An Omaha Hand Where Super System Failed Me
There’s something about overt acts of salesmanship that naturally has a tendency to turn me off. I guess you could say that Floyd Manning is not the kind of individual who is easily swayed by what most people would classify as “the hard sell.” It is true that there were two separate moments in my youth when I allowed my judgment to be diluted by a bombastic sales presentation, and on each of these occurrences the end result was most unfortunate. One occasion in particular left both my confidence and my checking account badly wounded.
Without going into it too much unnecessary detail, I will tell you that I bought a pre-owned Mustang in the summer of 1979 from a mustached used car dealer located in the bowels of the San Fernando Valley who went by the dubious name of “Bombay Ray.” This gentleman was well-skilled in the art of the slick pitch, and he took easy advantage of my desperate need to buy a car on the very day which I first visited his lot. At the time, I was not in possession of any vehicular transportation, and desperately needed to secure myself a ride with which I could take the object of all my affections (a fair young flower of the high desert who was known among many heartsick young swains as “Ramblin’” Rose Romanoff) to the semi-annual tractor pull being held at the San Berdoo Community Center on that same ill-fated evening.
Well, I guess it’s pretty safe to say that I provided an easy mark for a Bombay Ray the moment I set foot on his dusty lot. And it did not take him very long to sell me an absolute lemon, the engine of which completely and permanently died on me before I had driven three blocks from that cursed lot. Of course, by that point my money was already gone and there was absolutely no chance of getting it back. In fact, Bombay Ray greeted me with a loaded shotgun when I returned to the lot in a vain attempt at retribution.
Ever since that disastrous day, I have instinctively loathed any product or service that oversells itself. Thus, when first presented with the Super System for winning Omaha hi/lo, I was skeptical, to say the least. But at the urging of a good friend, I gave it a shot one evening while playing some fairly intense Omaha in Atlantic City.
This was a truly educational experience form me, because I learned not to be so wary about a system that appears to be trying way too hard to sell itself (i.e. calling itself “Super”). Alas, it was not an entirely successful night. Following the system, I found myself going into the turn cards on one hand with a pair of queens, one in the hole and one on the board. With two cards to be revealed, I decided to go all in on the turn, as advised by the Super System. Needless to say, my third queen did not materialize, and I found myself losing to a gentleman across from me holding two cowboys.
The Super system did not work, at least not at that moment, though I must admit it has proven its worth on a number of occasions since then.