Stephen Allan, a former columnist for The Chronicle, has moved to Las Vegas to become a professional poker player. He writes longer on his blog, Chasing Our Dreams.
In any industry you can think of, it’s not good enough to just create a great product—you also must have the ability to market it and sell it well enough for you to turn a profit.
I’m not selling anything at the poker tables, but I am certainly advertising the strength (or lack thereof) of my hand all the time during a session, in the hopes that it will help me add to my bottom line. Last Thursday night at the Mirage, that is exactly what happened in a hand that turned a breakeven session into a nice profit.
About four people called before it was my turn, and I looked down at pocket tens. A strong, but vulnerable hand, I knew this had to be raised for value purposes. What I also knew, however, was that the table suspected I was getting frustrated with some things, which I was—but it wasn’t actually affecting my play.
Minutes before, a brawl had actually broken out at the table when a racist, drunk idiot sat down at the table. He was causing trouble and delaying the game, both of which got on my nerves. I can’t get into the details of what he said, but just imagine your standard bar fight and you’ll get the picture. Security frisked him out after 30 minutes, but obviously the lack of playing time and his ranting had gotten on my nerves.
So, when I raised, I said, “I don’t know why I’m doing this, everyone is going to call anyways.” And, naturally, five people did. So my $10 raise had suddenly led to a $60 pot.
The flop came Ace-10-2, giving me three of a kind, a very strong hand given the board texture. All five of the players who called my bet checked to me, and I said, “All right let’s take a stab at this,” and bet out $40. When I saw two people call, I immediately rolled my eyes and said, “How the hell can these people call all the way when I raise and have the best hand?” Of course, I was 99.5 percent certain I had the best hand, but my action suggested I had nothing. I could tell by their faces that they thought they had the best hand and I would donate my money.
The turn was a 9, which didn’t change anything. Once again they checked and I heavily sighed and bet $80. One guy folded and the other guy immediately called.
The river was a 5, which meant I was all but certain I had the best hand at this point. There were no straight or flushes on the board, and about the only hand that had me beat was pocket aces. Given the action up to that point, it was extremely unlikely he had that, so now all I had to figure out was how to sell the action
The other guy checked, and I sat there thinking for a few seconds. Finally, after I had feigned an exasperated look enough, I said, “**** it, I’m all-in,” and put my remaining $180 into the pot. The other guy instantly called and when I flipped over my set, he looked like he had been sucker-punched in the jaw and quietly turned over a very weak A-3.
He sat still for a little bit, not saying much. Eventually, though, he lightened up and we were having a good time again. Right before he left, he came up to me and said, “Man, I’ve never been talked into a call like that before, but you had me convinced you were bluffing.”
And I was definitely bluffing. I just wasn’t bluffing my card strength, but rather, my emotional state. I advertised it in such a way that the other guy bought it, and like any other successful advertising scheme, it paid off in the end.
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