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.

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.

The ace on Fourth Street gives you a gutshot, but if this kid could have put it all together, he would have realized half the outs he needs are gone. I liked my chances on the turn and figured it was an easy double up. I shove. My opponent calls and hit the miracle 2-outer on the river.

Well, that was Friday. Saturday was just sick.

I bought in at MGM for $300 around 11 PM. The only game running was $1-$2 tables.

By 11:05 PM, I had doubled up when a loose aggressive type re-raised me pre-flop. I played back and turned my A-A into top set.

Flash forward to last call at 1:30 AM and I had tripled my buy-in. It really was not the quality of cards I held, although the deck was hitting me. Instead, it was the level of bad play by what seemed like an endless steam of drunk young internet players.

We are down to a handful of players when the alcohol stopped flowing at 2:30 AM. I patiently waited for the usual crowd of drug dealers, pimps, and prostitutes to show up at the table and give me the spoils from their illicit wares. No one came.

My poker pal Trista suggested I play at her table where there was fresh meat to be had. You know the cartoons where the hungry cat sees the mouse not as a mouse, but as a cooked meal? It was like that.

To make it better, the short stack was giving me shit about my sunglasses. Half the fucking people in that room had shades on. That was all I needed to stay and make my stack deeper.

I show up with more money than the rest of the table combined. Hell, I had the dealer covered.

It was bad enough the kid pissed off my pal who was on a short stack, but now he was jawing at me. He tosses chips around like it is play money on some free internet poker site.

“I am lovin’ it,” I tell Trista. I end up staking her so she could reload. She does not know me that well, but there is mutual respect at the table. We were not working together, but you don’t see pirana eating other pirana either.

What happened over the next two hours was amazing. I call it the McTrist, with apologies to Shawn White.

I end up cashing out at 5 AM for just under $1,400 for near 5X of what I bought in for. That is nearly a buy-in per hour of play. Sick.

Even sicker is this. McTrist went from about $50 to over $1,200 in two hours (with the help of my stake, of course).

Back to the drunk young gun who thought he was a player and talked smack about my Oakleys. I wanted to take him out in two bites so I could use his money from the first bite to finish him off with the second. And if I got unlucky, it was ok because it was his money to start with.

Well, I got that first bite of my McTrist sandwich. He pretty much shut up and stayed out of my way at that point.

But, it did set the stage for my poker pal to felt this guy. This player did not respect her for a big hand. He ended up leaving the table dead broke after Trista felted him.

I was jealous and proud at the same time. It was a good session.

What a bunch of big talking donkeys.

It was sick. Not a single card player at the table.

The buy-in was $2500.

Now, for me, an average night is a double-up. The cards usually act in defiance of me going 10X.

Until last night that is. Walked out with just over $25,000. Thank goodness for donkeys that rebuy once or twice.

They should rename that town Definance because dey finance my next car.

Suckers.

I get A-A in the small blind on my second hand and raise to $50 and get 5 callers.

The flop comes J-5-2 rainbow and I bet half the pot.

The big blind comes over the top and the action folds around to the button.

The button re-raises and I fold.

The big blind folds.

“You have J-5,” I tell the button.

“Yep. I out flopped you,” he says and shows J-5.

Then, I got a speech.

The very next hand I get A-A again and make it $100 to go.

The only caller is the small blind and we are heads up to a flop of J-8-3.

I bet half the pot and my opponent goes over the top all-in.

I have him covered by $75 and insta-call since I put him on top pair.

He shows Q-J. Long story short, he rivered another Jack and gave me a speech.

The very next hand I get 9-9 and shove pre-flop.

I get one caller that is holding Q-10 off.

No waiting. He flopped quad 10s.

Sick.

After these three hands, 7 players got up and left.

I rebuy and my two suckout opponents join me at another game.

My first hand at the new game is A-A. I end up folding to a flush on the turn.

An hour passes before I get another playable hand: A-K.

I raise preflop from early position.

Mr. Quads raises me. Mr. Trips raises him.

I just call and Mr. Quads just calls.

The flop comes Kc-9c-2h.

I check.

Mr. Quads bets the pot.

Mr. Trips goes all-in.

I come over the top of Mr. Trips and go all-in.

Mr. Quads calls.

I normally don’t slow roll anyone, but after I got it in good twice and got a speech afterward, it was time for me to get even.

I expose Ac to make it look like I am on a draw.

The turn is 5h and river is 10c.

I then show the Kd and take down the entire pot.

Pleased that I not only felted two donks in one hand, I was also able to get even in chips.

The rest of my session went well. The best part was I went on a run of playable pocket pairs for 6 straight hands to earn me a nice profit.

A couple nights ago, I sit down at the main game.

I have a mob boss to my left.

Another to my right.

And two gangsters sitting straight across from  me at the table.

As I sit down, one of them recognizes me. Apparently, we played together at one point, but I do not recall.

“Hey fellas. Who is minding the store?” I say with a big grin as I take my seat.

They smile.

“Hey boys. This is no amateur player here. This kid can play.”

Suddenly, I “remember” this guy. I got protection tonight.

My grin quickly turned to stone cold poker face as my second hole card hit me. Time to get to work.

I was able to get in pots with each one. One at a time. And I won.

One of the wise guys was actually quite funny.

Most people would probably not want to be at a tough table like that. I happen to crave that. At least once in a while. And here is why:

These guys have more money than what they know what to do with. They are there to have fun. But, they do not want to be donkeys or fish either. So, they play tough.

Tough as in betting $500 into a $50 pot with rags just to see if you have the stones to call when there is an Ace and a King on board.

And the next time they run this play, they have the absolute nuts. So, you never know. For me, it is a great way to sharpen my reading skills.

Playing with weak players makes a strong player weak. Playing with strong players makes a strong player stronger.

We have played before. He is a tough player that usually plays the “Big Game” and is a notorious bluffer.

He stares back at me.

“You either flopped a set of deuces or you have nothing but air,” I tell him.

I am holding K-J in the big blind on a flop of J-5-2 rainbow.

My opponent is in the small blind and called my pre-flop raise.

I am about to throw my hand in and play it safe since I was not sure (I put him on 60% bluff and 40% set).

He says to me, “Tell you what, Sammy. Call my $85 and we will check it down.”

Like a donkey, I agree.

Why am I a donkey? In retrospect, that should have been a tell that he is drawing at best and my top pair is good. If I come over the top, he most likely folds.

But, since we are friendly (always dangerous at the poker table), I agree.

The turn is a 9 and the river brings a 7.

He proudly shows 10-8 for the runner-runner straight.

I tell this tale to my 7 year old son.

His response?

Dad. You’re a doooonnnnnnkkkkkeeeeeyyyyyy!