Last night I played poker at Tall Brad's - Texas style. I made the decision, before I went, to play tight. Squeaky tight. So tight it might sound like I was rubbing against the chair even when I was sitting perfectly still (all right, that was probably the guy kitty corner to me farting, but still, I was playing that tight). I played so tight that a few times an Ace-non-face-card combo was a laydown if I felt out of position and wasn't in it for any money. It seemed to serve me well. I played/showed a very minimal amount of hands and all of them looked strong (at least I thought so). The one bad hand I played was a limp in because my opponent wasn't raising and he gave me a chance to draw into 17 outs (out of about a remaining 34 cards) on a 10-4 suited when I was already in for the big blind, leaving me on the river flip with a possible flush/straight/high pair drawable hand. Overall, I placed third. My last hand was probably my worst, but I'm pretty sure I played it right. I had a pair of kings on the flop with a solid second card, and junk on the table, only three people in (so I could play a bit looser), and I bet hard (I think I had about 33% of the chips to 42% and third place had about 25%). This is when you're really cheesed to find out that the other guy, the 42% guy, was dealt aces, and that's his hand. Doh! No guts no glory - at least third place covered my stake (less the bounty, and I made up for that by drinking one of Brad's beers and eating his food).
On an ironic note, I did take most of my chips from one of the managers at work. I had joked to Brad earlier that now that my lead was no longer under that particular manager, I could feel free to do just that. He didn't look as amused.
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