Brighton Rack Part 3
We left you off with tales of a much deserved defeat at the hands of the smarmy grinders of the Brighton Grosvenor.
(Incidentally I now remember how Goblin went out - he shoved two live-connectors from the cutoff and was called by a high ace, if I remember correctly? He lost of course (otherwise I wouldn't be mentioning it), although the guy who won conceded that Mike's cards were the sort of ones it was best to go all in with on account of their likely liveness.)
If I recall correctly, we didn't play for the next two nights. However, by Saturday our appetite was back, and we were ready to sit down to some fish and chips. The only thing on the menu was a £10 Rebuy, but it was better than nothing.
The diner in question was the famous Brighton Rendezvous. Famous amongst poker players anyway. And just to clarify, it was a casino, not a restaurant. That was just me using confusing metaphors, battering my 'fish and chips' joke until it is no longer edible.
The Rendezvous was rather different to the Grosvenor. It was much bigger for a start, although the card room area itself was rather cramped. The poker tables, rather than being the default 9/10 seaters, were infact designed to sit 7. Out of a starting field of around 90 (again, bigger than the Grosvenor fields which had typically been around 40) Goblin and I were sat at the same table. I played few pots and made few challenging decisions. Goblin never got a stack early on and spent the last 10 minutes or so going all in very liberally just for the chance to get a stack. This is probably a good strategy, but it's just that much more annoying when it doesn't work because it's expensive. Our average buyin for the night was £60 (after splitting), which was depressingly high, as usually when I go into a rebuy tournament I expect to spend my initial buy in and a top up, and only make a rebuy or two if I get unlucky.
The people around my table were a mixed bunch, though none of them seemed particularly talented. To Goblin's left there was an East-Asian guy who was always happy to show his cards. To my left there was a retired man, probably in his mid/late 60s. In one pot against him he bet out on an A35 board - I didn't have anything so I folded.
"Deuce-four?" I asked him, smirking.
"What?" he asked?
"Deuce-four?" I asked again.
He looked at me as if I was mad! Perhaps I should have said "did you see those three cards on the board - the Ace, three and the five. Well, if you had a two and a four in your hand, they would made a straight, as you'd have a run of cards going from Ace-to-Five (and Aces are low, remember). If you did have that hand, then it was better than my hand and it deserved to win the pot. Because it was the best possible hand on that board, although quite why you'd be playing deuce-four, sorry, a two and a four in that position is beyond me, hence the sardonic smirk in my initial asking of the question."
Goblin went bust shortly after the break, so now it was up to me. Not that my being the only one left would have affected my play in the slightest - it was an arbitrary consideration. There was no reason to hurry - I had waited long enough on the first night and it had been worth it. Now it was his turn to wait.
However, if human pressures weren't hurrying me, the blinds schedule was. At the Grosvenor blinds had gone up every 25 minutes during the £5 Rebuy. Here they were going up every 20 minutes, so it was that much more crapshooty. Even winning an all in provided only a little relief, as it would only be another round of blinds before the blinds went up again, and suddenly your M of 6 becomes an M of 4.
However, every cloud has a silver lining. The cloud in this case was the fast structure, the silver lining was the fact that the tourney was progressing rapidly, and it wasn't too long before we were at the final three tables, each playing seven-max. It was here that things got exciting. I made a classic survival shove with King Eight on the button versus Ace King on the small blind. Obviously I won, and sneered apologetically at the small-blind guy.
Two to my left was a small guy who looked a bit like Joe Hachem. It was clear from his general demeanour that he was from London, and he kept talking and saying things. Once I shoved pocket tens from UTG. Hachem pipes up ' ah yeah, got to respect the under-the-gun all in, he must be strong'.
We were getting close to the prize money. Top prize had originally been processed as being £1,490, but they had chopped some money off 9th place so that 1st was now the more aesthetically pleasing figure of £1,500. I was fairly relaxed at the prospect of winning all this money. It was the most I'd ever had the chance of winning (save a few online tournaments) but at the same time it wasn't silly money - it was a lot, but it sort of made sense in the scheme of things. We had put forward a combined £120 in this tournament, and so £1,500 seemed like a just rewards.
Unfortunately I came nowhere near it. I busted in 15th place as my A9 ran into AK.
Mike had decided to play a 1/1 cash game in the meantime. I joined him later on.
It was only 20 minutes after sitting down that I was identified as the tight player of the table. "I'd love to have what he's waiting for!" laughed the old man to some younger older man (probably in his 50s) to his left. I later entered a pot with ATo and was heads up against the old man. I bet out £8, to which his response was "take it! take it! [it's yours!]" - I waited for him to muck before flipping over my Ace-high. I had intended it as a bluff. "I bet he thinks that's really clever" he said to the guy to his left "I had the same hand". He was indignant, but I had only flipped my 'bluff' to show off that even if I was playing tight I was still going to take pots away with nothing.
Meanwhile Goblin got involved in some huge pots with a student. I believe the said student ended up folding two pair on a three-flush board. I think, after the flop all-in four bet from Goblin, the student may have been correct in folding, but he sure took a long time about it.
Goblin finished up in the cash game, myself marginally down. On average we were £15 up each, softening the blow of the tournament loss.
The bus journey home was fairly relaxed. The old man himself was on the same bus, and we had a good conservation about poker, although he did seem to want to talk rather more about what his son and daughter are up to, and the respectable professions they were following.
So all in all a strange night at the Rendezvous.
Two more nights came to follow - I shall talk about them both in Part 11.
We left you off with tales of a much deserved defeat at the hands of the smarmy grinders of the Brighton Grosvenor.
(Incidentally I now remember how Goblin went out - he shoved two live-connectors from the cutoff and was called by a high ace, if I remember correctly? He lost of course (otherwise I wouldn't be mentioning it), although the guy who won conceded that Mike's cards were the sort of ones it was best to go all in with on account of their likely liveness.)
If I recall correctly, we didn't play for the next two nights. However, by Saturday our appetite was back, and we were ready to sit down to some fish and chips. The only thing on the menu was a £10 Rebuy, but it was better than nothing.
The diner in question was the famous Brighton Rendezvous. Famous amongst poker players anyway. And just to clarify, it was a casino, not a restaurant. That was just me using confusing metaphors, battering my 'fish and chips' joke until it is no longer edible.
The Rendezvous was rather different to the Grosvenor. It was much bigger for a start, although the card room area itself was rather cramped. The poker tables, rather than being the default 9/10 seaters, were infact designed to sit 7. Out of a starting field of around 90 (again, bigger than the Grosvenor fields which had typically been around 40) Goblin and I were sat at the same table. I played few pots and made few challenging decisions. Goblin never got a stack early on and spent the last 10 minutes or so going all in very liberally just for the chance to get a stack. This is probably a good strategy, but it's just that much more annoying when it doesn't work because it's expensive. Our average buyin for the night was £60 (after splitting), which was depressingly high, as usually when I go into a rebuy tournament I expect to spend my initial buy in and a top up, and only make a rebuy or two if I get unlucky.
The people around my table were a mixed bunch, though none of them seemed particularly talented. To Goblin's left there was an East-Asian guy who was always happy to show his cards. To my left there was a retired man, probably in his mid/late 60s. In one pot against him he bet out on an A35 board - I didn't have anything so I folded.
"Deuce-four?" I asked him, smirking.
"What?" he asked?
"Deuce-four?" I asked again.
He looked at me as if I was mad! Perhaps I should have said "did you see those three cards on the board - the Ace, three and the five. Well, if you had a two and a four in your hand, they would made a straight, as you'd have a run of cards going from Ace-to-Five (and Aces are low, remember). If you did have that hand, then it was better than my hand and it deserved to win the pot. Because it was the best possible hand on that board, although quite why you'd be playing deuce-four, sorry, a two and a four in that position is beyond me, hence the sardonic smirk in my initial asking of the question."
Goblin went bust shortly after the break, so now it was up to me. Not that my being the only one left would have affected my play in the slightest - it was an arbitrary consideration. There was no reason to hurry - I had waited long enough on the first night and it had been worth it. Now it was his turn to wait.
However, if human pressures weren't hurrying me, the blinds schedule was. At the Grosvenor blinds had gone up every 25 minutes during the £5 Rebuy. Here they were going up every 20 minutes, so it was that much more crapshooty. Even winning an all in provided only a little relief, as it would only be another round of blinds before the blinds went up again, and suddenly your M of 6 becomes an M of 4.
However, every cloud has a silver lining. The cloud in this case was the fast structure, the silver lining was the fact that the tourney was progressing rapidly, and it wasn't too long before we were at the final three tables, each playing seven-max. It was here that things got exciting. I made a classic survival shove with King Eight on the button versus Ace King on the small blind. Obviously I won, and sneered apologetically at the small-blind guy.
Two to my left was a small guy who looked a bit like Joe Hachem. It was clear from his general demeanour that he was from London, and he kept talking and saying things. Once I shoved pocket tens from UTG. Hachem pipes up ' ah yeah, got to respect the under-the-gun all in, he must be strong'.
We were getting close to the prize money. Top prize had originally been processed as being £1,490, but they had chopped some money off 9th place so that 1st was now the more aesthetically pleasing figure of £1,500. I was fairly relaxed at the prospect of winning all this money. It was the most I'd ever had the chance of winning (save a few online tournaments) but at the same time it wasn't silly money - it was a lot, but it sort of made sense in the scheme of things. We had put forward a combined £120 in this tournament, and so £1,500 seemed like a just rewards.
Unfortunately I came nowhere near it. I busted in 15th place as my A9 ran into AK.
Mike had decided to play a 1/1 cash game in the meantime. I joined him later on.
It was only 20 minutes after sitting down that I was identified as the tight player of the table. "I'd love to have what he's waiting for!" laughed the old man to some younger older man (probably in his 50s) to his left. I later entered a pot with ATo and was heads up against the old man. I bet out £8, to which his response was "take it! take it! [it's yours!]" - I waited for him to muck before flipping over my Ace-high. I had intended it as a bluff. "I bet he thinks that's really clever" he said to the guy to his left "I had the same hand". He was indignant, but I had only flipped my 'bluff' to show off that even if I was playing tight I was still going to take pots away with nothing.
Meanwhile Goblin got involved in some huge pots with a student. I believe the said student ended up folding two pair on a three-flush board. I think, after the flop all-in four bet from Goblin, the student may have been correct in folding, but he sure took a long time about it.
Goblin finished up in the cash game, myself marginally down. On average we were £15 up each, softening the blow of the tournament loss.
The bus journey home was fairly relaxed. The old man himself was on the same bus, and we had a good conservation about poker, although he did seem to want to talk rather more about what his son and daughter are up to, and the respectable professions they were following.
So all in all a strange night at the Rendezvous.
Two more nights came to follow - I shall talk about them both in Part 11.
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