(Oh, and if any opponents read this and decide they should try to piss me off the next time we play, you should know I also play better when someone has pissed me off. My worst game is when I'm stuck in neutral.)
The bad news is that Kathy plays very well, much better than an average random opponent in a medium-to-high buy-in tournament. Her presence thus makes it tougher to win. We didn't have any major confrontations in tournament #1, but today we had several, and as is often the case when doing battle with a tough player, I won most of the little battles but lost the big one.
The tournament was the $330 one-rebuy No-Limit Hold'em event at Hollywood Park's National Championship of Poker. I didn't do anything horribly wrong to get knocked out today, just held the wrong cards at the wrong time. The blinds were up to $100-200, there were about $98,000 in chips in play, we were down to 28 players, and I had about $2,300, putting me below average (divide 98,000 by 28 and you get a "par" figure of $3,500) but not crippled.
A Trouble Hand for Andy
A player who had been doing a fair amount of limping and then folding in the face of pressure or high card flops limped in for $200 in second position, and I looked down to find one of my favorite "trouble" hands, J-J. I think Jacks are the hardest of all the pocket pairs to play; they are simultaneously powerful and vulnerable. I raised it to $1,000.
There's a strong argument that I just should have pushed all $2,300 in, because Jacks are not a hand that does well against multiple opponents, and there was already a limper in the pot. But I was only in middle position, and in case something odd happened like someone else moving in and yet another player (such as the limper who could have been lying in the weeds with aces) calling before the action got back to me, I wanted to be able to get away from the hand. If only one person played back at me, I was committed. If I had it to do over again, I'd have pushed all-in (not that, as you'll see, it would have changed anything).
The action folded around to Kathy, who was in the big blind. During the last two events, I had been re-raising many of her initial moves at the pot, and she kept laying hands down, warning me (in a friendly fashion) that she was laying down some big hands and I should be careful about moving over her with all that cheese (poker slang for a weak hand). I would usually put on my most innocent face, widen my eyes, and say something like, "Cheese? Me?" and she'd say something like, "Well if the hands are so good, how come you’re never showing them?"
"How Do You Know When A Poker Player Is Lying? His Mouth Is Moving."
I maintained then and now that it just so happened that I've held cards when Kathy has been raising, but of course you can't believe very much of what a poker player says about cards he doesn't show, so my claim is meaningless.
This time Kathy, who had about $4,000 in chips, played back at me, re-raising a big enough stack to cover me. The limper folded quickly. I shrugged and called; we'd been exchanging enough banter about raising with cheese that it was certainly possible she was re-raising me with a hand worse than Jacks. I was far from thrilled, because I wasn't getting a good price if she had an overpair (there was $3,600 in the pot that committing my remaining $1,300 would allow me to contest).
We were both silent when the flop came what looked like a promising 7-3-7, but when a Queen hit on the turn, she announced, "I have queens full," and flipped her always-leading Q-Q on the table. Just for spite the dealer made me a flush on the river, but hey, the best hand won, no complaints.
The Real Question
The more interesting question (although whether or not I should have pushed in instead of betting $1,000 is also pretty interesting) is what should I have been doing all those times Kathy asked to see my hand or asked me about my hand after she’d folded to my re-raise. You see a lot of players showing hands. Some players like to show bluffs (a move that should probably also be left to The Great Ones, unless you know your opponent well enough to know it will put him on tilt), but most players like to show they were raising with a hand like K-K, just to prove how solid they are.
In the movie "Star Trek III: The Search for Spock," Captain Kirk gets into a major confrontation with the Klingon Captain Kruge (a great job by actor Christopher Lloyd). The Genesis Planet is about to explode, and Kruge is preparing to beam himself and Kirk back to his ship. Kirk pleads with his opponent also to beam his prone companion, Spock, off the planet. Kirk says something like, "Why not beam him along, he can’t possibly hurt you?" to Kruge, who snarls, "Because you wish it!"
A fierce competitor seeks every edge, and even if he can't see any reason for not complying with an opponent's request (or for deciding "Why not show them I play some strong hands?"), the mere fact that the opponent wishes the information is enough. I'm usually thrilled to get a look at a hand for free. Poker is not a game of cooperation.
Why Give Your Opponent Information?
Instead, poker is a game of incomplete information. The more information you have about your opponent, the better chance you have to defeat him. Although some players whom I respect disagree with me, I believe only truly great players should show cards, because only truly great players understand enough about the game and their opponents to gain from it.
Another good reason not to show your hand is that some people will call you because they are curious about what you have. They just have to see, because they can't bear to think they might possibly be folding the best hand. This doesn't happen as much in tournaments, but is very common in side games. If you make a habit of showing your hand, you risk losing these curiosity calls.
True Greatness Still Awaits
Kathy saw two Jacks when she played back. That's all the information she paid for, and that's all the (reliable) information she's getting. I guess by adopting the position that I don't and won't show my cards, I'm saying, by my own definition, that I'm not a truly great player, and I think that's the case.
I think I'm good - very good - and I'm getting better very fast, but I don't yet play at the same level as some of the people I meet in major tournaments. Until I think I'm the best player at the table, and until I know I'm getting more than I’m giving by showing my hand, people who want to see my cards know they have to pay for the privilege. I think most players would do well to follow the same approach… unless, of course, you're playing with me.
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You should never be intimidated. Play steady, and have fun.
