32Red Poker Blog

Flashing lights, a wonderful set, a glass fronted table with six comfy chairs, and one of them sitting Annette Obrestad. Everything was perfect in the setup of the TV heat; everything, that is, apart from the structure.

The idea of a 50 big blind starting stack is a real shame. Every single bet was going to be crucial, making the poker more emotional than ever before. A failed continuation bet on the second hand of the day would not usually be cause for concern, but in this setup it was a blow. Before a game inevitably dominated by Annette had given me an opening to play, the blinds were up, and I was down to 76k.

And then a chance. Liam Flood made a rare pass, Annette an even rarer one, and the action came to Paul Bracken on the button. He would have to take more advantage of each opportunity, which in turn meant that I should from the big blind. I re-raised from the big blind with the junk 10 7 offsuit, and he sharply moved all-in. Another exaggerated blow, and I was down to 52k.

I stopped to wonder where half of my stack had gone, and watched the game becoming a one-woman show. Annette played poker as beautifully as the meagre structure allowed. Her newly-fashionale mimimum raises pre-flop were like a taunt of throwing stones before the rocks crushed on the next three streets, and she displayed her enviable habit of getting her opponents to pass when she had nothing, and to call when she had everything.  Things were seeming rather ominous.

It was at this point that bizarre things began to happen. First, Richard Wheatley raised the cut-off, and I had a standard re-raise all-in with A10. He snapped with ace-king, and I sadly gathered up my few things ready to go. Ten on the flop.

As poker went out of the game more and more, the German Haller raised with 66, and called an all-in bet from Annette. Her timing was of course perfect; she turned over two jacks, and looked destined to have over half the chips in play. Six on the turn.

Soon after, Bracken limped in the small blind, and AJ of hearts in the big blind was a no-brainer all-in. He beat me into the pot and turned over two queens, and I eyed up my belongings again. Ace on the river.

Wow. Poker was serving up its traditional lack of justice, and it all felt a little embarassing. However, if the pitch is waterlogged and you scramble a goal in off your knee, you have to gladly accept. I found myself heads up against the German Haller with a slight chip deficit. The sun had come out to shine just a little, in the form of frozen blinds. Remembering the days of playing pretty well and going home with nothing, sweet was the hope of the opposite scenario.

This format approaches something resembling poker on only two occassions- right at the start, and the heads up at the end. The obvious tactic was to keep the pots as small as possible, to get to the flop, and maybe even that thing they call the turn. We did a couple of times, and a fun trading of blows came out about even.

The inevitable soon happened; one player was dealt a big ace, and the other a decent pair. The chips flew in, and with my 8s8d against Haller’s AsJc, the 10s7s6s flop could not have been more perfect for the commentators. A seven fell on the turn, and I started to believe. The dealer paused for a few seconds, my heart beated a few hundred times, and the river was turned. Ace.

It would have been a completely undeserved fluke, but it was still a gutting moment. Only a runners up turbo heat would bring some consolation in the crushing anticlimax. 

THE TURBO

To write about the turbo heat on a poker site would be like writing about blinfolded Subbuteo on a football forum. It was another fun adventure, where one of six was going to get lucky; it wasn’t me.

Good luck to Roberto in the final.