Welcome to The Backdoor Straight

We've all been there before. You look down at your first card. Six of spades. Now you can only hope for another six, or possibly a five or seven of spades. You flip the second card up and Yes! it's the six of clubs. You make a standard raise and then some asshole on the button, who hasn't played a hand in twenty minutes, re-raises you and you have to call thinking: I can catch a set on this rat bastard.

You are pretty sure you're behind. He's probably got something like Queens, or even Tens at the weakest. Possibly Ace-King suited. But you call, hoping that he'll double your stack up when you hit your set.

Now you're sitting there, head's up with a rock-tight player that you know has a great hand. Your sixes aren't bad, but against this piece of shit that has only played two hands in the three hours you've been there, you know you're the underdog.

Your train of thought is going like this: Dear God, I know I've slept with three women in the last week and I stole kleenex from my job and cut some old woman off and gave her the finger on the way here, but please God, flop me a set of sixes so I can get PAID!!

Now the flop comes.



Fuck me.

That's just one of the many thoughts that will probably run through your head.

You don't care. You are a poker player. You have trained yourself for these situations.

I raised pre-flop, he re-raised me. If he had pocket aces, he would have just called me pre-flop and let me bet the whole way. He doesn't have aces. He has Queens or Jacks. I can get him to lay it down. He is too tight to call with an ace on the board.

You announce a huge overbet to the table.

Rock-tight is on the button. He goes into deep thought. You're doing your best to look comfortable, you know he's gonna lay it down, that tight bastard.

"Call."

Fuck me.

Now you know he doesn't have the ace. If he had the ace, he would have raised you no doubt. You still have a shot on the turn.

Come on dealer, peel off the six of diamonds, let me crack this tight son-of-a-bitch...

Then the turn hits.



Fuck me.

At this point you know you're roadkill for this guy. After calling your big bet on the river, he most likely has the ace. Could he possibly have Kings and just refused to fold when the ace hit? It's possible. Same with Queens and Jacks. How much will he fold for here? The problem is, if he has an ace, he's not folding for anything. Your positions sucks here and you are betting a loser.

"Check."

Surprisingly, the button checks as well.

Shit. What the hell?

Now you can pray for either a six to give you the set or an unprecedented five to give you the straight. You have six outs. You're way behind, but you still have six outs. You have now put the button player on an overpair without the ace.

If he had the ace, he definitely would have bet his hand on the turn.

Then it happens. The river.



Somewhere you hear angels singing. And at the same time you feel like a porn star that just filmed his best scene ever.

You check. Rock-tight-recently-turned-loser makes a pot-sized bet.

You announce it.

"All in."

But in your head you're thinking 'Got you bitch!'

Rock-tight says Call and slams down his hand.



His hand is a little better than you thought. But it doesn't matter at this point.

He's looking at you with a smile on his face. He thinks he played this hand like a pro. He thinks that he has patiently waited for his pocket aces for three hours and now he is getting paid off with them against some young hot shot who committed his whole stack. He's ready to buy his grandchildren new bicycles with the money you worked hard all week to earn. Fuck him.

Slowly, you turn your hand over and tell him simple and plain...

Welcome to the backdoor straight.