NYC Underground: Beat Senseless

June 7. I took my LSAT exam two days prior and tore it up - or at least I thought I did. Either way, I partied like a teenager facing apocalypse that night. Two days later, on a gorgeous, starry Monday night, I was finally over my brutal hangover and raring to play some poker.

I called my cousin Scott and picked him up from his house. It was 6 p.m., but he had just rolled himself out of bed. I'll reiterate, it was Monday night. What a bum! I was dragging him back to the card club I was now frequenting; the place was replete with all of the bad players you needed to keep your bank account ballooning. I hadn't gone for around two weeks, since I was preparing myself for the LSAT, so I was itching to get in on the action. We stopped at an ATM and I tucked $600 in my wallet before hopping on the train. Scott and I talked poker the entire way there, deciding to sit at separate tables so people didn't think we were a two-man team.

An hour later, I found myself in the same musty elevator I was in weeks before. My heart skipped a beat and a wave of nervousness came and went in an instant. It usually happens, but it's over as quickly as it starts. Nobody likes to lose, and I certainly wasn't here to give away any money tonight. The owner greeted me with a smile and a handshake, and I gave him $300 for chips, settling into a chair to the left of two Asian guys with stacks of more than $1,000, both of them betting before me. To my immediate left was Jesse, a regular at the place who had a good understanding of the game. I didn't recognize anybody else, which was a good sign.

My chips were delivered, along with my Diet Coke. I always drink Diet Coke while I play, but it's certainly not a superstition. I think I'm just a caffeine junkie. But that's neither here nor there. I folded for a bit, and the first hand I played came fairly quickly. I peeked at my holecards, revealing the A K. The blinds were $1-$2, and we were playing no-limit hold'em. One of the Asian men before me limped in and, as second to act, I raised to $15, which should get out all of the ridiculous hands. Before you ridicule me for this play, you must understand that most of the players will call any raise with any two cards if the raise is small enough, so $15 became my standard raise when opening a pot. One player flat-called from the cutoff, while the Asian man called as well.

I knew two things. The Asian guy probably had absolutely nothing, and the player across the table must have a pair under J-J, otherwise he'd probably reraise. Everybody was pretty much playing by the book - barring the Asian guys - which allowed me to gauge what kinds of hands I was up against. I settled on him having 10-10 or 9-9, probably nothing else. The flop wasn't terrible: K 3 3. If my read was correct, I was ahead of the first caller, and given this flop, most likely ahead of the second caller. The Asian man checked, and I decided to go ahead and bet out. The pot was $48, so I bet $30. The first player called as did the Asian man. Sirens went off. Am I up against a flush draw? Did somebody call me with a 3 in his hand? I had no idea. The pot was getting pretty big, sitting now at $138. The turn was a 6 offsuit, which I couldn't see helping anybody. The Asian man led out with a $40 bet, and I raised to $100. If he was capable of reraising me here, I could get away from my hand. The other player folded, and the Asian man thought for a little bit before calling. After playing live poker for my entire tenure in London, this man's posture, face, and general actions told me that I was ahead in the hand.

The river was the 10, and if this card didn't help my friend, I had the hand cinched. I knew I had it. This guy really had no idea what he was doing. He had a reputation for being rich and reckless, so I would exploit him for it. He checked, and I pushed for the rest of my chips. "Call, call," was his quick response, as the player who had folded the turn put his head in his hands, exclaiming that he had folded two black tens. I smiled, happy that my read had been dead on, and confident that the 10 couldn't have helped my opponent. My smile disappeared as I stared at the K 10 next to me on the felt. The case 10. He had sucked a better two pair to win the hand and the $600+ pot.

Normally, this is the part of the night where I get up, walk around, and wonder why all the bad beats always come to me. I tossed my head back and ran my hands through my hair, yelling, "More chips please!" Poker is so brutal. You can do everything right and still lose. My first hand cost me $300, but I was confident I'd see that money again. My table was ridiculously loose. Scott came over and asked what happened after he heard me call for chips. I smiled, pointed at my opponent, and said, "He did." For some reason, everyone laughed. I didn't think it was that funny.

I tossed the owner the last $300 from my wallet. "Already?" he said. I just nodded and shrugged my shoulders, giving him a "what-can-you-do?" look. He winked and grabbed my chips while I was dealt the next hand. I stayed out of the way for 10 or 15 minutes, letting some chips fly, and observing the action. I was in the small blind when I was dealt the J J. Action was folded to a player in middle position who raised to $10. Almost immediately after he pushed his chips in the middle, there was a deafening noise outside the door. My heart started racing. The robberies in card clubs and home games were getting out of control, and I thought that noise could only be thieves or police, neither of whom I wanted to see. My fear was relieved, however, when we were told it was just the elevator door getting stuck, and it had had to be pulled shut. Goddamn semilegal card clubs, you're going to give me a heart attack one day.

Surprisingly, action was folded around to me. I reraised to $40 to possibly take it down preflop, but he called quickly. Given the range of this player, I thought that I was at best even money to win this hand. The flop was A 2 K, and I ended up checking and folding to his bet. He showed me A-Q, which was good for a better pair. Down to $260, but at least I got out cheap. My cards were slightly better than marginal for the next few hands, but I missed every flop and was forced to fold, cutting my stack to $220. My $600 was slowly dwindling away.

Scott had brought $150 and played conservatively, but he busted after flopping the dummy end of a straight when his opponent flopped the deluxe end. It's tough luck, but that's poker. He made his way over to the pool table, and was playing a little bit of 9-ball while waiting for me to finish. My night wasn't going so well, so I told him I was going to play one more orbit before I got up and cut my losses for the evening. Besides, I didn't really want to make him wait for me all night.

I wasn't getting bad cards, but I was getting bad luck. At the start of what was to be my last rotation, I paid my big blind and was dealt the A A. Nice! Perhaps my luck was changing. The player under the gun, Jesse, raised out to $12, and the four people directly behind him called. Action was folded around to the small blind who called $11 more, and I reraised to $50. Jesse called quickly, as did a player in middle position. The flop was A K 4, and as first to act, I bet out $75. Jesse folded, so I think he had Q-Q or J-J. The middle-position player called quickly. I was pushing the turn no matter what, and after seeing a 9 offsuit, I put everything in the middle. The middle-position player called quickly, exposing the J 10, good for nothing but a gutshot-straight draw. Of course the river was a queen, and he hit his four-outer for a large pot. Did I mention that I was unlucky?

I got up and unbuttoned my shirt, suddenly sweating. It had gotten really hot really fast, but that could have been my temper. I mean, what else could I ask for? I got a player to put in $220 with jack high and almost no chance to win, but I got unlucky. I balled my hands into fists, gritted my teeth, and said my goodbyes, dragging Scott out of the club. As it stood, I was going home a $600 loser, thanks to two bad beats. Or was I? There was an ATM sitting at the corner. Scott smiled and shoved me towards it.