The challenge for players like me is to the amount that the price is right to get them to fold the better hand. By accident, I stumbled upon a tactic that seems to work, regardless of position.

Let’s assume you are heads up with a notorious calling station and you have not found the price to get them to fold when you are looking for a fold.

The flop is something like K-Q-7 and you have middle pair.

Your opponent has top pair and he checks to you. You check back.

The turn brings a blank or even a scare card like an Ace or Jack or 10. Your opponent checks back. It is not in his or her arsenal to bet. The only moves they have is call or fold.

Regardless if there is a betting line on the felt or not, I always push my capped cards way forward. I do this so the cards are in plain view of everyone. Plus, it gives me room to count out chips.

Word to the wise: If you are at a table without a betting line and you count out chips in the space between your cards and the pot, those counting chips, by rule, become part of the pot. So, if you count out $100 and bet $50, the bet is really $100.

Ok … I grab a stack of $100 and carefully drop a stack of 5 reds behind my cards while I watch my opponent out of the corner of my eye.

He does not flinch.

I drop another $25.

No flinch.

I drop another $25.

He folds.

The important part is still pushing out the $75 into the pot as if you did not see the fold. This takes the “Hollywood” element out of the play and shows you were serious about making a bet here.

On my way to the table the other night, I spot this young lady dressed head-to-toe in Full Tilt clothes. She had a Full Tilt hat, Full Tilt jacket, Full Tilt shirt, and Full Tilt sweat pants.

Her bleach blonde hair was in pig tails. Top this look off with obnoxiously large sunglasses, and I think I am in some kind of Willy Wonka poker hell.

Flash forward a couple hours, and we get a new player at the table. A guy barely 21 years old. Goofy looking sunglasses. He is wearing a Full Tilt jacket with his name embroidered on the back shoulders and Full Tilt sweat pants. How cute.

He announces his arrival to the table, and takes his jacket off to reveal a Full Tilt shirt … you guessed it. His name is embroidered on the back shoulders.

Evidently, he and Ms. Full Tilt know each other. She comes over to the table and double high fives him.

“I shoved pre-flop with Motown and went runner-runner 5s to crack Aces,” she brags.

To pile on, the boy starts chanting lines from Full Tilt commercials.

Right before my very eyes, I see what is wrong with this game today.

It was a long night the other night. The table was ok except for a frustrating player in Seat 2.

For 5 hours, I watched this guy play every pot and get incredibly lucky. He went from $50 to $1800 in that time. In fact, I had a side bet with another player that this guy would be broke by 11PM.

I had to revise the timing twice based on the unfuckingbelieveable luck of this guy. My last time was last call: 1:30AM.

This guy got lucky on me twice for about $500 total. The problem with bad players like this, besides their divine luck, is that when their luck runs out, they give it all away to everyone. You rarely get all your money back from these guys.

His luck started running out during Hour #6. His stack dwindled down to less than $400 by the time I could get in a hand with him. It was 1:25 AM.

This player raised to $8 from under the gun. For 6 hours now, he has raised every pot to $8 regardless of what he held. And every single win came either on the river or was a runner-runner longshot. He has also slowrolled every player on every hand he won during this time, followed by a loud, over-the-top celebration.

For 6 hours, I have been waiting to pounce on this son-of-a-bitch. So, I re-raise on the button to $25 with A-Qd.

He plays back and makes it $50 to go.

I feel good about my hand and re-raise to $200.

He moves all-in and I call.

The flop comes As-9d-3d. I show the Queen. My opponent, now standing up, decides to show me a King.

I am ahead with the flush draw, but I know his other card is an Ace.

The turn is 7c. No help. I am a big dog to a big donkey.

I am thinking that a suckout would be justice here. Give me a Queen.

The river: Queen.

Before I could even think about slowrolling him, he turns over the Ace.

“Ha ha ha Sammy. I win!” he says as he does his little celebration thing.

“Live by the sword. Die by the sword. Motherfucker,” I say as I flip over the Ace for top two.

This clown goes on tilt and storms out of the room scratching is broke ass all the way down the elevator, probably wondering how he could get so unlucky.

I collect my side bet, and 4 players leave the game.

Why be such a pussy? Leave your real name and real email or leave the site alone.

Don’t get me wrong. I get it. If I lived with my Mommy and had to keep going back to her for stake money, I would be a hater like you, too. It sucks that live cash games are so much tougher than the free poker you get online in your Momma’s basement.

Instead of being a dickhead, why not prove to the world how good you are and play me sometime?

I will play you for any stakes anywhere anytime.

My only demand is the winner gets to use a Tazer on the loser.

Oh, and I get to blog to the other 300,000 readers on how the session went.

So, donkey boy, what do you say? You don’t have the balls to list your real name or email here. Do you have the stones to play me heads up?

My opponent is a 50-something woman that plays like a new dog. She started the hand with about $250. Her preflop raise was $25, and she bet another $25 on the flop of 9-4-4 rainbow. On the turn, she bet $50 and I raised her another $100 when the deuce hit the felt.

“I think you have some bullshit hand like K-9,” I tell her.

“What is your other card,” she fires back.

“You are a player. You know what my other card is. I pulled the 7 right off the top. Raise or fold. Let’s get on with it.”

I am not looking for a call here. I am looking for a re-raise all-in from my opponent.

At this point in the hand, I have used two of my old tricks. First, I showed a card. It was the “pull one off the top” variety instead of the “you can pick one”.

She tanked deeper on that move.

I then pull the “call their hand wrong” trick out of the bag. I know she has an overpair to the board like J-J or 10-10, so I tell her I think she has a weaker hand.

In my mind, the only moves she has is raise or fold. And, I want her to raise.

Bad.

A scare card on the river, like a 7, Queen, King, or Ace, kills her action. A Jack or 10 kills mine.

A good five minutes goes by. I never call time on any player. Although I have the right to, I put calling time in the same category as slowrolling and hit and runs: bad etiqutte.

She ends up just calling.

At this point, she has $200 invested in the hand and is playing $50 behind.

One would think she would be pot-committed here.

A good player would have either raised or folded on the turn and not let me see the river for free.

The river is a 7.

She checks, of course, and I put her all-in.

This player folds and shows J-J.

I show a hand I truly have never played before: 7-4.

I have posted many times about my preference to play with good, solid players versus bad, inexperienced players. The fact is you can put a play on a table with 6 or more good players than you can with 6 or more bad ones. Bottom line: you see less rivers and get drawn out on even less with good players compared to bad ones.

The table on Saturday started out with an abundance of casual players. It was basically a home game. My fears for not making any money came to an end when a player that I will call “Curtis” – as in 50Cent – came to the table.

Higher than a fucking kite and loaded with cash.

After another hour, it was obvious I was not going to get any action from this cat. I had to find a way to provoke him. There is nothing like a pissed off drunk to dump chips into the pot.

He was trying to be funny, but he ended up offending another player when an innocent comment turned into a racial slur.

This was my hot ticket opportunity. Time to turn this from family pot small bet poker to heads-up high action big pot poker.

“Hey Curtis,” I say to him. “You look like 50Cent, so I will call you Curtis. You owe my friend there an apology.”

“What should I call you?”

“Don’t even say Uncle Kracker.”

“No. You look like Stone Cold Steve Austin?” is his reply. “I am gunning for you now Stone Cold.”

“Go ahead. You will have to get lucky to beat me Curtis.”

Long story short: he goes broke 3 times. Of the 3, I felted him twice.

He took it well. Once he was gone, the table returned to the quiet small ball style we started with.

I enjoyed the company of Curtis almost as much as I enjoyed stacking his chips.

Thursdays are generally quiet, but they had this Jive ballroom dancing lessons party thing going on in the Ignite nightclub that shares the 3rd floor with the poker room.

As if that was not irritating enough, my table was 8 parts donkey, 2 parts rounder. Here is what the table looked like:

Seat 1: Bad. One of the worst players in Detroit that I have some history with. This is the heavy drinking, any two cards playing, go broke once an hour type donkey.

Seat 2: A solid donkey. Only plays big pocket pairs and any Ace. This is the gutshot chasing, fifth diamond hoping, must see most flops and every river type donkey.

Seat 3: Calling station. This is the see every flop at any price calling station type donkey. This is the why raise when you can call, why fold ‘em when you hold ‘em type player.

Seat 4: Broke-ass high roller. You know the type. They think that just because they are in a casino that everything is a gamble. Any two cards at any price kind of fool who’s job at the table is not done until all the money is gone.

Seat 5: Another calling station. Just clone Seat 3.

Seat 6: This is a rabbit-type of donk. Plays every hand. Scared.

Seat 7: A true grinder posing as a internet playing, A-K playing young gun. Except he does not play like an internet player and does not overplay A-K. I would stake this guy.

Seat 8: Inexperienced player. This guy can’t play after the flop. He shoves all-in for about 100X the big blind pre-flop with any big pair and pretty much folds the rest of the hands he is dealt.

Seat 9: What can I say. Had there been a waiting list, I would have paid someone to take my place. This is not the kind of table I like to be at. The only player I can outplay is one that I want to help felt the donkeys. Pirana don’t eat other pirana.

Seat 10: My favorite donkey. This is the heavy drinking, chatty, rebuying ATM type player.

Now that you have an idea of the level of play, you can appreciate that the night is going to be a long one. You will be forced to see every river and showdown every hand. No play the player tonite … ok … maybe a little bit.

A couple memorable hands that got alot of talk at the table. They all involved me having a pair of 5s.

I am heads up with Seat 3. The flop is Qd, 8d, 4d. I am last to act with 5-3 hearts.

My opponent bets the flop and I call with the plan to bluff the turn and take it down. I figure he has Ad … but only four cards to the flush.

The turn is my money card: 5c.

I know my pair is good and am willing to risk my stack knowing I am a 7:3 favorite to win the hand. I shove and get called. The river is a blank and my 5s hold up.

All I could do is grin when the guys that thought I only play Aces were surprised to see that not only did I have a garbage hand, but that I had the stones to make a play.

Now, I would have thought I earned some respect on that hand.

Fuck no.

Enter Seat 4.

Somehow, we keep getting heads up together. He starts the trash talk about me not having a hand. Yet pot after pot, he is behind the whole way and hits the miracle on the river to win.

Flash forward to the hand where he straddles. Seat 7 calls. Seat 8 calls. I call. And, seat 10 calls.

I knew before the action got to me that Seat 4 was going to raise. My plan was go re-raise him all-in for another $200 or so.

Sure as hell, he raises another $45. I put him on pure garbage.

Seat 7 calls. I put him on a big King. He claims to of had Q-Q … maybe he did. Either way he calls.

Seat 8 calls.

I go all-in.

Seat 10 calls and is all-in.

Seat 4 calls and is all-in.

Seat 7 thinks a bit and folds. If he had Q-Q, I got lucky that he folded. But, as he said after the hand played out, folding Q-Q was the right move. I agree.

Seat 8 calls.

Seat 4 proudly shows Q-5s.

For me, that was some bad fucking news.

Seat 8 shows 9c only.

The flop is even more bad news: Js-10s-8c.

I now have to miss the flush and gutshot with Seat 4.

My read was right on each player before the flop. I knew my 5-5 was good. For how long, well, that is another story.

Fourth street was 6c and fifth street was 2h.

The pocket 5s held up.

And for the next five minutes, the table talked about the play of that hand.

By new, I mean inexperienced. Inexperienced players come in two flavors: those that know they don’t know how to play and those that wish they knew how to play.

I encounted both flavors this past weekend. Here is what I mean:

A 60ish woman sits down in Seat 7. She is nervous as hell and does not know the first thing about poker. I give her a few helpful tips from my signature Seat 9. She seems to appreciate the help with how much blinds are, when to post, all that sort of stuff.

She played every hand dealt for two hours and went broke a few times. Down to her last $2, I told her if she wanted to keep playing, she should put more money on the table now if she does not have the minimum buy-in. In other words, she was about to see another flop and probably did not have enough money left to stay. She smiled, thanked me again, and dug into her purse.

Now, I play the players as much as the next grinder. One thing I won’t do, however, is prey on people at the table that have no business sitting at my table. The most money I was going to make on her was $2 a hand. Since I raise 90% of the pots I am in and she folds to 90% of all raises, the risk of us butting heads was 0%. I figure if she can call my raise, she has Aces. For me, it is pretty much that simple.

Too bad the donk in Seat 3 did not feel the same way.

This guy gets K-K and was talking like he won the pot already. Please.

The nice lady I just mentioned threw in a red chip to call the $2 big blind. She immediately asked the dealer for change.

Seat 3 then raises to a whopping $12 and gets 4 callers. Not the way to play Kings if you ask me, but whatever.

The lady throws in two more red chips and does not say a word.

“That’s a raise. That’s a raise. I want my money,” the donk in Seat 3 starts yelling at the woman that is twice his age.

I normally don’t get involved if I am not in the hand, but this poor woman was just about in tears.

See, she has not raised a single street since she sat down. There is no way this person intended to raise. Period. In her mind, she thought the original red chip represented the $2 and the additional $10 was a flat call. End of story.

But no, this Seat 3 guy was trying to bully her for another fucking dollar using his bullshit math. He asks for floor. What a coward.

“Hey pal,” I say to him, “She has not raised, let alone re-raise anyone on any street in any pot in two hours. What the fuck makes you think she is re-raising you?”

He stares me down from behind his sunglasses that he is wearing upside down.

“Hey. A min raise is $20 anyways. It is a call. The dealer is right and you are slowing the game up,” I continue.

“I raised by $8. Half my raise is $4. Four and 12 is 16. She owes me a dollar,” he says in return.

“The fuck she does. You raised by $10, not 8. A min raise is double your raise for another $10. Besides, you have not seen a flop yet and already you have a cinch hand?”

By this time, floor is there, at the table, with the rule book. Poor floor had to read the definition of a min raise to this guy before we could complete the hand.

This cowardly bully cost us about 10 hands worth of playing time.

The only thing worse than having an inexperienced player at the table is a player that is inexperienced but thinks they are a card player simply because they play cards.

I guess I played bad. That is all I can come up with when I replay the hand in my head. Here is what happened.

I figure the player on my immediate right has a hand like A-Q or A-J when he raised to $75 pre-flop. I called with A-10d knowing I could outplay him on the flop.

The player on my immediate left also calls. I felt that this player is solid and that I could also outplay him after the flop. By solid, I mean the type that does not overplay hands or chase straights or flushes.

The flop comes Ah-9h-2c.

Mr. A-Q fires out another $75.

“I am all-in,” is my statement, which makes it another $500 or so to go and consequently, puts both of my opponents all-in.

I knew I was in second place. But I also knew that the pot was big enough for me to make a play. Afterall, I was card dead for a few hours and was getting impatient to stack some chips.

Would these guys really risk their entire stack on that flop, especially when I have a tight-aggressive table image?

The player on my left that I thought was solid took about 2 minutes or more to make a decision. A decision that surprised me. I put him on a heart draw, based on his reaction to the flop, when I decided to push.

He called.

The action is now on the bettor, and he thinks I have a set.

After pondering a fold, he announces a call with a disclaimer: “If he would have folded, I would have folded, too.” Then, he shows A-Q.

The turn is a blank and a third heart comes on the river.

The player on my left shows 7-3. Both hearts.

How he could call that bet with nothing but a 7 high flush draw is beyond me. I really thought he was a better player than that.

Had he folded, Mr. A-Q probably would have folded as well.

I thought it was a good play gone bad.

No. It is not what you think.

I played bad in a short session. Even though I felted the same player twice with 7-2 (trip 2’s on one hand and trip 7’s on the other), my playable hands quickly became rags on the flop.

The entire table thought they would break some casino rule if they did not showdown every hand on the river, so there was no opportunity to put a play on anyone.

My last hand sucked. I got my favorite pocket pair: 8’s. That was about the time some street walkin’ skank sat down in Seat 10.

I think it was a woman, but she was big enough to play linebacker for just about any pro football team.

She had enough tattoos to play pro basketball.

At any rate, she re-raises me. The action folds around to me and I shove. I read her to have a hand like A-K.

She calls.

The flop comes 9-9-7 rainbow.

I show my 8-8. The ho sits there with a smug look on her face.

“You have Aces?” I ask her.

Smug.

“You don’t show?”

Smug.

“You don’t fuckin’ talk either, huh?”

The turn is a Jack.

A river 8 or 10 and I am good.

The river is a 6.

About 30 seconds go by and still nothing from him / her.

I figure I am good, so I toss a tip chip on my cards as I wait for the pot to get pushed to me in Seat 9.

Finally, she turns over her cards. One at a fucking time in slow motion.

A-A.