This month's winner:

Well I was in my local casino when my bad beat happened…..I am second chip leader on my table with 31k in chips the chip leaders has 49k in chips the blinds being at 1200 and 2400 400 ante, i have pocket 9’s utg and a raise to brought my the chip leader of 4800, everyone else has folded except me and the big blind, i jus call the raise and the big blind folds, he flop comes down 9h 8h 3c. I check to the chip leader, (thinking i could probley get a big pay off for my trips)not to woried about the flush draw, anyway he bets our 6800, after tthinking alittle bit i raise him to 13600 and he looks at me and calls, on the turn brings the 9s , so i bet out to him 14000, he immediatley says hes all in i call straight as u do with quad 9’s lol. when we flip our cards over, he shows 10h jh and hes amazed to see my quad 9’s but he knows he has 2 outs the 7h or the qh , and the river card comes down me praying it aint one of the two outs he has, and the qh fell i fell off my chair. i got busted out the torny, i was so sick and he other guy just laughed and said thats poker!!

I had pocket aces sitting i the big blind.  with 10 players at the table, everyone limps in.  I raise to $500 (blinds were $25-$50).  I got two callers and one raiser.  I re raised the better.  The other two players fold.  The original raiser goes all in and I call.  We turn over the cards and he shows pocket 6’s.  He is putting his jacket on ready to leave almost admitting he made a bad call.  The flop comes 7H-8D-9C.  The turn came 4C and the river comes a 10D.  He hit his straight.  He takes his jacket off sits down and collects his chips.  I am sitting there is dis believment and ready to just die.  What made it worse was, I rebuy and later in the game, I got another pocket pair of Aces and they go down again to trip 6’s.

I go to relieve myself of the beer I had been drinknig an realize that the shorts I was wearing were backwards.  I blame the backward shorts.

By: Danny S.

There are three reasons people come to Las Vegas:  the finest entertainment, the chance to have sex with a complete stranger (or two), and of course:  the World Series of Poker!  God as my witness I showed up this summer for the third reason.

I bought into a 1,000 dollar World Series tournament, and I was amazed at all the professional poker players who were playing there.  The most impressive of them all, however, was not the brooding Phil Hellmuth, nor the stoic Chris Ferguson.  Rather, the most towering presence in the room, despite his 5 feet 1 inch stature, was none other than Men “The Master” Nguyen.  As soon as the tournament started, he shouted for all to hear, “You losers go down!”

I sat down at a table of what appeared to be eight other amateurs, and just my luck—the master himself!  For the first couple hours of play Men and I seemed to alternate taking pots down from the other players at our table.  He and I were the only two playing aggressively; everyone else just seemed to fold when we showed any sign of strength.

Then came the hand I would love to have erased from my memory forever!  It started off with an omen:  the dealer accidentally dealt a 3 of spades face up.  He announced that it would be the burn card.  I quickly forgot about it, when much to my delight, I looked down to see that I had been dealt pocket K hearts, K diamonds.  Awesome!  I thought to myself.

I was on the button, so I decided to put in a healthy raise for 250 chips (the blinds were 25 and 50).  Perhaps everyone else had an ominous feeling about the hand, because they all folded until only Men and I, the two big stacks, were left to battle it out.  The flop came:  K Clubs, 3 hearts, 7 clubs.  I couldn’t believe my fortune.  I had just flopped trip kings against Men the Master.  I put in a small raise, and Men quickly called.  “You in big trouble!” he taunted.

The turn card came out:  9 of clubs.  I instantly worried.  Could he have the flush?  I asked myself.  It was a definite possibility.  But I’ve watched those deodorant promos they show for men who take risks, and I decided it was either double up time or bedtime for me.  I pushed my chips all-in.

Men thought about it for a long, long time.  I heard him mutter to himself, “Stupid guy done caught a stupid guy flush.”  I relaxed a little when I heard him say these words, because I knew there was no hand he could have at that moment that could beat mine.  After much painful deliberation, Men sighed and said, “I call you stupid guy.  Where your two pair?”

I couldn’t believe my luck!  I joyfully threw down my trip kings.  Men looked disgusted.  He was astonished that he had made the wrong read.  He stood up and put on his coat.

Then, I simply had to ask, “Hey Men.  What’d you have?”

He replied, “A set of 3’s.  I guess I the stupid guy now.”  He threw his cards haphazardly and began to walk away.  Somehow, his cards landed face up right on the table in front of where he was sitting.

Then, the unthinkable happened.  The river card came:  4 of clubs.  The dealer showed me the bad news.  One of Men’s pocket 3’s was the 3 of clubs.  There were four clubs on the board.  Men “The Master” Nguyen had just beaten my set of kings with a club flush.  The worst part?  He didn’t even know it until someone yelled the news to him across the room where he was standing.

Men came running back to the table, giddy as a schoolgirl.  “Thank you stupid guy!  You lose very nicely to Men the Master!”

I was so shocked I couldn’t even move.  I was left with only 50 chips.  On the next hand I was blinded out, losing with a 7-2 off-suit.

As I replay the horror in my mind, I can’t help but realize something:  next time I’m in Vegas, I think I’ll spend my thousand dollars on two things I find far more rewarding than getting outdrawn by Men “The Master” Nguyen.  And let’s just say they’ll both be strangers.

By: Jennifer S. of Schenectady, NY

I was playing 3-6 Texas Hold’em at my local casino recently, and, despite being dealt awful hands, managing not to lose too much money. The cards I was landing were basically unplayable. The only bright side was that when I folded, I was no doubt folding losing hands, as none of my cards were ever showing up on the flop.

Then came a hand that was seemingly as dull as the previous ones, but with a slight twist. I was dealt K-7 off suit on the big blind; nothing to get too excited about. In the meantime, though, the dealer misdealt not one but two cards — by accidentally flipping them over — to the player in the fifth position, who then received two new cards in exchange for the 7-3 off-suit cards that had been exposed.

No raises were made pre-flop (which was fine with me). A total of five players were involved in the hand, including the guy with the two new cards and me. The flop came KS-3D-7H rainbow. I was psyched! This was my first decent hand all day, and with no raises before the flop, I was golden. Being first to act (the small blind folded pre-flop), I merely checked. Sure enough, the next player bet out and the other three players called. Initially, I was going to just call, but based on my pitiful day, I decided to raise to get some value. Everyone called.

The turn card was 2C. I confidently placed a $6 bet, knowing that there were no flush possibilities for the river rats at the table. The two players sitting between the guy in seat five and me folded. Then seat-five man raised, which prompted the other remaining player to fold. Given my “poker paranoia,” which had been steadily building throughout the day, I wondered if he had tripped up. I got over that notion pretty quickly, however, and decided to re-raise in order to figure out where I was. He called instantly.

When the river came, I had to do all I could to contain my excitement. The card was the seven of diamonds, which gave me a full house. I bet, hoping my opponent would raise me again, which he did. The quickness of his raise concerned me, and I pondered whether his hand could actually top mine. It seemed highly unlikely. After all, the only cards that could possibly beat me were pocket kings, and as every serious player knows, in limit games you must raise with pocket kings to get junk hands out of the pot. So, as I reassured myself, I re-raised him. He immediately capped the pot with another re-raise. The pot was up to about $130, which would put me well ahead of where I started for the day — and would more than compensate for the patience I had shown waiting for decent cards to come my way. I called, of course, with my full boat, making my contribution to the pot $51 and leaving me with about $20 worth of chips.

When it came time to reveal our cards, I fully expected the pot to be pushed my way. I proudly flipped my K-7. My opponent then turned over his cards, very sheepishly, showing K-K. I was thoroughly disgusted, and the rest of the table reacted with wide eyes and gasps. He apologized and, although I was annoyed with the situation, I congratulated him on his hand and said I never would have put him on that hand because he didn’t raise pre-flop or on the flop. He said he felt bad and that he shouldn’t have even been in the pot, as he had 3-7 before the dealer inadvertently flipped over his cards. He commented that if he’d played those original cards — not that he would have — he’d have flopped two pair and would have stayed in to see his full house on the river.

What a turn of events, and what a pair of replacement cards! Needless to say, I wasn’t going to be tipping that dealer if I won any pots (which I didn’t).

By: James W. of Greenwood, IN

After sharpening my skills at the $10 tournament tables on Partypoker.com for about six months, I recently decided to enter a few larger events.

One particular tourney that interested me was the Party Poker Million, in which, for a $600 buy-in, players have a chance to win part of a $1 million payout. Not really wanting to fork over the $600 (plus $40 for the house), though, I entered a satellite tournament three days earlier. I paid the $30 (plus $3) entry fee, played flawlessly against 174 other players, and eventually won the tournament and earned my pass to the Big Show!

At the time, there were only 450 players registered for the $1 million tournament, and 250th place would pay a minimum of $1,000! On the day of the event, I left work late and didn’t sit down at my home computer until 20 minutes into the tournament. To my great surprise, an additional 1,800 people had apparently paid the full $640 for a crack at the $274,000 top prize.

I settled in for what promised to be a fairly long evening — but not before making the mistake of telling my wife that I expected to win some big cash that night. My wife actually watched the first hour of play and saw my chip stack grow from 1,500 chips to nearly 46,000. When she eventually left the room — with yours truly in sixth place overall — she smiled (I’m sure she was pondering which to buy first: a car or kitchen cabinets). During each hourly break, I would update my wife and mother-in-law as to my current status, and they would advise me on how they might spend my winnings.

After the second hour of the tournament, I’d slipped back down to 11th place, out of 942. After the third hour, however, I’d worked my way back up to fifth place, out of 612. By the end of four hours of play, I was second out of 319 and had been moved to table number one. At this point I could have simply hit the “Post Big Blind and Fold” button, turned off the computer, gone to bed, and woken in the morning to a 10th-place finish and an extra $39,000 to my name. But, of course, I didn’t. Instead, I started stealing pots right and left because I was the bully and other players merely wanted to hang around to get their grand by finishing in the top 250.

At the Hour Five break, I announced to my wife that I was just 4,000 chips out of first place and there were only 259 players remaining.

On the first hand after the break, I was dealt pocket queens in the big blind position. After a small raise was called by three players, I re-raised a modest sum. All but one of the other players called. As the flop came Q-10-7 rainbow, I banged my knee painfully on a nearby filing cabinet. I was too excited to pay any attention to the pain, though; my heart was pounding and I was sweating, breathing fast, and basically jumping all around (it was probably good that I was playing online, rather than in a casino!).

The player next to me made a sizable bet, and everyone else folded around to me. I slow played my trips by calling. The turn card was another 10, prompting my opponent to make the same sizable bet he’d previously made. I figured him for trip 10s, but since I now had a queens-over full house, I went all-in. He called, and flipped over his Q-10. As I celebrated my impending victory, he typed in the obligatory “GG” (good game). But then lightning struck. The river produced yet another 10 and suddenly he had quads. Just like that I lost half my stack and was knocked down to 27th place. Although I was obviously disappointed, I thought to myself, “Well, I’m still in the running for $10,000 and, anyway, the night is still young.”

I was immediately reassured when, on the very next hand, I was dealt A-A. Unfortunately, everyone folded to my tiny trapping raise . . . but a win is a win, and I’d protected my small blind.

Amazingly enough, I was dealt another high pair, jacks, on the following hand. I raised and three people called. The flop was K-J-4. I stared in disbelief. I had trips once again, with a chance to regain my stack. The player to my left, the chip leader at the moment, made a decent-sized bet and put his neighbor all-in. I just called. I felt a real rush of adrenaline when the turn card produced my fourth jack! The player to my left bet, and I quickly called all-in. I’d figured him, correctly, for a kings-over full house. A quick chip count revealed that I was going to nearly triple up and become the new chip leader in the tourney. I was just one card away from being rich again.

Then the final card appeared and completely ruined my night. You guessed it, my opponent’s fourth king. For the second time in three hands, I had been beaten by quads. Not only had the golden prospect of winning $274,000 been rudely snatched away from me, but I didn’t win $39,000 for 10th place, either. In fact, I was knocked out of the tourney in 253rd place and, shockingly, finished entirely out of the money. I didn’t even walk away with the $1,000 that I was “sure” of getting.

Yet, as devastating as my two bad beats were, they were nothing compared to the verbal bad beatings I received after telling my wife and her mom what had just happened to “their” money!

By: Michael W. of Muskogee, OK

After enjoying some minor poker-playing success at my local card room late last year — I’d managed to cash in at nine of 17 tournaments and was up about $800 for December — I felt like testing my skills against some more advanced players. So, I decided to try my luck at the World Series of Poker circuit events in Tunica, Mississippi, in January.

On January 7, I loaded up my car and drove the roughly 300 miles from my small town in Oklahoma to Tunica in order to enter the $500 (plus $50) no-limit event. There were more than 1,100 players signed up, along with 350 alternates; first place would pay about $250,000. I paid my entry fee somewhat nervously (the most I’d ever spent previously on a tourney was $100) and made my way over to my table, where I sat down in seat number five. While we waited for the tournament to begin, I tried to listen to the conversations around me to possibly pick up a read or two.

We each started with 1,500 in chips, and the blinds were 25-25. I was under the gun for the first hand and looked down to find pocket fives. I called the blind. Player #6 made it 150 to go. Players #10 and #2 both called, the blinds both mucked, and I called.

The flop came K-7-5 rainbow, giving me a set of fives. I checked. Player #6 bet 400. The other two players folded. Before the tournament had begun, I’d gotten the impression that player #6 knew how to play. Now I asked myself: “Does he make that bet with a set of kings?” I didn’t think so. With a set of sevens, maybe. He’d bet like he wanted to take the pot right there, so I put him on either A-K or pocket aces, or possibly a set of sevens. I called.

The turn was the 10 of the fourth suit, which meant there was neither a flush draw nor a real straight draw on the board. I checked. My opponent bet 600, which left him with only 350 behind the line. I thought to myself: “If he’s going to bet so much here, why not go all-in? If he thinks he’s got the best hand, why not value bet 200 or so?” I mulled the situation over in my mind for a while, and then I looked at the two players to my right (who had already folded) and said, “Man, it would suck to get knocked out on the first hand.” They nodded their agreement. I looked over at player #6 and repeated my lament. He sat there motionless. Finally, I pushed all my chips in and said, “Let’s gamble.”

Player #6 immediately called and turned over pocket aces. I flipped over my fives. Player #10, addressing player #6, then said, “I tossed one of your aces.” I was pretty pumped at hearing this news, thinking I was about to double up on the first hand.

Then the dealer peeled off the river . . . and slapped down the sole remaining ace, eliminating me from the tournament. 

So, to review my miserable day: I drove about 600 miles, paid a $550 buy-in, played one hand, and was beaten by a single outer. I guess I should’ve stuck to my local card room!

By: Nick L. of Castro Valley, CA

I suffered a bad beat recently that was truly surreal. I was playing in a $6/$12-limit Hold’em game at a nearby casino and happened to have a couple of loose cannons seated at my nine-player table. I really couldn’t wait for my chance to beat one of them in a big pot . . . or so I thought. 

Opportunity soon knocked when one of the loose cannons, let’s call him Mr. Maniac, raised to open the betting on a new hand. I looked down to find pocket queens, so I immediately re-raised. There were a couple of callers, and then Mr. Maniac capped it at four bets pre-flop. The flop came Q-4-2 rainbow. My crazy competition, first to act, fired out. I decided to raise, which drove the other two callers out of the hand. Mr. Maniac, not surprisingly, re-raised and then I just called (hoping to entice him to fire out again to me on the turn).

The turn produced the seven of hearts, which kept the board a rainbow of unsuited cards. As anticipated, my hapless opponent fired out again. I re-raised, hoping I wouldn’t inadvertently cause him to fold. Such fear, naturally, proved unfounded as he re-raised back, making it three bets. I began to put him on a hand such as pocket rockets or possibly K-K, which were over pairs to the board and which Mr. Maniac would likely think were golden.

As I’d soon learn, however, what Mr. Maniac actually held was 4-4, which gave me the better set, queens versus fours. The board, you’ll recall, was Q-4-2-7, all unsuited. So, this poor fish I’d hooked was drawing dead to the last four in the deck with only one card to come! Even though I didn’t yet know what he held, I re-raised again on the turn, making it four bets. Normally, four bets is a cap — but not when the hand is being played heads-up. So, when Mr. Maniac, with his paltry three fours, re-raised me with a fifth bet, guess what I did? Yup, re-raised him with a sixth bet (which, incidentally, totally depleted both of our stacks). 

Then an odd, cursed thing happened. As I was making my bet, the dealer momentarily lost his focus and turned over the river card before we were done betting. Perhaps he was glancing at a TV across from the poker room, or thinking about what he’d eat on his break, or who knows? Such blunders happen from time to time; dealers are human and can make mistakes. The general rule when a river card is accidentally exposed is that it’s returned to the deck, the remaining cards are shuffled, and then a new river card is dealt.

Anyway, much to my dismay, the mistakenly exposed river card was none other than the queen of diamonds, which would have given me four of a kind! I tried to forget about this tormenting near-miss as the dealer prepared to re-issue the river card. Because Mr. Maniac and I had both invested all of our chips in the $450-plus pot, we were basically all-in at this point and so we decided to show our hands. He turned over his pocket fours and, having no clue what he was facing from me, declared, “My hand is already made!” I showed him my queens and joked, “My hand was made on the river, but I guess it’s not made anymore!” Mr. Maniac’s face turned bright red when he realized how badly he’d overvalued his hand. 

Finally, the dealer was ready to deliver the river card, for the second and final time. Need I say what it was? Yes, incredibly, the four of clubs, giving my opponent four of a kind . . . and me an ulcer.

By: Danny S. of Chicago, IL

After outlasting all 38 other players in a local Texas Hold’em tournament, my friend Mike and I were pitted heads-up, mano a mano. Because we’ve been friends and poker fanatics for a long time, Mike and I know each other’s playing style backward and forward. In our one-on-one battle, we’d basically been stealing each other’s blinds for about 15 minutes or so when the unthinkable happened: a bad beat from the very depths of hell.

Our stacks were about even at the time, and I was dealt pocket twos; Mike held A-4, off suit. Naturally, Mike raised pre-flop, and I called. The flop came: 2S-2C-AD. “Thank you, God!” I thought to myself. The tournament, it appeared, was as good as mine. Sneakily, I checked. Mike, assuming he had the best hand with his aces-over-deuces two pair, went all-in. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Mike, you’re an idiot.” Then I showed him my quad twos. He slumped down in his seat in a daze.

I asked him, half jokingly, “We don’t really need to see the rest of the cards, do we?” (Okay, I admit it. I was feeling invincible and just couldn’t help rubbing it in his face.) Mike quickly chimed back, “It ain’t over ’til it’s over.” Laughing, I said, “Okay, Mike. If you beat my four deuces, I’ll pay you the equivalent of everyone’s buy-in for the tournament.” He knew I was mocking him, but he nonetheless agreed.

Now, it should be noted that an individual buy-in for the tournament was $25. Multiply that by the 40 players entered, and my thoughtless bravado amounted to me possibly having to cough up a cool $1,000. When the turn produced the ace of hearts, Mike immediately perked up in his seat. I was barely paying attention, but when I finally realized that the card was an ace, I started mumbling, “No way. No way. There’s no f-ing way.”

Way. The river: Ace of clubs! I couldn’t even breathe. Mike started running around the house, screaming like a maniac. It took him nearly 10 minutes to finally calm down. I was cursing up a storm, naturally. Mike came back to the table, looked me in the eye, and declared, “Danny, you’re an idiot. Now where’s my thousand bucks?”

Well, it took me three weeks to pay off the debt. I basically forked over my next three paychecks. To this day, Mike continually reminds me of that bad beat. Every time he taunts me, I tell him that he’s the luckiest person alive, and that he must have sold his soul to the devil to get both the turn and the river to beat me.

As for me, I’ll never look at four deuces quite the same way again.

By: Darin D. of Tamarac, FL

I am the king of bad beats. I get them at casinos, online, and, unfortunately, playing with friends. I get the usual ones most of the time — A-K vs. A-Q, pocket queens vs. pocket sevens, K-Q vs. Q-10 — but my propensity for suffering bad beats has developed into a running joke of sorts among my buddies.

Although we generally don’t play for big money, my friends and I get together several times a month for a $50 buy-in with one $25 re-buy. At a recent game, with the blinds at $1-$2, I landed pocket queens in first position. I threw in an $8 bet. Everybody folded, except for one caller. The flop came Q-A-K, giving me a set. I bet $15. Surprisingly, the caller re-raised all-in. I was almost 100-percent sure that he’d flopped a pair of aces, or possibly two pair, so I quickly called. He turned over A-9. I revealed my trip queens and tried to suppress a laugh.

The turn was another ace and some knucklehead at the table screamed, “He has trip aces now!” I smiled and calmly stated, “Well, it doesn’t really matter because I just hit a full house.” As I prepared to collect my winnings, the river produced a king, giving my opponent an aces-over-kings full house to bust my queens-over-aces full house. Yup, I was done in by runner-runner, which caused everyone at the table to start laughing (except me, course!).

Despite my disappointment, I wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, so I decided to opt for the $25 re-buy. At that point, my strategy was to wait on a decent hand to play in order to win back some of my money.

After being dealt pocket eights, I raised $10 and got one caller (coincidentally, the same friend who’d lucked out earlier to beat me). The flop came 7S-8C-9C. My friend checked, so I decided to play this hand a little differently and checked, too. The turn was the eight of hearts, giving me quad eights. “Perfect!” I thought to myself. My friend bet and I was seriously hoping that he had pocket sevens or nines, or maybe even a full boat.

I eagerly pushed all-in. He immediately called, flipped over his 10C-JC, and gushed, “I flopped a straight and slow played you!” I showed him my cards and said, “Your straight isn’t good enough because I’ve got quads!”

With just the river to come, I was pretty much assured of getting my money back. . . . That is, until the river turned out to be the queen of clubs, bestowing my friend with a straight flush. Everyone was stunned.

Furious, I stormed out of the house. On the drive home I realized that if this second beat had only occurred in a casino, rather than at a friend’s home, I could have collected a $25,000 bad beat jackpot! Instead, though, I have just another bad beat story to tell.

By: By Garrett M. of Los Angeles, CA

Having finally turned 21, the time had come for me to burn my fake ID and take a stab at the big $600 buy-in, no-limit game at my local casino. In the past, I’d been hesitant to play in this game primarily because I was underaged (my fake ID, admittedly, wasn’t all that convincing). Anyway, I’d been building up a fairly substantial bankroll over the previous six months and now I was ready to put it into action.

After about seven hours or so of play, things seemingly couldn’t get much better for me. In fact, I felt as if I couldn’t lose; the cards were consistently falling my way. My stack was up to about $5,500, and I was on top of the world. The invincible feeling continued and, eventually, I looked down at pocket kings in late position. Another player, who was sort of a maniacal fish, raised to $150 under the gun. Everyone else folded around to the player on my right, who called.

Hoping to possibly take down the pot right there, I quickly raised it to $600. The fish, whom I’d dubbed “Little Nemo,” sat and pondered for quite a while before finally announcing that he was all-in for $3,500!

The player to my right folded. After thinking it over, I concluded that it was highly unlikely Little Nemo had A-A; judging from his previous play, he surely would’ve smooth called if he’d held pocket rockets. I decided to call, and was about 90-percent sure I had the best hand pre-flop.   

We flipped over our cards and, much to my relief, Little Nemo revealed pocket fives. No sooner had he shown his cards than the player to my right, who’d folded, declared, “Wow, I had pocket fives, too!”

What a sweet development for me, I was practically a shoo-in to win at this point! The flop came A-2-K (two of the cards were spades, but the flush draw was irrelevant because neither of my opponent’s fives was a spade). All I could think about was the nearly $10,000 sitting in front of me, and the possibility of gaining entry into the World Series of Poker (my dream).

I was jolted back to reality, though, by the turn card, a four. Suddenly, there was a definite lump in my throat. “No freaking way is he going to pull the inside straight,” I thought to myself. Well, you can probably guess what happened next. The entire table gasped in unison as the dealer turned over a three on the river.

As Little Nemo began raking in the big pot, he tossed me a $10 chip . . . and laughed! I desperately fought the urge to lunge at him, quietly scooped up my remaining chips, and, barely able to breathe, left the casino and headed home.