After the Saturday’s heartbreak – and I do feel the reverse, such sober disappointment– day twenty-nine brings renewal. I try to listen to the usual podcasts and “creator” hodge-podge but I am fatigued by their banality. I’m ready for something different.
The latest deepstack game sees some Hungry Horse players join us. They open huge with condensed linear ranges, like sophomore whales on steroids, so I’m doing a lot of folding in late position. My mistake becomes four-betting them light or really, getting involved much; they just don’t have the marginal parts of a range that makes aggression dangerous and forces counters. Theirs is a youthful, optimistic strategy; I see traces of S4Y’s pre-Hunt, muscular stuff. Meaning, I when I squeeze KQ, I’m against AK; when I four bet QJs and ATs, I’m up against aces and other pairs. While I like my default strategy on the balance, these aren’t the players to attack light. Traps do work against them, as they expect their opponents to play face up; I get a lot back from my reraise adventures this way. So, it’s all a little silly, but they do mash the fish impressively. Two walk away with big wins.
I tangle with the Horses post-flop a few times, in spite of myself. With the mushroom bounty on the line, I call a huge raise by the SB. The guy wants to steal it here, but I’ll try to make J8o, a natural fold, work in position. I do end up with third pair and a blocker on the river but decide to give up facing another linear bet. I’m shown a card that indicates a huge hand which missed a flop check-raise; maybe I made the right river choice after so many wrong ones this year.
Another one involves a line that has failed me so much this year: the three-bet AQ, triple barrel shove on Kxx. At Caesars, during the worst of my downswing, one guy found a call with JJ after folding all night. I had even targeted him for this line after seeing him give up over and over. Anyway, tonight it will actually work for the first time in months, rescuing my session.
Is the modest win a relief when I started down 250 blinds? Yes and no. I’m playing for both immediate income and to rebuild. I need the big wins I posted last year. Table overplays abound but I am just another hungry dog watching the horses and humans eat.
Still, that is not the underlying story. By morning, I’m sick of everything. This daily countdown first ennerved me and is now emboldening me. I will not make empty gestures, but I know it is time for a better effort. Is it coincidence that for the first time in months, I switch up my routine?
Later, I force myself off the mattress and head for a late-night session. The session, however, becomes a story of saving money, not making it. I lose nothing to a set, correctly checking a terrible flop and turn for queens before letting them go to a lead and raise. I do something similar when I flop trips and a fake action, talkative super nit is my only opponent. He smiles and laughs and gives off strength tells: when I check-raise turn he puts in a turn three-bet. I could have folded right there but getting a reasonable price to fill up a good kicker, I pay for one more card. I fold to his river value bet quickly. He’s not smiling now, clearly used to getting paid in such a spot. A weirdo stares at me, not understanding the situation.
Meanwhile, the most outrageously bad shit is going down. A sunglassee spooning some sort of jarred hot girl food joins our game. Her upper lip is raised and curved in such a striking, anti-gravitational way that it can only be youth or some very well-done surgery. Soon she three-bet rips the flop in a reraised pot on a drawing board. She’s got one of the worst hands to do this with, blocking draws and even losing to some semi-bluffs that might be committed; nearly two hundred bigs are passed to her fellow euro traveler who flopped big. Yet despite this or perhaps because of this, she’ll then do the same thing again, calling off while double blocking the draws and not beating top pair against him. Must be nice to be a touring international donator. The recipient of all this international aid was supposed to be leaving for another game but he in turn generously changes his mind, wondering if he can help unload anyone else’s first world problems.
She disappears into the bright light and video game chimes of the casino resort. We’re all alone in poker, some less than others. In what other world does a pretty woman walk away unnoticed, unprobed, unharrassed? The club, where we celebrate incompetent social behavior, is literally just a dance away. Here in poker, the rules and the people are different. Soon I’m going home unremarked, as well. I’ll slip right into the morning routines. I’ll pick up a breakfast sandwich, right along with the early risers. Traffic is gathering. The day is bright and beautiful. No one knows who we are or what we can do.
-756
