17 June 2005, Day Five:

It’s Gotta Be a World Record: It’s my last day in Las Vegas, and I've got a seven-hour drive ahead of me, so I’m only going to play for four hours, from 12:30 to 4:30. I’m expecting a chill session, especially since I don’t want to play like an idiot and end my three-day winning streak. You know how it is: you're up big—for the day, the week, the trip, whatever—and it’s close to the end, and so you start playing way too loosely, getting into hands you should have stayed out of. or staying in hands when the flop was unkind. I’ll admit that this is what I do. I’m up huge, feel like I’m playing with “found money,” and I give it all away. This happened to me on 20 February 2005, in the middle of my incredible two-month winning streak, when, in the first two hours of that game I was up about $140. I was catching cards and playing them pretty well, but then the cards stopped coming. I should have been smart and mucked nearly all of my hands, waiting for good cards to come, but, damn it, I was up huge. What happened? I ended up winning only $23. It was and is the worst that I have ever felt at a poker table.

So, I told myself to play smart, it’s better, at least today, to be cautious and fold when I’m not sure I’m going to get paid off at the showdown.

What happened to the plan? Homeboy Who Burned Through Seventy in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades happened. Homeboy Who Burned Through Sixty in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades cut through seventy dollars in about twenty-five minutes. I’m not exaggerating, it was the poorest display of poker that I have ever seen. To top it off, like me, he was a Chicano, so I was, beyond being filled with awe (if that’s the right word) and gratitude that somebody could suck so badly at poker, I was filled with ethnic shame. Homeboy Who Burned Through Seventy in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades, you're letting our people down. This guy played pocket 7’s and 8’s when there were overcards on the board. There was no way his cards were ever going to hold up, but Homeboy Who Burned Through Sixty in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades actually attacked with them, and he would go all the way to the showdown, where we would all be dumbfounded by what he thought could win. If you're holding a low pocket pair, even if it’s deuces, you see a flop because you might make a set. If your set doesn’t come, you check when it comes to you or you bail as soon as somebody makes a bet.

What made it funnier/borderline tragic was that his lady was at the next table over. She was over his left shoulder and they were back to back. After he gave away his first thirty, in about ten minutes, he turned to her and, though I couldn’t tell what was being said, it was pretty clear that he was asking for some more money (wisely, I think, she was in charge of the green) and she wasn’t happy. She gave him a twenty, thank Christ, and he got back in the game. Well, that twenty lasted around seven minutes, maybe a little bit more, and soon he was down to felt (you can see the felt because you're out of chips) again. Homeboy Who Burned Through Sixty in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades turns back to his lady and asks for more money. Brother, she did not look happy at all. At this point, I did hear him say something about his having good cards. She pulls out another twenty, thank Christ again. Now, it was more tragic than funny because that twenty lasted about six minutes. This guy, Homeboy Who Burned Through Sixty in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades, just wasn’t getting it. He couldn’t make the connection between one ass-kicking and another. The poor sap turned around for one more twenty, but, mercifully and wisely, his lady cut him off. Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was and I were hoping that Homeboy Who Burned Through Sixty in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades’s lady would keep the green coming because her man was basically a conduit for moving money from her to us.

Okay, I’m Conflicted: For a while, though, I thought of saying to Homeboy Who Burned Through Seventy in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades that he needed to change his game. In fact, I can still remember one of the sentences that I had formulated and almost said to him: “Bro, you can’t play sevens.” The thing is, it would have been economically detrimental to me, even if I didn’t get a taste myself. What can sometimes happen is that all the people who did get a taste feel like they basically now have found money and they play much too loosely and pay out themselves. Homeboy Who Burned Through Seventy in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades just kind of rubbed me the wrong way, what with the fact that he was embarrassing La Raza and that he wore shades at the poker table (which is generally ridiculous, but especially so at a low-limit game).

Come With It, Poker Genius: As our table was coming together (when there are enough people on a waiting list, a new table will be opened up), a guy whom I’d seen around all week, Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch, sat down at the other end of the table (I was two positions to the left of the dealer and Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch was two positions to the right of said dealer). Right away, he started pontificating about poker and pot odds and position, just generally trying to sound like Mr. Poker Pro. Listen, all of that technical stuff is important, especially to me, a guy who plays a pretty strategic style, but this guy was one of those people who loves to hear himself expound. I’ll admit that I wanted to take quan from Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch, mostly just because I took an immediate disliking for him. That chance came about an hour into the game. I had seen Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch attack in late position with unsuited face cards and either bluff everybody out or win when no help came for anybody and his high unsuited face cards held up. Well, I was dealt unsuited A-Q, but I tend not to bet unless I have a made hand, so I called the blind when it came to me. Everybody else either folded or called the blind, but Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch made it four to go. I knew he didn’t have a made hand, and that meant that only A-K could beat me at that point, but the odds of him holding that were slim, more so because I was already holding one of the aces. I thought that maybe he had K-Q, if he was lucky, or maybe K-J. I call his raise, though I thought about raising him because he would either fold and I could win it right there, or he would call and I would make an extra $3. I decided though, to let him think that he had me beat and I was just looking for some help on the flop. The flop was all low cards, which didn’t help me but that I knew also didn’t help him. I checked it, though, and let him hang himself by his betting the $3, which I calmly called. Fourth was a low blank, I checked, he bet the max, and I called it again. At this point, the both of us are in for $10. Fifth is junk, and I know that I’ve got him beat. This time, instead of checking, I bet the $3. Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch will either fold and I win it right there, call so that I get an extra $3, or re-raise so that I can re-raise and get an extra $6 out of him. He calls, and I turn over my A-Q, which beats his K-J. Thank you, Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch, for paying out. Right after this hand, by the way, Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch got up from the table and didn’t come back.

You Are Lovely, But You Are Also Cool: After Homeboy Who Burned Through Seventy in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades left, a new player came in to take his spot. This guy, Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t, made me feel bad about myself at first by just being incredibly good looking. I don’t know if that even makes any sense, but it was true. I was fully expecting him to be a prick because, as good-looking as he was, he could get away with it. Also, I thought that he would be ultra-confident (why wouldn’t he be?), and that ultra-confidence would only make it harder to have to live with my usual lack of self-confidence. So, as soon as he sat down, I became shyer than I usually am, which is already pretty shy.

But, as soon as Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t sat down, he seemed really down to earth and generally pleasant. He asked about the structure of the game (which can be radically different from casino to casino) and he didn’t throw his chips around like he was a zillionaire. Also, Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t said that he was on a budget of $50 a day in gambling losses, and that made him seem more real to me, more like one of us non-incredibly-beautiful people who actually has to worry about money. What also made him seem more real was that earlier that afternoon he had walked through New York, New York, a semi-cheesy hotel on The Strip (well, most of them are cheesy, but this one sticks out), and seen a bunch of young ladies in bikinis laying out face-down in lounge chairs by the pool. Now I figured, just by looking at him, that he could see as many beautiful women and in any state of dress or undress as he could stand, but the fact that he had seen these bikini-clad girls made him happy, just like it would make most men happy. He was a regular guy, just handsome as hell.

Later on, Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t’s friend sat down to the immediate left of him. At this point I had already defeated Pot Odds Man Who I Punked Like a Bitch with my unsuited A-Q, which had gotten me respect at the table because I guess that it was a little hardcore to bet into a guy when I didn’t even have a pair, and I  was on a pretty good streak. What shows up for me on the draw? A-Q. It’s a betting hand, so I make it four to go and the only ones who stay in are Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t and his buddy. The flop missed me, but I bet $3 again, trying to represent that I’ve got a made hand. They both call it and fourth comes down, another card that doesn’t help me. I bet it up, though, as if I did have a hand. Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t thinks for a little bit but he folds out. His buddy and I are now heads up, but he’s got a decision to make. I’m betting like I have something pretty, so he has to have something that is prettier than what he thinks that I've got, or he’s got to act like he does and raise. Truthfully, if he had raised, the only reasonable play I would have had would have been to fold out. I can tell he has something, otherwise he would have folded pretty quickly, so I’m hoping that he folds. He does fold, and I turn over my A-Q, just to let them know what they folded to. I didn’t turn them over to be a prick, I did it so that everybody would think that I’ll bluff and try to buy pots (which I only did in this case because I had a nice starter hand and because I thought that Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t and his friend would cave if I put pressure on them) so that I can get really paid off when I do make a hand. It turns out that both guys had made medium pairs on the flop and they both had me beat. That was when Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t said that I had “balls of steel.” Shortly thereafter, Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t and his friend, who had both lost a good bit of their stacks, got up to leave, but not before saying goodbye to the other players, which was classy. Thank you, Gorgeous Man With the Actor Voice Who I Wanted to Dislike But Couldn’t, for being classy and for commenting on the nature of my testicles.

Ah, I Have Found Another Brother: For the last day of Las Vegas Poker Trip, I sat to the immediate right of Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was. Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was had played Hold 'Em with his friends, but this was his first time playing in a casino, and it’s just a much tougher game, to which I’m sure Homeboy Who Burned Through Seventy in Twenty-Five Minutes, Though He Thought He Looked Tough in His Shades could attest. So, because Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was also seemed like a cool person, I was giving him some tips and strategies about how to play in certain situations. At first, Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was, wasn’t doing too well—over-betting hands, staying in when there was too much action in front of him for him to defend his cards, not betting when he should—but he started getting the hang of if pretty quickly. In fact, in one hand near the end, I had been dealt A-Q (again!) and bet it to $4. Everybody folded out except for Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was. The flop comes with a jack, and Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was bets $3. With A-Q, I was tempted to call because I still had overcards to the board, but my young pupil at this point was making mostly good decisions, and I didn’t think that he’d bet unless he’d picked up top pair. I folded out, but I showed my cards. I asked him if he had had the jack, and he said that he did. He had been holding a suited J-10 and I was happy for him that he had played those cards so well. When I got up to leave after four hours (I was pretty good all week about playing only as long as I had planned to play), Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was reached out and shook my hand. It was nice of him, and I said, “Good luck, bro.” Guy From Near Chicago Who Looked Much Younger Than He Was, may the winds of destiny fill your sails and push you toward glorious glory.

Day Five Total: In four hours and one minute, I win twenty-two hands for a total of one-hundred-and-three dollars. There’s no other way to say it: this was the best that I have ever played. I made very few mistakes and I was playing so well that I started to influence the flow of the game: if I bet, a lot of the drawing hands that might have stayed in instead folded and people who had been betting earlier would check it to me in order to see what I was going to do. I’ve never been Boss Hogg at a Las Vegas poker table before, but I was on this day, and it was a nice way to leave the table, and Las Vegas.

Poker Trip Total: In forty-one hours and twenty minutes, I win ninety-six hands for a total of two-hundred-and-twenty-six dollars.