Another 6-high story

In the post I wrote a few minutes ago (http://pokergrump.blogspot.com/2008/04/nice-call-with-6-high.html), I told of winning a big pot with a 6-4 at the Luxor, and the story reminded me of another in which I similarly made a big hit with a suited 6-4 at the Venetian. That got me thinking about another story that I haven't previously told here, from the Golden Nugget. I remembered that it, too, was a 6-high, and thought maybe it was yet another 6-4--but upon checking, I see that it was actually a 6-2. Shucks. So much for the trifecta. Anyway, I think it's an amusing story, though it's one for which I can't claim to have any larger point to make--it just is what it is. This is one of many stories I have in my email archives, things I wrote to a friend back home in Minnesota before I started this blog. This was written August 20, 2006:


Last week at the Golden Nugget, there was a woman who had an abnormal love for flushes. Maybe even an obsession with them. How did I know? Because if she hit a flush, bet, and an opponent folded, she’d show it, and if she missed and had to fold to another player’s bet on the river, she’d show her hand and say, "I missed my flush." People are so dumb—they have no idea how valuable information like that is, and they’re just giving it away proudly. She would call nearly any bet when she was on a flush draw, without respect to pot odds.

So there’s a hand in which I’m in late position with 2-6 diamonds. Now, normally this is a throwaway. But you have to play garbage hands once in a while, for several reasons that I think you know: You may get a situation in which a bluff will work, in which case it doesn’t matter what your cards are; when a junk hand hits a monster, they’re extremely difficult for opponents to suspect and can make lots of money; when you win with one, opponents can go seriously on tilt; showing that you played one can get you extra calls later when you have AA, because people mentally label you as a junk-hand player, etc.

On this occasion, I hadn’t seen any good cards for a while, and nobody had raised, so I limped in with my 2-6. This woman was in the big blind and checked it. Flop was 2-6-K, giving me 2 pair and almost surely the best hand—and a complete stealth hand that nobody would expect. Sweet. Two of the flop cards were hearts. This woman bet, and I suspected she was on one of her flush draws. I called.

Turn card is another 2, giving me a full house! Oh, I’m starting to feel something big happening here! She doesn’t have her flush yet, though, so she checks. I make a smallish bet just to sweeten the pot, knowing she’ll call. She does. I'm praying for another heart on the river.

The wonderful dealer provides the beautiful, glorious, perfect third heart. My ditzy opponent has made her flush. She bets. I try to look a little uncomfortable, stare at my chips, picking up little stacks of them, as if I’m not sure what to do. Finally I put in a little raise. She pushes all her chips in, looking like she has sprung her trap. Little does she know….

I call, of course. She is beaming, radiant as she turns over her A-8 nut flush. I really wanted to pretend that I was a complete novice, and say something like, “Let’s see, I just have these two 6s and three deuces. Is that any good?” But I didn't torture her that way. I just quietly said “full house” and turn over my pathetic little 2-6.

Her jaw dropped, and she stared back and forth between my hole cards and the board several times before she fully accepted that she was beat. She was at the other end of the table, but I could still overhear snippets of conversation between her and the players next to her for a LONG time afterwards, about how stupid it was to be playing crap like 2-6. In another hand later when I raised, she even said “He must have 2-6 again.” TILT TILT TILT TILT TILT!

Tee hee hee. Here’s a chip for the bus ride home, lady. Have a nice day. Thanks for the money.