A Tale Of Two Halves

I finished 10th out of 24 in the PCS tourney this week, and I was damn proud of my play. During the rebuy phase, that is.

Normally it's in the rebuy phase that I make almost all of my bonehead decisions. This time, I was at a table with Chris D, John, Tim (oh, how he loves to heckle me), and Matt J (a new guy who plays more like an idiot than an idiot savant). Chris was on my immediate left, with Tim right next to him. Uh oh, two loose/aggressive guys. That can't be good. I was determined, though, not to let Chris and Tim take pots away from me, and to show John a thing or two that I was tweeking with my poker game. I played more pots in the rebuy phase than normal, but my raises, especially preflop, got the same amount of respect.

The Big Leak in my game, according to John, is that I am too tight/weak post-flop. I vowed above all else to work on this in this tourney, and I think I did very well. Case in point was when I raised in middle position with pocket 8's. The flop came with just one overcard, a queen. I bet almost the size of the pot into my two callers, who folded. The Old Me might have checked and folded like a pansy if somebody tried a position-steal on me.

I noticed that the weakest link at the table was John's little brother Justin. He wasn't playing many pots, and seemed a bit too tight/weak post-flop. Sounds like somebody I (used to) know. I was involved in a hand with him, holding Kd, Qs in middle position. Justin had the button, and called my preflop raise. Flop was A98 with two diamonds, and I'm not a fan of this flop. Justin had also shown that he's not the reraising type when holding ace-facecard preflop. We went check-check on the flop, much to my relief. The turn was the ace of diamonds. What to do, what to do? Hey, how about get aggressive? I bet just under the size of the pot, feeling that he couldn't call my bet without two diamonds, or an ace with a big diamond. Justin folded, much to my relief. I celebrated by showing my KQ, and Justin admitted that's exactly what he had, except without a diamond. Lucky for me, but my aggression paid off in a pot that I probably would've checked down the river last week for a split pot.

Shortly thereafter, I bet into Chris, Tim and John on a baby flop from the SB, and everybody folded. So I showed my king-four, no pair. It was at this point that Tim said "You're my hero!". And I think he was only half-joking.

The big hand was one I'll occasionally throw away because I'm tight and concerned about bad kickers. I held K8 offsuit in the SB, and nobody had raised. I completed the bet, and Chris checked. The flop was the beee-oooo-teeee-ful 886. I checked, as did Chris. John decided to bet his two pair, and I raised a moderate amount. Chris just about jumped out of his socks, raising all-in. John made some sort of mistake, pushing his chips as if to call. As the tourney director, he made himself keep all his chips in, and then I called. Chris showed 98 (phew!) and John kept his cards face down and mucked them after the river came. I raked in a disturbingly large pot for that stage of the tourney.

The rebuy phase ended two hands later, and I had $162 in front of me. It was generally decided that I was the chip leader at that point. Usually, I'm pleased if I have $60+ in front of me at the end of the rebuy phase. I don't think cockiness or too much self-satisfaction ticked off the poker gods. I do know that my cards were disturbingly dead for the next two hours. The blinds started to amp up, I didn't play more mediocre hands than I should have, but it was a loooong while before I picked up a pot that wasn't a blind-steal. It was so bad that the hands I saw in good position were so bad that I didn't dare steal with them. 82 offsuit? Queen-3 offsuit, four times? What?!? In retrospect, I still had the table image of someone who plays quality cards. Every other orbit, I should have been raising preflop with trash and bludgeoning people with my chipstack. Things started into a tailspin, and I refused to believe that stonecold bluffs could pull me out of it.

The big hit I took was calling in the SB with Q3-diamonds. On the "to-do" list at the PCS was chase with a flush draw, something John said I never do. Sure enough, the flop is two diamonds, with an ace. I checked and called on the flop and the turn. When the board paired nines on the river, still without a flush, I decided to bet $20 into Muto. Maybe that river nine and my reputation would be enough to get him to fold. He called very reluctantly, but his A8 was good enough to take the pot. John made some remark about respecting my actions in that hand - I think he was impressed that I was trying to get outside of my comfort zone a little. That hand was a $50+ hit to my stack, putting me at about $43. (Winning the hand would've put me back in commanding position with about $175. Stupid diamond draw.)

Right after, the 11th player busts out, so we're down to the final table, and the blinds go up to $5/$10 with $1 antes. And I get shafted with the BB. Cue internal swearing. I'm dealt A3-clubs, and big mean John decides to raise it to $30. Cue more swearing, and no thinking. I go all-in, and Muto calls that cold, much to John's consternation. Flop is 553, and I think I have a chance to triple up here. John bets big to shove Muto out, and flips over 77. After thinking about it, folding in the BB was the right thing to do. I'm in decent shape against KQ and 22, but every other hand John raises with has me in horrible shape. Folding the BB and the SB would put me on the button with $26. I'd need to double up soon, but I've snuck into the money in worse shape before.

I was pleased overall, despite the disappointing exit-hand (Ace-rag suited? Bah) and the slightly disappointing cold feet I had to go with the cold cards.