Busting the Boss

Another Vegas tale. Playing with idiots is fun. In my last cash game session, I set one guy on super screaming monkey tilt without saying much of anything. He thought he was the Boss of the table from the moment he sat down. He was immediately spouting poker lingo, pot odds, math, and talking about pro players. He bought in for $400. I was way up by the time he sat down, so my range of PF hands was large at this point.

After he had won a pot or two, he raised in MP to $25. Everyone folded to me in the BB, and I called with T8s. This is my favorite hand. I have no idea why.

The flop is Th-Ts-6h. Bingo. I check. He bets $50, and it’s a bet of confidence. I can tell he’s 100% sure that he is ahead.

I raise to $150 total and stare at the felt in his direction. After about 10 seconds he shoves, and I can tell he still thinks he’s ahead. I call and immediately show my hand.

The Boss blows up, and the jibberish he started spouting made everyone laugh at the table. “Nice hand! Way to go! Great play! You hit your 42 to 1 against long shot! Nice play!”

He slaps AA on the table. Like I didn’t already know what he had. Then he continues.

“I’d say nice play, but it wasn’t! That was a horrible play!” He’s yelling everything. “Keep playing like that and I will bust you! Players like you pay my monthly salary! Keep it up!”

This guy plays like this for a living? Scary thought. The whole time I’m just stacking his chips, saying nothing. Then he asks, “Why’d you call with that hand?! What were you thinking?!”

Interesting question. The real answer should be obvious – I know what he had PF by his body language (AA, KK, QQ or AK), and that if I hit something good, I will take his whole stack. Against many other players, I would easily muck PF. Of course I can’t say this, so I just reply, “Its my favorite hand.” Also an honest answer, but he thinks that I am messing with him.

“Your favorite hand, huh?! Well, I had my favorite hand, too! Which hand was better?! Which one of us is better there, huh?”

I just finish my stacking and continue playing. During the next hand, I quietly repeat, “It really is my favorite hand.” He thinks I’m needling, and I am, sort of, but its still the truth.

Our conversation is over, but the Boss is just about as pissed as a player can be at the table. Its good to get the donks steamed. He rebought for $300.

I few orbits later, I busted him when I flopped two pair with T9 against his AK on a board of K-T-9. I had called his raise again PF, and a series of raises on the flop got all his chips in. He didn’t learn much from our prior battle. He shipped the remainder of his stack my way. “You’re just too good for me!” he yelled. “I can’t play with you any more! Shit!” He stomped off.

After the Boss left, the dealer said, “Thanks for getting rid of that guy. He’s an ass. We all hate him. He treats everyone like that.”

Another player at the table said, “He’ll have to go make his monthly salary somewhere else tonight.”