The Scandinavian Slow Roll
$1/$2 No Limit at the MGM Grand is an “action” game to say the least – fi lled with tourists and drinkers and aspiring sharks. Sandwiched between whoops and cheers coming from the sports book on one side and rockin’ music from a clubby bar on the other, it all spills over the glass rails to where these advancedbeginner tables sit. Makes for tons of fun for recreational players seeking an adrenaline kick, and can be highly profi table for skilled players building their bankrolls.
A few times I’ve been there where I couldn’t raise to $10 pre-fl op without seeing fold-fold-fold-fold all the way around, but more often you’re looking at implied double-straddle-like odds from the get-go, and all should realize that limping in is enough to get you wrapped up in something that costs you your entire stack.
When that happens you’re hardly soothed by the majestic live lion display across the hallway, nor the migrating fl ocks of party girls and d-bags in various states of festive inebriation.
Without a doubt, for low stakes players MGM cash games can be a test of nerves. I sat down at the $1/$2 there on a recent Friday night to test my discipline – I have been working on leaving when up. Little did I know it would be a test of my sanity, not to mention my criminal intent.
The villain in this story is a slowroller, so I’m sure most will understand. Before the night was over he had an entire table plotting revenge. The plan was to gang-tackle him in an elevator, beat him senseless, take his money, then beat him some more, and then, just to let him know we weren’t really crooks, roll up the cash and wedge it in his facial orifi ces. Or at least that’s what one of us was thinking… that’ll teach him proper etiquette!
For too long the standards of poker decorum have gone unspoken. And yet I’m noticing their violation with increasing frequency. And, quite frankly, call me a racist if you must, but it’s usually the white Euro-goobs who seem to be the worst offenders. So I’m thinking maybe as online poker spreads overseas, there are so many new to the live game that they simply don’t know… and if that indeed is the case, consider this my Good Samaritan effort to educate poker players everywhere on what they can do to prevent unnecessary violence at the table.
A super-loose-aggressive young guy with a Scandinavian accent is in seat 1— any face card was enough for him to limp, any pair enough to raise with — and I am in seat 3. He and I tangle with a board of 5-6-7-8-9. I have a 10. He fi res out a small bet on the river and I make a medium-sized raise. He shoves all in, making it another $80 or $90 to me. Now you can debate all you want whether or not I should’ve folded, but what he did after I called is what really caused a problem.
He turns over his 10. Before exposing my cards I say, “C’mon, show the other one,” wanting to see what sorta kicker he was presumably trying to hide. When he doesn’t seem to understand me, I fl ip over my 10-3 off-suit semiannoyed (shut up, we’re not here to talk strategy — I raised with it pre-fl op) expecting to chop the pot… at which point his eyes light up, his E.T.-like neck elevates – not in what seemed like slow motion but what really was exaggerated slow motion – and he turns over a jack, giving him the nuts.
I shrug and shake my head, clearly irked, as I match his stack and the dealer ships him the pot.
“Wow. A genuine slowroll,” I say, “You really wanted to do that, huh?” “Noo, noo, dee pot isz mine,” he answers. “I hahf dee ten end dee jock!” “No, he means you slowrolled the hand,” murmurs a tourist from Texas in the 4 seat. “You’re supposed to show your cards fi rst.”
“It’s kinda bad form,” adds the guy in the 2 seat (a down-on-his-luck 20-something three days into his pro career, but that’s another story altogether). “You shouldn’t really taunt a guy when you’re taking his money, you know?” The mutterings around the table concurred. “Yes, eet iz vary strong.”
In golf, you don’t scream when someone is putting – that might mess up their shot, and you wouldn’t want the same done to you. You’re also not supposed to walk across someone’s lie on the green. Because golfers don’t want it to become accepted strategy to step extra-hard around the hole to negatively impact your opponent’s putt, it becomes part of the etiquette to avoid that problem altogether by simply stepping over and around the area. Likewise for boxing when it comes to hitting below the belt or biting off someone’s ear.
Ok, so fast-forward a couple hands… again, Dandi Scandi is in seat 1, and I’m in seat 3 – table set-up is relevant here. I toss out a small bet that gets called in multiple places, he raises, and I have to fold. Discipline… that’s what I was here for. As I slide my cards to the dealer, they come woefully close to his unprotected hand. Hmm, interesting. Novice mistake on his part – especially for being in the 1 seat. Wouldn’t it be a shame if…
I began running tests. After a few orbits I was convinced I could make an errant fold toward the dealer and kill his hand. He gave me plenty of chances, but costing him $20 or $30 didn’t seem like enough. Patience, patience… The opportunity would come when I was in the big blind with pocket 4s. Pre-fl op there were lots of limpers, and a cute girl drinking Red Bulls raised in latemiddle position. The Scandi called, as did I and two of the limpers.
The fl op came down A-J-J, two spades. Hmm, not quite what I was looking for, but when a player to my left made a small bet and everyone called, I kinda had to. Pot odds, right? Actually, wrong… but this hand was shaping up nicely.
Sure enough, I got a beautiful 10 of clubs on the turn. I checked, Flop-bettor bet, cute girl raised… and get this, the Scandi theatrically moved all-in… and then leaned back in his chair swooping his hands back behind his head, giving off a tell of extreme confi dence. There it was. With lots of action behind him, the punk smirked as his cards were resting in a clear line of fi re. The table probably fi gured I was in the tank. But I already knew what I was going to do; it was just a matter of how I was going to do it. “Kahm on,” Scandi slowroller said. “We fi ght.”
And with that I fi red. Aiming right at the cards so everyone would know what I was doing, I mucked aggressively… but at the last second, maybe it was a pang of guilt, I musta took something off it, as my cards hooked left – intermingling with his cards, but just corner to corner – no foul. The dealer quickly separated the two hands and gave me a look saying he knew exactly what I was doing and probably why I was doing it, but not on his watch, buddy.
And really, I should be ashamed of myself. It was wrong because the game no longer was about building my stacks, it was about destroying his by any means necessary. I think that makes me a terrorist. And therein lies the horror of the slowroll – not only is it kinda uncool, but also it brings out the worst in everyone around you. Play-wise I passed the discipline test and fi nished up $375 – but I could hardly be proud of how that win really played out.
Poker can be an emotional game – especially No Limit – we all understand that, and whether up or down, it’s part of why we play. But when you slowroll, you’re toying with an opponent’s mental state and crossing an important line. Do what you want within the hand, but once the river has been dealt and all bets and folds are complete and you’ve won – at that instant the hand is over and any gamesmanship should end, at least temporarily. It’s the equivalent of leveling a football player after he’s stepped out of bounds.One of the great things about poker is how it brings people together from all walks of the planet. But slowrolling done to the wrong person at the wrong time could lead to an international incident. And nobody wants to see that.