I wore one my favorite caps to a poker game the other day.
The cap gets a variety of reactions. I wore it once to a room and the dealer waited one lap before asking me about it. Other players at the table appeared curious. I took the cap off, looked at it, and put it back on. “Keeps my head warm in the wintertime,” I said. That got a few laughs.
I wore it to another room maybe a month ago. After perhaps three minutes, the dealer said, “OK, Dan, what do those letters stand for?” I merely smiled and put my head down. But another player dug out his phone, looked it up and read a definition.
Regardless, I was in poker game with that cap on. After perhaps an hour, the guy to my immediate right raised. I had been watching him and listening to him for some time and learned a few things. He had a large stack and had me covered in chips on the table. He knew the dealers, and the dealers knew him. He had a dark T-shirt with symbols from the periodic table on the front. And he was left-handed — that is, he used his left hand when he wanted to bet chips. Also, he had a wide opening range — in other words, he raised a lot of pots, usually to $10.
So, once again, he open to $10. I peeked down and found A-K offsuit, one of the better Texas hold’em hands. A re-raise here would be good. Flat calling is OK and perhaps also acceptable. Regardless, I just called, and three players behind me called.
I was rooting hard for an ace or king on the flop. That didn’t happen. The flop came 10-7-3 with two diamonds. Mr. Periodic Table bet $15 into the pot. I had seem him fold once to a three-bet after a $15 lead. I had the diamond ace in my hand and briefly considered raising, wondering if that would win me the pot right there. Instead, I just called. Everyone else folded. So the pot is $80 before the house drops $6 and $2 goes down the chute for high hands, bonuses and something very elusive called a bad-beat jackpot.
The dealer burns a card, and the turn card seems helpful — it’s the ace of clubs. But Mr. Periodic table leads out again, this time for $60 into the $80 pot. Did he make two pair with A-10? That would not be good. Most likely, I reason, he has a hand like mine: A-K, hopefully A-Q or A-J. After some deliberation, I call his $60 bet, and we have a $200 pot.
The dealer burns and turns. I don’t remember what the river card was, but it was a small card or a blank. Mr. Periodic Table fires one more time, $80 into the $200 pot. My math is getting better, and I know the pot is laying me roughly 3.5-1. (Actually, if you discount the house rake, it’s exactly 3.5-1).
So, what does he have? He certainly could have A-A, 10-10 or A-10. And what does he think I have? But he’s opened a lot of hands. After some consideration, I believe he’s polarized. That’s a fancy way of saying, either he has a big hand or he doesn’t have much of anything.
I count out $80 in chips and look at him. I look at the dealer, who is waiting for me to act. I look at the players, who are mildly intrigued and also waiting for me to act. Then I count the $80 in chips again. It’s three stacks of five red chips plus one more. I look at him one more time. He’s not moved a facial muscle.
I slide the chips into the pot. Very softly, he says, “Good call.”
That’s music to the ears, a symphony to the tympanic membrane, an opera to the auditory ossicles. It means he doesn’t have much of anything.
He shows a pair of 7s he had made on the flop. I show my pair of aces, and the dealer pushes me a swarm of red chips.
I smile a little to myself, and tip the dealer one of the red chips.
We play a few more laps. Mr. PeriodicTable opens once again, this time to $12. I peek down at J-J in the pocket and make it $25 to go. Two players behind me call, but Mr. Periodic Table folds to the three-bet (!).
A jack lands on the flop along with two clubs, but my post-flop bet wins that pot (but not before the house collects another $8).
We play a few more laps, and Mr. Periodic Table finally racks up and gets up to leave. He says goodbye to everyone, and we all say goodbye to him.
I smile a little to myself one more time. It’s really all about the EBITA.
