Nice Call, Kid

Big Slick: Ace King. A very good hand, but still a slight underdog to any pocket pair.

I remember the first time I went in a real poker room in a casino. It was a very intimidating experience. I had no idea what to do. The kindly man at the desk informed me that I would have to put my name on the waiting list and that they would call me when a seat was available. I hung around, getting increasingly nervous, for about ten minutes until a voice came over the p.a. calling my name. Back at the desk I was told there was a seat open at table two for me. I had to ask which table was table two. I walked over to table two and sat down. I took out my money and asked the dealer for chips. The dealer, and everyone else, looked at me like I had just fallen off the turnip truck. "You don't buy chips from me. You get them from the cash cage," she said, motioning toward the barred cashier's window. Oh. I got up, got chips from the cashier, and returned.



It was $1/$2 no-limit hold-'em. But the chips I was given were all $5. This seemed like a problem to me - I needed to change some chips into $1 denominations, didn't I? I asked the dealer to change some of my chips and she actually let out a little exasperated sigh. "Don't worry sweetie, we make change as we go." After playing for a while, I figured out how it worked. Unless you announced a raise, the dealer assumed you were betting the minimum ($2), so if you put in a $5 chip she would give you three $1 chips back out of the pot, or four if you folded in the small blind. After a while everything made sense and I could see how it was faster and easier to have the dealer make change on the fly.



All this was just over a year ago. I have gone to poker rooms about twenty times now, and while not a grizzled vet of the green felt, I hardly ever get very nervous anymore. Well, not too much.



A couple days ago I was playing at the very casino where I first played live poker, when a kid who looked like about eighteen sat down. He was visibly nervous, his hands shaking as he took his chips out of his rack. After a few seconds he timidly asked the dealer to change a few of his $5 chips into $1's. All eyes turned to him. "Don't worry about that, " said the dealer, "We'll make change as we go." I, and everyone else, knew we had a poker virgin on our hands. The only question seemed to be which volcano would he be thrown into?

After maybe twenty minutes of mostly staying out of the action, the kid was under-the-gun and raised $25. I knew that this was a "please everybody fold to me" raise, meaning he probably had a medium pair, felt obliged to play it, but really didn't want to see the flop very badly. How did I know all this? Because a year ago I was that kid and I knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling. Knowing what I knew, I really could have called the kid with any two cards, but the fact I was dealt Ace-King made my decision to call even easier. I was in middle position, so a legitimate hand offered me some insurance should one of the sharks acting after me decided to call as well.

As it turned out it was just the kid and I who saw the flop: Qd Jh 4C. The kid looked very disappointed with this flop and dejectedly checked. In fact the kid looked absolutely miserable, like he was beating himself up for getting in this hand. I was certain this was not an act. The kid only had $50 left in chips, so I decided to push him out. I raised him $50. If he looked unhappy before, now he looked like the world had ended.

"I'm pretty sure you have me beat," he said after a while. I said nothing.

He thought and thought. I'm pretty sure he was mostly thinking "What the hell am I doing here?" He thought some more.

At last he said "I call," and put the last of his chips in. He turned over pocket eights.

"Nice call, kid" I said as I showed big slick. The rest of the players were amazed that the kid found the guts to make that call with an under pair. It was a heroic call. The turn and the river did not bring the Ace, King or 10 which would have won for me. The kid stood up as he raked in his chips, putting them directly back into the rack he brought them in. He ignored all the compliments he was getting from the other players. As soon as he had his chips racked he quickly walked over to the cage to cash them and get the hell out of there. He couldn't leave fast enough.

I've been thinking about that kid and the strange mix of relief and elation he must have felt. How he will never forget his first trip to the casino. How he called the old-timer's bluff and left with a profit.

That kid has been bit by the poker bug. Sooner or later, I'll see him again.