Pssst! Poker!

I've started a list of things to do before I leave next Friday for nine days. I mentioned my plans a while back, and as a reminder, I'm Boise-bound. Not for the whole nine days, or seven days if one subtracts driving time, but it is my final destination. Several of the days in between will be for fishing, camping and photographing, with a few more days investigating artists and their scenes in cities on the east side of our state. I hope to get at least two articles out of it all.

Anyway, the list: Not just things to do (that list is sure to grow once the wife and I sit down to chat later today) but things to pack in the back of the rig for comfort and safety in my travels. That part of the list, more of a group effort, will no doubt get longer as well.

But I've buried the lead.

One item not on the list, instead a mental note, was to play some poker before taking off, for there will be a game in Boise.

The gentleman I will be seeing there is traveling to that city on business. While we have never met, he is a member of the defunct Poker Academy family. We share common interests beyond poker, which is part of the reason I am going, yet he travels with a larger group with similar interests, and several of them play poker. He says, "It's like shooting fish in a barrel." So, besides looking forward to finally meeting this guy, I'm hoping to get lucky and win some gas money for the trip home.

Last night I checked "play poker" off of my list.

Readers will also remember that my passion for the game has subsided; and for those of you who play, you know this means skill has gone out the window, potentially putting me in that barrel. This was partially in evidence last night, especially when it came my time to deal. I won't go into detail but let's just say that there was some gentle ridicule.

Anyway, this game was the monthly home game I've written about a good number of times. The usual suspects were in attendance along with a couple people I didn't know. And with fourteen people there, we had two tables going for a good portion of the night. There was the usual drinking (1.5 beers for me) and jocularity, quads, suck-outs, etc., including a string of bad hole cards for yours truly.

I called the wife after the first three hours to check in and inform her that I was up four dollars from my fifty buy-in. I had been up twenty after queens in the small blind got rid of the limpers preflop and a bet after a flopped Broadway demoralized the one flush draw. In other words, I was having my usual experience: small pots for big hands.

There is one house rule for this "Dealer's Choice" game and that is we can only play NLHE for the first two hours. Some players have complained that NL Omaha hi-lo, while a pot builder, is a bit of a drag. The complainers are nits but this, after all, is a friendly game so they are obliged with a compromise. Yet, after that second hour, O-8 makes up at least 50% of the hands called.

We were into the second hour of such play and I still was largely card dead and down to $45 or so, five bucks down. Several players had to leave so we consolidated tables. Mike, the host, sat to my right. He was pretty drunk and short-stacked with about $30.

On his first hand (O-8): "Let's have some fun," he exclaimed. "I'm all in." I insta-folded my middling hand of all clubs but he did get one caller and his hand A2sKK held up to scoop.

It came around for me to show off my skill at dealing again and while I had been calling NLHE for the sake of the cheapos, I decided that just this once I'd call O-8. I looked down to see A-A23d. I limped with the rest of all eight players. The flop came 7K5.

The BB led out with $6. Now, I had never played with this guy before and in that he had been at the other table until very recently, I had no read on him other than he had squinty eyes, was missing at least his two upper front teeth and was a generally happy-go-lucky guy. But none of that mattered, for by the time the betting came around to me, there had been a raise to $12 with two callers. I made the third and the BB made the fifth.

The turn gave me my nut low. The BB led out again, this time for $10. The raiser, most likely seeing the low come, just called, as did one other player, Randy. Starting to smell being quartered, I just called. The river was another 5 and the BB threw in $20. I figured him for a boat. Two folds, including the raiser (!), which just left Randy and me.

Randy just sat there staring at the board, then back at his hand, then back at the board, his hand... you get the idea. This delay gave me time to think, and the longer I thought, the less I worried about being quartered. I had seen Randy push the betting with some pretty shitty lows in previous hands. Maybe he was holding a five, but more likely he had A-3 or A-4. He eventually called and I threw in my last $20. I'd settle for the split.

Toothless said, "Two pair." and showed his King. Ah, a HE player through and through! Randy indeed had a shitty low and I scooped a huge pot.

A few hands later, again O-8, I looked down at A-T-A2s. Everyone limps and on a flop of 4-7-8, Mike on my immediate right says, "All-in." with his $56.

One spade on the board but I have the nut low. "Call." Everyone else folds. Runner-runner spades for the scoop again. Mike had flopped the straight with his 5-6.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I made my traveling money for Boise.