to represent an ace to fold the field, as the drunk was paying this hand off with almost anything. Also, someone behind me might just have an ace. I flat-called the bet.

To my delight, the rest of the field passed. I was heads up against the drunk, although I had no clue what he had. I caught a queen on the turn, giving me aces and queens and a flush draw. As expected, my inebriated opponent bet again. I had two real choices. First, I could just call, let him keep firing, and pay him off the whole way. Given his state of mind, he was almost certainly going to bet any two cards again on the river. By playing the hand that way, I would get extra value from his bluffs. Also, if he happened to have me beat or made a hand that beat mine, I would save the extra action.

Alternatively, I could raise and play my mitt as being the best hand. One problem with that play was that I thought my opponent might fold two dead blanks, and all things being equal, two dead blanks were a likely holding. In that scenario, if he folded the blanks, it would cost me the bet he would bluff on the river. Then again, he also might call with any semblance of a hand. It was very likely that I held the best hand, given that my opponent would bet any holding in that situation. If I raised and he paid me off through the river, I would get an extra bet vs. letting him just bet it down. The equation leaned in favor of calling, since he could have a hand that beat mine and I couldn't get away from paying him off. I just called the bet.

An offsuit 10 hit on the river, giving me three pair. My drunken friend fired once more, and I flat-called. He turned over a Q-4 offsuit. The dealer chopped the pot. We both held aces and queens with a 10.

After seeing his holding, I thought back to my decision not to raise the flop, and wondered if it had been the best play. In hindsight, could I have won the pot at that point? I am still unsure. The drunk was reraising most pots on the flop when they were raised, almost as a drill. That said, the fact that no one had an ace behind me made raising a much better play. But, I didn't know that at the time. In most cases, poker decisions become much clearer after the fact. In this case, because of the unpredictability of my opponent, what would have happened is still very unclear to me. When players play like a maniac, you are never going to be able to define how a hand will play with any sort of accuracy. That being the case, you are going to have to play to see the river more than normal, and pay off liberally. That is one advantage an aggressive maniac has in his poker game.

Of course, the disadvantages far outweigh the advantages, and going broke was in this guy's future. I was fortunate that he was willing to share some of his chips with me.

Roy Cooke played winning professional poker for more than 16 years. He is a successful real estate broker/salesperson in Las Vegas - please see his ad. If you would like to ask Roy poker-related questions, you may do so online at www.UnitedPokerForum.com.