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The Spite Call

Rating: 4 votes, 4.00 average.
Everybody loves a good poker story. Poker, a lot like sports, in one of the few places where one can get pure enjoyment off of other people's misery....depending on your point of view.

This story is one of the funniest, yet weirdest, things I have ever encountered at a poker table. It goes to show that like on the pitch, the court, or the diamond...things can get personal on the felt. And when it does, hilarity ensues.

So here we are, at a local $1/$2 game in Boston. Folks are stoned, drunk, and having a good time straddling and double straddling and the action is flowing real well. I am down $10, and haven't got dealt anything in over an hour. But this story isn't about me. It's about two other players.

Player A, we will call him Snake. Dude in his mid-30s, this name fits this player's profile perfectly: he's a chain smoker, with a voice as raspy as a 60-year old woman after a whiskey binge. He's been caught cheating at other games around town by dealing the bottom of the deck. A degenerate sports gambler; the type who takes basketball and baseball parlays regularly and automatically knows the line of whatever inconsequential game is on that night....the type to bet 5 times what he has on the table on the first 5 innings of Rays/Tigers on a random Thursday night.

Snake is also quite the nit at the felt. He'll play a lot of pots preflop, but if he bets BIG....he usually has it. He's also quite irritable and will be the one to complain if things are going too slow in a hand.

Player B, we will call him Rafael. Rafael, in his mid-20s, is the type of player the game is built around: born in Brazil, a bus boy who works at local restaurants in the area, he'll come to the game after his shift to smoke some weed, drink a few beers, and punt off his tip money for the night. And do it with a smile on his face; he really doesn't care about losing the money or playing bad. He's just letting loose and having fun after a hard night's shift of shuttling plates, pint glasses, and utensils at Boston's most frequented restaurants. He's another one where when he bets big, he's at worst on a draw, and at best top pair plus.

The hand goes like this: I am OTB with around $290, Snake is UTG+1 with $300 in chips, and Rafael is in the BB with around $175.

There is a $4 straddle UTG, and Snake calls it. 2 other players do as well, and I find JJ and make it $25 to go. Rafael, who I just smoked a huge blunt with and is stoned out of his mind, his eyes redder than a spreadsheet logging Chino Rheem's debts, makes it $60 to go. Snake IMMEDIATELY 4 bet ships it all in, we all fold and the action gets back to Rafael.

Rafael looks pained, like he just learned that his cat died or something. Takes a swig of his beer, looks at his hand, takes another swig of his beer, and repeats this about 3 times. It's obvious at this point, he has a pair 99-QQ, AK/AQ type of hand. Rafael hates folding big pairs PF, something that I've gleefully exploited in the past.

2 minutes go by, and Snake starts the usual complaining. "What the fuck, man? Make up your mind and let's fuckin' go." Rafael responds that he has a big decision, and he can take as long as he wants. It's a cash game, so the rest of the table isn't too pressed on him to make a decision except Snake (hell, we don't want to tap the aquarium).

But Snake doesn't give a shit because he has "shit to do" in a life that is about as uneventful as a WNBA basketball game in front of 400 people in a 8000 seat arena.

5 minutes has passed, and some have gone to the smoke room. I go and take a piss, and come back to an argument at the table.

Snake: "Maybe you shouldn't play while stoned, Rafael. You always take too long to make a fucking decision."

Rafael: "Yo, man chill. We are playing with real money here."

Snake: "Fuck you, man. Just do something, I don't give a fuck what you do."

Rafael: "What's your problem? Fuck you!"

Things are getting loud, and at this point, Snake's so eager to get moving onto the next hand......that he just snaps and goes:

"You know what, fuck this. I know you are going to fold, the dealer knows you are going to fold, and everyone at the table knows you're gonna fuckin' fold. So here!".....and Snake FLIPS HIS HAND FACE UP, TWO BLACK KINGS, TO RAFAEL.

Rafael looks at his hand, and a blank stare comes across his face. We are all stunned that he hasn't snap folded yet (because only one hand is better than Snake's), and he's not getting a real good price to chase any A-x hands.

He then chugs his beer, takes a deep breath, and then does one of the most amazing things I have ever seen at a poker table:

Rafael: "You know what, Snake. You are such a dick to me every time I play here. I have a good feeling about this.

"Fuck you, I call."


Half of the table is stunned, and the other half (including me) is in laughter. Snake can't believe it; and he has a worried look on his face.

He knows what's coming: of course, it's a flop of Q-Q-4.

The entire room BURSTS into laughter. The game literally has to stop because of what the fuck just happened. Those in the smoke room come out to the table to see what the fuck is going on, and they can't believe it. One guy is speechless and looks at the table with his jaw open like he just saw a pair of titties. Another is in the corner laughing and crying so hard his eyes are about to bulge out of his head like a cartoon character on a Saturday afternoon.

After the turn and river are obvious bricks, Snake storms out of the room to smoke the entire pack of Newports (if not a whole carton), while we are all literally in tears.

We all high five Rafael, who slowly rakes in his chips saying over and over, "I knew it was coming. I had a feeling".

And with that, the spite call was born.

Updated 05-10-2016 at 03:34 PM by Shizzmoney

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  1. jacosta24's Avatar
    Great post
  2. Starbucks Spunk Bucket's Avatar
    very funny! haha
  3. MumblesBadly's Avatar
    Yeah! Get Snake!