Today we got off to a rather slow start, primarily because leo's boy managed to sleep until 1pm. This is even more impressive when you consider the time difference, which puts him at sleeping until 3pm Nashville time. I'll leave leo to discuss the matter at length, but suffice it to say at 2pm basically all we had done was eat some biscuits, lounge in the sun, and discuss the merits of inviting Captain R on next year's trip. For the record we came down on the pro side, but just barely.
Eventually, however, the inevitable march of progress could no longer be halted. Sam dropped me off at CAZ around 3pm, with the boys in tow on their way to the skate park. Leo stayed behind, citing a need to restock our supplies, a claim with which I could not argue as both the Ketel One and lemonade reserves had been greatly depleted. I walked straight to the cage to buy a couple racks of red, and as I stood in line the must move game disintegrated before my eyes. An hour later, after dropping a rack and a half in the 8/16 game, I finally had a seat in a game that I can only describe as a remarkable specimen. 8 rack heater guy from the night before was in attendance, in addition to a few other monkeys playing virtually every pot. A blind monkey could have won in this game. I bumbled my way to even, just in time for leo's arrival around 6pm.
Just as I had, leo waited patiently for a seat, sweating me through several glorious victories (QJo on a Q76dd-K-K board? 3 bets 3 ways on the flop, two calls on the turn, and a lookup on the river thank you very much for the rack). By 7pm we were both in the game, with $2500 between us. It was all over by 8:30. Leo did not win a single pot in the first 75 minutes, being subjected to all manner of disorderly conduct. Flopped trips? Not even close. Queen high flush on an un-paired board? No good. But being the upstanding gentleman that he is leo endured the slings and arrows of fate without so much as a single complaint. The final nail (the aforementioned queen high flush) was driven and reduced leo's stack to mere bric-a-brac. He declared "well, I've never been felted" and continued to play out the orbit. UTG+1 he open raised and...I folded....some others folded. The small blind folded....and the big blind...folded! Pot A! Leo scooped up the $30 of blinds and declared "I'm done" to the dealer. At this point I had no choice but to point out two simple facts:
1. He had one more free hand.
2. I'd just ordered us another round.
Faced with this unassailable fact Leo first declared "OK, one more hand" and took his UTG hand, which he promptly folded. Upon reflection of point 2 he decided that it was silly to just wait around the next 15 minutes for Sam to come pick us up, and decided to play out one last orbit. Justice was swift.
Having changed to seat 3 a few orbits ago, I opened this hand from UTG with the K Q. Flo, a blind old man who had to be read all board cards of interest, cold called the two bets in the 5 seat, and the action folded around to Leo (actually this might not be true...I think there was a 4th player in the pot who folded on the flop. such vagaries have grown more and more common with me it seems) and his short stack in the 2 hole. He called, and a slight smirk slid slowly across his tanned countenance. I was not to be the one who felted him. Not this man. The flop appeared:
T 9 4
Leo checked and I dutifully bet. The old man instantly raised, and the aforementioned fourth man at some point folded. Leo called the two bets cold, which I didn't even give a second thought since I had a gut shot at the nuts and was calling basically not matter what. In retrospect, his call with only 7 should have set off all kinds of alarm bells, as he's obviously trying to make sure I toss 4 more chips out there knowing full well all his money is going in. At this point, let us pause for a hole cam shot of leo's hand:
Well done sir! You've done it, your last orbit is about to be an epic rush getting you back to even and creating great material for the trip report. Half truths, these things. Nothing but half truths.
So we've reached the turn with 7 big bets, and find the board reading:
T 9 4 - 9
Leo checks, I check and the old man bets. Leo calls his last 7 chips with the second nuts and I toss my hand into the muck, wondering what the sly fox on my right is about to show down. He shows great restraint in neither tipping the dealer his last $1 chip or tabling his substantial good, and the dealer burns and turns the river:
T 9 4 - 9 - K
Leo rolls his hand triumphantly. The old man is confused and turns over his red kings. The table, having grown fond of leo and tired of the old man constantly asking what cards are on board (from the 5 seat no less) is beside itself. There is a murmur of displeasure as leo tips the dealer his last $1 chip anyway and declares "time for a smoke" as he walks away from the table. A regular says to me specifically "One more hand. It's free" and I just shake my head. After all, it's not my fault he can't make his boats float.