Chips

know when to run

It’s a skill game. Be process-oriented. If the results haven’t been there, well that’s just variance. Over the long run, the best players win the money. There’s no luck in poker. Not really. Keep getting it in good and the cards will turn in your favor. Your kings won’t always get cracked. Tomorrow is a new day. Chin up. You still have one buy-in left in the bank. $1000. That’s 100 big blinds. Maybe more. You could drop down to 1/3 or 2/5. Stretch those dollars a little further. Who are you kidding though? You didn’t work all summer and study all those hours to play cheeseburger stakes. Cheeseburgers don’t pay the rent. One more shot at 5/10. Let it ride. You can rebuild later if you have to. You won’t have to. Tomorrow is a new day. Your luck is about to turn. I can feel it. So you got punched in the mouth? It happens. Sleep this one off. Then it’s back to work. Find a good game. Aria, Wynn, maybe the Golden Nugget. Definitely Aria. You run good at Aria. Book a nice win at Aria and start building momentum. Prepare yourself mentally for the upswing. You deserve good things.

“How was your flight, Mr. Stanley?” Fine. To be honest, I slept through most of it. Comfortable seats in first class. Worth every pound, especially on a long flight across the pond. “I have some good news. We’re upgrading you to a presidential suite for no extra charge.” I thought that’s what my girl booked in the first place, or was it the executive suite? What’s the difference between the executive suite and the presidential suite? It’s a moot point. I don’t plan to spend much time in the room. I’m here to gamble. Be a doll and point me towards the blackjack tables. Do they take Euros at the cage? It’s no matter. I should still have a few cranberries from the Bellagio. They’re down there in the bottom of my bag somewhere. That should be enough to get me started. If my hot streak continues, maybe I’ll branch out and try something different. Craps, roulette, maybe baccarat.

If you want to be a pro, you have to take your ego out of it. “That guy’s a punk, I could outplay him.” Pride cometh before the fall. I’m not out here to slay Goliath. I’m a shameless bum hunter. Give me the easiest game in the room. Table 4 looks promising this evening. I recognize seat 2. Jimmy. Mediocre nitreg who plays nuts-or-nothing against clueless tourists who don’t know not to pay him off. That won’t be a problem for me. Seat 7 is Mindy, recent divorcee in the process of donating her half to the card-playing community of greater Las Vegas. The rest of the lineup is an assortment of low-danger stereotypes: an old man coffee, a drunken sports fan double-fisting a pair of cocktails, a clueless college student playing on mommy and daddy’s dime. This should be easy. I’ll steamroll them in the pots where nobody’s interested, make hero folds when they show any strength, and tax them for the maximum when I have nutted hands against medium showdown value. Barring extreme bad luck, I should be able to book a stress-free win and grow my stack just in time to catch the night club crowd after last call. Think positive. The upswing starts now.

“What’s your strategy?” Haven’t got one. I just pick a number. 17 seems a good number. My daughter was born on the 17th. That’s as good a reason as any. I’ll put a cranberry on that. “You mean you don’t have a system?” You see the dealer pushing the chips in my direction? That’s my system. Winning is my system. You have to understand, son, some people were just born lucky. Waitress, another gin and tonic. It’s going to be a long night. Can you hand me a rack, sir? I need a place to put my chips. Thank you. Keep that for yourself. You’re very welcome. What’s that roped off area over there? Is that where they play baccarat? Oh, it’s the poker room. I wasn’t sure they had poker in this casino. What’s the highest stakes they play over there? Any seats open?

I don’t claim to be a psychic, but I’ve gotten very good at profiling people. It’s an important skill for a professional card player. Take the Euro who just sat down in seat 5. Expensive suit. Expensive watch. He slides his player’s card to the dealer so she can swipe him in. “Welcome to the table, Mr. Stanley.” I steal a glance at the card. It’s seven stars black diamond, the highest possible rewards tier. Baller status. He buys in for the maximum. Three thousand dollars. She pushes the chips to him. He shuffles them in one hand with ease. If I had to guess, he’s a regular from the nosebleed games in the private room. Probably slumming down here with the plebs because he couldn’t get a seat in the big leagues tonight. I contemplate racking up and leaving. I’m up 113 dollars. I could book the win and call it a night, but even with a shark in the water, this game is too good. Mindy is dumping as usual. I want to be there to take the rest. Just stay away from Daddy Warbucks. Don’t get involved with him. He knows his way around the poker table. Trust me, I can tell.

How much is the bet? “Thirty dollars to you.” I have a king and a nine. Is that good? What’s a good hand in poker? King and a nine is a good hand in blackjack. That’s 19. Spades are my favorite suit. I’ve won a fair few big hands in blackjack with two spades. I want to hit. How do I hit? I suppose I’ll just push a couple towers out there. “The bet is two hundred.” The elderly fellow to my right thinks for a moment before matching. The dealer puts three cards on the table. One of them is an ace. I can’t see the other two clearly. I think it’s a jack and a nine. What do I have now? 19 still? No. That’s not how poker works. You want to match cards in this game. I saw it in James Bond. I have a nine in my hand. I think there’s a nine on the board. What do I have? Two nines? Whose turn is it? Is it my turn? “The action’s on you, sir.” I guess I should keep betting. The old fellow doesn’t have many chips left. I’ll be happy to win the rest. I slide a mountain of chips into the middle. That looks like enough. He thinks for a spell before throwing away two queens. Does two queens beat two nines in this game? I think so. The old fellow gave up the winner. He must have been scared I made three nines. Maybe I would’ve. I probably would’ve. There were more cards to come, right? Another nine was definitely coming. Some people are just born lucky.

Okay, so this guy is a certified crusher. He just put on a semi-bluffing clinic against old man coffee. He’s studied enough to know that king-nine suited is a reasonable pre-flop semi-bluff. As the pre-flop aggressor, he has obvious range advantage on the ace-high flop. Even without an ace in his hand, he knows a chunky barrel here will fold out most of grandpa’s value. He does a little Hollywood to pretend he doesn’t know whose action it is. Cute. Then he cuts out 415 dollars, which is exactly full pot. That’s not a coincidence. It’s the perfect sizing for this spot to apply max pressure while balancing your bluffs and value. The old guy mucks queens face up. The Euro rubs the K9 in his face. Sick stuff. I could rack up and leave, but the game is still too good. I just need to avoid playing any thin spots against the newcomer. He’s dangerous.

The dealer gives me a ten and a nine next. Is that good? Ten and nine is 19 in blackjack. You’re always happy to see 19. I just won with 19. They’re playing Thomas Dolby on the radio. She Blinded Me With Science. I always fancied that one. 19 has been lucky for me tonight. It also happens to be my son’s age. I want to hit, dealer. How do I hit? Here, take that. I bet all of that. “The bet is sixty dollars.”

The shark raises to 60 from the button. 6x. A polarized overbet. He’s probably just leveraging his table position to pick up the blinds. It’s the type of play you might expect from someone who’s been grinding the solvers. I’m going to take the path of least resistance and fold most of my range here, but KK is an exception. It’s the second best starting hand in hold ‘em. I’m well ahead of even a very tight value range. My goal now is to isolate the initial raiser. I pop it to 145, an ideal size to keep his semi-bluffs and value on the hook while also growing the pot. The blinds fold and it’s back on Mr. Euro Crusher. I’m happy if he folds and I’m happy if he calls.

What’s the bet? “One-hundred and forty-five.” I wonder if there are any football matches to bet on tomorrow. I think Lille and Celtic are playing in the Champions League. That should be a good one to watch. I squint and look at the table. What’s the bet? “One-hundred forty-five” I have 19. The bet is one-hundred and forty-five. 19 and 145 are both prime numbers. That’s a sign. One thing I’ve learned is not to ignore the signs the universe sends you. The patterns are there if you know what to look for. They spell a winner for me. I grab a few towers of chips and push them into the middle.

He 4-bet jams over the top of my raise. I wasn’t expecting that. I pause to contemplate. To call the bet, we would be risking 900 more dollars to win a pot worth $2,105. We need approximately 43% equity to be profitable in this spot. I have to construct a reasonable shoving range for my opponent here. What could he be doing this with? Probably just four hands: aces, kings, queens, and ace-king. Every once in a while he might find the semi-bluff with suited ace-x. Factoring in the two kings that I’m holding in my hands, there are six combinations of aces, one combination of kings, six combinations of queens, and eight combinations of ace-king remaining in the deck. The math is clear. I’m getting the right price to call with my two kings. My heart is thumping in my chest. This will be the biggest pot I’ve played all night. A win will cover rent for a month. I make the call. The Euro flips over his cards. Ten-nine. What the fuck? I caught him making a move. He’s on the stone bluff. I’m a 78% favorite. Come on, dealer. Let the best hand win ONE TIME! HOLD!

“Did you have a nice trip, Mr. Stanley?” It could’ve been better. The steak at Gordon Ramsay was too dry. I can’t believe the price of those Eagles tickets. It was nice to see The Sphere though. That was neat. Blackjack was good. Craps was fun. Oh, and I think I might have won some money at poker. It’s been a few days. To tell you the truth, I really don’t remember. It’s all a blur. I’m hungry and hung-over. I should grab a bite at the airport. A nice, juicy burger. Then I’ll be right again.

It’s a skill game. Be process-oriented. If the results haven’t been there, well that’s just variance. Over the long run, the best players win the money. There’s no luck in poker. Not really. Keep getting it in good and the cards will turn in your favor. Your kings won’t always get cracked. Look on the bright side: You get a free meal every shift. That’s real, tangible value. Twelve dollars an hour isn’t so bad. Three short months and you’ll have a healthy bankroll for 1/3 again. Is it worth the trouble? Of course. I never entertain those doubts. For now, I’m concentrating on a more urgent question:

“Do you want fries with that?”