Slow Play

Poker is a fucked up game. On-line poker is doubly so.

Skill matters, to be sure, but even the most finely-honed tactics fall prey to luck. The pros say to play the player, but you must also muck the mediocre hands.

So, it's the cards, and it's the players, but most of all, it's you. Your loss at the table is more likely the result of your piss-poor playing, than it is the omnipotence of your opponent.

Then there are your chips. These are your scale for score keeping, yet they are also your ammunition. You must fire your chips at the table to take down a pot, but if you fire too many, you lose. It's best not to form an emotional attachment to your stack, as Kenny said: "There'll be time enough for counting, when the dealing's done."

On-line games lend themselves to greed and corruption, so only make-believe money for me. The only benefit to winning is the personal satisfaction of having out-played the juvenile ,smart-mouthed, spiky-haired, iPod wearing pseudo-studs who frequent the tables. The victorious fist-pumping is all the more exuberant when the defeated trash-talking jack-ass loses all of his chips and fades away.

And so it was tonight, as the table of ten dwindled to three. The impatient power players falling one-by-one to the trio of slow players. After quickly climbing to the second chip position, I tightened my play and bided my time. I waited for the premium hands and lured the suckers in for the kill.

I resisted the urge to be greedy, always leaving a little behind to create a false sense of security, until eventually there were two. Heads-up play. This is the point where I usually fall apart. This is my kryptonite. This is my Delilah.

And my 5-to-1 chip lead slowly began to slide, 4-to 1, 3-to-1, 3-to 2...

The blind were getting high. The game itself was forcing action. The deal came. Cowboys. Two Kings in the hole. This was it. It was time to reel him in.

He fired first. I hesitated, playing insecure. Then, I called. No raise. I didn't want to chase him away.

Flop was a rainbow of undercards, 5, 7, 10. Check. He smelled blood in the water and fired again. I sat, hesitating. A quick call would raise suspicion. He was dead money, but he didn't know it yet.

The turn card was another 10. I was sitting on two pair, Kings and 10s. Check, again. He fired half his stack at me. Good, now if I could just loosen the other half from his grasp... Call.

The River.

This is the fifth and final card. This is the card that makes or breaks the game. This is the most anticipated, yet dreaded card. This is the card that is always followed by some player exclaiming: "Oh Fuck!" in varying degrees of excitement or dismay.

I'm not sure what he was chasing, but he seemed enthusiastic about the King that came up on the River. Of course, that King fit well with my other two Kings and the pair of 10s on the board. That's what you call a Full House, and I just waited for him to give me his remaining stack, which he did.

It's satisfying to win. It's very satisfying to defeat a loud mouth jackass. But, it's perhaps the most satisfying to defeat a jerk-off by slow playing a Full House.

Really, it's a great feeling, you should try it sometime.