Witnessing poker’s rapid spread, much like watching an active lava flow, is an exhilarating combination of excitement and anxiety.  It’s great that I can see and participate in games in my community.  It’s great that there is so much action so near at hand.  But it’s also a bit terrifying to think that I can satisfy my craving for action so readily.  Last night, for instance.

It was Saturday night.  My wife was out with one of my daughters.  My other daughter was out with friends shopping.  The football game I wanted to watch was over.  I had written an article, eaten an early dinner alone.  Had it been an earlier era I would have taken out a good book and read for the evening.  Or perhaps I would have gone down to my gym to work out.

Instead, I emailed a friend to see if he knew of any poker games in the area.  He mentioned that there was a new club in nearby Chinatown.  I followed up, found out that it was open all afternoon, evening, and night, and that they spread no limit holdem and had tournaments.  So I made the brief 15-minute

PLAY TEXAS HOLDEM AT BODOG POKER

I found the game easily enough.  It was on the 9th floor of a Chinatown office building in one of those converted lofts.  The landlord was probably charging little and doing less by way of upkeep.  There was no heat in the hallway on this 30-degree night.  The bathrooms were awful.  There was no hot water.  The elevator didn’t go up past the sixth floor.  But there it was: a downtown, Chinatown poker room.  Whoda thunk it?

The room was certainly adequate.  For a $4/half hour charge I could have all the soda, water, and oranges that I wanted, play with casino-quality cards and chips, with professional (almost) house dealers, and two nice wide-screen TVs to watch.  There was also an endless variety of Chinese food available if I wanted to order some dinner.  They even had a guy who would pick it up for me.

The place was populated with the next generation of poker players, as I like to call them.  Of the 18 or so players, 16 were college or high school kids.  Only two of us were actual adults.  And I was older by 20 years than the other guy.  I witnessed a lot of what I would normally think of as crazy, wild play that seems to typify the style of many of these young guys.

The blinds were $1/$2.  There was a $300 maximum buy-in to the game.  Most guys bought in short for $50, $100, or $150.  Although the college kids today seem to have much more money than we had when I was in school (in the 70s), they still seem to be on relatively limited poker bankrolls.  Games around campus have $10, $20, or $30 buy-ins.

My first observation of the night was that their raises did not necessarily reflect the quality of their hole cards.  If Gus Hansen could raise with 6-3 suited, by God why couldn’t they!  I saw one fellow raise with Jh8c from middle position.  He raised it to $12 with these cards after two people had called the Big Blind.  He was called by another player with A-4 offsuit.  The first player checked when the flop came Kh Qh 9s.  The guy with the Ace bet $30, and the Jh8c went all in for another $30.  The Ace called him after a long stare.  The Turn and River were inconsequential, and the Ace took down a fairly large pot.  Poker in the year 2005!  And I’m loving it!!!

I saw hands like this all night.  Sometimes the board

PLAY TEXAS HOLDEM

You’d think that a game like this would be very exciting.  All that raising -- such poor hands -- so many opportunities to mix it up with my youngers.  The truth was that it was boring most of the time.  Because most of the time -- the vast majority of the time, in fact -- I just folded.  Usually I folded pre-flop.  Sometimes I’d call from late position if there were already quite a few callers and I thought I’d get in cheap.  When the flop hit, most of the time, I’d fold to a bet.

It was boring because my tactic was not to go in, for the most part, unless I thought I really dominated my opponents or unless I had a draw to a real powerhouse.  Most of the time I expected the betting would be too expensive for my draws to make sense.  And since I really had no clue as to the hands of my opponents, I couldn’t use my hand-reading skills or other manipulative skills to wrestle pots from them with betting tactics that might work against more rational or tighter players.

I was waiting for the nuts.  Or the near nuts, or draws to the nuts or near nuts -- because my opponents were NUTS!

The strategy paid off, as it usually does, but it took a lot of waiting.  I played maybe six hands to the River all five hours.  That’s about one hand an hour.  Here are three examples of that.

I had Aces on the deal.  I raised the $2 to $7 in early position.  I was known as the tight old man so I figured I’d get a couple of callers with this raise.  I was wrong.  Six of my nine opponents called me down.  The flop was As Qs 8h.  I bet $45, which was about the size of the pot.  I got two callers. The Turn was a spade.  I checked.  My first opponent bet $45.  The second opponent called him.  I thought; and called -- hoping to hit one of my 10 cards for a full house or better and expecting that I was against at least one player with a flush.  The River didn’t pair the board.  My first opponent bet his remaining $15.  The other guy called.  I had faith that I was surely beaten by at least one of them, so I saved $15 and folded.  They each had flushes -- one the 3-5, the other the 4-9.  Oh well.

I found the loss heartening.  They called my raise to $7 with complete drek.  And they were willing to call a pot-sized bet with small flush draws.  If I could only get a really strong hand again, I felt that my chances of winning their stacks were pretty good.

A few hands later, in fact, I was fortunate enough to get Kings on the deal.  I had been joking around a few times that I had a pair of Kings when I made small stabs at the pot pre-flop -- loosening them up, so to speak.  I would do this from time to time in late position when I had high suited connectors, raising to $10 or $7 when a bunch of players had called the $2 blind.  I had given myself the right odds for a draw if I hit a draw on the flop.  And by being the first to enter the pot with a raise, in late position, I usually caused these wild but timid players to check to me on the flop if they didn’t hit a decent hand.  I would typically say, “I have a pair of Kings,” as I made this move.

This time I really had the Kings.  I raised to $12 and got four callers.  The flop was KsQsKh.  I checked.  My next opponent checked, as did the guy after him.  The caller to my immediate right bet $25.  I paused, checked my down cards, looked at the player to my left, and called.  One other player, to my immediate left, called.  Three of us saw the Turn.

At this point I was laughing inside but acting nervous.  While acting doesn’t usually work against good players, these were all pretty much single-level thinkers.  Acting was the perfect tool for maximizing my win.  And I played it to the hilt.

The Turn was a 9s.  I was first up.  I laughed a bit to myself as if the flush draw bothered me, slightly shook my head, for the “observant” players to notice, and then checked.  The player to my left bet $50.  The player to my right raised to $100.  I sat back, clearly wrestling with what to do.  And then I called.  The third player called as well.  They each had a couple of hundred more as did I.

The River was a blank.

I looked at each of them long and hard.  I furrowed my brow.  And then I made what I call “a goad.”  I shoved in my chips as if to challenge them, saying, “All in.”  The first player paused a long time before folding.  The second player called immediately for his remaining chips.  I showed down four Kings and won an enormous pot for that game.

I played only one more hand of note.  I was dealt QdJd in late position. An early position player, who was generally wild pre-flop, raised to $12.  Two players called as did I.

The flop was 8d Qs Td, giving me top pair, a flush draw, an inside straight draw and even an inside straight flush draw.  The initial bettor checked his down cards and bet $15.  One player called.  I figured he was making a continuation bet -- just hoping everyone would fold but without really improving his hand (his checking of his down cards was a tell for me that he was weak).  I raised to $50.  The first player called and the second player folded.  We saw the Turn heads up.

The turn was the nearly perfect Kd, giving me the second nut flush.  The first player checked.  I bet $125, the size of my opponent’s stack.  He thought a while and then called me, going all in.  I flipped over my KQ flush.  He turned over a straight.  The River was a blank.  I won another large pot.

I spent the last two hours just watching a nice fight on TV, eating, and playing tightly; not getting any playable hands to speak of.  Even so, with my few victories and fewer defeats I managed to leave close to $500 up for the night, a tidy sum for this $1/$2 blind game.  And the delicious noodles with shredded chicken and bean sprouts in a garlic sauce were a bonus.