Oh, The Frustration of it All

Saturday, January 7th, 2006, 7:20 pm

Just got bounced from a 45-person SNG one from the final table. Got trapped by the chip leader, who flopped top two and made his boat on the turn. I had J-3 and flopped a three. Brilliant play on my part, but I was shortstacked and, well, when that second king came I hoped I was good. I wasn’t. It sucks, watching the final table and I’m not there. Huh, why am I watching it? Screw that.

One funny hand. Early on this one guy kept showing down bluff after bluff as he built a big stack. He lost 2/3 of his chips bluffing at a flopped flush and two hands later I raise with AK and he calls. The flop comes Q-J-2, I check, knowing he’ll bet, and when he does I whack him with the check raise. He goes all in. I remember all those bluffs, figure I probably have outs, and not wanting to play with no chips I call. He has pocket 7s, I turn a king, and he’s out. And then he types something along the lines that I’m an idiot suckout motherfucker. “Oh be nice,” I type, and get back to work.

I cashed in a SNG last night that used up most of my luck for the week. Down to six I’m pretty much down to the felt, but I steal the blinds on 2 straight hands with AJ and AQ. The very next hand I’m dealt KK under the gun, and I raise again, hoping someone will think I’m getting too frisky and need discipline. Sure enough, the BB goes all-in and I call.

The flop is K-J-10. Which would be a good flop for me, except that the BB has AQ. I get no help and I’m down to T242. “Unfrickin’ real,” I say merrily, looking around for sharp objects. I have T242. I’m in the big blind, which is T200. Great. I’m dealt K-10, not a bad hand, until the guy who just whacked me raises and turns over K-J. Great. And the flop comes A-Q-J. Now it’s my turn to flop the straight, and it holds up. “Now we’re even,” I say, the sarcasm just dripping down the chat box.

But I have a few chips, which I push in the pot with 4-6. I get called with Q-6. Two live cards, that’s all I want in the world, and I’m dominated. But I flop a four. I double up again, and suddenly I’m off the respirator. On the button I get A-4, go all-in, get called by 8-7, and my ace plays. Suddenly I’m in 3rd place.

I cash thanks to two sick beats. KQ loses to QJ when a jack spikes on the river, and then a guy who’d been running unlucky all game goes all-in with presto and finds himself up against pocket fours. The flop comes 5-8-Q, nice flop right? Until the turn comes a seven. “How about a six?” I asked the screen, and just like that, the six of spades pops up! “How about a quartet of nymphomaniacs frolicing in a tub of chocolate pudding?” I asked the screen. Nothing. Well, a noble attempt.

This morning I saw a show on A&E called “Poker Kings” that I’d never seen before. It’s a documentary shot in 2003 BM (Before Moneymaker) that follows Garry Bush, Simon Trumper, a new pro named Carlo, Robert Varkonyi, and Phil Hellmuth for a year. Some interesting stuff, none of which features Hellmuth. He was just Phil being Phil, and his whole part could’ve and should’ve been cut. But the parts with the European pros was really good stuff. I may have more to write about it later. For now, Christ, am I in the mood for some chocolate pudding. I don’t know why.

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