Monday, December 17, 2007

Three of Many

After I busted out of the Caesar's 3pm tourney, I found myself in a quick hole. My trip had just begun and already I was down close to $300. That was certainly not the way I envisioned things happening. I needed a quick pick me upper. Nothing does that better than a quick call home to the family.

I sat alone at an unoccupied table in the poker room and dialed home. It was near bed time on the East coast and simply hearing the voices of the mini's was enough to at least set things in motion for my recovery. Slightly buoyed, I rebought into a cash game.

I had raised earlier with 53s and won a hand on the turn when Otis folded to my bet. I showed the table my hand. Normally, I'm not much of an advertiser, but at this table, I figured what the hell. I wouldn't be there long.

Not much later, I found pocket Aces. This is the hand where my ad campaign would hopefully pay off. As I was under the gun, I came in for a normal raise. The whole limp-re-raising fad had wound its course for me. If the flop was scary, I just may have to lay them down if I got several callers. I only got one caller. Not so bad. But wait, the big blind was thinking.

Is there anything better in poker than to get re-raised when you're holding the nuts? Probably not. The big blind made it $45 from my $12 initial raise. I made it $140. The caller folded. Hopefully, in the back of the big blind's mind, was the memory of me showing my 53s. My raise was equivalent to half his remaining stack. I put him into a push or fold decision.

He pushed.

My chips beat his into the pot and he tabled AK. The flop was King high and I did a silent LOL to myself. Amazingly, however, my aces held.

By the time Otis and Marty were ready to head out to the IP for drunken tomfoolery, I had managed to erase my losses for the day and basically walk the strip on an even keel - financially and emotionally. A righting of the ship if you will.


I'm really not a Pai Gow guy. Otis is. We all know that. And because he's a good friend and a fun guy to hang out with, I try my best to be a Pai Gow guy. But each time I try, I realize that I'm just not. So after I dropped my requisite $100 at the damn game (is a pair too much to ask for?), I ventured into parts unknown. Well, perhaps not unknown, maybe just abandoned.

Rewind a decade.

When I used to live in Massachusetts, I was part of a group that made monthly visits to Foxwoods. And it was all to play blackjack. We had our basic hi-lo counting system and thought that we could at least churn a small profit if we played long enough. Looking back, I'm not sure how much of an edge we really had. Our bet sizes weren't spread highly enough to take advantage of a 10-soaked deck. Still we tried. And on some nights failed miserably.

On my last Foxwoods trip before I moved down South, I dropped about $600 playing blackjack. Back then, I had no idea what tilt was, but looking back I sure as hell was on it. So much so, that I took a $300 cash advance on a credit card and made my way to a roulette table, in what was to be my first ever solo rage.

At that point in time, I had only my 9-month old daughter's birthday to bet on. So I did. Heavily. Three's and thirty's for $5 and $10 a pop.

Within 15 minutes, I'd hit those numbers four times. It was probably only twenty spins, but I dominated. I took a $700 profit and left Foxwoods an overall winner on that trip for what I thought would be the last time. I would later travel back North for more visits to Foxwoods, but during that time, I never returned to a roulette table. How could I get so lucky once again?

Back to the present. I took $100 and Maudie to the IP roulette wheel. The Pai Gow players were all shouting Pai Gow and questioning the entirety of the remaining hotel gambling crowd if they were having any fun. I figured I'd buck the trend and revisit past glory.


To be fair, I had been drinking. I also told the table before I placed any bets that they'd be wise to just match my numbers. Initially, nobody listened. This time, I had an additional number to play. Even though my son was born the same month as my daughter, his birthday is the luckiest thirteen I'll ever come across.

I laid $5 on 3,13, and 30. The dealer spun the ball. I didn't even look.

Bang. 3. Ship it! $175 and still, nobody believes me.

Two spins later. 30. Ship it again. Finally, people began to follow my bets. At least just a little. Someone, however, did not until it was too late.

Every time I hit, I yelled "Roulette!" Sure, I was obnoxious. But who else do you know that's quadrupled up at a roulette table? That's right. No one.

My kids birthdays plus a small bouncing ball equals profit. It's simple math.


StB said...

Is BadBlood on Roulette not far behind?

Joe Speaker said...

Dammit. I always play 3, as well (AJ's birthday is 8/3). 13 too, because I like my numbers black and odd, just like my women.

BamBam said...

You get'em to change 00 to BB, and I'll bet with you all night long!

Maudie said...

"Someone, however, did not until it was too late.."

Ummm... I believe that was me. Dammit. Next time I won't make that mistake!