Day 75
Today’s post is a little different.
I spent most of the day writing a couple of articles for a magazine but as only one would be required I thought it would be a travesty to simply deposit it in my electronic waste bin. I also didn’t have time to hit the Online tables today but can assure you that normal service will be resumed tomorrow.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
I, like many others, was first introduced to poker whilst still at college.
Although I quickly forgot the fundamentals of Plate Tectonics and Cezanne’s Theory, the really important stuff has remained embedded in my mind: Don’t bet into a dry pot, avoid bluffing to an early position pre-flop raise and never eat Mexican food before going out on a first date.
Whilst these have proved invaluable, other equally crucial lessons have only been obtained after years of struggling at the tables. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have learned from most of them but there is a specific one that I adhere to like glue.
I refer of course to alcohol or more specifically, drinking large quantities of it before and during a game.
I’m sure most of us have had a shot or two to calm the nerves prior to a tournament but this concerns overindulging in a big way. We’ve all seen those who are guilty of this crime; they stagger from the bar and weave their way unsteadily to their designated seat before giggling uncontrollably and ordering another drink in a language closer to Swahili than English.
Invariably they make fundamentally stupid plays and see their chip stack going down faster than Monica Lewinsky at a White House reunion dinner. This usually results in the offender prostrating themselves across the table and weeping uncontrollably that their parents never really loved them or the person at the next seat has recently become their best friend in the World and now refuses to acknowledge their existence.
The flip side to this coin is the over exuberance caused by knocking back a few large ones.
Although this triggers one to play just as badly as the previously noted specimens, it can be far more annoying. They scream and shout at the top of their voices and give opinions on other peoples play to everyone within a three mile radius, convinced they have just become the next Johnny Chan.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out when they have a premium starting hand as they jump up and down like a kangaroo on amphetamines whilst singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic with their shirt pulled over their head. This is invariably followed by an insane cry of “I’m all in!” which in turn is followed by everyone else scoffing in a derisory manner and folding as fast as they can.
The exception to this rule are players like Hevad Khan and Phil Laak who, without any artificial stimulation whatsoever, dance around the table screaming like they’ve got a firework shoved up their backsides. Give them a large Jack on the rocks and they’d probably spontaneously combust.
Very often the appetising effects of alcohol lead to another activity that should be performed away from the poker table…eating.
Opening something no more offensive than a packet of peanuts will result in the next two hours being spent brushing crumbs off the felt but I’ve been present when players have virtually eaten a three-course meal whilst in the middle of a game. This can take a five-man cleaning crew an entire shift to remove the mess.
You might hope that with a mouthful of food they would rendered incapable of speech but these people are made of sterner stuff. Coupled with the booze, social etiquette is shoved to one side and you often get two or three extra views of their food before it’s swallowed.
I remember once such individual raising to an Ace flush draw and in his excitement to announce the bet, coughed a lump of bacon across the table like a tracer bullet.
To this day I don’t know how the dealer managed to retain his composure as he peeled a half chewed lump of meat off his cheek.
Taken individually, these two activities are fairly nasty around a poker table but when the two are combined the results are nothing short of repulsive.
Tournament play involves prolonged periods of having to remain seated with little or no opportunity to visit the bathroom until a break is announced
You can see where this is heading…
Focused players and, for some evolutionary reason, women tend not to have a problem in this area but the determined drinker is a different matter altogether.
This was best illustrated by the actions of a drunken player who attended the same tournament as myself last year in London. It was clear he’d been drinking heavily before arriving and it wasn’t long before the entire building was aware of his presence.
He was in no way threatening but it didn’t stop the tournament director issuing a warning before the game even started.
We tolerated this behaviour for about three Big Blind levels when all of a sudden he went quiet and started squirming slightly in his seat. A pained look crossed his face and he gently lifted a buttock, presumably in order to silently and anonymously pass a little gas. I’m sure the intention was to emit nothing more than a silent hiss.
The resulting fart practically lifted one end of the table.
It was so loud that a dealer on the other side of the room stopped distributing cards and jerked his head around like a chicken looking for a fox in order to discover the source of the noise. An elderly player at the next table reached for his umbrella.
Silence fell across the entire card room as competitors in his immediate vicinity scattered like a hand grenade had exploded under his chair.
Summoning as much dignity as was possible in such a situation, he rose from his seat and staggered from the room. To the best of my knowledge, he hasn’t been back since. I’m not fucking surprised.
Even though those who indulge in these activities effectively put a target on their chest inviting everyone in the room to gun for their money, they always seem to repeat their mistakes every time they visit the tables. On the plus side, they provide a rich vein of ready cash and are globally recognized as nothing more than a chip distribution service.
I don’t think for one moment that I’ll ever be voted “Bluff Magazine Player of the Year” but at least I won’t find myself begging and apologising to casino managers in order to sit down for a game after disgracing myself on a previous visit.
So, if ever I have the good fortune to be facing you across the baize, I would be grateful if reminded me of these dangers.
I’ll be the one with the large glass of bourbon and double burger and fries.
___________________________________________________________________________
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0
I spent most of the day writing a couple of articles for a magazine but as only one would be required I thought it would be a travesty to simply deposit it in my electronic waste bin. I also didn’t have time to hit the Online tables today but can assure you that normal service will be resumed tomorrow.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
I, like many others, was first introduced to poker whilst still at college.
Although I quickly forgot the fundamentals of Plate Tectonics and Cezanne’s Theory, the really important stuff has remained embedded in my mind: Don’t bet into a dry pot, avoid bluffing to an early position pre-flop raise and never eat Mexican food before going out on a first date.
Whilst these have proved invaluable, other equally crucial lessons have only been obtained after years of struggling at the tables. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have learned from most of them but there is a specific one that I adhere to like glue.
I refer of course to alcohol or more specifically, drinking large quantities of it before and during a game.
I’m sure most of us have had a shot or two to calm the nerves prior to a tournament but this concerns overindulging in a big way. We’ve all seen those who are guilty of this crime; they stagger from the bar and weave their way unsteadily to their designated seat before giggling uncontrollably and ordering another drink in a language closer to Swahili than English.
Invariably they make fundamentally stupid plays and see their chip stack going down faster than Monica Lewinsky at a White House reunion dinner. This usually results in the offender prostrating themselves across the table and weeping uncontrollably that their parents never really loved them or the person at the next seat has recently become their best friend in the World and now refuses to acknowledge their existence.
The flip side to this coin is the over exuberance caused by knocking back a few large ones.
Although this triggers one to play just as badly as the previously noted specimens, it can be far more annoying. They scream and shout at the top of their voices and give opinions on other peoples play to everyone within a three mile radius, convinced they have just become the next Johnny Chan.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out when they have a premium starting hand as they jump up and down like a kangaroo on amphetamines whilst singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic with their shirt pulled over their head. This is invariably followed by an insane cry of “I’m all in!” which in turn is followed by everyone else scoffing in a derisory manner and folding as fast as they can.
The exception to this rule are players like Hevad Khan and Phil Laak who, without any artificial stimulation whatsoever, dance around the table screaming like they’ve got a firework shoved up their backsides. Give them a large Jack on the rocks and they’d probably spontaneously combust.
Very often the appetising effects of alcohol lead to another activity that should be performed away from the poker table…eating.
Opening something no more offensive than a packet of peanuts will result in the next two hours being spent brushing crumbs off the felt but I’ve been present when players have virtually eaten a three-course meal whilst in the middle of a game. This can take a five-man cleaning crew an entire shift to remove the mess.
You might hope that with a mouthful of food they would rendered incapable of speech but these people are made of sterner stuff. Coupled with the booze, social etiquette is shoved to one side and you often get two or three extra views of their food before it’s swallowed.
I remember once such individual raising to an Ace flush draw and in his excitement to announce the bet, coughed a lump of bacon across the table like a tracer bullet.
To this day I don’t know how the dealer managed to retain his composure as he peeled a half chewed lump of meat off his cheek.
Taken individually, these two activities are fairly nasty around a poker table but when the two are combined the results are nothing short of repulsive.
Tournament play involves prolonged periods of having to remain seated with little or no opportunity to visit the bathroom until a break is announced
You can see where this is heading…
Focused players and, for some evolutionary reason, women tend not to have a problem in this area but the determined drinker is a different matter altogether.
This was best illustrated by the actions of a drunken player who attended the same tournament as myself last year in London. It was clear he’d been drinking heavily before arriving and it wasn’t long before the entire building was aware of his presence.
He was in no way threatening but it didn’t stop the tournament director issuing a warning before the game even started.
We tolerated this behaviour for about three Big Blind levels when all of a sudden he went quiet and started squirming slightly in his seat. A pained look crossed his face and he gently lifted a buttock, presumably in order to silently and anonymously pass a little gas. I’m sure the intention was to emit nothing more than a silent hiss.
The resulting fart practically lifted one end of the table.
It was so loud that a dealer on the other side of the room stopped distributing cards and jerked his head around like a chicken looking for a fox in order to discover the source of the noise. An elderly player at the next table reached for his umbrella.
Silence fell across the entire card room as competitors in his immediate vicinity scattered like a hand grenade had exploded under his chair.
Summoning as much dignity as was possible in such a situation, he rose from his seat and staggered from the room. To the best of my knowledge, he hasn’t been back since. I’m not fucking surprised.
Even though those who indulge in these activities effectively put a target on their chest inviting everyone in the room to gun for their money, they always seem to repeat their mistakes every time they visit the tables. On the plus side, they provide a rich vein of ready cash and are globally recognized as nothing more than a chip distribution service.
I don’t think for one moment that I’ll ever be voted “Bluff Magazine Player of the Year” but at least I won’t find myself begging and apologising to casino managers in order to sit down for a game after disgracing myself on a previous visit.
So, if ever I have the good fortune to be facing you across the baize, I would be grateful if reminded me of these dangers.
I’ll be the one with the large glass of bourbon and double burger and fries.
___________________________________________________________________________
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0
