Thursday, 6 December 2007
Call it a night

If ever I saw a sign telling me to stop playing poker (for the night, not all together), then I believe it just flashed up on my screen.

Tonight, like most nights has been quite a long one. Farting around and not doing the work I should have done, led me to around five or six o'clock. Yeah it must have been six, because in the space of that hour I showered, realised that I had fuck all in the fridge for dinner, chucked some frozen food on, ate it and got to the bar for poker.

This being the last Wednesday of term meant it was the Grand Final night. Our college poker works like the WPT (ish), where players get entry to the Grand Final over the course of the term by gaining points on their overall position in weekly tournaments.

Managing to not get a hand higher than the 8-5 off suit bracket for the first two hours, I considered myself to be looking sharp as we headed to the final table with around my starting stack. With the blinds reaching significantly stack hurting levels, I managed to make a few steals, to keep on par. Ninth went out, then eighth and then on the bubble I found that I could steer clear of unnecessary conflict. Within the space of half an hour, the balance of the table went from one side to the other. My side I can quite happily report. The bubble burst with myself stood well clear from any messy discharge.

Slowly, I had been amassing chips. Playing at the right times against the right people. It was four way and for once the chips were evenly distributed around the table. To my left was my comrade James. We'd been joking that we were Communist Russia in a rather Peep Show way, when the bulk of the chips were on the right wing of the table. Through what was even bad luck or shoddy play, or a combination of the two Ti and Chris managed to run into the wrong end of an all in against your narrator. It was heads up and I had a slight lead.

My heads up skills are notoriously known around college for the fact that they are non existent. You don't earn the nickname Second Prize for nothing. In fact I've probably come second more often than I've finished in any other place combined. Hey, at least I'm consistent.

I held back on confrontational hands, opting to make minimum bets instead of stack risking raises and it paid off. I was tempted to call an all in pre-flop with K-10 off, but declined knowing that James was a conservative player. And then came the final hand.

I'm on the button and get dealt 5-6 off suit. After thinking about raising I decide that I'm better off calling, with the possibility that if reraised I can escape with limited damage. I call, he checks. The flop brings 6d-6s-As. Merry fucking Christmas I think to myself. He bets out half the pot. I stall, and mask my thoughts on how to make the most out it as indecision. I reluctantly call. The turn comes down something like an eight or a ten, I can't really remember, but it was of Spaded descent. There's a flush draw out here. And I'm committed. He makes a minimum bet. The big 'flush draw' light flashes in my head. At the same time though, the 'heads up' siren is wailing. He wouldn't have gone for the flush draw if he had the Ace, what the hell has he got. If he has got the flush, I've still got outs for the boat. I reraise him all in. After a minute or so thought he calls. "You got spades?" I ask. "No?" He responds. What the fuck has he got? Cos even with the Ace your fucked mate. "I got trip sixes," I say as I felt my cards. He turns over the Hiltons. "Pocket Queens, nice" I say and check that the spade isn't in his hand. It's not. The river brings a five filling my boat and earning me my first Woodlane Poker Club Main Event.

With no time to celebrate, I came home to finish off a presentation that I've got in the morning. Well, I say that. What actually happened was I went home, made a sandwich and watched Family Guy for an hour, whilst playing on Full Tilt. Finishing just out of the bubble on a two table tournament, I got on with finishing the work. (It's taken so long because of all these distractions!) I'd just taken a herbal sleeping pill (give it a few weeks before I go for the real stuff), when I stoked the Full Tilt fire again. First hand of a single table S'n'G: I get Paris and Nikki. In early position I decide to min bet it. I get a few callers. The flop comes down harmlessly, Jack high. I bet out, two folds, one call. Safe turn. River brings an Ace and a backdoor flush. He makes a half pot bet (which is pretty big by now). I reraise all in and he flips K-9, nut flush. "Motherfucker" I heartlessly moan to the screen and decide it's a sign to pack it in for the night.