d i n a n e . n e t 

Okay, I admit it. I had a terrible week last week playing poker online. It was a huge rollercoaster, with big wins and bigger losses, and ultimately, I was down a third of my bankroll. Oops?

I thought about what I was doing, and I think I understand now where the money was going. It was going into games I’m not actually good at. I’m pretty good at Limit Omaha 8. I like to think I don’t suck at No-Limit Hold’em. Meanwhile, I absolutely suck at 5 Card Draw and Stud 8, and I’m barely break even at Pot-Limit Omaha 8 and regular old 7 Card Stud. Yet I was playing all those games.

I don’t play for the money. I play because it’s a fun game. It happens to be a fun game that gives me money on occasion, and that happens to add. However, I refuse to spend any more money on my pastime, so it really behooves me to try not to leak money out of my bankroll.

Every time I buy in to a $20 Stud or Pot-Limit Omaha tournament, I’m giving away my money. The Limit Omaha 8 tourneys? Those aren’t so bad. I’ve moneyed in two out of four. I haven’t won even my buy-in back at any other tournament I’ve entered recently (except for my Turbo Short-Handed Sit’n'Gos - those are still awesome).

So, I’m back to basics. I’m not allowing myself to step outside of Limit Omaha 8 and No-Limit Hold’em until I get my bankroll back up to where it was two weeks ago. As such, I’ve been playing a lot of $10 No-Limit lately (for the uninformed: that means you buy into the table for $10, and in this case the blinds are $.05 and $.10).

I’ve been having some decent luck at these tables, and only once have I felt like I was being outclassed (and I managed to back away from that table before I lost all $10). My luck even goes so far as to let me flop top trips in the hand I’d like to talk about. Top trips are awesome. The adrenaline rush from seeing them is just fabulous. It’s like the last few clicks at the top of the Superman Ride of Steel.

There were five people at my table (I mean mine - I actually started it because I like 5-handed play [can we say action junkie?] and there were no such tables available - they name them after you when you create a table!) when I was dealt two tens on the button. After being dealt a bunch of crap for a while, they looked better than aces! So, of course, when the first two players folded, I raised it up. My standard raise that day was $.40. The small blind folded, and the big blind re-raised me, making it $1.10 to go.

Now, tens aren’t the greatest hand in the world. They’re vulnerable to face cards, and more or less dead to bigger pairs. So I thought about it, using up nearly my entire time. This re-raising player had been in a lot of hands, and seemed to me to be a little tilty; he seemed a little aggravated by my pre-flop raising. (I don’t give free flops, but I’ll sure as heck take ‘em!) I knew I had a reasonably good hand, and I figured I’d back away if the flop came with any cards higher than ten, so I called.

My heart rate soared when the flop came 10-7-4 rainbow. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect flop for my pretty little tens. Since I figured my opponent for a big ace or better, I was pretty sure he’d be happy to bet this pot to the end for me. He bet about half of the pot, and I called, after giving some time and hoping he thought I was considering folding.

The turn came another piece of useless junk… actually, now that I think about it, it must have been a nine, and he bet half the pot again. I decided I would like to announce the goodness of my hand, and raised him. I did this because he might have thought I was bluffing. This wasn’t completely unreasonable, if he had thought all my pre-flop raising was a load of bullshit (which it kind of was, but the table was folding to me, so why would I stop?).

He called. I’m really not sure why he did, but I think I was ecstatic. The river was a queen. This is where I think my reasoning went sour. I guess I had decided that he didn’t have queens (why? I don’t know, but I’m glad I was right!). He checked, and I decided I’d be betting pot.

Then I looked at the pot, and realized I didn’t have that much money left. When the hand started, my opponent and I were the only ones at the table with more than the buy-in. Actually, we both had around $20. So, with the pot at $15-ish, and me at $13-ish, I went all in.

I am no convinced that was a mistake. He thought about it for as long as the timer would let him, folded, and typed “Fuck you and your runner-runner” in the chat window. (I will never understand the policy that lets people swear at the tables but not in the public chat.) What did he think I had? K-J? Ugh, even I wouldn’t be that stupid (and I’m pretty stupid). I responded “If that’s what you want to believe,” which is what I always say when people try to tell me what they think I have. He said, “Whatever,” and was gone two hands later.

Anyway, I don’t think going all in was the right answer. If I was convinced he didn’t have queens, I should have gotten him to give me just a little more of his money. Having him fold on the river just wasn’t worthwhile. Had I bet just a few dollars, he might have called. Of course, he might have gone over the top on me. Would I have believed he had queens then? I don’t know. Maybe I was trying to protect myself from having to make a decision, but that’s not what I think I was doing.

I think I made a decision not knowing all of the available information, and when I learned the information (that neither of us had enough for me to consider betting the pot at this point), I didn’t act appropriately. Bad Diane! The right options were to either bet small enough for him to call (probably $3, as it would have left him with $10, the buy-in, making it a psychologically easier call) or to just check it through if I was afraid of queens (and since I wasn’t afraid of queens, that really wasn’t an option).

In any case, I did win quite a big pot, and continued to do well at that table for another half hour or so before I decided to stop playing and watch the Olympics. Yay Olympics!