Surely, someone among my readers would understand my reluctance to high-five or fist bump. Yet, I do so, just to keep things friendly.
Tonight was my fourth trip back to the new pub tourney in town. There were 32 players. And so I am not accused of burying the lead, I took the thing down, Queens over A7c when I had her covered. That means next week I buy the organizers their first round with the $15 certificate I won. I don't have to, I just will. The food at this place would do me in, I'm quite sure.
The tourney was just like every other night, with many of the same players. Folks still push or call with bottom or middle pair, runner-running a flush, catching the ace, etc. I have little motivation to give details, except to say that I only made one bad call all night and managed to play appropriately aggressive at the final table and took some pleasure busting the young guns. I high-fived no less than four times with no ensuing epiphany.
Some weeks ago, knowing that a pub tourney is not an exciting event about which to peeny wag, I thought to write character studies: sleepy-eyed Chris, Loud-mouthed Bob, screeching Linda, that sort of thing. I have yet to muster the desire. I suppose one might think I am a curmudgeon, and surely this must come through at the table as folks merrily chat and scream REBUY and squeal at levels OSHA might want to know about. In fact, I am liked well enough to be invited to the Eagles poker night with a $25 tourney and a 1/2/3 Limit-like cash game in the basement. I did not say no.
There are a few likable folks in the mix, including Gerry, the primary organizer, who is a very soft-spoken, amiable, yet acerbic guy. A few months ago, Gerry and his wife won a rather sizable amount of cash on one of the lottery slots. A framed picture of him holding the payout check is in the bar. Every week at least two people mention the win. And tonight, as I was helping Gerry clean up after the game, the owner of the joint mentioned it again.
I said, "Gerry, you're a legend."