Will the Luckbox Run Good?

Date: Mon, Nov 17, 2008

So Up For Poker has languished a bit over the past two months. I wish I had a good excuse, but I don't. Otis, G-Rob and I have all been busy for various reasons, but it's not like we've been significantly more busy than in the past.

The good news is that I've got a great excuse to write again. Matthew from over at PokerListings has invited me to participate in the Run Good Challenge v.2. It's a series of four events with a total prize pool of $5500. If you don't remember, Change100 took down the top prize last time.

This time around, I'm going to be up against some formidable foes including the defending champ and her stoner boyfriend, Dr. Pauly, as well as Chops from WCP, and Michalski from Pokerati among others. I'm kinda hoping this turns into a televised event, because I'll also be competing against poker pro Liz Lieu and Bluff cover girl Christina Lindsey (I encourage you to click through the last two links).

I guess I should start practicing again... don't want to embarrass myself against this lineup! If any of the other participants have an idea for a prop bet... you know where to find me!

Read Full Poker Blog Post

Giving it up for the Godfather

Date: Sun, Nov 2, 2008

The poker room of the Fiesta Casino in the Ramada Herradura just outside of San Jose, Costa Rica is a six or seven table area that is just big enough to fit the players, a couple of aimless cocktail waitresses, and Humberto Brenes.

When the men get massages, they do it with their shirts off and buxom, camel-toed therapists kneading away elbow-deep at their fat-backs. Out of simplicity and in the face of a 540-1 colones to dollar exchange rate, the poker games are played with dollar-value chips. Against all better judgment, the first seat I took in the room was at a 5/10 half No-Limit Hold'em and half Pot-Limit Omaha game.

There is no excuse for a person with $2,000 in his pocket to sit down in this game. The game was populated with locals, two of which were Scandinavian transplants with a fluent grasp on the Spanish language and an apparent intimate knowledge of everyone in the room. There is no excuse for a guy who spends more time playing Razz than Hold'em or Omaha to sit in a game in which most pots were $300 pre-flop and any play after the flop would result in his stack being in the middle. I discovered, however, there was one excuse.

It was the only game in the room.

"Let's just take it easy," a local named Alex said in English. "In eight hours we'll be playing 25/50 with $25,000 in front of us."

It seemed like hubris, but the way the game was going, the guy could've been right. Three or four of the players at the table were fairly good. Everyone else was dreadful and bordering on clueless. I, admittedly, was underfunded. It only took me two hours of seeing no hand past the flop to realize this. I catch on as quick as most husbands my age.

I turned to an American pro you know, but whose name I've forgotten how to spell and said, "Take this seat. I'm wasting it." He took the seat and didn't say, "Yeah, you are."

I took my chips to the cage where the cashier paid me in $50 bills. It wasn't dinner time yet.

***

It's hard being in a poker country and not being able to find a game I'm properly-funded to play. Sure, I could've sat there and played nut-only poker, but that is just about as boring as not playing at all. For the two hours I sat, I felt like a guy in the G-Vegas underground named Whitey. He plays in all the games, folds 99% of his hands, and only plays the nuts on the river. Someone once asked, "Whitey, do you enjoy playing poker?" He answered with one word.

"No," he said, and then probably folded.

I took a walk, went back to my room, and then realized I was hungry. Room service seemed like a cop-out, so I went out in search of food. There are three restaurants in this hotel. Nearly every one was empty. I went to the sushi place last. It was barren and didn't have a visible bar.

"Buenos noches, senor!" said the guy at the door.

"Just looking around," I said. Not that it mattered.

I finally wandered back to the Fiesta bar and ordered an Imperial. The Texas game was on and they were losing. Two elderly Americans sat at the other end of the bar drinking Jim Beam on the rocks. Another American, one who had announced in the elevator earlier in the day that he had gas, showed up for a second. As he walked away from the bar, he told the bartender to give me another Imperial.

"For earlier in the elevator," he said, and then walked away.

As the bartender sat my second beer on the bar, I wandered over to the poker room and saw another game getting set up.

"Dos-Cinco," the dealer said.

I laid $500 in front of the two-seat and went to retrieve my beer.

***

This all looks like a set-up for a story in which I won several thousand dollars, got jumped on my way back to my room, and have a black eye to show for it. That's actually what I was thinking about as I ran my $500 up to $900 in about 30 minutes. I hit a gutty, played two pair to perfection on a flushed board, and called down a bluff with third pair. The players weren't very good and I saw myself winning a ton of money and then getting killed for it.

That's not what happened, nor what this story is about.

In fact, I sat for about five hours in total. I realized half the people at the table were playing with a percent of each other. I also realized that, even if they were soft-playing each other, most of them were bad enough that it didn't matter. If I hadn't missed fourteen outs in one hand and had my kings cracked all-in against a flush draw, I probably would've hit my $2,000 goal for the night. Instead, I finished with a one dollar profit. I saved the chip to remind me of the time I won one dollar.

In fact, this story is about what happened a couple hours into my session. In a scene that smacked of Vito Corleone walking down the street and picking up some oranges, Humberto Brenes walked into the room with two sons in tow. The room got quiet for just one moment, and then half of the people stood up to kiss his ring. Or something like that.

It was hard to say how many of the people in the room respected Brenes or all he has meant to poker in this country. He is, by far, the best known Tico in the poker world and his emergence into the small poker room made it clear that everyone knew that. It was something between Norm walking into Cheers and Doyle Brunson walking into the low-limit section at Bellagio. Everyone knew him, everyone wanted him to know they knew him, and everybody played their part. Still I couldn't figure out if he was Don Corleone or Doyle to the Costa Rican poker players. I don't suppose it matters. The effect is largely the same.

In an odd coincidence, Brenes took the very seat I had abandoned earlier. He alternated between playing pots and stepping to an adjacent table to watch his sons play. I could only think, for better or worse, I am not Humberto Brenes, Godfather of Costa Rican poker.

Sometime after midnight (although I thought it was just after 11pm), I went to the cage to cash out my initial buy-in (she gave me $100 bills this time). As I stood in line, I saw a cross between bingo, the lottery, and roulette. That is to say, it was a typical roulette felt, but instead of a wheel, there was a giant spherical bird cage full of numbered balls. After spinning the thing for five minutes, the dealer let one ball fall out (black ten) and paid it off. I couldn't decide it it was more, less, or just as random as a ball on a wheel.

And again, I'm not sure it mattered.

That was all less than 24 hours ago. In about an hour, I'll venture back into the fray. If all I've been told is true about the level of play here, I should make money in the short time I have to play. And if not, for a final time, I'm not sure it matters.

Read Full Poker Blog Post

If You Live In Kentucky...

Date: Fri, Sep 26, 2008

You may want to move.

Gamblers in Kentucky will no longer have access to some online casinos. Kentucky's Justice Cabinet spokeswoman Jennifer Brislin says some casino operators have begun voluntarily blocking access to Kentuckians.

This comes a week after commonwealth officials filed a lawsuit against them at the behest of Kentucky Governor Steve Beshear. Brislin says the commonwealth's objective is to shut down the Web sites only in Kentucky. Settlement negotiations were underway before a court hearing today in the legal disupte over whether Kentucky had the right to block residents from accessing certain websites.

Ultimately, Kentucky wants 141 different domains to block access to Kentuckians or to relinquish control of those domains to the commonwealth. Last week, a judge actually ordered the domains be transferred pending a hearing at which the sites may object.

Sites affected include Pokerstars.com and BodogLife.com, among others. AbsolutePoker.com is also affected, but I think we can all agree that Kentucky can have that one.

Online gambling is illegal in Kentucky as it is in all 50 states. At least, online gambling that isn't horse betting, lotteries or sports betting is illegal in all 50 states. And that's what this comes down to. Horse betting is a massive industry in Kentucky. The governor's theory is that online gaming is costing Kentucky money because those people would otherwise be betting on horses.

Whatever.

So, like I said, if you live in Kentucky, now is a good time to call Two Men and a Truck.

Read Full Poker Blog Post

UFP Fantasy Football Week 2 Update

Date: Wed, Sep 17, 2008

In case you're wondering, here are Week 2 results:

Luckbox: 2-0, 176 points
G-Rob: 0-2, 152 points
Otis: 0-2, 125 points

Regarding the $5 bet, Donovan McNabb scored another 19 points and is up to 46 on the year. Carson Palmer racked up 6 points and has 11 for the year. I like my chances.

Read Full Poker Blog Post

Luckbox's Five Most Memorable Poker Hands

Date: Fri, Sep 12, 2008

Otis' last post was a great idea. So now I'm going to blatantly rip it off. Here's my list:

1. Quads, June 2005

I had just moved from the deadly $2-$6 game to this fresh $4/$8 1/2 Kill game. I was joined by the rest of the G-Vegas crew (Otis, G-Rob, and Bad Blood) and ScurvyDog. The tables was filled out by a few grizzled locals, including an older woman who wouldn't be there too much longer.

The cards are dealt and I look down at the most powerful hand in poker, 72o. I'm UTG and correctly raise. There are, I believe, two or three callers, but none of my fellow bloggers. I was disappointed that no one raised.

The flop comes down 7-7-x. Um... jackpot!!!

I calmly look down at my chips and stack four $1 chips, tossing them into the pot. It actually felt good to not have to bluff with the hand. This time, I get just one caller, the old woman with the impossible-to-believe blonde hair. I begin to pity her, she has no idea what she's up against.

Then it happens.

The dealer peels the next card off the deck and rolls it over. The felt looks like a slot machine, and I'm the one pulling the handle. 7-7-7-x.

Quads. I believe it's just the second time I've ever had quads in a B&M casino. So what do I do? I think you'll all be proud.

I value check my nuts.

To my delight, the "blonde" bets. This is where I wonder if I made a misplay. I simply value call my nuts. I figured I could get more on the river with a smooth call. I think I should have raised.

The river is inconsequential. And I lead out this time. Should I have check-raised here, too? I was really hoping the "blonde" had a legitimate hand and would raise me. How could you possibly put me on a 7? Instead, she simply calls.

Before I even get a chance to show my cards, the "blonde" proudly displays her pocket K's. I would have been proud, too. In fact, if I had been her, I'd have lost a lot more money. How could you not raise me on the river, dammit!?!?

So I calmly flip my HAMMER and lay it down right beside the three 7's on the board. Suddenly, half the table erupts. My fellow bloggers are out of there seats with exclamations of "Hammer!!!!" and "Oh my God!!" I raise my arms in victory.

2. The Legend of the Luckbox, December 2005

The Asian woman is on the button and pushes all in. The solid 30-something guy looks down at his card and also announces all in. He's got her slightly covered. That's when I look down at KQh.

What would you do?

I called, shocking both of my opponents. In fact, I believe I pissed off the Asian woman. She flipped her Big Slick and the other guy flipped pocket J's. Ouch.

I was about 25% before the flop. The J's were in the best shape, favored to win about 42% of the time. But I had them right where I wanted him. Do you know anyone who plays better from behind?

"Well, at least I have outs," I said.

The dealer laid out the flop and it was...

5.
5.
Q.

The rail full of bloggers erupted. I was so shocked, I'm not sure I even saw the Q on the turn. The Ace on the river put an extra knife in the back of the Asian woman. She would have won the hand had I folded. Instead, as the shortest stack, she got the third place she said she'd be happy with.

I won. Someway, somehow, I went for 18th alternate to 1st place and $3650.

3. Waiting for Monsters, January 2006

Shortly after my seat change, a new player sat down to my left. It wasn't long before we all recognized he would be our personal ATM.

My turn to make a withdrawal came after the ATM managed to chip himself back up to about $850. This was after his second rebuy, so he had been spreading his money around nicely.

I'm in LP when I look down at KK. It's raised to $50 in front of me. I just call, as does my ATM. I thought about a reraise here, but figured the ATM might call the $50 from the button, but wouldn't call a reraise. It was a calculated risk inviting another player into the pot.

The flop came down K-Q-7, rainbow. I couldn't ask for much better than that. It's checked to me, I value check my mortal nuts and, predictably, the ATM leads out for $100. The other player in the hand folds. I raise it to $200 and, without hesitating, he calls.

The turn is a 9 and it puts two spades on the board. I think for a moment, and push the rest of my chips into the pot. He's got me slightly covered, but it's about a $600 bet. For a moment, JT flashed through my mind. I worried I just bet into the nuts.

The ATM thought, this time, and I knew my hand was good. He considered and considered, before reluctantly calling. I showed my hand and he dropped his head. He didn't, however, show his hand. He was waiting. That worried me because it meant he had outs.

The river was a T of diamonds. My heart sank. I heard Otis sigh. He thought the same thing I did, "That fucker has a J."

Thanksfully, there was no celebration from the ATM. He flashed K8s and mucked. He had top pair and a flush draw. It was a $1700 pot. It was my biggest pot ever. The adrenaline ran through my veins for the next half hour.

4. The $2200 Laydown, June 2007

I'm writing about this so the nightmares stop.

Why don't we touch the hot stove anymore? Is it because our parents told us not to? Of course not. It's because we touched the hot stove anyway and we got burned. Or, in terms some of you may understand better, why don't we sleep with the drunk, loose skank at the end of the bar? It's because we did it once and we'll never forget that burning feeling either.

Pain is the world's greatest teacher. Without pain, we learn nothing. The pain I felt yesterday will stick with me for a long time.

"Live straddle," the dealer called out.

As the cards went around the table, I was telling the story of the last time I straddled and how badly it went.

"As long as I don't get pocket Kings again, I should be okay," I told them. It was a good table. The people liked to talk, and since I really liked to talk, I fit right in.

"I'll raise." The old man to my left made it $20. It was a strange raise considering my straddle already made it $10. Two other players called before it got back around to me. I looked down at pocket Kings.

The flop came down 963 rainbow. I could hardly complain about that flop. I checked. I tell myself now that it was because I was going to check-raise. There couldn't have been any other reason for a check, right?

The tight old man fired out $100 into an $87 pot. If he was playing on Full Tilt, he'd be an animated rock. He had amassed a stack nearly equal to mine after two people bet into his nut flush. Everyone else at the table knew what he had.

As quickly as the old man bet, the next guy in the pot pushed all in for $285. I hadn't really taken the time to assess why the old man made his bet before the push happened. Now I was processing the second move. All the while, I was thinking about my pocket Kings.

I called.

It didn't take long for the old man to go all in. He had about $950 in front of him. I had him slightly covered. If I was following my own advice, I was calling. But I stopped. I started to think about the laydown. Sometimes making the right laydown is as important as making the right call.

There was now about $1600 in the pot and needed to call another $675. There was a strong possibility that my Kings were good. It was logical to think the original raiser held TT-QQ. The short stack may have had A9 or been on some kind of straight draw. I was getting better than 2-to-1 on my money.

All I saw in my mind were Aces. Hell, I figured the short stack had probably flopped a set. In my mind, I was beat two ways. I was seeing monsters. Something I thought I was over. It was fear. And poker players shouldn't be guided by fear. They should be guided by information.

I folded. I couldn't believe I was doing it as I was doing it. But it was done. The turn and the river were rags. The old man flipped over pocket jacks and the short stack angrily folded.

I was crushed. I touched the stove and it was hot. I'll never do it again.

"Next time take a chance," Lady Luck later told me. "After all, isn't it called gambling? You shouldn't be worried about losing."

At least I know I'm marrying the right girl.

5. Cashing at the Coushatta, January 2006

I'm an idiot. I know that. With 7 players left in the tournament, it's folded to me on the button when I look down at the HAMMER. I hadn't played it all tourney and this was no time to start. Except I raised from T10000 to T30000. The SB folded. The BB had just T37000 and already had T10000 in the pot. I immediately feared my tactical error would cost me. It's not like he could fold. Except he did. And I showed it. The HAMMER. The crowd buzzed and I loved it.

That small stack was out a few hands later.

When we got down to six, there had been three consecutive walks before the BB got to me. I mentioned that I'd appreciate that trend to continue. "But if it doesn't, I defend my Big Blind with a suckout," I told the table.

It's folded all the way around to the SB and as soon as he put his chip on his cards, I knew he was betting. He always stopped as though he was thinking about betting, but when he folded, he never put his chip on his cards.

He raised me up 4xBB. I looked down a KJo. It was decision time. If I fold here, I'm in 5th or 6th in chips. I almost never call with this hand, and didn't even consider it here. That meant fold or raise, and raising meant pushing.

That's exactly what I did, putting my tournament at stake. I'm not sure what I put him on or what chance I gave myself, but I thought there was a slight chance I was ahead, and, at worst, I figured I was in for a race.

"He raised with 7-2 offsuit earlier," I heard a woman say from the rail. I smiled on the inside, while yelling "FOLD!" to my opponent.

He was in the tank and I considered calling for the clock. "Do you have a bigger pocket pair than me?" he asked. My heart sank. I knew there was no way he was laying down a pair. He called and flipped 6's.

It was time for the Luckbox to make an appearance. However, I was 46% to win the hand pre-flop, and, frankly, that's not nearly far enough behind. So when the flop missed me (8-5-2), I felt much better about my chances. Suddently I'm just 24% and, predictably, I found my J on the turn. The river was a blank and I was in great shape. In fact, I had jumped to 2nd in chips.

Read Full Poker Blog Post

Five most memorable hands against poker bloggers

Date: Wed, Sep 10, 2008

Luckbox has been doing most of the heavy lifting in this fifth birthday of Up For Poker. I'm wrapped up in other activities right now, but couldn't let the time pass without a brief submission. Some of these are repeats, some are original, but all of them will stick in my memory as long as I'm playing.

Five most memorable hands against a poker blogger

5. vs. The Rooster, December 2007

It might have been my emergence from focus that ended up losing me the tournament. Still, a sense of understanding about what was happening around me was welcome. What had once been half a dozen people standing around and watching poker was suddenly a crowd of familiar faces. For the past several hours, I'd rather forgotten everything except trying to win. Now, I took half a second to relish the moment. I knew it wouldn't last long. Though the heads-up battle has been described as epic, I don't remember it as such. It seemed to be over as soon as it started.

I made a quick decision that I wasn't going to give The Rooster the opportunity to dictate the terms of the heads-up match. With the blinds as high as they were, there was very little opportunity for post-flop poker. My decisions were made before the match even began. It would be up to The Rooster to decide when he was calling and when he was folding.

If there was a surreal moment for me, it was the split second between the time I looked at my final hand and the time The Rooser announced, "Call!"

I peaked at K9o and said nothing. I simply put my hands around my chips and started to move them. They had barely moved an inch when The Rooster nearly jumped from his seat and said, "Call!"

Without going into it what was actually happening in my head at that second, that fraction of time defined who I was, who I am, who I hope to be forever.

Oh, and I was surpised to see I was ahead, too. The Rooster's snap-call didn't mean I was beat. It meant he was tired of my aggression. In this case, it also meant I was better than 60/40 to win. By the river, we had seen no kings, nines, queens, or eights. I had to dodge six cards when that final piece of plastic hung in the air.

An eight.

It was what it was.

4. vs. ScottMc , December 2007

"There are softer spots in this room," I mumbled.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, I sat at the toughest cash table I'd face all weekend. I don't recall everyone in the game, but over the course of my time there, I saw Zeem, Chad, ScottMc, WeakPlayer, Miami Don and Blinders.

I stacked off to Chad once in a kicker battle, re-bought and told myself that if I couldn't start playing better, I was on my way out the door for a few hours by myself. That's when it happened--the most embarassing move I would make all weekend.

I had AK and came in for a raise. ScottMc popped me back and I pulled my "Oh, realllllllly?" maneuver. I don't think I've ever played with Scott before, so I kept his range exceptionally wide. I made the call out of position.

Why exactly I decided to check dark, I don't know. I only know I did. And I know I saw the flop come down AQx. Scott made another bet, and because I had checked dark, I had no way of knowing what the bet meant. It could mean as much as AA, as middling as AQ, or as little as some underpair. Hell, it could even be AK.

Now, I made what was the only smart move in the entire hand. I figured out where I was with a check-raise. Thing is, my chips hadn't hit the table before Scott cupped his hands around his mouth and said, "Allllllllllll innnnnnnnnnnn" in a deep voice.

That's pretty much where I went over the edge. After 22 hours of the worst beats ever, I was stuck bad and wrapped up in a hand with a player who is now wearing a sign that says, "You are beat, Otis!" around his neck. There is now no hand he can hold that I can conceivably beat. At best, he's holding AK and I know that's not the case. I might be lucky enough that he has AQ, but it's far more likely he has a set.

So, of course, I call.

Scott is a nice damned guy, which goes beyond and sometimes against his great abilities at the poker table. He wasted no time showing me his QQ for the flopped middle set. Knowing I need runners to win, I start planning a graceful exit and wondering where the solo rage will take me. I was at once a nihilist.

I'm still not sure the next ten seconds happened.

The groan and cheer rose up from the table as the board came runners to give me aces full. Having not yet revealed my hand, I fanned my AK to the table and buried my face in my other hand. The chips landed in front of me. Now, I could no longer hate my luck.

I could only hate myself.

Scott took it much better than he should've. For my penance, he only required I post this list:

1) That was the worst suck-out ever
2) Scott is a better player than Otis
3) I am a donkey

Or something like that. My notes don't make a lot of sense.

The only thing I remember with any clarity is Miami Don looking up from his vodka and remarking wryly, "Otis, I think your luck just changed."

3. vs. Absinthe, December 2006

I was angry. So angry.

There is a particular table at the MGM where I cannot win. Don't call it superstition, because if you do, I will soak your toothbrush in a jar of hot peppers. I can't win there. Ever.

I'd just called off several hundred dollars when people at the other end of the Strip in Caesars knew I was beat. It was so obvious that it was actually embarrassing to continuing breathing. Making it worse, the off-duty dealer to whom I'd stacked off berated me for losing. I wanted to crawl in a hole, stuff the rest of my cash in an uncomfortable place, and light it on fire. Due penance, I thought.

I'd had pocket kings. Not that it matters, but it mattered.

Absinthe sat on my right, quiet as always, and ostensibly targeting everybody at the table but me. We're friends. We've shared time. We've eaten at fancy restaurants. He wouldn't fuck with me.

I found pocket kings on the button a few hands later. I figured I'd get no action, because, hell, everybody knew I wasn't rebuying. I had to set my ass on fire in a few minutes.

Absinthe came in for a raise to around $20. I don't recall the size of my re-raise, but I think it was around $100. Absinthe did this thing he does. I can't explain it, and if I could, I wouldn't write about it, because we're friends. We don't fuck with each other. But he did this thing.

He quietly slid out a raise. I don't recall the exact amount, and it doesn't matter, because it was a giant, flashing sign that said, "Hey, bitch, I have aces. Get the hell out and get on with the ass-fire."

I gritted my teeth, I wondered whether I was going to use a lighter or a match, and mucked my hand.

A few minutes later, he raised his eyebrows.

"Kings," I said.

He shook his head. "What a cooler," he said.

"Aces," I nodded.

"Same hand," he said.

For a moment, I felt okay. It wasn't a lot of money and, you know, no flop, no drop.

Half an hour later as we headed to a fancy dinner, I brought up the cooler.

"I had ace-ten," he said and kept walking.

2. vs. Bill Rini, and I honestly don't remember the date

Okay, we were drunk. Let's get that out of the way. I'm pretty sure it was summer, I'm vaguely certain Spaceman and Pokerati Dan were there, and I know we are at the Excalibur. The size of the pot makes me believe Bill and I both had around $800 in front of us. Everything else is pretty much a blur.

I know I had pocket aces. I'm pretty sure one was black. Let's call it the ace of spades. It doesn't matter.

I raised and Bill re-raised me. I complained in a way guys with pocket aces do. Folded back to me and I decide to give the guy a break.

"All-in," I said. Because, in poker, that's how you give a guy a break.

Bill looked peeved, but only for a second. "I call," he said. Because, with AK, he didn't want a break. He wanted my $800. When he saw my aces, he was visibly agitated. I said something to the effect of, "I was trying to give you a break."

He said something to the effect of, "Fuck your mother." That's not an exact quote, but it's close I think.

Bill didn't win. He left.

To this day, I actually feel bad about that hand.

1. vs. Iggy , December 2004

I was still steaming from having my Hiltons cracked, and raised pre-flop with pocket sixes. Of course, Iggy called. The flop came down 589. Again, Iggy and I went to war.

Now, I know I'm not necessarily favored to win this hand. In fact, I should assume that Iggy is ahead. Maybe a set. More likely, A9 or A8. If he is ahead, I know that I only have six outs to catch up. Still, having played low-limit with him before, I know Iggy can sometimes be aggressive when he's way behind. I could only hope he was on a draw.

I think I maintained my poker face when the turn brought a seven, giving me the straight. I check-raised Iggy, who cold called and gave me a look.

The turn was a blank, as I recall. This time I bet into him and the sonofabitch raised me. I re-raised, and he capped.

But as he put in his final bet, he turned to the dealer and said, "You know, in a lot of cardrooms, when play gets to be heads up there's no limit on the number of raises."

It was at this moment that my heart sank and I picked up on Iggy's biggest tell: When he has the nuts, he'll turn to the dealer and ask for the game to be no-limit.

The dealer said we could do whatever we wanted, but I already knew what was about to happen. I put in my final crying call and watched Iggy turn up Vince Van Patton's favorite hand, JTo.

Iggy began raking the pot and eyed me from behind his locks, "Drawing at the dummy end of the straight," he said with a playful scoff.

In one moment I felt both chastened and so happy to be alive that I didn't mind losing another big pot to Iggy.

Read Full Poker Blog Post

UFP Fantasy Football Update

Date: Tue, Sep 9, 2008

In case you're wondering, here are Week 1 results:

Luckbox: 1-0, 100 points
G-Rob: 0-1, 73 points
Otis: 0-1, 59 points

Regarding the $5 bet, Donovan McNabb scored me 27 points and G-Rob's favorite QB (Carson Palmer, who's not on his roster) racked up 5 points. Otis, once again, is on the short end of the stick as his starting QB and first round selection Tom Brady scored 3 points before being lost for the season. I ask you all to pray for Reggie Bush before the Otis jinx hits him, too!

Read Full Poker Blog Post

The 5 Year Anniversary Top 5

Date: Mon, Sep 8, 2008

As we continue the Up For Poker 5th Anniversary celebration, here are a few top 5 lists:

Luckbox's 5 Favorite Poker Blogs
Bad Blood on Poker
Dead Money = Sir AlCantHang
Guinness and Poker
Tao of Poker
Wicked Chops Poker

Luckbox's 5 Favorite Poker-related Sites
Poker Odds Calculator
Two Plus Two Poker Forum
Poker News
PokerStars
Full Tilt Poker

Luckbox's 5 Favorite Poker Hands
The HAMMER (72 offsuit)
The JackHammer (J4)
Snowman, Tater Legs (83)
Hiltons (QQ)
The Tourist (A7)

Luckbox's 5 Most Famous Live Opponents
Gavin Smith
Brandon Schaefer
Wil Wheaton
Max Pescatori
G-Rob

Luckbox's 5 Opponents He Most Enjoys Sucking Out On
Waffles
Hoy
G-Rob
SoxLover
Fuel55

Luckbox's 5 Most Enjoyable G-Vegas Playing Partners
Otis
G-Rob
Bad Blood
The Mark
TeamScottSmith

Luckbox's 5 Most Enjoyable Non-G-Vegas Playing Partners
BG
Maudie
Joe Speaker
Bobby Bracelet
Change100

Read Full Poker Blog Post

5 Years, By The Numbers

Date: Fri, Sep 5, 2008

Five years ago today, I launched Up For Poker. At the time, I had a personal blog called Up For Anything. I was apparently boring my dozen or so readers with my tales from the table, so, like Pauly before me, I created my first niche blog. Later, there would be the short-lived Up For Sports and the even shorter-lived Up For Hollywood. Today, only Up For Poker survives. And I'm surprised it's lasted this long.

Here is a brief look at our history, by the numbers:

Number of posts: 1085
Number of comments: 6561
Number of authors (total): 8
Number of authors (current): 3
First commentor: TheRandall, a G-Vegas poker buddy
First author other than me: Otis, with Otis' Aruban Adventure
First author other than the big three: Ken Goldstein from The Illuminated Donkey
First reference of a Former Star Trek Actor: Wil Wheaton in Even Stars Need a Card
First trip report: From Otis with Otis in Vegas Pt. 1
First poker blog referenced: Table Tango on Nov. 10, 2003
First double-digit comment: jk's vegas sojourn written by jeremy from one of the original poker blogs, love and casino war
First post to top 30 comments: From Ducks to Rockets
First post that Iggy wondered whether it was real: I'm All In written by my twin brother
First post by G-Rob: On the Road....again on Nov. 30, 2004
Total blogs on the blogroll: 95

There's lots more to add on our 5 years... stay tuned!

Read Full Poker Blog Post

4 Years, 364 Days

Date: Thu, Sep 4, 2008

Five years ago tomorrow, I wrote about three bad beats that knocked me out of an online tournament. If you go back and read it now, you won't get your three bucks. Bad beat payoffs aren't retroactive.

Over the last half-decade, we've virtually eliminated bad beat stories from Up For Poker (unless you win a lot of money doing it). It's just one of the many things that have evolved over the years. We've had as many as 8 different writers here, although all but three of us came and went pretty quickly.

Today, it's Otis, G-Rob and the Luckbox. And over the next few days, we'll be taking a trip down memory lane. Five years is a long time, and I don't think any of us thought we'd be around that long!

Read Full Poker Blog Post

Up For Poker Does Fantasy Football

Date: Sun, Aug 31, 2008

The Up For Poker crew has found many ways to compete over the years. There's been frolf and Euchre and poker. There's even been the Drunk-a-lympics. One of our yearly traditions, however, is fantasy football. It's a league I ran for a couple of years around the turn of the millenium. It's now helmed by Uncle Ted. Our 12 man league consists of a motely crew of current and former employees at our G-Vegas corporation.

This morning was our draft. I report, you decide:

Syracuse ManahManah (Luckbox)

McNabb, Donovan PHI QB
Russell, JaMarcus OAK QB
Gore, Frank SFO RB
Grant, Ryan GBP RB
Mendenhall, Rashard PIT RB
Rice, Ray BAL RB
Slaton, Steve HOU RB
Berrian, Bernard MIN WR
Bowe, Dwayne KCC WR
Johnson, Chad CIN WR
Walker, Javon OAK WR
Ward, Hines PIT WR
Akers, David PHI PK
Gould, Robbie CHI PK
Jaguars, Jacksonville JAC Def
Raiders, Oakland OAK Def

Reedy River Cards (Otis)

Brady, Tom NEP QB
Delhomme, Jake CAR QB
Bell, Tatum DET RB
Bush, Reggie NOS RB
Forte, Matt CHI RB
Jackson, Fred BUF RB
James, Edgerrin ARI RB
Brown, Reggie PHI WR
Galloway, Joey TBB WR
Holt, Torry STL WR
Heap, Todd BAL TE
Witten, Jason DAL TE
Brown, Josh STL PK
Folk, Nick DAL PK
Chiefs, Kansas City KCC
Patriots, New England NEP

Frank (G-Rob)

Campbell, Jason WAS QB
Hasselbeck, Matt SEA QB
Rivers, Philip SDC QB
Lynch, Marshawn BUF RB
Maroney, Laurence NEP RB
McFadden, Darren OAK RB
Washington, Leon NYJ RB
Curtis, Kevin PHI WR
Driver, Donald GBP WR
Moss, Santana WAS WR
Wayne, Reggie IND WR
Davis, Vernon SFO TE
Winslow, Kellen CLE TE
Gostkowski, Stephen NEP PK
Rackers, Neil ARI PK
Bears, Chicago CHI Def

We start 1 QB, 2 RB, 3 WR/TE, 1 K and 1 D/ST. We've each had varying degrees of success. G-Rob made our playoffs last year, I made them the year before that, G-Rob won the Super Bowl the year before that, and I lost the Super Bowl the year before that. Otis' success has been less varied. He hasn't had any. Except for the XFL Fantasy Football championship he secured. And that's not a joke.

Frankly, I think I've got a pretty good chance this year, although it all hinges on Donovan McNabb's success. I've got a $5 bet with G-Rob that DMac outscores his beloved Carson Palmer this year. I guess we'll see!

Read Full Poker Blog Post

Poker blogs and why I like'em

Date: Thu, Aug 28, 2008

The world was on tilt.

We were in a field--a bivouac for souls simultaneously lost and found--under a Florida moon and looking at the world through glasses you can't buy on eBay. We were headed for shelter, a place where we would gamble but never once open a deck of cards. Gambling was as inevitable as morning, but the method was a matter of choice. It would become a test of endurance, of will, of sheer stupidity.

For the moment though, a beat had diverted our attention. At 40 yards, the tent shimmered and shocked and beckoned our crew like no light in Las Vegas could. It made no sense, and yet it was the only thing at the moment at that mattered. It was the last thing we expected to see, save perhaps Bill Frist.

I've written about the moment before on Rapid Eye Reality. I rarely copy and paste from previous efforts, but in this case, it seems necessary. Here's a portion.

***

Professional Keno Player Neil Fontenot turned his head, like a dog that hears a bag of food being opened in the next room.

"Is that Michael Jackson?" he said, and started walking in the other direction.

I protested quietly. It wouldn't have mattered if I yelled, because Neil was already halfway to the big white tent. My wife was trailing him. Pauly, Uncle Ted and I plodded along and wondered what silliness we were about to get ourselves into. When we breached the flaps of the tent, we heard some Jackson 5 quickly morph into some late 70s female funk. How we'd stumbled into a 70s dance party, I don't know. All I know is that everyone in the tent was suddenly looking at us like their drugs had finally kicked in. They smiled, they screamed, the jumped with elation like we'd not seen in a long time. Why? Well, the men in our group were dressed like this.

We were the party.

"Thank you for coming to my wedding reception," Neil screamed, "I love you all!"

For the next half an hour, we danced like 70s white boys. Women came from across the tent to grind and slobber. It was everything we never knew we wanted coming down on us like a truckload of polyester. The moment reached its zenith when the only pair of fake breasts on the entire Indian Reservation climbed Uncle Ted and treated him like a stripper pole. The irony was enough reason to let it happen.

When we finally made it back outside, a blonde girl ran up to us.

"I want to be your manager," she gushed.

Dr. Pauly looked at her straight in the face and didn't crack a smile. "We don't need a manager," he said with a little more force than I expected. "We need a choreographer."

We walked away without another word.

***

Why do I bring it up today?

Well, Human Head and the LasVegasVegas boys posted a list of their top five poker blogs. This blog was on the list. Being among the others on this was humbling. And that's not just smoke for your ass. That's the truth.

Every one of the blogs and/or authors on the list have come a long way in just the last five years. It's sort of amazing to consider what has become of everybody. Some have gone on to become rather famous in the industry. Others have gone on to work for major companies in the business. Others have started up their own companies and have done pretty damned well for themselves. In large part, it all happened because they started a poker blog. It still doesn't make sense.

Still, that's not really the point. The point, at least as far as I'm concerned, is the friendships I've made as a result of this silly little effort. The story above was just half an hour of my life, but it was a half an hour that never would've happened but for meeting Pauly through the blogging community. I have countless more moments like it.

There was the time BG, Al, Eva, and G-Rob showed up in the Bahamas to party with me on my first live blogging gig, the time Pauly gave me a personal bar tour of his own city, the time I woke up in my own house and found Iggy and Daddy begging for bacon.

Of course there was also the Louisiana roadhouse experience with BG, G-Rob, and Badblood; the entire crew of people who came out of nowhere to show up for the last Bradoween; spending a week watching zombie movies with Absinthe; eating gelato with Wheaton and Absinthe and feeling vaguely effeminate for it; and, ah, hell, you get the point.

There are tons of Vegas experiences I could write about the dozens of people who have befriended me over the years. Each one of them is memorable and fantastic. Regardless, it's the real life I've had outside of poker and Vegas that make me feel great at the end of it all.

I don't make friends easily. I don't know how much longer this poker blog will be around. I don't know how much longer I'll be playing poker. Hell, I don't know much of anything about anything. I do know, however, that if the blog dies, if I go broke, and if I never go to Vegas again, I'll still have a lot of people I can call friends because of this thing. Even if there is no more success in poker, that's reason enough for me to believe this is one of the top five poker blogs. It's paid off dividends I'll never give up.

Read Full Poker Blog Post

English Only, Please

Date: Wed, Aug 27, 2008

Anyone who's played poker in a casino is likely familiar with the "English Only at the Table" rule. I believe it's a regulation designed to curb any collusion that might go unnoticed by a dealer unfamiliar with foreign languages. Of course, I always think of the scene in Rounders where Worm is dealing off the bottom of the deck and complains about the Russian mobsters violating the rule.

But I digress...

It seems that at least one professional sport is following poker's lead.

Beginning in 2009, all players on the LPGA tour will be required to speak English. Apparently, the geniuses running women's golf think the reason no one watches their sport is because of those damn foreigners.

The solution? A lot more broken English. Imagine if you were told that in the next 6 months you needed to know how to speak Korean. I doubt you'd fare very well.

Starting in January, every player will have to pass an oral exam. I'd be real curious to see how that test is administered. What exactly is the threshhold for proficiency? Seriously, this has to be one of the stupidest things I've ever read.

This regulation likely won't be as successful as the LPGA's last initiative designed to boost ratings. A few years ago, players were told to sex it up. They were encouraged to wear sexier outfits and to, well... be hotter. That managed to boost ratings by a factor of absolutely nothing.

Nonetheless, there's a reason you likely know the name Natalie Gulbis (pictured and ranked 34th in the world) more than Yani Tseng (ranked third in the world, and I dare you to click through for her picture).

I guess it's a good think Natalie knows English. No word on how fluent Yani Tseng is!

Read Full Poker Blog Post

Poker Bust: Anxious Cops, Bored Prosecutors, A Lifetime In Limbo

Date: Sat, Aug 23, 2008

A good friend of mine was part of a poker bust near G-Vegas several years ago. He and about a dozen other really hardened gambing types, accountants and the like, were playing a freeze out tourney in the clubhouse of a suburban subdivision. The cops had an "informant" and raided the place, charging everyone with a violation of the state's 200 year old anti-gambing law.

The same law makes it illegal to play chess on Sunday.

So after the bust, my friend hired a local attorney named Jeff Phillips for his defense. Nothting of signifigance ever happened again.

FEAR AND INTIMIDATION

I'm not an expert on Jeff's legal work, but I've done a story about him before. We mentioned, on air, that he made the final table of a WSOP event several years ago. Today he still plays a bit, and is the kind of guy who has a vanity license plate that reads "Hold-em."

Jeff called me on the way to the Frolf course on Thursday with a heads up about a hearing down by Charleston that is very similar and in a similar stage of limbo. Jeff's representing them, too.

In April of 2006, overzealous officers raided a poker game in Mt. Pleasant, SC. They came in with flak jackets and with weapons drawn. They don't take chances with people like the 86 year old retiree playing a small stakes tournament with his social security money. You know, cops get bored, too.

Anyhoo, they were all harrassed and charged and that's where it stopped. On Friday, Phillips tried to have the case dismissed. He failed, but here's where it stands according to the Charleston Post.

Town Judge J. Lawrence Duffy Jr. said the state Legislature has revisited South Carolina's anti-gambling statutes at least nine times over the years, meaning lawmakers are just fine with the wording as is.

No date has been set for a trial in the case. Town prosecutor Ira Grossman controls the docket. He said it is not out of the ordinary for cases to take more than 2 years to get to trial and that as many as 10 to 12 in the Mount Pleasant court system might be in a similar timetable.

Town Prosecutor Ira Grossman has no actual intention of actually prosecuting these guys. Likewise, the people busted in Greer years and years ago still haven't had a date in court.

So why make the bust?

Well, in most cases like this the cops are looking to make a little cash. Police departments get to keep the money from a raid like this and in some cases, as in a raid last year in G-Vegas, players were told they could avoid being charged at all if they'd simply forfiet all the cash on thier person to the deputies on hand.

I'm not saying it's a shakedown.

I'm just sayin'.

Further, the idea is not "justice" in the sense that you'd find it on the "Law and Order" TV show. Instead, the cops can simply intimidate. There is no conviction, but in the case of people like myself, for whom a simple arrest is a career nightmare, I must fear their intrusion.

I should be happy, I suppose, that people aren't being convicted in my state for playing poker. But I'm not. I want justice. But justice folded.

Read Full Poker Blog Post