One Stud Hand

BY: Ashley Adams
Contact at: (Asha34@aol.com)
Author of Winning 7-Card Stud (Order Now on Amazon.com)

It was just one hand. But sometimes that’s all it takes.

I was playing $20/40 Stud at Foxwoods, my home casino. The room was unbelievably crowded on this Monday morning. There were lists of over 30 people for nearly every hold em game being offered. There was even a modest list for the $20/40 game I was in. Our poker world is wonderfully intoxicated these days – and I’m enjoying the ride.

I had been in the casino since 4:00 AM, having driven down from my home in Boston after getting only a few hours sleep after an uneventful New Years Day. I do this frequently, arriving in the wee hours, hoping to take advantage of my sleep deprived rivals. I find that I am able to be patient while my opponents are loose and passive.

All of the stars were aligning for me this morning, as I hit a table with three loose passive players and two very strong players. But none of that really mattered very much as I looked down and found myself with trip nines on the deal.

I’ve written some about how to play trips. But the truth is that I haven’t spent too much time thinking about them –as they happen so seldom and thereby make up such a small percentage of ones winning game. Playing two pair and high pairs well is a much more important part of a winning game – since they make up such a large percentage of the hands you play.

Still, it was thrilling to see. I started to think about how I could maximize their winnings.

The bring-in was three to my right. Everyone folded to me. I surely didn’t want to risk knocking out all of my opponents so I just called the $5 bet. Two players after me called as well, and a guy with a Jack who was what is known familiarly as a “live one” raised to $20. I called his raise as did the two players after me.

On Fourth Street none of us seemed to improve. The Jack was high and bet $20. I smooth called as did one other player. On Fifth Street the Jack hit a second heart and I hit, miracles of miracles, a fourth 9. I checked my pair. The player after me checked and the Jack bet $40. I smooth called and the third player folded. On Sixth Street he hit a second Jack. I hit a blank (what was left but blanks for someone with four 9s after all?) He bet $40. I raised to $80. He said to himself “What could he have?” and called me.

On the River he bet $40. Though I knew it was a bit cheesy I asked him, as if it really mattered, “Did you fill up”? He smiled. I rechecked my downcards and raised him, saying “I don’t think you did.” It was all a ridiculously childish game. But I’ve found that it sometimes works to my advantage to do exactly what the most basic actor would do in these situations. This is schtick to be sure. But it’s schtick that sticks.

He re-raised me to $120 and I, with my mighty four 9s, raised him back to $160. No limit on raises when it’s heads up in this casino.

He raised it to $200. Both of us were very, very deep with at least another $1,000 for him and another couple of thousand for me. I thought about the fact that there were no other Jacks out there and that it was possible, if highly unlikely, that he had Quad Jacks. Even so, I discounted that possibility, putting him on Jacks Full, so I raised it to $240. He re-raised me once again to $280 and I relented by just calling him. I couldn’t very well go to the felt with the possibility, no matter how thin, that he had me beaten.

He turned over Jacks Full and was visibly shaken when I tossed over my Quad 9s. I won close to $600 on that one hand.

I stayed another couple of hours, continuing to play my typically boring, tight, aggressive game. It was very tempting after that monster win to relax my high standards for starting hands or to become more aggressive and impulsive with my play. But I didn’t. If anything I tightened up, concerned that my recent bonanza might go to my head and I might become less disciplined.

I lost a couple of hands and won a few – but none that went to the River. All tolled I finished up a little over $500 for the four hour session.

The lesson for the morning was this. Miracle hands are delightful. But they alone don’t make a session. I easily could have given back the entire proceeds of that one great hand with just three losing hands played to the River. Though it’s a trite truism, the money I saved with my good tight play during the rest of the night – not frittering it away on loose calls or fancy plays – accounted for as much of my win as that one miracle hand.

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