I’ve settled into a nice little routine on Friday nights. My friends (i haz dem) are usually busy with other pursuits on Friday so I get something to eat, take care of any pressing domestic issues, and play poker. I usually open up a few cash games and then find myself a nice little tournament. Tonight was no exception–I trudged through the snow to Marzoni’s, had fish and chips (and two Pale Ales), and tried to make some coin.

Five and a half hours later I’m $325 richer. Finished 11th out of 1658 runners, and of course my heart is broken now that I’m out. Not that I have any reason to be upset–I was short and pushed with A-6 one off the button. Blundered into Aces, and that was that. In truth I had no business making it past the bubble. We were just a few players short of the money and I had A-J in the small blind. There was a raise and a re-raise, and I had so few chips that I should’ve called with any two cards. I folded. What the hell, I was probably gonna be toast and miss doubling my buy-in. The next hand I had K-J and as we’d reached the bubble I turtled again. I was down to about T1400 when we made the money and I started shoving.

I tripled up when my Q-8 of hearts flopped a flush. Then I doubled up with Aces. That started a cycle where I’d double up, get trash for a few orbits and see my stack dwindle, and then double up again. My tablemates were aggressive and I didn’t get many opportunities to make plays without moving in. So I folded, folded, folded…until I got some cards. I can’t pick out a single hand I played especially well, though there were a few howlers mixed in that I’ll either learn from or try to forget.

I dunno, I do fairly well in tournaments, make the money quite often, and I’ve had a few nice scores. But I can’t say that I’m impressed with my tournament game. Patience seems to be my only virtue. I guess that counts for something. The guy who knocked me out finished 10th, one away from the final table. We both ended up winning the same amount. Can’t say I take much satisfaction from that, nice enough guy.

Post-knockout depression. Sigh.

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