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The Toughest Home Game I’ve Ever Played

Is there some sort of gene that’s responsible for decent poker skills? Some sort of genetic trait that gives me the ability to dump garbage hands and not call when I know I don’t have the odds to draw to a gutshot? Because if there is, I think it must skip a generation like baldness tends to. I just hope I haven’t inherited that genetic gift from my wonderful, shiny grandfather.

As far as the poker skills are concerned though, I would definitely consider myself somewhat of an above average player, whether by nature, nurture, or a combination of the two. So when I sat down with my mom, dad, and sister during a rainy weekend home from college and proceeded to shuffle up and deal in a friendly little Hold’em tournament, I thought for sure I would rock the kitchen table like Jon Bon Jovi rocks the state of New Jersey. After all, I had watched the World Series of Poker on ESPN (warning: if gone undetected, the use of sarcasm in this sentence may cause delusional thoughts, such as believing that watching poker on television will make you a better poker player, or that Ace-King never loses. Trust the analysis of Norman Chad at your own risk). Man was I in for a night of family fun!

My mom was on my left, my dad to my right, and my sister was sitting across from me hogging the bag of Twizzlers. I go ahead and deal out the first hand, finding myself with a King and his lady friend of clubs. After repeatedly asking me to clarify what her options are, my mom limps in, and I decide to test the waters with a 3xBB raise. Then after explaining to my dad what all of his options are, he says “sure, why not” and calls, followed by the ladies, who complete. “Great,” I think to myself, as I lay down a raggedy flop that doesn’t offer me so much as a backdoor flush draw. I talk the ‘rents through the options once more and take a stab at the pot when it’s checked around to me. “Call.” “Call.” “Yeah, okay, I’ll call too.” My eyes widen a bit as the little man in my brain yells out at them. “No! No calls! We’re representing an overpair!” You’re supposed to get rid of those mid and bottom pairs!” I got no help on the turn or river and end up checking down and losing to my dad’s two-pair, 10’s and 3’s.

Player Notes Entry # 572: Player: Dad, a.k.a. “The Captain”, Notes: loose/passive, will call 3xBB raise cold with 10-3 suited. Thoroughly enjoys Seinfeld reruns on UPN.

The craziness ensued and I felt my blood pressure rising as my stacks of chips began to dwindle down. I was the only one at the table folding preflop and the hands I did play were missing horribly. Meanwhile “The Captain” was hitting boats with seemingly any two cards. Nines full of 3’s. Deuces full of Jacks. Sevens full of 4’s. Any full house combination, you name it, and he could fish it out of that deck. Eventually I started playing like the rest of my family, just hoping to hit some sort of miracle flop. Trying to get a read on any of them was pointless. They would never raise preflop at all, and very rarely in other betting rounds. A call could mean anything from “I have Jack high with no draws” to “I have a straight flush but I forget whether or not that beats a pair of aces.” Luckily for my sanity, and perhaps the only luck I had that night, my parents decided to call it a night before I could lose all of my chips, at which point I probably would have run upstairs, slammed my bedroom door, and wept uncontrollably like it was still 1987 and my ice cream had just fallen off the stick.

Editor's note: The Mad Terp has his own website where readers may rate
their favorite poker site, or join in the discussion forum @ imoPoker.com