Daniel Negreanu makes no bones about the fact that he will base some of his decision-making regarding bets, calls, and folds based on the nationality of his opponent. For instance, he’ll more readily call a northern European player than he would an American.
For instance, engineers are very mathematical and know the odds very well. Attorneys are performers and prone to deception. Entrepreneurs are risk-takers.
As usual, much ado was made about the way G-Rob and I scrape together our mortgage payments. During that conversation, I discovered I had no idea what the host did for a living. So, finding the open door, I asked.
“I sell heating oil,” he said.
Although I wasn’t involved in a hand, I went in the slot hoki tank. A heating oil salesmen? What the hell does that mean?
After being quiet for several minutes, I turned to discover the host had gone to the bathroom. I remarked, much-too-truthfully, “You know, I don’t even know what heating oil is.”
I should know. Much hay is made in my office this time of year about heating oil prices and how high they go.
Teddy Ballgame said, “It’s like diesel fuel” which I found patently hard to believe. Why in the world would the public care if diesel rices skyrocketed in the winter.
No one else could help me out and I found myself in quite a quandry. I’m no expert on anything. However, I know a little about a lot of things. Heating oil is not one of those things.
According to one website, “of the 107 million households in the United States, approximately 8.1 million use heating oil as their main heating fuel. Residential space heating is the primary use for heating oil, making the demand highly seasonal.”
I don’t know if this means anything or not, but I do know that the host re-bought so many times he emptied his pockets and owed BadBlood $60 by the end of the night.
I had two nemeses at the table–G-Rob and Missouri Josh. I only counted MO-J as a nemesis because he busted me hard four weeks earlier. G-Rob, however, has his own brand of mischief.
His greatest trick is accomplished by one of two things: Either he’s picked up a massive tell of mine or he knows the odds.
It goes like this: The action comes to me. One second later, G-Rob says, “Otis folds.” One second later, I fold.
So, either he knows when I’m going to fold or he knows that I fold a lot more than I call.
His next trick is less of a trick and more of a way to show the table how much he dominates me mentally. I bet, he raises. No matter what. Of course, this only works when he fnds a seat to my left and is subject to backfire.
I sat steaming most of the night as I heard his two catch phrases over and over again: “Otis bets? I raise” and “Otis folds.” It only gets worse when he uses the phrases back to back in the same hand.
I vowed to bust him before the end of the night. I thought I had my chance once when I flopped top pair. I pushed all in and ran into his aces.
Later, though, I found a pair of fives. He raised me, I called. The flop came T5x. I bet out, he raised. I called. The turn was another ten. I checked, he pushed all in. I called with my boat and took most of his chips. He had QT.
In the longrun, I think G-Rob is still up on me by a good bit, but it was fun to see him nod–quietly–and push his chips over to me.
When the evening ended after seven hours of poker, I found myself down only four dollars. G-Rob had dropped about $50. The Mark had raked in more than $200. It would’ve been more than that but he made a really loose call on the second to last hand of the night that cost him a lot of his chips.
Four bucks for an evening of entertainment?
Yeah, I’ll take it.