"Don't tell me how to play!"

Last night at Bill's, one of the good players was on my immediate right. I'll call him "Canada," since that's where he's from. He got into a hand against a guy at the other end of the table, who had been hemorrhaging money. I'll call him "Loser."

The details don't matter a lot. Suffice it to say that Canada flopped middle pair and an open-ended straight draw. Being appropriately aggressive, he led the betting, and got called all the way by Loser. He hit his straight on fifth street and went all in. Loser called. Turns out they had both made the same straight and split the pot, but Loser had been calling with no pair and only a gutshot straight draw--saved on the river.

Now, the right thing for Canada to do here is make a mental note of how badly Loser plays, smile, and let it go. But he doesn't do this. Instead, he starts a little tiff. "You called me down with just a gutshot straight draw?"

Loser defends himself with, "I got there, didn't I?"

Canada: "Dude, I'm not trying to criticize, but that's just crazy."

Loser: "You play your game and I'll play mine."

Canada: "You know, you'll only make that straight about 15% of the time."

Loser, now getting seriously agitated: "Don't tell me how to play!"

Canada apparently now realizes that this is a pointless argument, and shuts it down, just shaking his head.

But I heard him mutter under his breath the zinger of a reply that a sick, evil part of me wishes he had said out loud: "If I was telling you how to play, you'd be winning."