The Lion

In that Roxy game the other day there was a waiting list to move to the other, "main" game. One of the newer players, a pleasant, 40-ish Asian guy I've played with before, had somehow slipped into our game without getting his name on the list, so he asked the young floorwoman to put him up -- Leon, he said. She went to the board and wrote "Lion."

Leon laughed and said to me, she must be Spanish. A couple of hands later he raised and took the pot without a fight. "The Lion!," I said, and he laughed and even gave a little roar. It felt like a nickname was born.

Fast-forward to yesterday at Diamond Lil's in Renton, where I had cruised for some loose $4/8 action and, I hoped, more of the good play that had sparked my comeback at the Roxy. Unfortunately, the session didn't start off so well. On my first hand I flopped a set of 4s then lost to a guy who caught runner-runner hearts to make a jack-high flush. In short order I had pocket queens and aces also get cracked, once by the same dope on my right, and I had dug myself a rack-plus hole before I knew what happened.

Dazed, I barely noticed when a new player filled Seat 1 until I heard a familiar voice: "Hey, didn't I just see you yesterday?"

The Lion!

I was happy to see a friendly face, especially since I associated him with my previous comeback. And when I called him by his nickname Lion smiled and the other players took notice, like one or both of us might be dangerous and at the very least both were regular players.

The Lion, maybe emboldened by his new identity, played like the king of the jungle, raising nearly every pot. The entire table seemed to shrink into the shadows and Lion stacked chips. After a while everyone, me included, decided that the Lion must be over-representing at least half the time, and we met his raises with reraises, making for some juicy pots.

My analysis is that by this point the entire table was playing poorly. Lion was over-aggressive and sloughed off much of his profit. The rest of us chased, bulled or otherwise tilted off a lot of chips too. Money was moving around the table, but almost randomly. It became a game of blindfolded chip-tossing, with everyone peeking at the end to see who would scoop. Not that fun.

By the time I recognized all this I was stuck two racks and feeling whipsawed by the growing pots and shrinking hand standards. So I resolved to tighten up.

Sadly, this led to my worst play of the afternoon.

In one hand I decided to call from middle position with the 9-8 of diamonds. Several limpers already were in the pot, including the dumbass on my immediate right whose J-6 had snapped my triple-4s earlier.

The flop came 10-8-2, giving me second pair and a backdoor straight draw. Lion checked, Dumbass bet and with $28 already in the pot, I put in $4 more to see what developed. Now the solid but tricky player on my left raised, one late-position player called two bets cold and it was folded around to Dumbass, who called. I called as well. $56 in the pot.

The turn's a 7, giving me an open-end straight draw in addition to my pair of 8s, which the way the table is tilting right now might even be best unimproved. Check, check, bet, fold, call, call. Three of us in the pot, $80.

The river is a king, missing my straight and putting one more overcard on the board. At this point I don't really like my hand. I'm vulnerable to J-9, 9-6, any two pair or, for that matter, any 10 or king. But something still smells funny. I know I can beat a weak pair or a complete bluff, which I wouldn't put past either one of these dudes.

Dumbass checks. I consider betting myself, hoping to steal, but instead check. Mr. Tricky bets again. Hmm. What the heck does this guy have that could have been so strong on the flop and also isn't scared by a sraight-making turn or a king on the end? Maybe he flopped a set, maybe he had pocket kings all along and now got even stronger. Maybe he raised on the come and hit his straight on the turn, which would explain why the king didn't spook him. But I didn't think he had any of these things. I suspected utter bullshit and decided I would call him down.

Except then Dumbass called. OK, wait a minute. Now I'm confused again. Dumbass had bet out on the flop and then check-called all the way. Maybe he hit his straight. More likely, the way this guy plays, he caught a 7 on the turn for one pair and a king on the end for two. At the very least he had to have a weak 10.

So after turning all this over in my head for at least a minute I decided to surrender. "I don't mind you betting," I said to Mr. Tricky, "but I don't like this guy calling. I can't beat both you guys."

As soon as I tossed my cards, Mr. Tricky groaned and said "good call" to the other guy. No pair, he said. As expected.

But now Dumbass, as if he knew what he were doing all along, said "I've got the 8," and turned over 8-3 -- the same pair I had just mucked except with the worst possible kicker. Shit. I threw away the winner ... just gave away a $96 pot. The horror.

The next hand I raised with A-K, then paid off some guy with K-J who hit his jack.

The Lion got up and cashed out, a small winner. I followed him to the cage -- the Lamb! -- a $280 loser.