I am not world amateur poker champion. I am only the 36th best player in the galaxy...assuming poker isn't played on other worlds. I usually tut at people who don't win things and are then magnanimous in defeat claiming they had a good time anyway, but I actually did have a good time anyway.
Some of these APAT events in the recent past have seemed to be a little testy and often bad tempered, but not so this time around. At least on the tables I played on, it was all very good natured and chatty and fun fun fun. Even a man from Sheffield didn't squash me into oblivion or even call me a c**t after our full-house over full-house confrontation late on day 1.
Making the money was good and everything, but the highlight of the weekend I have to say was the group of five or six of the uncoolest Italians I have ever seen.Hilarious they were. I didn't think there were such things as uncool Italians. Usually they can wear bin bags and look chic, but they were funny, cack-handed and nerdy and I hoped that back in Italy they had their own sit-com.
Also I continue to find players who wear hoodies with the hood up with shades very amusing. I just can't understand how this particular poker fashion came into being.
If these people wore this stuff because it helped their game that would be just about understandable, but you know this has nothing to do with it, in real terms they just think they look bad ass... were as unfortunately, in actual fact, they just look like utter twats.
You can excuse the young whipper-snapper online type kids for dressing this way. Youngsters traditionally have no sense of perspective with clothing. For a lot of them perhaps they are students and for the first time in their lives are not living with their mothers always telling them how to dress, so they rebel and go a little crazy and dress absurdly just because they can.
It is not long however, before they appreciate just why their mothers were so critical...it is because they did not want their progeny being openly mocked by everyone for looking stupid and so they eventually conform to sporting more subdued and appropriate day wear.
There are no excuses though for grown men to sport shades and hoodies at the poker tables though. In what other social setting would you wear shades and hoodie indoors? They are old enough now to know better. And this nonsense is of course compounded by the fact that this is an Amateur poker event, it's not the main event of the WSOP with cabillions of monies at stake.
I pity these poker fashion victims, adorned with millions of poker logos and silly shades and hoodies and massive headphones. Some day you will hark back to the days you went out in public dressed this way and feel a knot in your stomach as it finally dawns on you just how many people must have smirked at you behind your back or openly mocked you on their awesome blogs.
I look awesome: a prat yesterday* * *
Anyway, moving on now...a couple of interesting hands I shall note here for posterity:
Early on day 1, first level: I am on the button with Kc-6c. A couple of players limp as do I. The small blind is in the lavatory and the big-blind checks his option. The flop is Ac-8c-5c! Hooray, I have flopped the nut-flush. It's checked round to me and I bet a wee little 175. The big-blind calls and everyone else folds.
The turn card is the Ace of spades...not the best card for me. Big-blind checks and I bet 300. The big-blind calls rather quickly, which I am unhappy about. He is Welsh, bald and scary looking.
The river card is the two of clubs. We now have four clubs on the board and two aces. The big-blind bets 1100. I am beat of course, but I convinced myself I could still some how be winning and I re-raise to 2200. I am of course quickly re-popped and it's now 2800 more if I want to see his cards.
I call because I'm curious and stupid. I expect to see a full-house, but he shows me the ball shrinking 3-4clubs, for a rivered one-outer straight-flush. I am down to about 4,500 with about forty minutes gone in the tournament.
Hand 2, Fast forward to the penultimate level of the evening. I have roughly 65K. In the big blind with Qh-9h, with blinds of 1,000, 2000 with a running ante of 200 (I think). A man from Sheffield on the button raises (again) to 5,000. I call and we're heads up.
Flop is Q-8-J rainbow. I check, Sheffield bets 9,000. I call.
Turn is Q. I check (trapping see), Sheffield checks also (also trapping)
River card is 9!! ..my bingo bango card, I bet a tenny tiny 12,000, Sheffield shoves, I call (worried for a second I might not be shown Q-J)...but in fact he has Queens full of eights.
He had turned a full-house and even though I was never folding had he not checked the turn, I at least can now say I won the hand without putting a bad-beat on my opponent as I had the best of it when the monies went in. This was a 140k pot, but I then lost about 30k in the next hand with an A-Q and A-K confrontation.
Some crazy hands, just like online play only worse. I finish the day with 111,000. This was how day 1 went for me; up and down up and down. Day 2 proved to be mainly downs.
Day 2:
Four hands do for me. I have the best of it each time, on one occasion by miles..the others just races.
Hand 1: Short stacked player shoves for 35,000. I call on the button with K-Q. He shows K-2. Queen on the flop and the hooded player with shades adorned with poker logos starts to walk off. Unfortunately the other four cards are 3-4-5 and 6 for a straight. I'm about 90% to win the hand on the flop, but hey-ho.
Hand 2: Same player, he has K-Q this time, I have 10s..again I'm on the button and he has shoved...this time for 67K. I have recovered most of the chips I lost in our first collision. There is a King on the flop this time, but no four cards to make me a straight. I am now down to 60k ish.
Hand 3: I am now very short, with about 60k and monstrous blinds...Welshman with hairy ears sat to my right with about 45k shoves and I have 4-4. He is UTG +1 so I have many players to act after me. I decided to flip a coin. I announce heads will be a call and tails a fold. My coin lands heads , but it rolls towards my welsh friend before it rests next to his cards. I ought to have taken this as a sign, but I call.
He shows me A-5 of clubs. I am ahead, but feel deflated and not at all confident. Some poo almost leaks out of me when the first ace hits the board. Another ace follows on the turn and I am felted. I have 17k left and nothing but a long drive home to look forward to.
Hand 4: I am all in UTG blind. I am called by an A-9. And of course just so I am absolutely clear my 10-3 has lost, the board has two more aces and a 9 for my delectation. I slope off to collect what seems like a paltry £300 for my 36th place finish and wonder what might have been while I have a slippery poo for myself in the gents.
An unforgiving game is poker. One of the few games one can play where a crushing defeat can ensue without ever really making a mistake. The Gods must have their seamstresses weave strands of masochism into our DNA in order to get us to ante up for these events elsewise none of us would ever play. As it is I'm already looking forward to the next one.
A seamstress preparing some DNA for the Gods yesterday__
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