He has been a calling station all night against everyone at the table. Except me.

I raised to $20 pre-flop one off the button. Action folded around to the player on my right. He called and checked the flop dark.

The flop comes K-10-7 rainbow.

“Aw. You got a King don’t you?” I continue. “You want to bet the King. Go ahead. Bet your King.”

He fires out $50.

I call.

I don’t know what came on the turn. I never looked at the board again. I just stared at my opponent – talking to him the whole way.

“You going to go all-in on me now?” I ask him.

To my surprise and delight, he shoved all-in on the turn.

I insta-call.

Unless my opponent goes running Aces, which is a 989-to-1 longshot, I win the hand.

He proudly shows A-10 for middle pair on the flop.

“Case 10, Sir,” I say as I show pocket 10s for a set.

The guys in the two seats to my left gave a speech – well, commentary really – on how I talked the player out of checking and into getting felted. They were as amazed as they were amused.

All I could think of was the scene from Star Wars where Obi Wan used the mind tricks against the Imperial Army guards to get them to do what he wanted them to do.

One wrong read or one wrong move and you could lose your entire stack.

I just finished one of my best sessions yet. I was confronted with a tough decision early on for about 20% of my chips. This was not my biggest pot of the night, but it was a close call.

A new player joined the table to my immediate right. I have never played with this person before.

I am generally cautious of new players until I get a read on what types of hands they play. I have also been burned in the past by new players that get dealt A-A or K-K for their first hand. In other words, I have mistaken their aggressiveness as establishing a table image by raising their first hand as opposed to them having a monster hand.

The new player limps in on his first hand.

I raise to $20 pre-flop with 10-10 in middle position.

A player on the button calls and my new friend also calls.

Three-way action to flop, we get Kh-9-h-2s.

The new player checks to me.

I bet $40.

The button folds.

The new player raises me another $100 by going all-in.

I look at him and ask if he is on a flush draw.

I get no verbal reaction, but I could sense weakness in his eyes.

After talking through the possible hands he could have, like A-A, K-K, or A-K, I then do the math.

The math does not work. I have potentially 2 outs to the turn, which makes me just about a 9-to-1 underdog to win assuming he has A-A or A-K.

If he has a set of Kings, I am a 989-to-1 longshot to win the hand with runner-runner 10s.

If this player had A-A or K-K, I am sure he would have re-raised pre-flop to get us heads-up. Very few players would “just call” with those kinds of hands.

Big Slick is plausible, but not likely, I decide. Most players, myself excluded, would re-raise with A-K.

I can’t put him on 9-2. Only a donkey would play that hand.

Of course, I have been beaten more times than I care to count with K-2. Perhaps he has two pair.

A set of 9s or deuces is most likely here.

No matter how I read it, I figure I have two outs.

I then go to feel. It just feels like he is trying to buy it. I just feel like my 10s will prove to be the winning hand.

I call.

Before we can get our cards turned over, the dealer puts another King on Fourth Street and a blank on Fifth Street.

My opponent proudly shows his pair: he flopped two pair with 9c-2c.

I show Kings and Tens for a better two pair.

As I am stacking his chips, I get a speech.

“How could you call that with a King out there?”

I grin and ask “How could you call a pre-flop bet of 10 times the big blind with nine-deuce?”

Of course, I got the standard donkey reply, “It was suited.”

And he was felted.

For starters, I could not see my hole cards while wearing my new prescription Oakley Whisker sunglasses.

I must have folded a dozen hands – rags – that flopped the nuts.

Everytime I got a nice pocket pair, either everyone folded to my pre-flop bet or I was forced to chop in the small or big blind.

My reads were totally off – which is highly unusual since I am reliably spot-on.

In fact, I lost a dinner bet due to my terrible reads. This is the first side bet I have lost in 20 years.

I folded K-2. A young lady sitting next to me said she had pocket Kings.

To which I reply, “There is no way you had pocket Kings.”

She bet me dinner.

And I lost.

In my sunken emotional state over bad reads and a couple bad beats, I forgot that they load up FOUR Kings in a deck.

I made just enough money for 8 hours to fund the blinds and stay even.

The only real hand I won was three way action at the end of the night.

I raise to $20 pre-flop and get five callers.

At this point, I am convinced they can see my Q-Q reflected in my shades.

Long story short, I get all the chips in the middle.

Three players fold.

One flops a set of 10s.

One turns a set of Jacks.

I got lucky and rivered a set.

Thankfully, a player with A-K folded on the flop.

It took 8 hours to triple up.

Now, I have the bankroll to fund the dinner bet marker.

My reads have been unbelievably accurate. Case in point.

I have 10-10 in the big blind. I make it $20 to go and get three callers.

The flop comes Js-8s-7d.

I bet out $40 and get two callers.

The turn is 6h.

I bet $100.

The next player to act says, “Why so much?”

The truth is, at this point, I know I am beat.

I also know that catching a 10 makes my hand worse.

Catching a Q or 9 for a straight is probably second best.

I do know this: the two players in the hand look scared and won’t call off the rest of their chips.

Speculating in a hand in three-way action or more is against the rules.

It is a fine line here, but I say, “One of you is looking for a third spade. The other has a Jack. I don’t want either of you drawing out on me. The bet is $100, Sir.”

Both players fold.

Sure enough, the first player was on a spade draw.

The second player shows K-J.

My aggressive play against players that thought they were weak won the pot.