Three Tough Hands in the World Series of Poker Main Event

For the sixth straight year, I had the privilege of playing in poker’s world championship this summer, as I entered the World Series of Poker main event, along with 6,493 other title hopefuls. I drew a tough table, but I still liked my chances of getting through the first day with a reasonable stack. It didn’t work out that way. Let me tell you about three hands that helped lead to my undoing.

Hand No. 1: The blinds were 50-100, and my stack size was 28,000. I opened from early position for 250 with pocket queens. The player three to my left, who had yet to play a hand at all, reraised to 700. It was folded back to me, and I called the 450 more. With 1,550 in the pot, we saw a flop of J-10-8 rainbow. I checked, and my opponent bet 1,000. I called. The turn brought a low card that almost certainly didn’t change anything. I checked again, and my opponent bet 1,700 into the 3,550 pot.

This was the critical decision point. My early read on this opponent was that he probably wouldn’t fire another bet without an overpair, which meant that his most likely hands were pocket kings or aces. Against those hands, I had six outs, which translates to about a 13 percent chance of winning. But there was also some chance that my opponent had A-K or worse (I could’ve misread him), and would check behind on the river if I called. And if my opponent did have aces or kings and I hit one of my six outs, he probably would pay off a decent-size value-bet with his overpair. Getting 3.1-1 on my money, but more like 5-1 when considering the implied odds, I thought it was a close decision between calling and folding. In the end, I decided to call. The river brought a king, and I obviously check-folded to my opponent’s bet of 3,000. I didn’t lose a ton of chips with my queens, but the hand still served as a lousy opening for the day. I went up and down for the next two hours, before this next hand came along.

Hand No. 2: The blinds were 150-300, with an ante of 25, and my stack size was 26,000. I opened from the hijack position for 850 with the 9 8. The player to my left had just moved to the table. He was amiable and young, and it seemed plausible that he would be on the loose side. He called. The rest of the table folded. With 2,350 in the pot, we saw a flop of Q-9-2 with two hearts. I checked, my opponent bet 1,300, and I called. The turn brought a low heart. I checked, and my opponent checked. The river paired the deuce (no fourth heart), and I led out for 1,700 into the 4,950 pot. My opponent thought for a while, and then did something a little odd. He said in one breath, “Seventeen hundred, right? I raise,” and threw out 4,100.

I’d been trying to get to the showdown cheaply, but now I was facing a raise that appeared to be begging to get called, offering me 4.5-1 on my money. My hand was clearly no good against anything my opponent would bet for value, but it could still beat a bluff. I didn’t think my opponent would’ve checked behind on the turn with a flush, and I didn’t think it likely that he’d have a deuce in his hand. Still, his raise screamed, “For value!” Was he trying to make a little more money while holding just a queen? I was confused enough about the action that I decided to call 2,400 more. “You got it,” my opponent said, “king high.” I tabled my hand and raked in the pot.

This result was great for me, but in a way the hand still helped to contribute to my demise. I’ll explain what I mean in the next hand.

Hand No. 3: The blinds were 150-300, with an ante of 25, and my stack size was around 28,500. I opened from the hijack position with the K 10 for 850. The player to my left — the same player from hand No. 2 — called, as did both blinds. We took the flop four-handed with a pot of 3,625. The flop came 10-7-6 rainbow. The blinds checked to me and I checked, intending to check-raise the player on my left (or fold if he bet and one of the blinds raised). He thought for a long time and appeared to seriously consider betting. He finally checked. The turn brought a king, putting a second spade on the board and giving me top two pair. The small blind bet 2,000. The big blind folded, and I raised to 6,500. The player on my left didn’t immediately fold, and I began to worry. He seemed to be contemplating a raise, but eventually cold-called the 6,500. The small blind folded. We got to the river with 18,625 in the middle. I had about 21,000 in front of me.

The river was an offsuit queen, and I had to come up with a plan. If I bet, I was almost certain to go broke if I had the worst hand. If I checked, it was possible that I’d miss some value, but probably not much, as he could bet worse hands for me. What hands do I mean? Well, maybe he flopped two pair and decided to slow-play. Maybe he made kings and sevens on the turn. Maybe he had an oddly played A-K. Maybe he called on the turn with just a flush draw. I decided to check and re-evaluate after my opponent acted.

He thought for a while and then bet 9,825. I was getting 2.9-1 on my money, and needed a 26 percent chance of holding the best hand to show a profit by calling. My read was that I was very likely beat — that I had only about a 20 percent chance of holding the best hand, and should fold. But then I thought about those hands that I mentioned above, and about my opponent. After hand No. 2, I had labeled him “tough,” “tricky,” “loose,” and “creative,” so I had a hard time having full confidence in my read. If I thought he was tricky enough to have a lot of worse two-pair hands and even bluffs in his range, it seemed that I had a pretty solid chance of holding the best hand. I overruled my instinct and called. My opponent showed pocket sevens for a set. He was indeed tricky, and had disguised his hand well. Of course, his trickiness is what got the call. Against a straightforward player, I simply would’ve folded the river and saved 9,825, very confident that my hand was no good.

Down to about 11,000 in chips, I busted out a few hands later.

Poker doesn’t always go smoothly. Sometimes your opponents put you in tough spots, and sometimes having more information about your opponent actually backfires on you. But poker is a long-run game. I’m confident that if I continue refining my analytical and hand-reading skills, and use a decision-making process similar to the one I used in this tournament, before too long I’ll make another deep run in the main event, as I did in 2008. I hope my readers have the same confidence in their own games.

Matt Matros is the author of The Making of a Poker Player, which is available online at www.CardPlayer.com. He is also a featured coach for stoxpoker.com.