Queen on the River

Ok ... before I start posting my various thoughts from on and off the table, let me first apologize for what I'm sure is going to be more than my fair share of bad beat stories posted to this blog. Yeah, they'll be awesome stories, but I'm afraid I'll share 'em a little too frequently. Let me promise now - I'll try and keep those stories to a minimum, and keep them spread out. Well ... lets be honest. I can't promise to try, but I'll try to try. THAT I can promise.

But anyway, that's not why I started this blog. I do a lot of thinking on the table - too much, actually (sometimes it ruins my focus and concentration on the game) - and I want to share those thoughts. Don't worry, I'll keep my ramblings here relatively on topic; I have other blogs for spilling my other mental meanderings. I started *this* blog to share my thoughts from the table, and that's what I will do.

Anyway ... back to my inaugural post - a Queen on the river. And no, this is not a bad beat story, at least not from my PoV. Actually, I can't imagine it being called a bad beat from any PoV. It was just ... bad. And awesome. But mostly just incredible.

Let me set it up for you, and hopefully give you some background on me in the process. I'd been playing 1-2 NL Hold'em at a table with my friend for a couple hours, basically to enjoy his company. Now I'm not a big money player - not by a long shot - but that game is just a little too small for me. At my casino, that's the small game ... and that means it has the absolute loosest players. For most poker peeps, that's a good thing, 'cause the players are generally very soft, too. But for me, it's not. I'm not disciplined enough to fold some of the hands I should, and so when every flop is seen by at least half the players at the table, I'm not generally a huge favorite. I work better in a tighter game - one where I can successfully steal from position and take control of a game with my aggression. I usually play 2-5 or 5-10 NL Hold'em.

Anyway, my friend - a better player than me, by far - was returning to poker after a multi-week hiatus (he'd suffered some really bad beats), and he wanted to start small. Besides, his bankroll insisted on the smaller stakes. So, we sat at a 1-2 table. He was doing well, grinding his initial $200 buy-in up to over $350. I, on the other hand, was seeing huge swings in my chip stack, from very high (for the table) to very low. As I was pulling out cash for my second $300 buy-in, after my most recent swing felted me, I decided to leave my friend to his table and go play my game. So, I put my name on the 2-5 list and returned to the 1-2 game, waiting to be called to another table.

Just after making my third buy-in, a new 2-5 game was opened and my name was called. I said goodbye to my friend, the table, and the $600 I'd dropped on that game, and proceeded to Table 18. I picked the 5 seat to stay behind one specific aggressive player and, as luck would have it, it put be immediately in front of a particularly tight, timid player. I wasn't familiar with any of the other players at the table, but I was very happy with my position.

The game started rather slow. For nearly the first 20 minutes, no one saw a flop. Yeah, that's an exaggeration, but not a big one. It seemed everyone was playing either uninterested or super tight. Small raises were taking down the blinds, and hands that saw the rare flop were quickly decided. I don't think we saw a pot large enough for a full rake in the first half hour at all. I was beginning to regret having left my friend's 1-2 table.

And then a poker game broke out.

The aggressive player to my right finally started playing in character, and that started to drive the action. Flops started falling and moves were being made. Poker was on, and I was having fun.

It came about, not too much later, that I woke up with A-Q offsuit under the gun. Now based on the early play at this table, I was fairly certain I could take the blinds with a standard small raise, so I made it $15 to go. To my surprise, Mr. Tight and Timid behind me smooth called. Everyone else else followed suit. The small blind, having looked at his cards earlier with disinterest, also decided to call. The big blind quickly looked at his cards as he tossed in two more red chips. It was a $150 family pot - before the flop - and I was not happy. I was pretty sure I had the best hand, but I was also pretty sure that all the cards that would improve me were dead. Likewise, I was pretty sure that *something* would connect with *someone* on the flop. As the dealer was burning, I was mentally resigning myself to a check-fold, and getting a $5 chip ready for my big blind on the next hand.

The flop was Q-2-Q rainbow.

Needless to say, I perked up. The blinds checked to me, and I made a bet. I wanted action, but I was pretty sure if I checked, everyone else would too (it's hard to flop trips and get action). As the early position raiser, I wanted to represent A-K, or a medium pair like 7-7, and hopefully get action from another medium pair, or a smaller queen like K-Q. To my mind, an early bet, not too big, would look like *anything* but A-Q. So I bet 80. Three people called, no raises. I was happy.

The turn was a 2, and that made me sick. I wasn't really afraid of quad deuces, but I was now looking at a *highly* probable chop with one of my opponents. I checked, seeing no benefit in a bet other than to scare out a potential medium pair bluffer. The next to act - an old woman in the 8th seat - bet out $120.

Now I had been watching this woman for the past 30 minutes or so, and had decided she was a moderately good player, if just a little timid. She didn't really enter many pots, and I don't think she'd seen a showdown at all. Her stack was very nearly mine at the start of the hand - about $450 - and all that said to me that at worst, she was an OK player.

Anyway, she now has about half her stack invested in the pot ($215), and I have about a quarter of mine invested. The remaining two players fold, removing any possibility of them adding dead money into the pot. I thought about flat calling. But, I figured that if she doesn't have a queen, she *might* have a deuce (or more likely a medium pair), and if she really believes I had A-K, I might convince her to commit the rest of her chips with a losing hand. She had already invested half her stack in what was now a fairly large pot; would she throw in the rest?

I min-raised her, and she flat called. I wasn't really worried about quads here (she would have pushed the remainder of her chips in if she had quad deuces), so I again resigned myself to chopping the pot. By now I was so certain she had a queen (and an inferior one at that - lucky freakin' turn for her), that I let my concentration slip and I vocalized my thoughts. "I guess we're chopping," I said, as I gassed the river blind for the rest of my chips. The talking was an absolute no-no. I never should have said that. The blind gassing was an absolute desperate hope that she had a pocket pair, but I really was certain we were chopping the pot with Queens Full of Deuces. I saw now downside in betting the rest of my stack into such a big pot. I kept my remaining $100+ chips in my hand, holding them over action line, expecting a quick call and a chopped pot.

The dealer burned and turned ... it was the Queen of Hearts. I couldn't believe my eyes. I would have given 250:1 odds against that card falling, if not better. I was, literally, dumbfounded. I quickly pulled my hand back and sheepishly asked the dealer if my bet was committed. This wasn't some genius move on my part - I wish it was, but it wasn't - I was just so caught off guard that I didn't know what to do. Yes, part of me was trying to figure out how to get the woman to call this final bet, but my pull-back was just instinct, not calculated thought. The dealer nodded yes, and I dropped my chips. Everyone at the table - and I mean everyone - knew exactly what I had.

Or so I thought.

What happened next, I'll never figure out. The woman called. She didn't hesitate, she didn't think. She just called. At that I really expected her to turn over quad deuces, having made that (bad!) river call with an (obviously!) busted quads out of frustration. Quad deuces there is probably a loser, given the action, but it's the only hand I can possibly understand calling there. Instead, she turned over K-2 offsuit. Without any reservations, she announced her boat - Deuces Full of Queens - and waited for me to turn over my hand. I blinked. The dealer was already preparing to move the pot to me as I slowly blinked a second time. In a daze, I turned over my hand. The woman - she was *shocked*. I have no idea what she thought I had (maybe just a bluff??), but I didn't much care. Nothing made sense, but at least I was scooping the pot! I stacked my chips and took a breather to go tell my friend about the hand. I figured I bore him often enough with my bad beat stories, I might as well tell him about a winner. Besides, I needed to collect myself - that river was just way too strange.

As I came back to the table, I saw the woman calling again (she had just re-bought). The turn had just fallen a 3, double pairing the board J-J-3-3. The river was a blank, and she again lost her stack, this time with Threes Full of Jacks vs Jacks Full of Threes.

A rather smart player moved to console her, saying how horrible it was to lose twice in a row with such powerful hands as a full house. She agreed and re-bought again. I don't have to tell you that my initial assessment gave her way too much credit ... she wasn't even mediocre, not even close.

Unfortunately, she felted again and left before I saw her in another pot.

I sure hope to see her at the tables again!