Spitting Chips
You guys should be proud of me. A couple of months ago I moved up stakes to $2/$3. No more micro bullshit. And hardly any old nits. Everybody on $2/$3 at Crown wants action. You can be first to act and make it $30 pre-flop and get two or three callers. The word is, Crown has one of the loosest games in the world. My bankroll is looking better than ever; I’m playing better than ever, and my chances of quitting my day job within a year are looking buenissimo.
I’m in the big blind with pocket threes. There’s a small $10 raise preflop and I call with $450 or so behind. Three runners. The flop comes KQ7, rainbow. I missed and I’m not committed. I check. The preflop raiser, an old groper fish, checks. The button checks behind.
The turn comes a three. I bet out for $30. The Groper calls quickly. The buttons pauses and calls.
The river a repeat seven. I filled up, bottom book. I make it $50, thinking I might get paid off by a a weak king or queen. The Groper doesn’t blink. He raises to $150. The button mucks just as quickly.
I consider it. I think the only hands that beat me here are K7, Q7 and 73. I didn’t even consider kings or queens, which could have been a crucial mistake. The most likely hand is something like 67 or 78. I think this is the best time to maximise against a live one.
“I’m all in,” I say.
Groper stops to think for the first time in the hand. As soon as he does, I know I’m good here. I want a call. Groper has $215 more behind, and I want that money in the middle. He cogitates, procrastinates. He pauses again – then he ums and ahs. I call “Time,” and the dealer calls the floor manager.
I haven’t seen this floor manager before. He’s late forties to early fifties, and seems to be in a constant hurry. He starts counting down, and before we realise, he says “Twenty seconds.”
“What? Twenty seconds is all I have?” says the Groper in a Polish accent.
“How long do you need! I’ve been here two minutes already!” says the floorman.
“I didn’t know the staff were allowed to needle the patrons,” I said.
“Sure – it gets the next buy-in on the table quicker.”
“Ah… Then, thanks I guess.”
“Uh… buh uh… I call,” says the Groper.
“Treys full… threes full of sevens.” My hand shakes a little and I struggle to turn over my cards. I’m a little relieved that they are the same cards I remember.
The Groper nods and then shakes his head. He had KQ and flopped top two – slowplayed to death.
“If it makes any difference,” says the floorman. “He had you pre-flop.” And he marches off. Burn.
A couple of hands later I lobby and go to the bathroom. I look at the colour of my pee and make a mental note to drink more water. A cleaner starts wiping out the urinal to my right. Damn, it’s really uncomfortable to pee while someone is cleaning the urinal. But then, I know what’s more uncomfortable. Having a job where you need to clean urinals.
