MAYBE IT WAS an omen.
Three levels of covered parking were cordoned off by security forces with flashing lights on trucks and formidable concrete barricades. What the heck?
So, I had to park the Challenger on surface parking. Not ideal in 112-degree heat. But we found some splotchy shade under a scrawny parking lot tree and dug out an ancient sunshade from the now demolished Texas Station Gambling Hall & Hotel.
Then the afternoon picked up. As I walked into a popular casino in the western valley wearing my University of Alabama cap, two young women called out “Roll Tide.” I responded with a hearty “Go ‘Bama!”
And very soon, I was seated in a poker game. Nasty lineup with big stacks and dark, sullen faces. After checking with the reigning floor person, moved tables once, then again before settling into a table with smaller stacks and less preflop raising. If you’re not the most aggressive player at the table, why are you even there? Managed to nudge up my chip stack, but made a weak call with top pair vs. what was likely two pair. Yup, the villain had two pair. The math was right, the call was poor.
SO WE DRIFTED into the early evening. Through cunning and acumen, I had turned $400 into about $100 and change. Not the end of the world, but not a good way to kick off August either. Even worse, the expressionless guy sitting to my left wearing a St. Kitts cap was running over the game and building his stack north of $1,000. He even back-doored four queens to put him in the running for the “High hand of the 30 minutes,” which was worth another grand. Finally made a stand and was all-in vs. Mr. Caribbean with pocket aces. They held up, and I had some chips again. And much to Mr. Caribbean’s chagrin. the four queens were bumped from the leader board by a small straight flush.
Then I misplayed A-K into a flop with an ace in a three-way pot. An early position guy check-raised all in. That smelled of two pair or even a set, so I very reluctantly cut line and bait. Mr. Caribbean paid him off and saw a set of sixes. I was not surprised. Mr. Caribbean turned to me and asked, “Did you have an ace?” Duh, what do you think?
Mr. Caribbean and I clashed again over a monster $40 pot on a board of 6-5-4-6-5. He bet $20 after the runout. I called, and he showed 10-9, and my A-J was good. Holly from Grand Haven, Mich., was dealing, and I asked her to move my chips to the No. 1 seat, which gave me position over Mr. Caribbean and one other player.
Mr. Caribbean’s luck had turned sharply south and his once dominating stack of red chips had dwindled noticeably. A few hands later, he tossed out his standard raise of $20, and I found pocket aces again. I raised to $65 which shut out everyone else. The flop brought a king, which was good and the runout was otherwise safe. With my bets on the turn and the river, I was all-in again, but the aces were good. Mr. Caribbean seemed surprised, but a well-known regular offered an incisive comment. “Check out the cap,” he said. “What do you think he had?”
WE WERE WELL into the evening now, and it was time to find the Challenger and head for home. But I picked up pocket queens, tossed in an oversized raise and got two callers. The flop was 10-high and the runout harmless. I bet the flop, checked the turn to see where I stood and maybe induce a bluff, and fired again on the river. The queens were good and I was within a whisker of breaking even. How does that song go, you’ve got to “Know when to walk away/And know when to run”?
Close to where I had started the day, I decided to walk away. Ironically, Mr. Caribbean had only gray dollar and white two dollar chips in front of him and was rebuying. When I walked to the parking lot, there was a sultry southeasterly breeze blowing. But the Challenger fired up, the AC whirred to life, and I headed for home. Reminding myself again that, “Somewhere in the darkness/The gambler he broke even.”
Footnote: The song, “The Gambler,” was written by Don Schlitz and recorded by several artists including Johnny Cash before it became a No. 1 country hit by Kenny Rogers in 1978.
