In a previous life I was a bit of a video games wiz. I played pretty much every game there was, reviewed many of them for magazines, and even wrote books on how to beat them. Of these "How to win at..." books, the biggest one I ever had published was about a fighting game on the PlayStation called TEKKEN. Tekken – and indeed the ludicrously shameless parade of sequels that followed – was a highly-acclaimed fighting game that had so many characters and so many moves, that researching the information was something that took literally months (and what 'awful' months they were *ahem*). Needless to say, by the time I completed the book, I was a master at the game. There was no character you could pick that I didn't know the biggest, baddest and best moves for. But why am I telling you this? Well, they say that everyone has an opposite out there somewhere in the world; a "dark side", a doppelganger, a mirror image... For me it was someone who challenged me to a game of Tekken at the very height of my powers, and – frankly – pissed all over me. Not literally – it wasn't that sort of game – but actually, and very definitely, and quite certainly. With each and every 10-move combo attack I reeled out, my opponent somehow ducked and avoided. For every clever taunt and trap I set, a counter-move ruined and ridiculed my every approach. I changed tactics, I changed characters, and I even changed costumes... but to no avail. And the worst thing of all; my opponent was a 6 year old girl. The point of this story (and in a minute I promise I'll mention poker) is that you can't have a strategy against someone with no strategy, or indeed any idea of what strategy means (or possibly even how to spell it). While I slaved over specific and intricate sequences of single and multiple button commands, my 6 year old opponent simply squashed as many buttons as her tiny hands would allow, while looking over her shoulder at the Dairylea triangles on the table. There was no point in trying to explain just how difficult avoiding my super-hammer-double-jolt-thunder-fist should be, because she just wasn't listening, or looking, or concentrating, or even really playing if truth be told. This brings me finally (and can I just thank you again for waiting) to 'Calling Stations' in poker. Or, to be more specific, Andrea from Texas. Now before you wonder, Andrea was older than my previous arch nemesis, so please don't get the impression that I go around challenging pre-school girls to high-stakes poker games. I save that for the Summer Holidays (JOKE!). Andrea just happened to be sitting to my left in a hold 'em cash game I got involved in to kill time one morning before a big tournament in Las Vegas. Andrea was, and remains, easily the most frustrating player I've ever come across in a game of poker. She wasn't loud, she wasn't obnoxious, she wasn't rude, she wasn't aggressive, she wasn't even a decent poker player. Oh no, the problem with Andrea was that she just would not go away. I decided early in my poker-playing career that there was really only one type of player I just wouldn't play against, and certainly would never play against for money. I've never been scared of having Helmuth shout at me; I've never quaked at the prospect of heads-up with Gus Hanson. I am, however, scared shitless of amateurs. When you push all your chips in after a king lands on the river, amateurs just don't know what messages you're sending out. They call when Brunson would have folded, and they check when Chan would have raised. They turn their cards over at the showdown declaring "nothing" to be told by an adult that they actually have the nuts straight. Then they smile at you semi-apologetically as they rake your played-to-perfection chips into their dullard's plastic chip rack. Andrea had been at the table when I joined, but I must admit I hadn't really noticed her or her style of play until I got involved in a big pot with her. I'd been dealt 9d Kd and made a raise just to try and spice things up. Until this point I'd only really made money out of one single hand, when I tried to get some action on an A8 unsuited and then bet big into a "help no-one" flop just to see if I could win it there and then. I hadn't been aware of building up any kind of table image, but this simple maneuver had everyone metaphorically running away as if I'd set fire to myself and was shouting "SELL ME YOUR CHILDREN!" Anyway, back with the 9d Kd... two people called – the woman opposite, and an old cowboy-type in late position. The flop delivers Ad 5d 10d and I've flopped the nuts flush. Bingo. There's really very little on the board that can hurt me, as I reckon the best anyone else can be interested in is the 10 and Ace which might have made a nuts straight draw possible – like I care! I bet the maximum and Andrea (yes, you've guessed, this is the woman opposite) calls, while the cowboy passes. Lemmy and the Motorhead gang kick off in my frontal lobes as the Ace of Spades falls on the turn, and I'm more than happy if this woman has made trip aces, but feel it unlikely as I can't believe she wouldn't have raised after the flop with top pair to scare me off if I was praying on the flush draw. Again, I bet the maximum but she just keeps calling! What the hell has she got that is worth paying off time and time again, all the while staring at two aces on the board, as well as three scary diamonds? Surely, if she has a hand good enough to keep calling in light of this little lot, it must be good enough to raise with? The river comes, dropping a 2c on the table. Considering the state of play up until now, I can't believe this makes any difference to anything, but because she just calls everything , I really don't know where I am. I've never held the best flush possible and yet felt so totally unsure of myself in my life. I'm willing to bet money I have the best hand (d'uh!) but want to try to get a little information about this woman. I have to bet, because to showdown a nuts flush against that board having not bet on the river would be too embarrassing in front of the real poker players. She calls – colour me surprised. I rewind the entire hand back from the start (as her hand goes to turn the cards over in slow-motion), and still can't see what hand would have been good enough to call a pre-flop raise with, but not to re-raise with, and then just sit back throughout the rest of the cards being content to call call call... I'm still thinking that I can't be beat by anything other than pocket aces (which I simply don't believe she has), so I reach for my beautiful nuts flush and prepare to spend several minutes stacking my new chips into pretty towers. Now I don't know if you've ever wondered what it would sound like if ten adult humans (that includes the dealer) all choked, gulped, coughed, farted, gasped and shrieked at the same time, but I know. I know because it was exactly the noise that erupted (with, I'm sure, an actual exclamation mark over the table) when Andrea flipped over 2s 2h. In case you've lost the plot (as I did at this point and for many days after) she made the full house on the river, 2s full of Aces. Full House beats Flush. Well done. Here are your chips. In summary: Andrea called a pre-flop raise knowing that ANY card on the board would be an over-card. Perhaps she was hoping to get lucky and make a set, but didn't. If she was feeling really lucky, maybe re-raising with that pocket pair sees me off. With Kd 9d in front of me... hmm, not sure how much more money I would have paid pre-flop to develop that hand. After the flop she was facing certain death at the hands of a possible pair of aces, a possible pair of 5s and a possible pair of 10s. Oh, and a possible flush, WHICH I HAD! Yet she called. When another Ace arrived on 4th did that trouble her? No. If only she had chosen to look over her shoulder for some Dairylea at this point, perhaps I would have recognised the danger signs. And then that 2 of clubs on the river... that glorious, glorious 2 of clubs. If it hadn't arrived and she'd called my final bet (which I think it's fair to say she would have) we'd all be laughing at the woman that ran into a flopped nuts flush with only pocket 2s and a couple of lucky aces from the board. If only... I spoke to her later (I actually got moved next to her – imagine my delight). She didn't really 'get' poker, she told me, but her husband gave her lots of money to 'screw around with' while he played the big morning tournaments. She had a system: if she could check, she'd check. If she could call, she'd call. If someone raised her, she'd call. In a nutshell, she was there until they turned off the lights and put the chairs up on the tables. The sad truth is she did pretty well off it. All the poker players trying to make the best of JQ-suited, K10 off-suit, A9, etc. well, they'd just run into little old Andrea who had held 7s 3c to the bitter end and accidentally made a crappy pair or two somewhere along the way. I'm not ashamed to say I just couldn't get over that bad beat. I only played for about 30 minutes more, and had to admit I just couldn't think of anyway to play against her other than to adopt her system, which my Tekken-training discipline just wouldn't allow on principle. A young chap who'd been waiting ages for a seat finally sat down to my right, setting up his chips and rubbing his hands in anticipation. "I hope I get some good cards this morning!" he quipped in my direction. I took one look at Andrea, busy gazing off into the distance and idly calling yet another hand. "Son," I told my confused young friend, "Even if you do, it really won't make any difference. You're screwed." I collected up what chips I had left, wished everyone good luck, and headed for the bar.