That “something good” slothoki happened.
I’m sitting in early position when I get dealt pocket 10’s. I had been calling this hand “long distance,” but after this hand, I think it deserves a new nickname. I call the big blind and about 6 of us are in the pot.
The flop is A-8-A. That’s not too bad. With a couple of Aces on the flop, the odds of someone holding an Ace are diminished. And my 10’s beat any 8 out there.
I check and the grizzled little man to my left bets. He’s wearing an old gray Members Only jacket, a black baseball cap and thick glasses. He doesn’t talk much, and often has to leave the table to catch a smoke break at the slots. It’s a good thing he didn’t leave for this hand.
There are two other callers before it gets to me, and I call. The turn is a deuce. I check again and Mr. Members Only bets again. Does he have the Ace? I don’t have a read on him. In fact, I’m really bad about reading people. It’s something I’m working on.
Everyone else gets out of the pot, and I call. He may slothoki not have the Ace, right? The pot was big enough and, frankly, this is one of the best looking hands I’ve had all day.
The river is the third Ace. Except for, perhaps another 10, I couldn’t have asked for a better river. I’m Aces full of 10’s, and even if my opponent pairs the board, I’m still a winner. At this point, only pocket J’s, Q’s or K’s, or the case Ace beat me.
I check, he bets, I raise him, he re-raises (uh oh), and I call, flipping my 10 of hearts and 10 of spades. He flips a 10 …