Wednesday, August 9th, 2006, 10:16 am
Went to a golf outing yesterday, picking up the sticks since…last year’s outing. I know full well I’ve no chance to play well if I only get on the course once or twice a year, but is it too much to ask that I hit one decent pitching wedge over 18 holes? I’m not kidding when I say that I had 25 terrible chips yesterday. Nubs, foul balls, scuffs, you name it. I parred the last hole, which allowed me to keep some of my dignity. Oh, who am I kidding–the dignity is all gone.
Afterwards there was a big dinner and, in the back, a poker game, just like last year. Ah, poker, now THIS is where I really shine! I paid my twenty bucks, mucked my first two hands, then looked down at pocket kings. There was a raise and re-raise ahead of me, and knowing that a big pot would give me enough chips to play my game I went all-in, wanting a call. The guy to my left thought about it, thought about it, and said, “I have to call”. He turned over A-7. He HAD to call?
My buddy Matt was dealing and he tossed out a raggy flop indeed. An eight on the turn gave the guy a gutshot straight draw, but I was still feeling pretty good. Right up to the point where Matt slapped the ace of hearts down on the river. I’ve known Matt since the first grade. But, after that river card fell, I started to wonder. Do I REALLY know him? Know the blackness that pollutes his bastard soul? Apparently not.
That freed me up to drink beer and eat. I came back later to find that the guy who busted me had about 2/3 of the chips in play. On the single hand I watched he was in against the guy in 2nd place and the flop came 4-5-7 of hearts. He led out with a fairly big bet, and the other guy folded. The dude who busted me turned over the three and six of hearts. He’d flopped a STRAIGHT FLUSH, and chased the other guy out of the hand. And he’s the guy who knocked me out. Ladies and Gentlemen, I love the game of poker. I love it so very, very much.
Going away again this weekend to the lake (that’s where the golf outing was, incidentally, and the weather was sublime) so I’ll be playing a bit up there. Of course, yinz will all be reading about the final table at the World Series. I’m not allowed to mention on these pages who won or what happened because I’ve been told my several of my readers that if I let the cat out of the bag before ESPN televises it large chunks of my body will be dropped into the Mon. And I don’t need that.
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