Gutshot Maniac

Some people just can’t seem to keep their ignorant opinions to themselves at the poker table.  Two nights ago, I made my way over to South Point with Eric and Mickey to meet up with Rich and play some cards.  We promptly hopped on the list for $1-2 NL.  I jumped in the $2-4 limit game to kill some time and saw one hand before a new table of $1-2 NL was opened with all of our names being called.  This is where one of the best ten minutes of my poker life occurred.

After the dealer was down exchanging everyone’s cash for checks, and before the first hand was dealt, Rich mentioned that he had heard on the radio that the day before Michael Jackson passed he did a run through of his upcoming concert in preparation.  The run through turned out so well, that it was planned on being released as a DVD due to the sad happenings the following day.  I thought that was pretty cool, along with most of the table.  Not too mention, I’m a big fan of M.J. and his music.  Of course, not everyone shared the same feelings.

The tall, rugged, older gentleman in seat four promptly chimed in, “I’m glad that mother fucker’s dead.  Damn fucking child molester, he’s better off dead!”  His tone was so maliciously hateful, acidic, and malevolent that the entire table was at a loss for words.  No one chimed in with a response as Rich and I glared at each other with our jaws wide open. The dealer seemed a little brought back by the comment and couldn’t seem to give the man a warning about his foul language because she looked so much in shock.  At any rate, after a brief hesitation, she dealt out the hand.  Cue the greatest beat I’ve ever put on someone.

I had the button in the eight seat and everyone folded to the kind gentleman in seat four who had such nice words about M.J.  He reached into his stack of $200 and grabbed enough chips to raise the action to $12.  When action folded over to me on the button, I looked down to see a nice 54o.  Not only was I a little upset about the disrespect for M.J., but the hand has some sentimental meaning to me.  One of my best friends’ younger brother died in a car crash a few years back.  He was also a friend of mine and somewhat of a little brother to all of us in the older crew.  He wore number 45 on his hockey jersey and since then, if you have any combination of a 45o or 45s, you’re more than likely going to play it.  His older brother and my best friend, Mike, just got married this past week and we danced our faces off all night whenever a Michael Jackson song blasted through the speakers.  In my head all I was thinking was, “I’m going to crack this guy hard for M.J. and Nerm (my friend’s brother’s nickname).”  I then tossed in the call and everyone else folded.

The flop came down 7c-6c-2h and the guy bet out $25.  I called so fast that I accidentally tossed out $30 in chips instead of the correct amount.  I really didn’t care how much the bet was, I was calling.  I will add that the man had a nice trucker-style hat on which had hunting camouflage plastered on the front and a bright Confederate flag.

He stared me down as the dealer dealt the 4d on the turn and then quickly reached into his stack again and began counting out chips past the bet line for a wager.  I almost mirrored his betting motion to match his stacks.  The total bet turned out to be $50.  Rich and I caught eyes right here and Rich just seemed to know what was coming as he gave a little smirk.

The river was the 4h, tripping up my fours even though I missed the straight draw.  The man stacked his smaller stack on top of the larger one and slid it out.  ”I call.” instantly rolled off my tongue.  As soon as I said call, the man flipped up Js-Jc for an overpair.  I tabled my 54o and the dealer mucked his hand, but not before the man tried to claim he had the best of it.  I pushed my hand a little further towards to middle of the table to show him I held trip fours.  Disgusted by my holding, all he was left doing was shaking his head while staring me down some more.  He then rebought for $300.  Rich was dying with laughter, but doing his best to cover it up.  Mickey and Eric had smiles on as well.

After he received his new checks a minute later, the man looked at me and said, “What’d you think, I honestly didn’t have anything?”

“I’m a fan of Michael Jackson, that one was for him.” I responded.

I honestly don’t know how Rich was able to keep in the laughter he clearly wanted to emit as his face turned bright red.  The dealer was smirking as well as everyone else at the table.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like his music, but he was still a damn child molester.” chimed in the guy after he mucked his next hand.  I didn’t respond this time as I was watching Mickey cover his laughter up with his hooded sweatshirt.  A few hands later, things got even better.

I was under the gun and peeked down at two black aces.  Now, I rarely ever open limp with aces, but this just seemed too perfect.  I limped and a player two seats behind me limped as well.  The great wonder that was seat four reached for chips and grabbed three red ones.  Just as he slid the $15 in for a raise, I almost jumped out of my chair with excitement.  No really, I sprung up laughing.  Out of all people to limp-reraise, it was going to be this guy.

Action folded back over to me and with my towers of red checks stacked about 30-35 high, slid one passed the white like for a reraise.  The other limper folded, which prompted the man to immediately grabbed his stacks Phil Hellmuth style to move all in.  In a similar fashion to before, the words “I call.” vaulted from my lips.

I the man immediately tabled two kings.  I never like to show my hand in a live cash game unless I have to, so I kept my aces hidden.  It’s not to slowroll, but rather that if I happen to lose the hand, I’ll simply muck and not give anyone the luxury of seeing my cards to determine how I may play a specific hand.  I did chime in with “I have that beat.”

The board ran out Q-6-3-7-J and I flipped over my aces to win the hand.  Within 10 minutes, I was granted two full buy-ins from the M.J. hater and man, it felt good.  It didn’t take long for the guy to jerk up from his chair and storm out of the room.  Rich was roaring with amusement and once he exited, the young, lone woman at the table summed up what I believe everyone was thinking in just a few words, “What an asshole.”