Bad Beats and Good Eats - Part 1

So it had come to this. I was in Atlantic City at the Tropicana's poker room in a No-limit Hold 'em tournament severely short stacked and I was about to go all-in. I double checked my cards. They hadn't changed: Ace King off-suit. The board showed a pair of fours.

"All-in," I said pushing my chipstack towards the dealer.

"Call," my opponent said. "What'cha got?"

I'd been waiting for this tournament for a little over three weeks. Me and a buddy from my Friday night game decided that we'd take the trip to Atlantic City for a Monday night tournamnet. The buy-in of 30 dollars was reasonable and we assumed that the game would consist of all amateurs.

The afternoon of the tournament I showered, threw on my nicest pair of jeans, a black turtle-neck and my leather coat. I grabbed a paperback book and threw it in my inside coat pocket in case my night ended early. On the drive to my buddy's house I thought about the kind of game I wanted to play that night. I knew that I needed to play the smartest poker of my life. And I needed to play tight. That was going to be hard for me considering that I played fast and loose at my Friday night game.

We rolled out a little after 2 pm: me, my buddy and his girlfriend. She was coming along to play some $2-$4 while we were in the tournament. She's a good poker player and I was glad that she hadn't decided to play in the tournamnet. I knew that playing at the same table as my buddy (if we ever ended up at the same table) was going to be tough enough. We didn't talk much poker on the ride down, instead opting to blast the radio and dig on music instead.

Once in Atlantic City we parked in the Tropicana's deck and entered through The Quarter, a newly added combination of restaurants and stores that are dressed to look like Havana, Cuba.

"Check out the ceiling," my friend's girlfriend said.

It was painted sky blue and with the addition of painted clouds it resembled the sky. It was dark out, yet inside it seemed like a gentle afternoon in Cuba. Only in Atlantic City, I thought. And maybe Vegas.

We hit the casino and I signed up for a Tropicana poker card, posed for a glorified mugshot and we went and registered. It was 5:15, two hours to game time.

"Wanna grab some food?"

We decided on an Irish Pub located on the upper-level of The Quarter. Good coversation with good people over good food is always welcome and that meal was no different. I had a cornbeef and turkey sandwich. It had lots of coleslaw, just the way I like it.

After dinner we headed back towards the casino and the poker room. I gave my buddy a pound and wished him good luck as we both went in search of our table. I was assigned to table 4, seat 5. I found my table and was happy to be the first to arrive. The dealer, an older Asian guy, was just getting settled in to his position.

"Does the seating move from your left or right?" I said.

"Left," he said. "You're table four? What seat?"

I held up my right hand, sprang my fingers and thumb from a fist. "Five."

"Right there," he said pointing to my seat. "I need to see your paperwork."

I handed him my registration form and placed my poker ID card next to my stack of chips. There were two colors, Green and Burgundy. I counted eight of each.

"You play here before?" the dealer asked me.

"Not here," I said.

"You've played in tournaments?"

"Yeah," I said. It was half true. This was my first tournament at a casino.

The dealer picked up my stack of green chips. "These are twenty-five." He placed them down and pointed to the Burgundy stack. "Those are one hundred." He pointed to a monitor that hung from the ceiling at the front of the room. "The blinds are twenty-five and twenty-five to start."

My table filled up. All men, mostly young guys. Idle chit chat while everyone took their seat. I remained quiet. I was all of a sudden convinced that I had no idea how to play the game. Would I forget everything that I had learned once the game was on? I was nervous and not sure if I even should have been there.

The tournament director made a few announcements on mic and then called, "Shuffle up and deal."

Once the cards were dealt I felt comfortable. I could do this. I stayed true to my strategy and sat out the first few hands, giving up 50 chips on blind hands that I didn't play. I was proud of myself. I was throwing away hands that I would normally have played.

I was finally dealt a hand that I had to play: pocket Aces. I bet 25 on top of the blind pre-flop. Two other players stayed in. I flopped another Ace on the turn and bet 100. One player got out of the way and the other called me. My heart began to race. I kept my body and face in check. I didn't want to give my opponent any indication of what I had. After the river was dealt I was pretty sure that I had the best hand, so I bet two hundred. I went un-called and took the pot. I diidn't show my cards.

After a few more un-called hands I was dealt a pair of tens. I called. The flop gave me two more tens. I tried my best to remain calm despite the incredible desire to jump out of my seat. I bet a hundred. One player called. On the river I didn't see any potential for a stronger hand. I bet two hundred and my opponent folded. I flipped my cards to reveal my ten. The guy didn't even catch it.

"He just showed a ten," a guy across the table said.

"Weren't too sure with those in the pocket, huh," another guy said.

"Nah."

After a few a few more un-called hands the first break was called. I got up from my seat and found my buddy.

"How you doing?"

"Got twenty-one seventy-five left," I said.

"Twenty-two," he said.

So we were both still in it and had twenty minutes before we would be in the mix again.

To be concluded