On one trip to the Tulalip poker room, Jake and I played seven card stud. It's a cliche, of course, that you don't let poker become personal, yet I have to admit that I very badly wanted to pants Jake at the poker table. When he deemed a discolored chip his "lucky" chip, it became my mission to raise so much that he had to risk it.
This is called "very poor poker play."
I hit four of a kind, crushing his straight and earning me the lucky chip. He rebought and played on. It became very tense, very personal, as we used poker chips to demonstrate our unspoken contempt for one another. A little later, I hit four of a kind a second time. Jake was reeling, angry.
And then the following cards were dealt.
John: (7d, 4d) Kd
Jake: (?, ?) 8s
Three to a flush is a no-brainer, so I raised. Jake called. One by one the cards fell, until finally we were looking at this, with one card still to come.
John: (7d, 4d) Kd, 3s, Kh, Ks
Jake: (?, ?) 8s, 8h, Ah, Ad
Jake was betting massively, completely unafraid of my three kings, so I rightly figured he'd hit his full house. But my god, I would not lay down trip Kings, not against this asshole, and certainly not with the vibrating horseshoe that'd been lodged 18 feet up my ass all day. I raised into him. He was incredulous. So was everyone else. So was I, for that matter.
And then I caught the fourth king on the last card, and I took the rest of Jake's chips.
Was he ever livid. He was nearly hysterical with rage. The whole ride back to Zoe's house, he berated my stupidity for chasing a fourth king. And he was completely right. It was a horrible play by any measure but one.