I have just returned from another wonderful visit to Paris and the tournament at the Aviation Club. This is not a trip for those who can't stand smoking or who watch every penny they spend. The Aviation is a beautiful club in a magnificent area with a great restaurant attached. I can highly recommend a poker vacation to Paris, which is one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
I love shorthanded games, and the Aviation Club's heads-up match-play tournament is an exciting event. Both this year and last, I lost to the eventual winner; last year it was in the finals, but this year, unfortunately, it was in the first round. Congratulations to Mike Sexton, the winner. He is a true gentleman and played flawlessly against me.
I'd like to describe a hand that occurred in the World Poker Tour no-limit hold'em championship there. They say the Eskimos have 20 words for snow. Well, tournament players have a lot more ways than that to describe being knocked out of a tournament. I think the worst way is to be knocked out after making a series of questionable decisions/actions. You can easily spend a few hours in the bar that night pondering all the different decisions that created the disaster. I really want to win a WPT event or at least make the final table, but with plays like the following, I'll never make it past the first day.
I am at a good, action table, and start off playing very solidly without getting any breaks. About four hours into the tournament, my original $10,000 has dwindled to $7,800. I post the $200 big blind. Everyone folds to a player in middle position, who makes it $600. Everyone folds back to me. I look down and see a red jack and a black 10. My first thought is that this is an easy fold. Unfortunately, I keep thinking. The raiser is unknown to me. He has been very active – betting, calling, and raising a lot. He lost a tough hand and then bluffed off lots of chips. Now, he has only slightly more than I do. There is $900 in the pot (his $600 and the blinds of $100 and $200). It costs me only $400 more to call, so I'm getting better than 2-to-1 odds. Unless he has a big pair or a hand like A-J or A-10, I'm getting a good price to call. Since he easily could have a small pair, suited connectors, A-X suited, or even a complete bluffing hand, it can't be too far wrong to call.
Then, an even sicker thought crosses my mind. I could reraise. If I do that, he should fold most of his weaker hands, and even if he calls, I could get lucky. I think that might be the best play against lots of opponents, but this guy appears ready to gamble, and I would hate to have to play this hand out against A-10 suited or lay it down if he moves all in with A-K. I call, and await developments.
The flop is the K
Q
10. I now have bottom pair, an open-end straight draw, and perhaps a backdoor-flush draw if my red jack is a diamond. My first thought is that this is the kind of flop I wanted, so I should move all in and let him worry. Unfortunately, this will probably cause him to throw away the hands with which I'd like him to call (small pairs or small connectors) and play only the hands that have me beat. The big gain would come from getting him to fold A-10 or A-Q, but I'm not sure he will fold a pair and gutshot draw. Maybe I should just make a small or medium-sized bet and see what happens. This seems worse; he'll still fold the hands with which I want him to call, but he is less likely to fold A-10 or A-Q. I finally check. I expect him to bet as the raiser in a heads-up pot. My plan is to move all in if I sense weakness; otherwise, I will call. He also checks.
His check is a little unusual. I'd expect him to try to steal it with any really bad hand or with a draw (any jack or diamonds). I think he would bet aces or A-K for value, and not risk giving a free card. I am inclined to think he has something pretty good and is trying to trap me. I wouldn't be surprised to see him show down a set of kings or queens, or maybe top two pair. Maybe my thinking on the flop scared him. He could have a low pair and be hoping to get a free showdown, or at least some free chances to hit trips.
The turn is the 9. Now, I have a straight, and perhaps a straight-flush draw, as well. (For some reason that now escapes me, I still haven't checked to see which red jack I have. Is my reason for not wishing to recheck my holecards that it might reveal that I'm checking to see if I have a diamond? More likely, it is idiocy or a subconscious superstition.) Now, I have to bet. I think I'd like him to call. If I can win some chips on this hand, I can get back to par for the tournament. I make an underbet, $1,100 into a pot of $1,300. This is risky. I may be allowing him a cheap chance to hit a card that can beat me, but I also may trap him into a bad call or raise. He calls, and I have a second or two to worry about letting him in so cheaply.
The river brings the 4, a card that changes nothing. Since the board shows only three diamonds, it doesn't matter which jack I hold. I want to bet an amount that has some chance of being called. I settle on $3,100, which leaves me with exactly $3,000. He shuffles his chips for a little while, and I expend some psychic energy trying to get him to call. It's working; he's reaching for his chips, and … what? He didn't call – he moved all in! What should I do now? In a regular money game, my decision would be based solely on the chance of my winning or splitting the pot compared to the money odds. In a tournament, I also have to weigh my chances of getting back into contention with a very small stack versus continuing to try to finish in the money with a stack that is well above average for this early stage of the event.
Let's look first at my chances of winning the hand. I'd say they are pretty slim. He probably has a flush or, at worst, A-J. There is some chance that he's bluffing with the A and a random king or queen. I finally check my cards and see that I have the J
. In a strange way, this is good. If he has the J without an ace or another diamond, he might be raising with the same straight I have in a fit of pique at missing his straight-flush draw. I guesstimate there is a 10 percent chance I have the best hand and a 20 percent chance of a tie. If I call, the pot will be $15,700, and my equity is $3,140. If I fold, I'll have $3,000.
Tournament theory tells us that the chips of short stacks are worth more than those of big stacks. My own feeling is that I'll be a real contender with nearly $18,000 and will have some chance with $7,850, but will be a real long shot with only $3,000. Neither math nor theory really clarifies my decision. Based mostly on the thought that I don't know if I'll be psychologically strong enough to take the pain of slowly nursing a short stack in the vain hope that something wonderful will happen – I call. He shows the A 5, the nut flush, and starts to rake in the pot. I wander into the night wondering if he would have called a big reraise before the flop. In the morning, I awaken with a slight hangover and the feeling that I made a series of bad decisions. My punishment was just.