Saturday Night Special

Posted by wynn on Jul 26, 2010 in Buy-in, Table Talk | 1 comment

“You look like you know what you are doing,” the player that is about to take Seat 8 next to me says as he sits down. I detect a confrontational motive behind his comment. “I better watch out, huh?”

Day after day, night after night, I feel more pressure at the table than most players. At the risk of coming off as arrogant or pompous, (I am definitely confident, but I am certainly not arrogant or pompous) I want to tell my story in the card room that says “I am the best player at this table.” My reason is simple. I want to be respected so I can minimize getting drawn out on.

I want to earn that respect by playing my best game every single hand in every single session.

Even with my self-inflicted pressure, I have a target on my back. Some guys sit down with a Saturday Night Special try to gun me down.

Take the session from this past Saturday night that ran well into mid-morning Sunday. A player came to the table with a $300 buy-in and sat in Seat 8. I am sitting on a stack of $1100 and the table average stack was only $100. In other words, half the chips in play were with me at Seat 9.

This player starts jawing at me trying to get information on how long it took for me to go 5X on my buy-in. 

“You look like you know what you are doing,” the player that is about to take Seat 8 next to me says as he sits down. I detect a confrontational motive behind his comment. “I better watch out, huh?”

I blow him off. He keeps pressing me, so I tell him I am the worst player at the table, but the luckiest. Five minutes later, he got shut down by a guy who walked up and sat in Seat 2.

This guy, who has no chips, is asking Seat 1 and Seat 3 who I am, how I play, and all that. I don’t pay much attention until the dealer spoke up. “Listen, this is Sammy and he has the deepest stack everytime I deal to him. You either need to go get chips or leave the table, Sir.”

Ok. Now, he has my attention. “What’s up bro?”

“Those mirror shades must help you play, huh?”

Fuck. Another sunglasses slamming asshole. If I did not wear my Oakleys, people would think I am strung out on crystal meth because my eyes are darting from player to player on every single hand on every single street, regardless if I have cards or not.

“No. I am blind. Do you have a problem with blind people?

“How do you see the cards, then?”

“I don’t. I feel the ink on the cards to know what I am holding.”

“Why the fuck are they mirrored?”

“Since I am blind, I want you to see what I can’t.”

“And that is?”

“How fucking bad you play. Why don’t you go get some chips and put me to the test?”

“Hey, I can back it up, man,” he responds.

“I am sure you can. You talk alot for a guy with no chips. Instead of you being over here busting my nuts, go get some chips so I can bust you with the nuts,” is my taunt back at him at about 2 AM.

I end up busting both Seat 8 and Seat 2 within 30 minutes.

What the hell are these guys thinking, anyway? I can’t rationalize it. Do they really think I just got lucky and won one monster pot? Do they think I will bleed off chips and leave dead ass broke like some casual player after too many shots?

I could do without the trash talk and taunting, but these guys are amongst my best customers.