Never complain about luck — there’s too much variation in any particular hand — or even in any given session for that matter.
Hanging with the rocks on an early Saturday morning at one of the local joints, I toss in a raise in late position with A-Q. It folds all the way back to a guy in the big blind wearing a black T-shirt that reads Basketball Never Stops. He’s a tallish Asian guy who looks like he might actually play basketball.
He doesn’t hesitate to three-bet out of the big blind.
WTF?
The raise indicates obvious strength but I figure to take a look at the flop.
The dealer, Rich, burns and turns a flop of Q-3-2.
Not bad, top pair, top kicker. Unless I’m up against pocket kings or aces, which is definitely a likelihood considering the position of the raise.
Mr. Basketball leads out, telling me he’s got a big hand and isn’t afraid of the queen. I raise to let him know where I stand.
Surprisingly, he just calls. If he pops me back, I credit him for kings or aces and toss my top pair in the muck.
But he elects to just call the raise, and here comes the turn card.
Another queen falls. And deep, deep within, I’m smiling broadly. Outwardly, of course, I never change expression.
Mr. Basketball again leads out, but someone next to me interrupts the flow of the game.
“Hey, you know, that shirt’s not right,” a guy says.
Mr. Basketball looks puzzled. Besides, he’s just checked after the second queen has fallen.
“The game stops all the time in the last two minutes,” the guy says, answering his own question. “All kinds of commercials — it takes 30 minutes to play the last two minutes.”
There’s general agreement to this statement. But heck, we’ve got a hand to settle.
I’m not afraid to bet my three ladies, top kicker, so I do.
Mr. Basketball answers with a check-raise.
WTF?
I’m temporarily confused. There’s no way he raised with 3-3 or 2-2, the only hand to which I would be behind.
So I answer his check-raise with a three-bet of my own.
We have a nice little pot building, and the table has forgotten the conversation about basketball and is now watching this hand very intently.
I’m pretty sure I’m up against aces or kings, but there’s fifth street or the river card to come.
Rich burns and turns, and the last queen falls.
Mr. Basketball still likes his hand and leads out. I study the board intently. Then I look back at my hand just to make sure.
Yep, it’s still A-Q.
I toss in a raise, and Mr. Basketball calls.
“Ace kicker,” I say turning up my hand.
Mr. Basketball throws pocket kings face up in the center of the table.
“Nice hand,” he says, gracefully.
“Thank you,” I acknowledge.
“So,” Rich says, “When did you like your hand?”
I smile and toss him a couple of chips. I’m watching the tipping very carefully these days, but he’s a fine dealer.
And the chances of catching running queens after flopping one?
It’s more or less 2/47 x 1/46 or a probability of 0.0013876.
But don’t worry about short-term luck. It comes, and it goes.
