More on 'Good-Win' Stories

Hi. Come on in. I have a delicious mess for us today: footlong chili-cheese dogs. Good thing you wore a red shirt.

At one of our meetings here in the dark corner of your poker mind, I related for your glee and merriment a "good-win" story. Such a tale is the opposite of a bad-beat story, and much more pleasant to the ear. These tales also provide positive nourishment to the consciousness of all who fall within proximity of the telling.

As I made my rounds of our local card emporiums during the days following that tale, I was met with many a cheery face, ready (even eager) to brighten my day with additional tales of joy, the outcomes being of a positive and winning nature.

Each good-win story gladdened my heart further. Our poker parlors once again took on an air of joyful expectancy; and it was about time, I say. I was beginning to believe, with all of the bad-beat stories, that no one ever won a big pot. And did a full house never stand up to take in the chips? Of course, upon reflection, that would be revealed as nonsense, because for each bad beat, there must be some kind of win. Someone administered that bad beat, but where were all the beaters? We heard only from the beatees. This has changed, and not a moment too soon.

Yet, there still does remain among us those diehards who insist upon relating their tragic tales of woe. It is to these holdouts that I extend the olive branch of peace as an invitation to join with us, the bearers of glad tidings, tellers of happy tales, disseminators of light, and propagators of joy. To oppose becoming part of our movement of happiness is to risk ending up a solitary voice in the darkness, stumbling about in desperation, seeking an ear for your tale of sadness. Join with us – now.

And now, to gladden poker hearts everywhere, I herewith relate another true and personal tale of positive outcome – a good-win story, the "new breed" of poker tale.

To skip out of town for a couple of days, I had journeyed to Laughlin, Nevada – that poker mecca on the Colorado River, 100 miles south of Las Vegas. I sought a weekend of play with the local inhabitants and visitors, they being mostly gentlemen of good cheer. (Now and then a grouch appeared, only to be quickly discounted.)

A hold'em game of $5-$10 limits caught my attention, and I was quickly seated and engaged in playing. It was a game of sociability and action. What more could one ask?

Toward the end of my playing session one evening, I found myself several hundred dollars on the positive side of the ledger, but becoming a bit foggy of mind. It was time to cash in. As I lifted the corners of my final hand, I was pleased to see the 7 6. It was one of my favorite types of hold'em hands. I love those middle suited connectors in late position. I entered the unraised pot along with five other players. Perfect.

Then came the prettiest flop I have ever seen: 5-4-3 – all diamonds! I had flopped a straight flush! The stone-cold nuts!

The blind checked, the second player bet, the third and fourth players called, I called, the last player folded – and the blind raised! I was holding a monster hand with multiway action and it had been check-raised! The joy of it all! Everyone called.

The blind checked again on fourth street. Players two, three, and four checked, I bet, and the blind raised again! Players two and three folded, player four called, and I reraised. The blind put in another raise, and player four folded. I was alone with the check-raiser while holding the absolute filberts. Unbeatable! We raised each other twice more and then I just called – my version of slow-playing this hand.

Unbelievable as it seems, the blind checked again on the river. I bet. He raised! I was aghast, but full of joy. We continued reraising until one of us (I forgot which) was all in. The check-raiser, with a grin from here to the rail, turned up the A 2. He also had flopped a straight flush – but the low end. I respectfully raked in the chips and stacked 'em up.

To the everlasting credit of my opponent, I never heard him so much as whisper one word about that beat.

Three of those footlongs is about my limit these days of health consciousness. Now I retire to digest. Put those two that are left in your pocket and kill the light on your way out.

Roy West, author of the bestseller 7 Card Stud, the Complete Course in Winning (available from Card Player), continues to give his successful poker lessons in Las Vegas to both tourists and locals. Ladies are welcome. Call 1-800-548-6177 Ext. 03.