Dead at the Bike

Playing in poker tournaments can be challenging, fun, and exciting. However, there are few things in life that are more frustrating. Think about it. In a large event with 500 players, how many folks are going home happy? Sure, some people will be thrilled to make the money or the final table, but I would contend that the only person who leaves a tournament truly satisfied is the winner. Sometimes even he won't be too delighted, perhaps regretting the decision to make some sort of deal at the end. When it comes right down to it, poker tournaments are nothing more than the post-medieval version of "the rack."



On that note, I would love to share some details from my latest foray into main-event futility. This event took place at The Bicycle Casino in Bell Gardens, California. Once again, the staff did a wonderful job of structuring and holding a major tournament, providing players with tableside food service throughout the event and offering a structure with $20,000 in starting chips and ample time to play.



This event was large enough that the first day was split into two flights. I drew flight one, and was full of optimism as I took my seat on a pleasant late-summer Saturday afternoon. My optimism was justified a couple hours into the event, as I won the first major pot I got involved in. I was on the button in a multiway pot, and called a $300 raise with pocket sixes. The flop was nice for me: 10-9-6. Luckily for me, one of the other players held 10-9 suited, and I won a big pot, increasing my chip stack to about $30,000. But, as I soon discovered, that was to be about all the fun I would have.



I had scarcely finished stacking the pot when the following hand came up. I was dealt two black aces, and raised to $650 (the blinds were $100-$200 with a $25 ante) from middle position. Only the small blind called. The flop came 8-5-4 with two clubs. He checked to me, and I bet $700, roughly half the size of the pot. The small blind check-raised to $2,700. Now I had a decision to make. My opponent in the hand was taking a lot of flops, so I couldn't rule out a hand like 7-6, either suited or not. Also, there was a chance he held either a set or two pair. Those were the hands I was trailing. Also possible were hands such as 9-8, 6-5, a flush draw, or a slow-played big pair such as K-K or Q-Q. All things considered, I thought my A-A still figured to be the best hand. This ruled out folding. So, should I call or raise? Ultimately, I opted to call and see if a club hit, as I thought a flush draw was a fairly likely hand. I didn't want to be faced with a tough decision at this point, should I reraise and have him move all in.

The turn was the 9. It wasn't a real pretty card, but it did give me the nut-flush draw if I was in fact trailing in the hand. Now, my opponent bet, but only $2,000. Again, I had a decision to make between calling and raising. And once again, I decided that calling was best. I thought raising would have some value if doing so might induce my opponent to pass some hands that I couldn't beat, such as two pair. However, I didn't believe this to be the case, and I thought it was fairly likely I was beat.



The last card off was another 9, pairing the board and giving me "top two." I could now win if he had flopped two pair, or if he held an overpair to the board. I would lose to flushes, full houses, and straights. He bet $4,000. To me, this looked like a "please call me" bet. After quite a bit of thought, I obliged, and he produced the 10 6. It was a nice bet on his part, as he gave me a good price to pay him off, based on the range of hands I believed he could hold. So, I was back where I started again.



Later on, with the blinds at $150-$300 and a $50 ante, I got involved in another pot against the same opponent. This time, I raised with Q-Q, and he once again defended his small blind. The flop came 10-9-5 rainbow. He, predictably, checked, and it was up to me. Now, this looks like a situation in which I should clearly bet my overpair, both for its value and to protect it from dangerous free cards. However, I decided to play the hand differently this time, and checked.



The turn was a 4, putting two clubs on the board. Once again, my opponent checked. Now, I bet about the size of the pot, $2,500. He called instantly. My read of his hand was that he held some sort of small or medium pair, and was calling me thinking his hand was good. My check on the flop was designed to provoke this sort of action, and so far it seemed to be going well. I thought I stood a good chance of getting paid off for a big number on the river if a club didn't come. A club was likely to kill the action, as it appeared as if I might have picked up a flush draw on the turn and bet as a semibluff.



The river was one of the better cards I could pull out of the deck – an offsuit 4, pairing the board, and missing all the draws. Again, he checked. I immediately bet $5,000, hoping for a call. File this one under the category of "be careful what you wish for." He called all right, and showed 6-4 for trips.



Although this hand proved to be a disaster for me in terms of the result, I was actually pleased with my play of the hand. I think if a different card pairs on the river, I still would have gotten the call, and would've won a big pot rather than lost one. While it is true that I could've won the pot with a simple bet on the flop, my check gave me a great opportunity to win a substantial pot while getting my money in as a big favorite.

A short time later came my "freeway hand"; that is, the one that sent me on the road back to Vegas. The blinds were still $150-$300, and an aggressive player opened the pot from early position with a raise to $800. By the time the action had reached me in the big blind, there were four callers. I called with the A 8, telling myself that I was absolutely not going to go broke with just a pair of aces here, should one come on the flop. Well, that was the spoiler.



The flop came A K 9. I checked, as did the preflop raiser and everyone else around to the button. The button was a congenial recreational player in his 50s, who had been involved in more than his share of pots and didn't seem to have a firm grasp of no-limit hand values (for example, on one occasion with five or six limpers for $200, he raised the pot to $500 from the small blind with A-8 offsuit, which only served to build a bigger pot for him to play from out of position with a bad hand). He bet about $2,200 into a pot of more than $5,000. I had about $8,000 in my stack. I decided to call, thinking that it was likely that I had the button's hand beat, but not wanting to commit myself to the pot by raising in case one of the other players had checked a strong hand. Everyone else passed, and we were heads up.



The turn paired the 9, which looked like a good card for my hand. Before I could act, though, my opponent checked out of turn. Well, there are two ways to look at this. Sometimes players will do this as an angle, hoping their opponent will read it as weakness and induce them to bet. However, I didn't think this was the case here. I thought my opponent had just made an accidental mistake. At this point, I decided that I had at least half the pot. With only $6,000 in my stack, and more than $9,000 in the pot, I thought that I should move all in. So, I did, and after some thought, he called with A-Q, the better hand, but one which was good for only a split unless a king or queen came on the river. Unfortunately, a king came, and my day came to an end.



Overall, this tournament left me with a bad taste in my mouth, as nothing seemed to go my way after a promising start. I left muttering to myself, and swearing that I would never play a poker tournament again. In other words, it was my usual routine after busting out.