That morning cup of coffee, after noon.
I stayed up late last night. Real late. I was entranced by the election results and I was working my way through 3 straight days of poker losses.
Where shall I begin?
Those little Stars $1.10 double or nothing SnGs: 2 wins/4losses. Flop trips with better kicker, opponent hits kicker. AJ vs A6, 6 comes on flop. And on and on. Sit down at 10NL. Table is tight except for one player I have in my sites. Draws out on me twice. I hate when sets go down in flames.
Sets... more of a rarity than usual. Just not coming. Same with draws. Odds are there. Cards are not. And when the 11 outer does hit, it’s second best. Oops. More pairs. No sets. I’m getting twitchy.
Yesterday, Poker Academy and Pub Tourney are disasters. Play some more 10NL at Stars while watching my PA buy-in fade away into a second. Been grinding for what seems like hours on Stars with nothing to show for it. A new cowboy (his avatar) sets down to my right. I get J 10c on the button after the cowboy has just posted. I raise, he’s the only caller, I C-bet with air, he calls, I give up. Cowboy proceeds to push the table around. He’s on the button and raises to $1 after two limpers. I have 3s in the SB and call. Flop is J2J, he bets and I raise. He calls. Turn is my 3. All in. Yeah, he had a hand. Queens. I double up and pack it in.
Went upstairs to catch the early numbers on Wall Street and to see which way the wind was blowing for the financial pundits on CNBC. Fell asleep on the couch, and dreamed about Doug.
Doug runs the Tuesday Night Pub Tourney. He gets $20 a week to do so from the bar owner. That money goes into the video slots three cents a spin. I have wanted to write about Doug for quite some time, yet I have never been quite sure how to proceed, and I am not sure I can do him an injustice without some of the mess splashing back on me.
Don’t get me wrong. Doug is a nice guy. He’s a harmless, gentle soul who will call a 5 X BB with a naked Ace against my Queens.
Before I even bet, Doug has his little pudgies on his stack. He’s just itching to play. I have to make the bet sizable because I have two limpers behind me.
“Call.” The limpers fold.
I tell LeRoy, the electrician and the button to my left, “Doug has a naked Ace.” The flop brings that Ace. Doug, in the BB, checks. I C-bet and he calls. “Yep, he has an Ace.” I am content to check it down and Doug show A6c.
“Shit, Doug. How much should I bet? Would you call and $600 bet? An $800?
“Maybe. A6c is a good hand.”
“Well, keep playing that way. I’m coming after you. You’re going to be gone in, oh, let’s see, six hands.” You might think that I’m tilting at this point, and you’d be correct. You might also be asking why I would get so upset. One simple reason that you might anticipate: this wouldn’t be the first time Doug has gotten lucky on me. In fact, just a few weeks before I remember my Aces going down to his K5o when he hit a 5 on the flop and a K on the turn.
“I’m coming after you, Doug.”
But, of course, I go card dead. Meanwhile, Doug limps with 69o and gets a flush. “It was cheap.”
A few hands later, blinds now at $200, Leroy bets $1000 from the button and Doug calls. Leroy gets two pair with his AK, Doug hits a flush with the 8d that accompanied his Ac.
Meanwhile, I’m blinding out. With an M of 6, I jam on the button with J 10o, hoping to just take the blinds, but get called by AA and AKo. My rebuy fared just as badly.
I was home in time to hear Obama’s speech in Grant Park.