I'm writing from the Westin by BWI, about 6 miles from downtown Baltimore . . . sipping a Macallan . . . neat, of course.
I just finished a fairly wild 4 hour session of $1/3 NL at the Horseshoe. After complaining that the last few sessions were relatively uninteresting, tonight I found myself in several uncomfortable spots. I probably blew a few of them. Perhaps in laughable fashion. You be the judge.
My second hand at the table, I look down at AQ off. Some chick limps. I raise to $12, and an older reg re-raises to $38. Action back on chick, and she re-pops to $88. Welcome to the table. Old guy has KK. Chick has JJ. Pete Peters has two cards in the muck.
Fifteen minutes later, I win a nice pot with 99. The very next hand, some dude straddles to $15. Then old guy from first hand (KK) raises to $48. He has me covered by a lot. Action comes around to me. I'm flummoxed. I have no idea how to play the hand. Limping for $50 to set mine seems bad. And re-raising doesn't seem any better, particularly since the only time I've seen this guy raise he had a monster. I don't think he folds to a three bet. So, what the f*ck do I do on the flop (assuming I don't hit a set)? I'm basically paying $50 to set mine or playing JJ for stacks early in the session. So, I fold. Folding JJ pre flop feels bad. Frankly, I just didn't know how to play the hand.
Over the course of the next two hours, I pissed away $75 or so calling small raises with hands like 55 . . . 44 . . . 66 and missing my sets. Repeatedly limp-calling-folding-to-flop-bets also feels lousy. Then, I finally hit my hand. I look down at TT in position and raise to $16. Two callers. Flop comes T84 rainbow. It checks to me, and I decide to check through as the board is fairly dry. The turn is a delicious 8. Some dude, who I had previously been informed, is a "really, really good player," shoves $180. I snap. He asks, "do you have tens? You must have tens. Only hand that can call there." Um. Yes sir, I do have TT. I show and he mucks. He then proceeds to bitch about how I run so hot, unlike him. Of course, I hadn't won a hand in several hours. But, whatever.
Twenty minutes later, I again get into a hand with the "really, really good player." I have AA UTG. I raise to $16 and get two callers, including the "really, really good player." The flop comes down KQ8. I lead for $28. Kid next to me, who has me covered and is decent, but capable of chasing draws, raises to $65. "Really, really good player" tanks and bitches about his misfortune. Then, of course, he shoves for about $180. Looking at the hand, I'm having trouble putting him on a hand that has me beat. QQ or KK likely would have re-raised pre flop. Did he call with KQ? 88? Ultimately, I don't want to lose most of my stack with a mere pair. Plus, I have the kid behind me yet to act. I fold. As does the kid. The "really, really good player" asks me what I had. For whatever reason, I tell him - "Aces." And then he flashes an ace of his own. Presumably, he had AK . . . He then launches off about how I am totally predictable, etc., and how knew he could get me to lay down. Um. OK, sir. Based on what? The one hand you saw me play where I turned the nuts on you and called your shove? Go fuck yourself, sir.
A little while later, I sort of get my revenge. A bunch of us limp into a pot 6 handed. I have A(d) 5(d). The flop comes down K(d) J(h) 2(d). The kid from before leads out for $10, and gets 2 calls, including the "really, really good player." I call. The turn is the J(s). This time, it checks around, and I bet $45. I figure it's a decent spot to represent trips in the event the diamond doesn't hit the river. Both the kid and the "really, really good player" call. The river blanks and both check to me. I value bet my imaginary jack for $120. Both fold rather quickly. "Really, really good player" shows his really, really good lay down of top pair. Of course, I can't resist, and show him the busted flush draw. But, given how predictable I am, I'm sure he already knew I had ace-high . . .
Anyhow, I ended up walking with a $253 profit, which made up for the $200 I lost playing VP when I first arrived at the casino. Not a bad evening.
I may head back tomorrow for a little while, depending on when I wake up. I'm going to see a concert up the road in Towson tomorrow night, headlined by O.A.R. and Train (but "no," I'm not gay . . .) . . . And, weather is suppose to be high-40's, so I'm hoping to get a 5-mile run in as well before I begin pre-partying. So, not sure how much time I'll have to gamble.
And, finally, some BREAKING NEWS:
To paraphrase the greatest television show ever, which happened to take place just a few miles from where I sit: "TONY COM'N . . . TONY COM'N" That's right, apparently TBC is on his way to Baltimore as I write. He'll be landing mere miles from here at 2:00 am. He's already offered me money to pick him up from the airport and drive him to his hotel. At 2:00am. As Lightning would say . . . FML . . .