A lot of the research on the subject will tell you that the Tight Aggressive style is the most profitable. I strongly disagree. Maybe 5 years ago.
I've played against too many creative and fierce LAGS that seem to be in every ? Easy answer. Their cards barely even matter. They get the most of their skill advantage in every instance they can. These players give me the biggest fits and headaches at the you can show up with any hand at any time, isn't that poker played at its finest?
In the last entry, I mentioned this really tough $5/$10 game that featured really tough local players. I want to talk about another hand from that game.
I had one of those fierce LAGS sitting to my immediate left. He is a very well known and accomplished player who I will call "Mo".
I had about $2100 in front of me which was about my entire net worth at the time. Not the smartest of game choices, surely, but as you can imagine, I was playing as tight as a rock. Mo had about the this hand, I was in the small blind and had KdQc. The action folded all the way around the table and I just limped in.
Curious decision I know, but I felt with a starting hand as strong as KdQc I was somewhat counterbalancing his edge in Skill Advantage and Positional Advantage. I don't even know how true that is. Maybe I was just keeping the pot size small because I was terrified.
He took a peek at his hole cards and made it $80 to go, which I thought was the funkiest raise considering the situation. I tanked for a few seconds before deciding that I would never respect myself as a poker player in the morning if I laid down this good of a starting hand to one raise, out of position or not.
I call.
The flop was QdJd7h.
I check to let Mo keep the initiative.
He bet $175 on the flop, another curious choice. Why is he overbetting? With players like this I have had better results going with my gut rather than my I stopped thinking about it and called.
The turn was 5h.
I checked.
He bet $450.
I expected this bet. But I looked at him anyway. He sure did look cool as a cucumber...
I thought about the hand for a second. Since he was LAG-gy, I didn't want to drive myself too crazy. He could literally have anything. Did I really have the best hand?
Or did he really have AQ, JJ, or 77?
KK?
AA?
Total air?
How expensive was this maniac going to make it on the river for me to find out?
And what did my gut have to say about this matter?
I checked downstairs with the gut department, and quickly got two memos..."call" and "do NOT let this animal steamroll you in this pot"
As I was strongly considering the 2nd memo, THE PERFECT CARD peeled the river. The 8d. I didn't hesitate.
"I'm all in."
I wish I could say I was cool as a cucumber at this point. Turns out my hands were shaking violently as I meekly and awkwardly shoved roughly $1400 into the middle. My anxiety had gotten the best of me. At first I was disappointed with myself, but then the longer my opponent was in the tank for, the better I felt! I must've looked like I had a real monster!
I hid my hands as fists tucked under my face a la Phil Hellmuth style and looked straight ahead and waited for my fate.
Even with my large hoodie and super dark shades, I was agonizing. Every second my opponent tanked for felt like hours. I couldn't imagine what was taking him so long, but I knew my hand wasn't beating much. Now I started to feel like my play was getting him off a better hand.
I got bored, so I checked in with my gut. The gut department fired up this memo:
"Don't look at him...! Do NOT look at him"
My brain had different ideas. I quick peeked in this intimidating player's direction. He was staring me down. He looked very, very angry. I looked away.
Then I thought, did he really just expose his hand for me to see??
"Don't LOOK!" my gut said again.
I looked anyway. It was out of the corner of my eye, but I still looked.
Right in front of Mo was QJ for top two pair.
Yikes.
I looked away. Sh*t! This guy loves making loose calls! I began to feel that the only thing I had going for me was my enormous bet size.
I closed my eyes, steadied my hands, and prayed for the best...
I could still feel his eyes on me.
Finally, after tanking for about 3 or 4 minutes more, he grumbled..."Get the f**k outta here...Stupid g*ddamn river...I put you on 10-9 or f**kin shaky hands just f**kin cost !"
He mucked, and I quickly scooped the pot and ran outside like a stone criminal and smoked like 4 cigarettes! Weeeeeeeeeee! I then immediately felt a kinship to all the people in history who have committed robberies and gotten away scot-free!
I've played against too many creative and fierce LAGS that seem to be in every ? Easy answer. Their cards barely even matter. They get the most of their skill advantage in every instance they can. These players give me the biggest fits and headaches at the you can show up with any hand at any time, isn't that poker played at its finest?
In the last entry, I mentioned this really tough $5/$10 game that featured really tough local players. I want to talk about another hand from that game.
I had one of those fierce LAGS sitting to my immediate left. He is a very well known and accomplished player who I will call "Mo".
I had about $2100 in front of me which was about my entire net worth at the time. Not the smartest of game choices, surely, but as you can imagine, I was playing as tight as a rock. Mo had about the this hand, I was in the small blind and had KdQc. The action folded all the way around the table and I just limped in.
Curious decision I know, but I felt with a starting hand as strong as KdQc I was somewhat counterbalancing his edge in Skill Advantage and Positional Advantage. I don't even know how true that is. Maybe I was just keeping the pot size small because I was terrified.
He took a peek at his hole cards and made it $80 to go, which I thought was the funkiest raise considering the situation. I tanked for a few seconds before deciding that I would never respect myself as a poker player in the morning if I laid down this good of a starting hand to one raise, out of position or not.
I call.
The flop was QdJd7h.
I check to let Mo keep the initiative.
He bet $175 on the flop, another curious choice. Why is he overbetting? With players like this I have had better results going with my gut rather than my I stopped thinking about it and called.
The turn was 5h.
I checked.
He bet $450.
I expected this bet. But I looked at him anyway. He sure did look cool as a cucumber...
I thought about the hand for a second. Since he was LAG-gy, I didn't want to drive myself too crazy. He could literally have anything. Did I really have the best hand?
Or did he really have AQ, JJ, or 77?
KK?
AA?
Total air?
How expensive was this maniac going to make it on the river for me to find out?
And what did my gut have to say about this matter?
I checked downstairs with the gut department, and quickly got two memos..."call" and "do NOT let this animal steamroll you in this pot"
As I was strongly considering the 2nd memo, THE PERFECT CARD peeled the river. The 8d. I didn't hesitate.
"I'm all in."
I wish I could say I was cool as a cucumber at this point. Turns out my hands were shaking violently as I meekly and awkwardly shoved roughly $1400 into the middle. My anxiety had gotten the best of me. At first I was disappointed with myself, but then the longer my opponent was in the tank for, the better I felt! I must've looked like I had a real monster!
I hid my hands as fists tucked under my face a la Phil Hellmuth style and looked straight ahead and waited for my fate.
Even with my large hoodie and super dark shades, I was agonizing. Every second my opponent tanked for felt like hours. I couldn't imagine what was taking him so long, but I knew my hand wasn't beating much. Now I started to feel like my play was getting him off a better hand.
I got bored, so I checked in with my gut. The gut department fired up this memo:
"Don't look at him...! Do NOT look at him"
My brain had different ideas. I quick peeked in this intimidating player's direction. He was staring me down. He looked very, very angry. I looked away.
Then I thought, did he really just expose his hand for me to see??
"Don't LOOK!" my gut said again.
I looked anyway. It was out of the corner of my eye, but I still looked.
Right in front of Mo was QJ for top two pair.
Yikes.
I looked away. Sh*t! This guy loves making loose calls! I began to feel that the only thing I had going for me was my enormous bet size.
I closed my eyes, steadied my hands, and prayed for the best...
I could still feel his eyes on me.
Finally, after tanking for about 3 or 4 minutes more, he grumbled..."Get the f**k outta here...Stupid g*ddamn river...I put you on 10-9 or f**kin shaky hands just f**kin cost !"
He mucked, and I quickly scooped the pot and ran outside like a stone criminal and smoked like 4 cigarettes! Weeeeeeeeeee! I then immediately felt a kinship to all the people in history who have committed robberies and gotten away scot-free!
