I hate playing from the small blind. Despite having a so-so hand I often get suckered in with that half bet and before I can say boo the flop comes and I’ve hit some of it. And because I don’t have position now, and won’t have it for the rest of the hand, I know I’m spinning my wheels. For any of you donkeys out there who think otherwise: position is important. When you’re under the gun you just don’t know where you stand. When you’re under the gun even if you come out firing you can get cut down in a heartbeat. It’s never fun being under the gun, and you can quote that.

And what happens if you get a playable hand in the small blind? Not a monster, but say a medium pocket pair. Do you raise, do you check and do you flat-call after a raise knowing that you’ll be first to act for the rest of the hand? It’s not a pleasant experience. I’ve lost so much money from the small blind I think I could have retired had I just won half those hands. And had I folded half those hands outright, without taking the bargain, I would have surely paid off a house or two.

So I’m at Fallsview one night and pick up a lovely pair of 9s in the small blind. It’s raised to me from the cut-off. The guy sitting in the cut-off has been steamrolling the table and I’ve had just about enough of it. I’m certainly not going to fold here. The question is do I raise or do I flat-call? The problem with flat-calling is that if I don’t hit a set on the flop, and overcards show up, what the hell do I do? If I bet out I’m sure to get raised no matter what the pre-flop raiser has. And if he raises, how do I call with overcards out? Do I re-raise here? Maybe shove all my chips in? If I shove all my chips in he is only going to call if he has a bigger pair or if he has something like Big Slick. But what if he has a bigger pair? And what if he has a big ace? Do I want to risk all my chips on a coin toss against his damn big ace?

Now, if I had been in a better position I would have raised and would have likely folded had I been re-raised. But in this bad small blind position I am hamstrung, I am useless, I am small and weak. After thinking about it for a minute I call the raise. I have a bad feeling about this hand. A very bad feeling. The big blind also calls. When the flop comes Q-10-J, I almost swallow my tongue. While it’s not a bad flop, it’s not a very good one. Yes, I am open-ended, but the 9 gives me only the bitch end. If a king were to fall, any ace would kick my ass. And if the 8 were to fall, I guess I’d be a happy camper unless it was a heart, because both the queen and the 10 on the board are hearts. What do I do? I make a stab with a bet half the size of the pot. The big blind calls, and the pre-flop raiser, from his perch on the cut-off, with his beady eyes gleaming, makes a pot-sized bet without hesitation. I fold without a moment’s thought. I don’t need to think this over. And it was a good fold, right? Even if I hit my straight one of these clowns has an ace. And everything else kills me. And if that third heart falls....

The big blind happily calls. And when the 9 of hearts falls on the turn, my heart skips a beat but I am happy because I know I’d have likely lost to a flush. The big blind moves all-in. He must have hit his flush. This is an instance when position means nothing. You have what you believe is the best hand and you get in all your chips. The cut-off guy calls. The big blind shows his K-7 suited in hearts. Buddy in the cut-off has pocket aces, including the ace of hearts. I’m feeling so good I folded I am beside myself, almost – almost because if the river pairs any board cards then I would have won this stinking hand with a full boat.

When the final card, the river, the river, the fucking river, falls, it does indeed pair the board – the 9, it pairs the 9, meaning that I just – that’s right, friends – I just folded quads. How often in this life does a man fold quads? Not very often, I would hazard to guess. I smile as the fellow in the big blind gathers up the chips with his own big smarmy smile, and starts to give a typical commiserating victor’s speech, but buddy in the cut-off won’t have it. He’s trembling with bitterness, the gleam in his eyes like that of a black toxic fire, burning deeply inside him. I understand his emotion. It hurts to be dirtied that way. But when the cut-off guy starts berating the other guy, calling him names, and questioning his poker skills, I want to get up and slap him across the face. I want to slap him across the face hard enough to knock the snot out of his nose. I want to slap him and then start screaming: “Quit your fucking bitching, you fucking moron! Do you know what I just folded! I just folded quads, you piece of shit! Quads! Quads! I just folded fucking quads!”

Emile Frendo of the Honeymoon City is a semi-professional poker player and winner of the 2006 Pirate Poker Open Championship.