New Experience: Texas Hold'Em

Admittedly, I have never been much of a poker player. There's no real reason; I suppose that I had no regular guys to play with and that, of course, is the death knoll of an activity that cannot be played by one's self. But all of this changed a few weeks ago on a trip to Houston to visit an old frat brother.

While we lived relatively close to each other for close to six months, we somehow had never quite made the time to see each other. A few weeks ago, my wife was headed out of town on business, and suddenly I found myself without anything to do. First thought: I'll give my buddy a call. What the hell? Houston could be a fun time. Second thought: Houston's a dump from what I've heard, but hey, he's my brother.

Fortunately, we were free on both ends, and I made plans to leave Austin (my town) and travel the two-and-a-half hour trip out to the coast. On that Friday, I left work a little early and got myself put together and was heading out about four when I called to see what was up. Whiskey and beer had been bought, but we would be saving that until later. First, I was told, we would be playing Hold'em.

Oh shit. I was rusty on seven-card stud, let alone hold'em. So, traveling alongside the Texas countryside, I desperately tried to pull my act together and remember the basic rules. So, I reasoned, there's a high card, two of a kind, two pair and three of kind. What comes after that? I basically sat there in a panic, thinking about every possible awful outcome. What if I was so stupid I'd have to ask my buddy to help out? He might play with these folks every week, and now not only would I look like his dumb frat brother, he'd look like an idiot too. What self respecting man doesn't know poker after all?

Suddenly, before I could worry too much about that particular problem, I hit Houston traffic. They say everything's bigger in Texas and that includes the time you'll sit on a highway waiting for anything to happen. About seven thirty, I found my buddy's place.

I tried to dance around the issue, before I straight up admitted my deficiency in manliness. He kind of laughed before printing out some quick guide.

For those who don't know, Hold'em has essentially the same card combos as seven-card stud. The only difference is how the cards are dealt: instead of dealing all the cards individually, two are dealt at the beginning to each player. The remaining cards are laid down face up in a series of three flops (three during the first and one in each of the remaining). The object is much the same as any other poker game, but instead you've gotta make the best combination you can out of the five face up cards and your two. Whereas seven card stud is all mental, this one's all luck.

Well, we got to the bar, had a few drinks and went to play.

I sucked.

First, I was rusty. Second, the rules of betting were different than I remembered. Third, I had shit luck.

My first hand was a two and a six of different suites. The flop was a queen, jack and nine of different suites. Unless two sixes were in the last two flops, I didn't even have a long-tailed cat's chances in a room full of rocking chairs. Fold. (In case you're curious, the next two were an eight and a three).

My next hand was better, but nevertheless, the bets got too high and the chances two low for me to make a flush. Luckily, I folded, because somebody lost close to a quarter of their cash in that one.

This went on another five or six times - I had another two or three beers. As often happens in that situation, time blurred together.

Then luck finally struck. I had a seven and a second seven appeared in the flop. I raised. The guy next to me - a banker by the looks of it - had already gotten some idea that I was new to this. He raised. The rest called. Another flop came. A six came up. Damn. I called. My neighbor did as well. An African-American gentleman who simply bided his time and made very conversative moves raised. The guy next to him folded. My buddy folded. Then there were three of us.

I called. My neighbor folded. Two of us left.

The pot had roughly half of what I originally started out with plus everyone else's ante from this hand. I raised another 5,000 credits. The guy called. This was it. Either I was going to walk away in a much stronger position or half to bet everything I had on the upcoming hand.

The final flop was turned over. A jack. I had one pair.

I turned over my hand. A pair of sevens sat there as I nervously waited to see his hand. He starred at me, trying to figure me out.

"DAMN!" he exclaimed. One pair: two sixes.

I guess lady luck smiles on all of us after awhile.

I'd like to say that I played one hell of a game after that, but I was a mixture of overconfident and tipsy and ended up going all in on the next hand and found my prospects rapidly dimming until I had a pair and somebody had three of a kind.

The bartender became my new best friend after that.

I'll do a write up on poker later on, but I thought I'd share my most recent new experience as a way to show that I'm actually doing this stuff.

So now we've got the three parts of this blog: stuff I can talk about, stuff I don't know anything about but want to learn and the experiences in which I learn.

Good Times, Good Times.