Poker Blues

So last week, a couple of us hit the local gambling establishments. I sat down full of hopes and excited about a couple of hours of play.

Two hours I stood up, disgusted and ready to leave.

As the Tool of the Man points out, we were playing gamblers - guys who would play anything and, of course, catch what they were fishing for. So when I raised with pocket jacks in late position, I wasn't surprised when they were cracked - by the guy playing Q8c - because they were suited.

But that was okay, the two times I caught pocket queens, they were cracked wide open.

I was sitting in seventh position. In first position was a guy who would play a face card - rag combo, so long as it was suited. In the second seat, a gentleman who sat down with $200 and gleefully bet it all away as he called every pot down. Third seat was the same guy, only with a smaller stack.

The gentleman in eighth position - next to me - was crazy. His bushy salt-and-peppered eyebrows and wrinkled, leathery skin hid his eyes pretty well, but he was nuts. And he would play anything - ANYTHING - suited.

The guys in nine and ten were actually solid players and good guys - I didn't mind as much when my queens were cracked by him.

But Lord, it's frustrating when the only good pot I took down that afternoon was when I played 59o in the big blind - and paired my nines. It was just that kind of day.

My brother and I have decided we need to move up to a higher-limit game - not because we're so much better than everyone - we just don't want to be tangled up in all the fishing lines littering the table with every hand. It gets rather frustrating after awhile.