Play a Tournament With Me - Part II

In Part I of this column, I described early action in one of the tournaments I played recently. In a 62-player field, the rebuys and add-on were over and I was the chip leader at my table – a table that, with the exception of two or three players, consisted of weak-tight players. Overall in the event, I was actually just a bit above average in chips, but at this table, I was the clear chip leader. Because the limits went up very slowly and the blinds were fairly small in relation to the size of the stacks, the money was quite deep even at our somewhat short-stacked table. This meant that there was enough room to maneuver, and to try to outplay the opposition.



I tried to take advantage of my chip lead and the predictable play of some of my opponents, while at the same time profiting from my strong image. The players there all knew me as the rock they always see in the cash games, but even though my tournament style is quite different from the way I play cash games, most players don't know that – because they have never seen me play in tournaments. So, my goal was to steal some small and medium-sized pots, especially when it seemed that none of my opponents held much.



Things Start to Turn Sour

Even though these players respected me, however, they did call my raises without blinking their eyes! With blinds of $300-$600, I made it $2,100 to go with pocket eights, and got called in no fewer than four places! Now, the first caller turned out to have bullets, and had he reraised me before the flop, I actually may have given him some action. But, the flop of K-Q-5 saved me quite a bit of money, as I had an easy check and fold with all of those overcards staring me in the face.



Then, on the very next hand, I got A-J offsuit. I again made it $2,100 to go, and this time I got called in two places, with both blinds folding. I knew both of these players pretty well, and thought they were quite likely to be holding dominated hands like ace-rag or J-10. So, when the flop came A-8-2 rainbow, I was fairly certain I had the best hand. And on top of that, if indeed my hand was good, my opponents would almost certainly be drawing very slim. I checked, hoping that one of the players behind me would bet with a weaker ace than mine or as a total bluff. Both players checked, though, but this also meant something good for me: I almost certainly held the best hand with my pair of aces and jack kicker.



When an offsuit 5 came on the turn, I decided to check once more, trying to induce a bluff from my opponents – who were quite likely to be drawing thin or even dead to my hand. Alas, both players checked once more. So, when a 9 came on the river, I decided this was the time to make a decent value bet with my aces, hoping that one of my opponents would have a 9 or even a small pair and pay me off. After all, with all of this checking on my behalf, a big bet on the river would seem suspicious, wouldn't it? I bet $4,000, hoping to pick up a call from one of the players. But after long deliberation, the player in the middle did not call me – he raised $4,000 more! Now, I went into the tank. I thought this player was unlikely to hold a 7-6. He was fairly tight preflop and had a tendency to overvalue semi-big cards while undervaluing small cards, so it was not very likely he would have called my raise with this hand. But it did look like he had me beat! After all, it would seem like a very strange move to check two times when the pot may be up for grabs and then suddenly spring to life on the river as a bluff against a decent-sized bet by a dangerous player. So, my first read was pocket nines. That would be a hand that was consistent with his moves, and it also would mean that my flop and turn checks had been very expensive – because he probably would have folded his nines against any decent-sized bets by me on the early streets. Anyway, after long deliberation, I decided to call, only to be shown A-9 offsuit for top two pair. Even though I hated the fact that I had made that final call knowing and sensing I was beat, at least I knew that I wouldn't have won the hand. If this player calls a big preflop raise by a tight player like me with a mere A-9, he certainly won't fold once he flops top pair; at least that's what I figured. So, my passive play actually may have saved me my entire stack, even though, of course, I probably should have saved the final $4,000, as well.

Yet Another Loss

And not much later, I lost yet another pot! I got a free play in the $600 big blind with the Q 8, and five players were in the hand. The flop came A Q Q. I decided not to make any more fancy moves now, but bet out for a decent amount: $2,100. I got called in two places, by the same player who had beat me with the A-9 and a player who had just joined the table and seemed extremely loose. An offsuit 10 came on the turn, which was exactly the type of card I did not want to see. Both players could very well have called my big bet with K-J, meaning their inside straight had just been filled. (Yes, I know they should not call an almost pot-sized bet with a mere gutshot. But, both of these players seemed like the kind of people who would.) Also, one of them could well hold a queen with a better kicker or even A-Q to have me terribly beat.



However, from the way the first player had called my flop bet, it seemed to me that he simply had an ace. He didn't look like he was drawing, and he didn't strike me as having hit the whopper, either. The most logical assumption was that he had a hand of moderate strength, most likely an ace for aces and queens, possibly with a marginal kicker. Because I wanted to know exactly where I was, and also to show my opponents that I was not messing around, I chose to bet $4,000 into the $9,300 pot. I was hoping for one of the following scenarios: win it there and then, or have the first person call and the second one fold. Because I had no read on the second player, I hoped he would fold so that I could perhaps milk my one remaining opponent for some more on the river.



But in poker, as well as in life, things don't always go according to plan. Both players called, and the second one even called rather quickly. That was the bad news. The good news was that no one had raised me off my hand, and their calls could mean that my three queens were still good. So, when an offsuit 5 came on the river, I immediately bet another $4,000, and this time the first player called me instantly – as if he had made up his mind that he was not going to be bet off his hand. But then, within seconds, the second player raised $4,000 more! What was happening here? Had this man been slow-playing a big hand? A-Q looked rather remote to me, but Q-10 seemed quite possible. Or, did he have a straight after all? He couldn't be bluffing, could he? That would be an awfully strange move. After all, he had called decent bets on the flop and the turn with a pair on the board, and then on the river against a bet and a quick call, he made a raise that seemed to beg for a call. I also knew that even if this player had somehow overplayed trip queens, I could never win the entire pot: Because of the two big cards on the board, my kicker did not play anymore. So, because everything basically indicated that this man must have me beat, I decided to fold. And because the first caller folded, too, I never knew if I had made the correct decision.

I'm now short-stacked – but manage to double up

When I then lost another pot in which I overplayed a rather marginal holding, I had lost a significant portion of my stack in relatively little time. And just as importantly, my opponents had seen me involved in quite a few pots until the very end – and not win any of them. I cursed at myself for my too loose and too tricky play. I knew I had both underestimated my opponents and overestimated myself, trying to rule over the table when there was no real need to do so; after all, the blinds were still fairly low. All in all, after just three hours of play, I was suddenly in immediate danger of busting out, with a stack of just $7,800 and the blinds at $500-$1,000.



I did manage to double up, though. With just one limper, I had called from the small blind with the K 6, hoping to either get a good flop or bluff my opponents out if the situation seemed right. The flop came K 6 2, giving me top two pair. I decided that this was a hand that was good enough to go broke with, and because of the danger of someone holding a single diamond, I made a huge overbet, betting $6,200 into the $3,000 pot. I got called, bet my last $600 blind, got called again, and my two pair held up against my opponent's A 9.

Back in the saddle?
I now had $16,600 and after forfeiting my $700 and $1,400 blinds, I was down to $14,500 with 38 players left in the event. I knew that we would play down to 36 players, but that didn't affect me too much. My goal was not to make it to the final day; it was to win the event.



But that did not necessarily make my final move correct. I was two off the button with a mere K 2. The cutoff had gone to the bathroom, and I had gotten a reliable tell that the button was about to fold. I knew that in three hands, I would be the big blind, and that the blinds would move up to $1,000-$2,000. Not wanting to get short-stacked, I figured this would be a decent chance to steal $2,100 in blind money. Rather than making a small raise of $4,200 or so, I decided to commit fully, going all in for $14,500, more than 10 times the big blind. I figured I would probably win this pot uncontested at least 70 percent or 75 percent of the time – but I was wrong. Within seconds, the small blind announced, "Call," and I knew I was toast. But then when the hands were shown, it turned out that I was actually in the lead; my opponent was holding the J 10! Now, this was of course a horrible call on his part, but my own play had not been great, either. Still, I knew that if I won the pot, I would be in decent shape again, not far from the average stack size of about $40,000. But, a 10 flopped to bust me – basically before the event had even started.

Final analysis

When I left my seat and saw the other players in the game holding the chips, I knew exactly who was to blame for this exit: me. Instead of just playing ABC poker, seeing flops cheaply, and then hoping and expecting to get paid off, I had decided to use advanced, risky strategies against people who would simply do the obvious: call. By making multiple moves on my opponents and going for the expert play too often, I had gotten exactly what I deserved: a pat on the back. I knew that in this field, I should have gone out only if I had run into a terrible beat or two. Yet, what I had done was give away my chips by overplaying crummy cards, and to make things worse, I had not even gotten really unlucky, either. By trying to rule the table, I simply handed over my chips to my opponents – and I had no one to blame but myself.

Rolf "Ace" Slotboom has been a professional money player since 1998, specializing in limit hold'em and pot-limit Omaha. He is the tournament reporter for almost all major European tournaments, and is the Dutch commentator for Eurosport's EPT broadcasts. His first book, Hold'em on the Come: Limit Hold'em Strategy for Drawing Hands, is scheduled to be available in March 2006. He can be contacted directly through his website, www.rolfslotboom.com. Part I of this series can be found on this website.