Ode to the Emory game

The Monday night Emory game was the easiest money I've ever made. It will be missed.

I heard the Emory game held in my hometown, Atlanta, has ceased to be. I don't know any of the details about why it was cancelled.

My suspicion is that these players, universally horrible at poker, finally ran out of mommy and daddy's money.

I went to the Emory game every Monday night that I could because I knew I'd probably walk away with a hundred or two more than I came in with. I think I made it there about seven or eight times, and only busted once.

The game was held in the basement of a house just off Interstate 85. Three tables were set up, and it was a $200 buy-in, $1/$2 no limit game. Most of the people there were college kids.

We nicknamed this other guy "Pacific Poker" because he said that's where he played online, and he was about the most conservative player I've ever seen. One time when he folded, he said, "I didn't have the nut." If I folded every time I didn't have the nut, I wouldn't have any money left.

One time this guy named L.A., who claimed that he never lost, flopped a boat against Daniel, who also had a strong hand.

L.A. was going out the door, so he said he was just going to check it down. He raked a decent pot, but his kindness cost him about $100. He busted the next five or six weeks.

There are so many great hands from that game. It's hard to emphasize how easy it was.

One guy wore an "All In" hat and sunglasses, looking every bit the World Poker Tour hero-worshipper. I bet out on the flop, and he called. A flush card came on the turn, I looked up at him and bet the pot.

Like the pro that he was, he stared me down and folded a set -- a far better hand than mine.

"I know you better than that. You're trying to sucker me in, so I'm going to fold," he said.

"Nice read," I said, as I took down the pot.

The best night was the last Monday I went before moving to Chile.

I doubled up when I moved in with pocket ladies on the turn. My friend Drew laid down a weird straight because there were three cards of the same suit on the board, and I got called by one of the loosest, most passive players I've ever seen.

I was packing up my chips a little later when I accidentally got dealt in one last hand. I looked down at 32s and called the blind.

I flopped something silly, like a bicycle or a flush. I moved in on the turn, pushing all my chips (already in the racks) into the middle. I got called by the same loose player, who said, "I just have to see what you've got."

And I was out of there. It was a nice $400 going away present.

I later heard that this obnoxious gambler named Tom tried to sell off his poker supplies because he busted. Yeah, I'm really sad about that. The first week I went to the game, he ran to the ATM to reload. I never needed an ATM -- Tom was sitting right there.

I'm reminded of the final scene of "Braveheart" when I think about the decline of the Emory game:

"And that's how the fish earned their freedom."

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