A Small Limit Tournament in NYC

[shipitfish]

Last night, I played a small limit tournament at a local NYC club. This small club was seeking to generate additional interest (they are a small three-table club) by filling the niche of limit games; there are few in the city. Most players seems to want only NL, thanks to television, I presume.

The entry was $40+$0 (no fee because of the promotional nature). It looked for a moment like there were going to be 20 entrants, and 20 stacks were put across two tables, but in the end we only had 13. We started with a table of 6 (my table) and one of 7.

I quickly realized that this low buy-in tourney, which I was playing merely to get a chance to play some non-online limit after months of only NL, had drawn out of the woodwork many baby-stakes online limit players. These folks obviously had added themselves to club mailing lists, but didn't have the interest/bankroll for the bigger games typically run. (When limit does get going at these clubs, it is usually never less than $10/$20.)

Indeed, one player asked if we knew of any $2/$4 HE games in the city, and another mentioned he was looking for $1/$2. A few were answering profusely ("They have $1/$2 everywhere!") until we all realized that they meant $1/$2 and $2/$4 limit HE. Everyone had been telling him about NL games with those blind structures; there's nowhere to play anything as low as they wanted in the city.

Two places paid, and I decided quickly that my goal was to win. Second received $190 and first, $330, so there was basically no point in playing if I wasn't going to win. There were rumors that $5/$10 limit game would start once the tables merged, so I decided I wanted to start that $5/$10 game (i.e., bust early) or be on my way to "final table" with a big chip lead. (In the end, $3/$6 with a $3 per half time charge ran, and I opted out of a high rake low-limit game.)

My table was amusingly tight; I got a walk in my first two big blinds, and I blind-raised an empty stack (which were put on the table for the first two round in case more customers arrived) from my small blind three times when it was folded to me. I decided after two passes of the button that I had to chase the dead blind money hard. It wasn't really necessary this early, but there was no point in trying to get to third with a small stack.

I began raising with any face card or ace. I took the blinds for a while, until they decided to start calling me. And, of course, they were typical "read a book or two" players: super-tight preflop, but calling stations on the flop. Kickerless top pair was going to the river every time, no matter what. So, trying to run over the table quickly became pointless. "Fortunately", I got pegged as loose and half the table would take a flop with me when I raised.

I shifted gears immediately and hoped for a card rush. I picked up JJ in a three way raised pot and three-bet. I was glad to see a rainbow A-J-5 flop; I was confident that one of my opponents had an Ace. As it turned out, no aces were out, but the set of 5's paid off for a three bet on the turn and one bet on the river. I was now the chip leader.

I held back, since the blinds were still small. The tables merged, and I got a complete newbie trapped with K Q when I held AA, and had three-bet her from the SB. On the Q J 5 flop, I had her on AQ until the river. The river made running jacks for trips on-board, and she raised all-in. I decided with 1-to-8.5 pot odds to pay off the possible quads, which thankfully turned out to be merely nuts-paranoia on my part. :)

We got down to three players when the only other strong player of the final four was rivered by a set. Strong Guy had held QQ as an overpair and led all the way. The trip 9s were held by our resident calling station, who was never afraid of overcards.

I should have remembered that later when I flopped middle pair on an A Q 5 flop with a Q3o in an unraised BB. I knew he didn't have an Ace, because he knew enough to raise preflop with Ace-high. He also had a classic Caro-style "strong-means-weak" stare-down tell. I felt that with most of my chips in the pot by the turn, I was pot committed, even when a hit. I bet into it, despite his flop raise, and he called me down. He held K K, which he slow-played preflop, but I rivered the river-er by catching a 3 and the chip lead.

As the dealer shipped it, I said: "Well, that was a lucky catch, and it just won me the tournament." The two of them looked at me, then at their stacks and back at me with these "what are our chips, chopped liver?" looks. Admittedly, it was a bit arrogant to say, and I regretted it immediately, but I also knew I was a huge favorite in limit HE to both of them, and with my lucky catch, I was the clear favorite to win.

The calling station called off his chips to the young man to his left, and we were heads up. This fellow was quite a character. It was almost as if he was playing poker for the first time (heck, maybe he was!). He couldn't count the chips easily, and refused to follow my lead of stacking them in small-bet stacks so that he could bet and raise easily. It was taking upwards to 30 seconds for a bet-raise-fold preflop sequence so common in heads-up play. The poor dealer was also deeply frustrated, because my opponent was unfamiliar with protocol of helping the dealer move things along when heads up.

With a 3-to-1 chip lead, I held myself from bursting out laughing when he offered me a "chop". I said, no, I thought I could win and would like to play on. I realized of course that having someone who doesn't know when to fold is a tough opponent heads up, because when he did connect at all with a flop, he called to a river. He won a pot that way that got him to "only" a 2-to-1 deficit. It had only been about five hands, due to his chip fumbling. (Later, the dealer put it succinctly: "It was like a calculus problem for him to count out a big bet".)

We were five minutes from another blind increase, and it was clear that luck would be pushing in hard soon. I had no interest in torturing the staff unduly, so I said: "Look, I'm a very experienced limit HE player, and I'm going to win this thing. I'll give you $30 from my prize to end it now so these guys can use the table for another cash game." It was bad deal in most spots, but he said: "Thanks, there's a beer waiting for me, but let's play one more hand." I asked what he meant and he said: "Oh, I just want to see one more hand". We dealt it out, I folded the SB, and paid him his $30, leaving me with $300. Of that, I over-tipped the poor dealers $40, who had struggled while politely dealing to this inexperienced field.

The strangest part of all this to me was how exciting it felt. During play, I stopped and thought to myself that I had faced single bets in NL games larger than the top prize itself! Yet, it was hard not to get caught up in the moment of the tournament -- that feeling of surviving a field, albeit a small one. I understand why people love tournament play so much; it's dramatic in a way that cash games just aren't. On the other hand, I couldn't imagine only playing tournaments, or even having tournaments being my primary poker experience. The frustration when you don't get lucky in those key spots are too frustrating for me. I can't imagine playing my best game for hours, receiving absolutely nothing, and not having the opportunity to play those same opponents in more situations.

But, OTOH, I'm going to another tournament tonight. In an effort to get an O/8 games going, a sister club is running a $50 O/8 tourney tonight. I doubt I'll have enough luck to place two nights in a row, but it's worth a try.

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[(Anonymous)]

Tulsa guy looking for a game. Any suggestions near Wall Street. Preferably 1-2 NL.