The Pigeon-Hole, Dave and The Wheel

For the record, I'm eating 2 large fried eggs and a piece of toast and jelly as I type this.

Yesterday, I left off with the story of how this whole poker thing got started for me. Later, I'll explain how real money online play becomes a part of my life. First, though, I'd like to introduce a seventh member of the poker crew, who we'll refer to as Gus.

I first met Gus when Juddy brought him over to The Table some time late in the Fall semester of junior year, and the dynamics had changed somewhat over time and are described below:

Lil Mac: Solid, Tricky and Trappy, Aggressive
Me: Weak, Tight, Conservative (this may just be the worst hold 'em profile of all time)
Frosty: Solid, Tight, Conservative
Juddy: Solid, Loose, Moderately aggressive
J: Solid, Mix, Conservative (still not sure)
Gus: ???
Five Dollar Dave: Not allowed to play*....

*see Bottom of Page

To make a long story short, Gus shows up at our house with Juddy wearing short khaki shorts, a polo shirt, a polo hat, deck shoes, polo cologne and smoking polo cigarettes.

"Wait," I thought, "I've seen this before."

The first time I had ever witnessed a live poker game was at an unnamed frat house on campus. Gus was somewhat fat, so I thought, "We're f*****." I knew he was going to ruin the game.

An hour later, the entire table stared in amazement by how many great hands Gus must have been picking up. Lil Mac was the most distraught as his less-than-half-the-pot sized bets he always used to pick at small pots were being re-raised, called and re-re-raised at every other attempt. Gus was willing to risk half his stack at any given time to take down a pot. If the pot was small, he still bet big, knowing we were a bunch of pussies. We joked about how every time Gus played a pot, he was at some point going to throw a $4000 bet (our stacks started at $10,000 tournament chips). To this day, a $4000 bet is retorted with, "OK, Gus."

As Gus kept betting and betting and re-raising, Frosty eventually began calling him Gus Hansen due to his aggressive style. The nickname stuck and when Gus finally caught on, he spouted out the now-famous line:

"I'm not going to be pigeon-holed as Gus Hansen!"

Gus had fairly good results at our game, but I believe we were all able to adjust our game to his style somewhat and the results remained quite the same as before. We each won our fair share of tournaments, except me, and we were all better players for him showing up.

About a month later, Gus (still not really a friend, just a poker player) bummed a ride with us to make a trip down to College Station (home of the Texas A&M Aggies) for a party. The morning after the party, Gus and I polished off a bottle of Captain Morgan's rum and told Chuck Norris jokes for about 4 hours. We quickly became close friends until his disappearance later that year. We often talked poker, got drunk and even started a poker business partnership when Lil Mac and I ended our little venture (I will explain all of this in later posts). I miss that son of a bitch.

*The Five Dollar Dave Hand (aka The Punch-in-Face Fold)
The following hand example describes the demise of Five Dollar Dave as a regular at our poker games. I always felt he was the worst player of all time. He made loose calls. I don't know if he ever folded any sort of draw whatsoever. He never won, but he knocked me out of several tournaments early as I attempted to chase him off his draws and was too pot committed by the river to let go of my hands. He often hit, and it always seemed to be against me. Like I said, he never actually won; he was simply a pot sweetener for everyone else except me, hence the name Five Dollar Dave (adding an extra $5 to the overall winnings). Some of the cards and bet amounts have been made up because my memory isn't that awesome. However, the situation is the same (number of players in pots, number of overs, types of draws, bets, folds etc.)

Situation: Home game, $5 buy-in, all 6 original players. By this point, everyone knew how I felt about Dave (and even Juddy) and his reluctance to fold at any point. Dave knew I hated him somewhat based on the comments I often made after his suck-outs. He would always respond to me with, "Well at least that hand kicked your ass." As if, since he won that particular hand, his decisions were correct. I strongly dislike this person (for the record, I love Juddy, he's a good friend and a good poker player, but I did take some rough beats from him).

Blinds: 100/200
Me: First position, QQ
Dave: Second, Ac5c (you see, Dave especially loved hands such as this, where cards could come which would make the low end of the straight or a nut flush. After a good ripping, he would always defend such hands with the comment, "I had a wheel draw". Yeah, we're talking that shitty of a poker player here).

Pot: 300
I think: Hell yeah, I have QQ. Let's see who's gonna suck out on me this time.
I act: Raise to 600 (Pot = 900)
Dave thinks (sort of): WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!!!!! NOT ONLY ARE THESE BAD BOYS SUITED, BUT I HAVE AN AUTOMATIC WHEEL DRAW!!!! LET'S SEE THIS FLOP!!! Keep your calm. Don't let them know you're sitting on a monster.
Dave Acts: Calls immediately (Pot = 1500)
I think: Here we go again.
Fold
Fold
Small blind: Fold
Big Blind: Call (Pot = 1900)

Pot: 1900
Flop: 2c 3h 7h

Big blind: Bets 500 (Pot 2400)
I think: Ok, he has a 7 or something. I'm gonna end this now. Only Dave is gonna f******* call.
I act: Re-raise to 1500. (Pot 3900)
Dave thinks: You mean I only have to stick 3 of these red circles into the middle of the table and I get to see one more of those rectangular squares with pictures on them!!! WOooooooooooooooooot!!! WHEEEL DRIZZZAW!!!
Dave acts: Calls 1500. (Pot 5400)
I think: Of course. This is gonna suck.
Big Blind: Folds (I'm assuming a seven or pocket 8's here)
I think: Ok. Just me and dumbass.

Pot: 5400
Turn: (2c 3h 7h) Tc

I think: Good. No ace, no king. Shit-for-brains over there could have anything, but I have to bet something scary.
I act: I bet 5000. (Pot 10400)

Dave thinks: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!! He's walking right into this one. Now I have a nut flush draw (not to mention my even-more-badass wheel draw). Easy call.
Dave acts: Call (Pot 15400)

I think: f***. I saw that sick smile on his face when that card came out. He has two f***** clubs. I know it. Please no club on turn. Please no club on turn. Please no club on turn. Seriously, he called so damn fast. I hate him.

I begin talking and muttering out loud about how I know he has 2 clubs and how bad he sucks at this game. I explain pot odds as I mutter. I repeat the amount I bet and the speed at which he called. I talk about wheel draws and how dumb it is to chase them because there's no bonus points involved here.

I'm already mad about the club that is sure to come.

Pot: 15400
River: (2c 3h 7h Tc) 8c

I think: Of. F***ing. Course.

The club comes out and I stare over at Dave, who's sitting no more than 4 inches from me. I stare at him hard. I look at his sad, sorry dough eyes and this shit-eating grin on his face. I seriously hate him at this point. Over half of my stack is gone just from this hand alone. I know if he bets, I can still fold. But I probably won't fold. I want to make him turn his sorry ass cards over and show his 2 clubs. So I glare some more. I wait. I clench my right fist. I have to check. I know it's not technically correct, but I know what he has.

I act: I check (Pot = 15400).

Then, something happened. I boiled over.

I speak: "You draw chasing S.O.B."
I act: I lift my already-clenched fist up in the air and stand up next to him. I put my fist two inches from his head as if I'm ready to swing as soon as he makes this probably all-in bet.
I speak again: "You suck at poker. I'm never playing as long as this guy plays. Ever again."

Dave thinks: Oh no. This guy who barely knows me is going to punch me in my head. Why? Surely he must know I had the wheel draw. Oh well, if I don't win this game, it's only 5 bucks. I can make that in one hour.
Dave acts: He checks (Pot = 15400)

I think: Holy crap, maybe he had two hearts, or just a wheel draw. I may still win this pot.
I act: I turn over my two queens, 75% sure he still had two clubs but didn't bet because he's a terrible poker player.

Dave acts: He turns over his Ac5c.
I speak: "Get the hell out of my house. Don't ever come back. You suck. You have to bet when you hit the nuts!!!"
Dave: "I don't care. It's only 5 bucks. I can make that in an hour at my job."
Everyone else: Laughs heartily as someone says, "I hope you make 5 bucks in an hour."
I act: I punch the first of many holes in our utility room door.

After losing that night, Dave never played poker at any game I was ever involved with ever again. He sucks.