Missed a Bet, Lost a Pot

Before moving to Vegas, I grew up in the Pacific Northwest. One of my passions while I lived up there was to visit the Oregon Coast. The scenery was some of the most beautiful I have ever seen, and the hiking the best that I've ever experienced. So, when Linda Johnson invited me to take part in a charity poker tournament at Spirit Mountain Casino just outside Lincoln City, Oregon, I packed up my family and headed off for a fun week.

The casino was clean and modern, and the tournament well-run. After a fun-filled morning playing in the no-limit hold'em tournament – unsuccessfully, I might add – I took a seat in a newly formed $30-$60 hold'em game.

About an hour into the game, I picked up the K 9 on the button. Several players had called in front of me, and I tossed $30 into the pot. I liked my situation – several callers, a cheap entry price, and position on the field. The texture of my hand – suited, some straight potential, and some pair value – plays well in that type of scenario. The small blind called and the big blind knuckled.

I caught a favorable flop, 7-4-4 with two hearts. The small blind checked and the big blind led into the field. Everyone folded to me. I thought about what to do with my hand. My opponent was a tight player, a professional with good hand-reading skills and a pretty good under-standing of the game. I didn't think he held a 4, as he would have slow-played rather than lead out in an effort to create more action for himself. I thought he had either a 7 or a draw. If he held a 7, I wanted to get him off it.

From noticing previous plays of his, I knew he was capable of laying down a hand if he thought he was beat. I wanted him to lay down this hand, and thought perhaps I could get his chips in my stack if he held a 7 and I missed. I knew he would include a flush draw in my possible hands if I raised on the flop. I wanted to exclude that thought from his mind. I thought if I raised on the turn rather than the flop, he would exclude the possibility of a flush draw from my range of holdings, and would likely fold a 7.

The turn card was the Q. I liked the card from the perspective of following through with the bluff-raise play on the turn. Now, if he held a 7, he could not beat a queen if I had paired on the turn. He fired into me, and as previously planned, I raised him. He instantly called. He didn't take a second to think about it. When an opponent behaves in that manner, particularly one who has previously demonstrated that he thinks about his decisions, I tend to put him on a draw, and consider his call an autopilot play. Hands other than draws require a little more thought. A draw creates an automatic mindset to call – an error in my opinion, but a common one.

The river was the 3, and he checked to me. I pondered.

Should I bet one more time with my busted draw? If I was right and he had a draw, the river card had completed the open-end straight. If he had a flush draw, I could beat all of them except those that contained an ace or a 3. If I assumed he would call with any made hand with which he called the turn, the only better hands than mine that he might fold were the A X or a heart draw that contained a 3. Since he was in the big blind, he had been forced to play any two cards he was dealt, so the likelihood of him having one heart draw over another would be mathematical, and would have nothing to do with his hand selection. It also meant that his heart draw had less likelihood of containing the ace. With these thoughts in my mind, I checked, hoping to win the pot with my holding.

To my dismay, my opponent turned over the A 5 and took the pot. I reviewed my thinking after the hand. Did I make a mistake in not betting the river? There was no doubt in my mind that he would have folded had I bet. Since I had him on a heart draw, was the pot big enough to justify a bet to get him to fold a hand that contained the A or 3? I decided to run the math and double-check my play.

There was $480 in the pot. There were eight combinations of heart draws he could hold that contained an ace (he couldn't have A-K or A-9, as my hand blocked those holdings, and the 7 and 4 were on the board), one of which also contained a 3. Seven other combinations of his possible heart draws contained a 3. The 6 5 also made a straight, and could not be counted as a hand in either category. There were 20 combinations of heart draws queen high or lower with no ace, king, 9, 7, 6-5, 4, and 3. So, he had a 14 in 34 chance of holding a hand he would have folded that was better than my holding. With $480 in the pot, it should have been an easy bet, as the pot was laying me $480-to-$60 on the bluff.

My thinking was muddled and I made a bad play. It was not the first I have ever made, and I'm sure it won't be my last. I accept the fact that I am human and do make mistakes, but I try to keep them to a minimum and learn from them. One way I accomplish this is to go over my questionable plays and double-check myself, as I did with this hand. When I do make a mistake, I try to learn from it and not make it twice. Fortunately for me, I'm pretty good at avoiding the psychological trap that many players fall into: being emotionally affected by a mistake, thus causing additional errors.

The worst mistakes I make are the ones I have made before, and I get mad at myself for making them. I'd like to say I never make repetitive mistakes, but I do. The second-worst kinds of mistakes I make are the ones I make because I am psychologically flawed from making a previous error. So, if I don't make mistakes that I've made before, I am less likely to make mistakes because I'm mad at myself. Positive things compound themselves, as do negative things. Keep your thoughts positive!

Oh, and if you ever get a chance to visit the Oregon coastline, go for it. You'll find some nice people, some good poker, and beautiful scenery.

Roy Cooke played winning professional poker for more than 16 years. He is a successful real estate broker/salesperson in Las Vegas. If you would like to ask Roy poker-related questions, you may do so online at www.UnitedPokerForum.com. His longtime collaborator, John Bond, is a free-lance writer in South Florida.