BETTING OUT OF TROUBLE

"The best offense is often a good pretense"

I bet myself into trouble in a poker game last night, and then bet myself back out again. It was an interesting hand, and one worth talking about, so let's.

The game was $200 buy-in NLHE with $2 and $5 blinds. I had about $250 in front of me and a working no-nonsense (as opposed to my usual much-nonsense) image. On the hand in question I was dealt A-Q on the button. A canny, frisky player limped from under the gun and the cutoff seat made it $15 to go. I knew the cutoff to be someone I could move off a hand, so I raised to $55, looking to get heads up against him, then outplay him on the flop.

My plan went way astray when the big blind called all-in for, as it happens, exactly his last $55, which inspired the UTG player and the cutoff both to call. Now my situation was grim. I had wanted one caller, but got three -- including an all-in player who was thus bluff proof. I figured there was no way I had the best hand and that if I didn't hit the flop pretty hard I had a lost cause on my hands.

Then, though, I dug a little deeper in my thinking. I knew I had to worry about UTG, for I had seen him bet big into pots on pure steals, especially on the turn, and wouldn't be happy to see him do so here. But if I could get him away from his hand, I liked my chances against the clueless Timmy in the cutoff seat.

The flop came K-3-3 rainbow, just about as pure an orphan as I could ask for in this situation. I wasn't looking at the flop as it came down, of course; I was studying UTG for some sign of reaction. He didn't look particularly happy, but didn't seem to have given up on the hand entirely. He checked, though, as did the cutoff, and now I was faced with a choice. I could check behind them and hope either that my hand was the best or that it would improve. Or I could bet, hope they both folded, and take my chances against the all-in player, who could have anything or nothing at all in this instance.

I chose to bet. Not only is it generally "better the bettor to be," I figured that any hand except a good king would have a lot of trouble calling me here, and that the best place for me was heads up against the all-in player and his anything or nothing at all. So I fired $100 into the pot. UTG thought for a while, studied me for a while, and let his hand go. The cutoff thought less long and mucked his hand as well. The turn and the river were both blanks, and my A-Q held up against the all-in player's A-8. As I raked the $200+ pot, both UTG and the cutoff claimed, with a mixture of admiration and rue, to have been bet off the pot holding small pocket pairs.

In reviewing the play, I realize that part of what made me bet was the diminished possibility of a "curiosity call." The curiosity call is the call you get sometimes from players who should know better, but don't -- which can do evil things to your bluffs. But with an all-in player in the pot, everyone's curiosity about my holding would be satisfied whether they called or not. Many people will fold in this situation and let the all-in player be their stalking horse. That's what I was counting on here, and that's what I got. People are also reluctant to call big bets that open side pots, reasoning that you wouldn't be trying to build a side pot unless you had a monster. In both senses, then, I used the all-in player to leverage the strength of my bet.

I knew that there was a real possibility that the all-in player had me beaten. He could easily have called off the last of his chips with something like K-J, in which case I was dead to an ace. But that wasn't the goal of my bet. He either had me beaten or he didn't; what I had mind was to drive out two players who, I felt reasonably certain, did have me beaten or could easily catch up (or bet me off the pot) on the turn or the river. Getting them to fold was the goal, and the major accomplishment, of my post-flop play.

I must tell you that all these thoughts flew through my mind much faster than I am able to relate them to you now. It was only later, upon reviewing my session (which I regularly do -- don't you?) that I was able to articulate my plan of attack. In the moment, the situation presented itself to me more as a picture than expressible thoughts: I saw a path through the hand, the only path that could win me the pot, and that's the path I took.

Four important points to consider, then:

1. HAVE A PLAN FOR THE HAND.
Know what you're going to do and why you're going to do it. Pre-flop I cooked up the reasonable scheme of reraising a loose/weak player in order to take the pot away after the flop.

2. ADJUST YOUR PLAN AS NECESSARY.
When two others called, I had to change my plan for the hand. My first impulse was to shut it down, check it down, and surrender the pot, but further thought yielded a proactive (and, as it happens, winning) approach.

3. MAKE THE LATEST POSSIBLE DECISION BASED ON THE BEST AVAILABLE INFORMATION.
Be clear-eyed and dispassionate. When you get outcomes you didn't expect (such as more callers than desired) simple fit new facts into a new paradigm. "Always make room for the new idea," and make sure that your thinking isn't clouded by resentment or wishful thinking.

4. BE BOLD.
When you bet yourself into trouble, sometimes the only way to escape is to bet yourself back out. Fortune favors the bold. You needn't be reckless or careless, but if you fear to bet when betting is called for, you probably shouldn't be playing the game.

In all events, make it your practice to analyze the situation as the situation unfolds. Find a path through the hand, then follow that path. Guile and resourcefulness can earn you chips that cards alone would never send to your stack.

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