Eskimo Clark and his friends had left the cyber area and I was sitting alone last night when Josh Arieh walked by into the john with his laptop in his hands. A cursory glance at the screen showed that he was playing Ultimate Bet. Meanwhile, I was sitting in the Josh Arieh room playing $3-$6 blinds NLHE. Coincidence?
Arieh later came back by and sat in the floor.
“Josh, there’s a seat open over here if you want it,” I called out.
“That’s ok, just a couple more hands,” he replied.
I told him I was playing in his room on Bodog and he begins a long-winded explanation about the new software the site is about to implement.
I later was paid a visit by Rick “Big Rick” Guillroy, a native of Lake Charles, La., and a friend of Clark’s. He had been in a car accident earlier in the week (he hit a deer) and was trying to see if I could help him email is insurance adjustor. Since he didn’t know how to spell the man’s name, the search was fruitless before it began.
Guillroy told me he lives here after losing his house to Katrina and lamented about the Eskimo’s exit from the WPO main event.
“He’s got pocket aces in a goddamn tournament when he can win a million dollars and he lets goddamn deuces see the flop for $6,000 goddamn dollars.”
Any guesses which card hit the flop?
Meanwhile, I’m trying to play my game on Bodog as Big Rick explains another hand to me.
“You listening to me?” he asked, while glaring. “You’re learning from the master here.”
Not much excitement so far today. Didn’t even leave the room until 3 in the afternoon. Erik Seidel was entering the elevator as I exited, a fact that doesn’t bode well for his tournament success.
Layne Flack just walked into the john with a cigar in his mouth while two women had their picture taken with Scotty Nguyen. Here comes Bob Stupak with a straw golf hat on into the john as well. That’s what happens when you sit by the bathroom, you get to see all the action.
T.J. Cloutier just walked into the tournament area with his Bay 101 jacket on, while Ted informed me he busted out of the $500 tournament today. Time to go eat.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Don't mess with grandma
If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it’s this – don’t mess with 74-year-old Mamie Parker.
I was sitting in a 4-8 game at the Grand and she joined the game. The fellow to my right said she reminded him of her mother.
“I wished I had a picture to show you,” he said.
“Must be a beautiful woman,” Mamie quipped without missing a beat.
A few hands following the comment, the same player bet on the turn on an A-K-6-J board and was promptly check raised by Mamie, who had made Broadway on fourth street.
“You know the old adage about check raising your grandmother,” I told him. “Well, sometimes your grandmother check raises you.”
I ran into Andy Bloch over there and said hello. He was playing in the $2,000 NLHE and is one of at least a few name players (Chris Ferguson and Paul Phillips are a couple of other ones) who are boycotting World Poker Tour events because of concerns over the use of their likeness. I don’t know all the details and concerns, but I’m sure you’ll find some info if you are curious at andybloch.com.
Ted and I both continue to struggle. He tried both of the super satellites for the World Poker Open and blanked. Ted has played many big tournaments against a good number of top pros. He recalled the following story as we rode over to the Grand today.
In a 2004 WSOP event, Ted kept re-raising this aggressive young player from Los Angeles that he called the “L.A. Kid” and finally busted him.
After the “L.A. Kid” left, Ted asked a fellow player, “That kid sure played crazy didn’t he. Who is he?”
“That’s John Juanda,” the man replied.
“Who is that?” Ted asked.
So Ted wasn’t quite up to date on his poker pro knowledge back then, but Men “The Master” Nguyen certainly remembers him as Ted bested Nguyen and the rest of his final table to win an Ultimate Poker Challenge event at the Plaza a couple of months ago.
Ted saw Nguyen eating breakfast at the buffet after the WPO had started today and asked him how he was doing. “I take bad beat with A-K vs. A-5 so I take a break,” Nguyen told him.
Ted and I both played in the second chance tournament at the Grand tonight and blanked. Brad “Otis” Willis was still humming along after we departed. Mr. Poker Stars just got into town and I’m sure I’ll join him and Tom for plenty o’beers over the weekend.
Finally…finally…ran into Hoyt Corkins this evening near the Gold Strike hotel elevators as I was leaving my room and he was going up to his. The Alabama Cowboy was as friendly as expected. Patrick Walker, a regular player in some of our Tuscaloosa games, is the son of Hoyt’s doctor. Small world I suppose.
A dealer, Curtis from Memphis, stopped me on the way to the cyber center. He saw my laptop and Full Tilt Poker shirt and thought I was with the poker media. Not really, I told him, I just write a newspaper column and am mostly hanging around incognito.
Curtis just started dealing after getting a creative writing degree from some school in Florida. I asked him about the pressure of dealing a major tournament as a rookie.
“The first ten days I was doing fine, but then I sat at a table with Todd Brunson and Barry Greenstein and I riffled the cards all over the table,” he said.
It’s funny how many people have stopped and asked me to go to cardplayer.com for chip counts while I typed this post. Paul “Eskimo” Clark just sat down at the table nearby and asked if I had seen Joe Cassidy. I told him no, but the truth is I couldn’t pick Joe Cassidy out of a police lineup. Is that the “L.A. Kid?”
I’m about to fire up a little no limit on Bodog. Maybe I should ask Eskimo for tips.
I was sitting in a 4-8 game at the Grand and she joined the game. The fellow to my right said she reminded him of her mother.
“I wished I had a picture to show you,” he said.
“Must be a beautiful woman,” Mamie quipped without missing a beat.
A few hands following the comment, the same player bet on the turn on an A-K-6-J board and was promptly check raised by Mamie, who had made Broadway on fourth street.
“You know the old adage about check raising your grandmother,” I told him. “Well, sometimes your grandmother check raises you.”
I ran into Andy Bloch over there and said hello. He was playing in the $2,000 NLHE and is one of at least a few name players (Chris Ferguson and Paul Phillips are a couple of other ones) who are boycotting World Poker Tour events because of concerns over the use of their likeness. I don’t know all the details and concerns, but I’m sure you’ll find some info if you are curious at andybloch.com.
Ted and I both continue to struggle. He tried both of the super satellites for the World Poker Open and blanked. Ted has played many big tournaments against a good number of top pros. He recalled the following story as we rode over to the Grand today.
In a 2004 WSOP event, Ted kept re-raising this aggressive young player from Los Angeles that he called the “L.A. Kid” and finally busted him.
After the “L.A. Kid” left, Ted asked a fellow player, “That kid sure played crazy didn’t he. Who is he?”
“That’s John Juanda,” the man replied.
“Who is that?” Ted asked.
So Ted wasn’t quite up to date on his poker pro knowledge back then, but Men “The Master” Nguyen certainly remembers him as Ted bested Nguyen and the rest of his final table to win an Ultimate Poker Challenge event at the Plaza a couple of months ago.
Ted saw Nguyen eating breakfast at the buffet after the WPO had started today and asked him how he was doing. “I take bad beat with A-K vs. A-5 so I take a break,” Nguyen told him.
Ted and I both played in the second chance tournament at the Grand tonight and blanked. Brad “Otis” Willis was still humming along after we departed. Mr. Poker Stars just got into town and I’m sure I’ll join him and Tom for plenty o’beers over the weekend.
Finally…finally…ran into Hoyt Corkins this evening near the Gold Strike hotel elevators as I was leaving my room and he was going up to his. The Alabama Cowboy was as friendly as expected. Patrick Walker, a regular player in some of our Tuscaloosa games, is the son of Hoyt’s doctor. Small world I suppose.
A dealer, Curtis from Memphis, stopped me on the way to the cyber center. He saw my laptop and Full Tilt Poker shirt and thought I was with the poker media. Not really, I told him, I just write a newspaper column and am mostly hanging around incognito.
Curtis just started dealing after getting a creative writing degree from some school in Florida. I asked him about the pressure of dealing a major tournament as a rookie.
“The first ten days I was doing fine, but then I sat at a table with Todd Brunson and Barry Greenstein and I riffled the cards all over the table,” he said.
It’s funny how many people have stopped and asked me to go to cardplayer.com for chip counts while I typed this post. Paul “Eskimo” Clark just sat down at the table nearby and asked if I had seen Joe Cassidy. I told him no, but the truth is I couldn’t pick Joe Cassidy out of a police lineup. Is that the “L.A. Kid?”
I’m about to fire up a little no limit on Bodog. Maybe I should ask Eskimo for tips.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Beat down like Rodney King
Across the hall, Sammy Farha and other high rollers are playing billion-gazillion blinds Omaha, hold’em, name your game, while I’m sitting in the small tournament room with my laptop plugged into the wall playing 2-4 and 3-6 blinds no limit hold’em on Bodog.
When I started out, I had hoped for a little better than this.
Now while I didn’t expect to be trading bluffs with Sammy Farha, I had wished for more success at the tables.
I feel like I’ve taken an anal probe with a horse brush today.
Where should I begin? Since winning $900 in that crazy 10-20 limit game at the Grand Sunday night, I didn’t win anything for two days…and I mean ANYTHING. The capper was today. I try not to post too many bad beat stories, but here are four back-to-back-to-back-to-back ones that are too juicy not to share.
I was playing in a $130 satellite at the Gold Strike in which two winners receive a 500 lammer and $70 cash each. Early in the thing I get Ac-Kc under the gun and raise. Two people call. Flop is Jc-Qc-2c. I bet 200, get raised to 500 and get a check raise all-in from the player in the big blind, a dealer at Silverstar casino in Philadelphia (Mississippi, that is.) I insta-call and he turns over J-Q. You can guess between two possible river cards. You know it’s one or the other. I manage to quintuple up with A-K when I go all-in and river broadway on the next hand. We got down to three handed and my dealer buddy, clad in MSU cap and goofy dogs playing poker shirt (OK, I admit I have one myself. An ex-girlfriend gave it to me for my b’day.) raised from the button. I push with 8-8. He calls with 5-5. Guess the river card. This time he has me covered.
Next satellite a man to my left is practically wiggling in his seat waiting to play a $1,060 to try and win his way into the World Poker Open main event. On the first hand he eliminates one guy by bluffing all in and rivering a straight with 6-9. On the second hand he eliminates me after I raise with A-K and he calls. Flop is A-3-3. I bet, he raises and I push all-in. He turns over T-3. I assume this is not his normal mode of play in the thousand sixties.
Time for a break? Hell no. I mosey over to the poker room and, how lucky for me there is one seat available in a 1-2 NL game. I buy in for $200 and promptly get pocket aces on the second hand. I make it $6 and a fellow in the big blind raises to $25. I make it $60. He puts me all in. My second easy insta-call in less than an hour. He turns over K-K. You know the rest.
Worst one-hour stretch of luck I have ever seen.
When I started out, I had hoped for a little better than this.
Now while I didn’t expect to be trading bluffs with Sammy Farha, I had wished for more success at the tables.
I feel like I’ve taken an anal probe with a horse brush today.
Where should I begin? Since winning $900 in that crazy 10-20 limit game at the Grand Sunday night, I didn’t win anything for two days…and I mean ANYTHING. The capper was today. I try not to post too many bad beat stories, but here are four back-to-back-to-back-to-back ones that are too juicy not to share.
I was playing in a $130 satellite at the Gold Strike in which two winners receive a 500 lammer and $70 cash each. Early in the thing I get Ac-Kc under the gun and raise. Two people call. Flop is Jc-Qc-2c. I bet 200, get raised to 500 and get a check raise all-in from the player in the big blind, a dealer at Silverstar casino in Philadelphia (Mississippi, that is.) I insta-call and he turns over J-Q. You can guess between two possible river cards. You know it’s one or the other. I manage to quintuple up with A-K when I go all-in and river broadway on the next hand. We got down to three handed and my dealer buddy, clad in MSU cap and goofy dogs playing poker shirt (OK, I admit I have one myself. An ex-girlfriend gave it to me for my b’day.) raised from the button. I push with 8-8. He calls with 5-5. Guess the river card. This time he has me covered.
Next satellite a man to my left is practically wiggling in his seat waiting to play a $1,060 to try and win his way into the World Poker Open main event. On the first hand he eliminates one guy by bluffing all in and rivering a straight with 6-9. On the second hand he eliminates me after I raise with A-K and he calls. Flop is A-3-3. I bet, he raises and I push all-in. He turns over T-3. I assume this is not his normal mode of play in the thousand sixties.
Time for a break? Hell no. I mosey over to the poker room and, how lucky for me there is one seat available in a 1-2 NL game. I buy in for $200 and promptly get pocket aces on the second hand. I make it $6 and a fellow in the big blind raises to $25. I make it $60. He puts me all in. My second easy insta-call in less than an hour. He turns over K-K. You know the rest.
Worst one-hour stretch of luck I have ever seen.
Tidbits from Tunica
Just some quick gems from the last few days:
It’s interesting to see how the “Yankees” (for this instance we will call anyone not from the South a “yankee”, especially since Iggy always calls me a “cracker”) like to joke about our pattern of speech around here. When the brush at the Gold Strike said they were “fixin’ to open up a new Omaha table,” the guy beside me said, “What’s he fixin’ to do?” “We’re always fixin’ something down here,” I told him.
Ran into Stuart Satterfield last night. He dealt to me at a 10-20 game (another loser for me.) Blog readers may recall that he and his brother had the “bad beat table” at the WSOP that provided great entertainment for unfortunate poker players (see the July postings.) Stuart was in between jobs at the time; he now works here. His brother got a job in Oklahoma.
I’ve run into other familiar faces lately. Dick from Maryland, the guy who kept harassing Ann at Foxwoods, played in a 15-30 game with me. No word yet on whether he’s been chasing Delaney around.
Played in the best $10-$20 limit game ever at the Grand two nights ago. I won $900 in two hours, beating up on a couple of Auburn graduates in the process. It would have been worse except for this hand. Me: Q-Q. Auburn grad: 8-7. Board: 8-2-8-Q-8.
Played the $500 NLHE shootout at the Grand yesterday. Started out strong. Doubled off a guy with buck teeth, jug ears and “Amanda” tattooed on his neck when he called a big raise with Jd-7d and the subsequent post flop flush draw. Then doubled again when an aces limper (mwa ha ha) lost to my flopped set of fours. But my chips got salted away and Eddie, a former dealer from Biloxi (now out of a job), ran away with our table. He was a nice guy and I was glad if I couldn’t win it that he did. I don’t know how he ultimately fared, but he had a 1 in 22 shot at $29,000 and a $10,000 main event seat after winning the table. Wisdom from Eddie: “A tournament is a mine field. You’ve got to get lucky and dodge all the mines.”
As we played the shootout, an arrogant player from Colorado let loose with an F-bomb and got a 10-minute penalty. After busting out while trying to bluff Eddie he said, “Fuck this tournament.” Later, a guy who had busted out at another table walked by and asked the dealer, “Is the F-bomb rule in effect after you bust out?” When hearing a reply in the negative, he let loose as he walked away, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck….”
Played a satellite with a dealer whose Atlanta game was robbed of $30,000 by "bulging eyed crackheads," as he called them. Understatement of the year: "It's definitely not a good thing when someone's got a gun at your head, that's for sure."
Talked to Minh Nguyen briefly as he smoked yesterday. Don't think he remembered our previous conversation. He said he wasn't running well. "All I get is king-eight."
There's a lot of online poker playing going on around here. Everyday you see several people with laptops in the cyber center going at it. Bunch of degenerates....I believe Bodog is calling me...
There is some VIP party for Men Nguyen tonight in a suite here that seems to be mainly for the reason of plugging a new online poker site, Poker 4 Ever. I’ll have to sneak up there for free food and a report on the action.
So far, so bad for me. Down about $1,500 or so. Got to cash in a tournament!
It’s interesting to see how the “Yankees” (for this instance we will call anyone not from the South a “yankee”, especially since Iggy always calls me a “cracker”) like to joke about our pattern of speech around here. When the brush at the Gold Strike said they were “fixin’ to open up a new Omaha table,” the guy beside me said, “What’s he fixin’ to do?” “We’re always fixin’ something down here,” I told him.
Ran into Stuart Satterfield last night. He dealt to me at a 10-20 game (another loser for me.) Blog readers may recall that he and his brother had the “bad beat table” at the WSOP that provided great entertainment for unfortunate poker players (see the July postings.) Stuart was in between jobs at the time; he now works here. His brother got a job in Oklahoma.
I’ve run into other familiar faces lately. Dick from Maryland, the guy who kept harassing Ann at Foxwoods, played in a 15-30 game with me. No word yet on whether he’s been chasing Delaney around.
Played in the best $10-$20 limit game ever at the Grand two nights ago. I won $900 in two hours, beating up on a couple of Auburn graduates in the process. It would have been worse except for this hand. Me: Q-Q. Auburn grad: 8-7. Board: 8-2-8-Q-8.
Played the $500 NLHE shootout at the Grand yesterday. Started out strong. Doubled off a guy with buck teeth, jug ears and “Amanda” tattooed on his neck when he called a big raise with Jd-7d and the subsequent post flop flush draw. Then doubled again when an aces limper (mwa ha ha) lost to my flopped set of fours. But my chips got salted away and Eddie, a former dealer from Biloxi (now out of a job), ran away with our table. He was a nice guy and I was glad if I couldn’t win it that he did. I don’t know how he ultimately fared, but he had a 1 in 22 shot at $29,000 and a $10,000 main event seat after winning the table. Wisdom from Eddie: “A tournament is a mine field. You’ve got to get lucky and dodge all the mines.”
As we played the shootout, an arrogant player from Colorado let loose with an F-bomb and got a 10-minute penalty. After busting out while trying to bluff Eddie he said, “Fuck this tournament.” Later, a guy who had busted out at another table walked by and asked the dealer, “Is the F-bomb rule in effect after you bust out?” When hearing a reply in the negative, he let loose as he walked away, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck….”
Played a satellite with a dealer whose Atlanta game was robbed of $30,000 by "bulging eyed crackheads," as he called them. Understatement of the year: "It's definitely not a good thing when someone's got a gun at your head, that's for sure."
Talked to Minh Nguyen briefly as he smoked yesterday. Don't think he remembered our previous conversation. He said he wasn't running well. "All I get is king-eight."
There's a lot of online poker playing going on around here. Everyday you see several people with laptops in the cyber center going at it. Bunch of degenerates....I believe Bodog is calling me...
There is some VIP party for Men Nguyen tonight in a suite here that seems to be mainly for the reason of plugging a new online poker site, Poker 4 Ever. I’ll have to sneak up there for free food and a report on the action.
So far, so bad for me. Down about $1,500 or so. Got to cash in a tournament!
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Iggy, Maudie and Tuscaloosa Slick
Sitting here at the “cyber café” outside the tournament area in the Gold Strike while a group of men that includes Minh Nguyen (also known at the “other” M. Nguyen) is talking loudly in Vietnamese. Trying to overcome a slight hangover from Saturday night and the humility of losing to Iggy in Roshambo.
Dependence on the rock can kill your game, believe me.
I’ve been hanging out with Iggy, a.k.a. Tom, a.k.a. Ignatious J. Riley, a.k.a. Travis Tritt and Maudie (whose blog I have not read, a fact I am ashamed of) most of the weekend.
(Note: This “cyber spot” is in the smoker’s area and damn if David Pham and Andrew Black didn’t just walk up and pollute my space. Get your damn smoke away from me.)
Anyway, Tom and Maudie, what cool folks. Tom actually is not at all what I thought he would look or be like. Despite his online persona, I expected a guy not quite as extroverted and straighter laced in person. After all, you find that a lot of writers are introverted and use writing as a means to express themselves in a way they can’t in public.
I actually had to wake up early yesterday and drive to Oxford for a basketball game. (Got to pay the bills somehow when the cards aren’t running well.) I hooked up with those two when I came back and we hopped in a $65 satellite. Tom and I ended up heads up after I laid the hammer on a guy to steal his big blind (I had him dominated. He had 5-2) and then put him out a couple of hands later.
Tom put the moves on my blind a few times when I had nothing and then I started stealing with junk since I wasn’t getting anything and pulled even. We finally went all in with hands I don’t recall. I do remember I had an ace and paired it. He still got $200 from a save we did.
We joined Maudie in a 4-8 game and pretty much ran everyone off with out goofiness. Tom was playing hands in the dark (and beating me), while I was raising with 6-2, otherwise known as the “Tuscaloosa” Johnny slick. Tom managed to crack both my A-A and K-K and killed any chance of profit I had in the game.
Best out of context Iggy line of the night: “I’d put on a skirt and walk around.”
With the action spread between the Gold Strike and the Horseshoe, the tournaments don’t have the same feel this year. All of the action at the Gold Strike is NLHE and the tournaments are only drawing 200 or less each day. Most of the good cash games are over here and it is hard to get a seat as usual. Action at the Grand has slowed up considerably since the World Poker Open started at the Gold Strike.
(Aside: Smokers have it bad. They have to leave their table every few minutes to come out here and take a few drags and POLLUTE MY SPACE. Fuckers. I’ve smoked a few cigarettes myself, for shits and giggles. I don’t see what the big deal is.)
Still not a lot of big names around. I mentioned half of those here already in this post. I’ll try to chat with a few in the next couple of weeks – if they can stop smoking long enough.
Dependence on the rock can kill your game, believe me.
I’ve been hanging out with Iggy, a.k.a. Tom, a.k.a. Ignatious J. Riley, a.k.a. Travis Tritt and Maudie (whose blog I have not read, a fact I am ashamed of) most of the weekend.
(Note: This “cyber spot” is in the smoker’s area and damn if David Pham and Andrew Black didn’t just walk up and pollute my space. Get your damn smoke away from me.)
Anyway, Tom and Maudie, what cool folks. Tom actually is not at all what I thought he would look or be like. Despite his online persona, I expected a guy not quite as extroverted and straighter laced in person. After all, you find that a lot of writers are introverted and use writing as a means to express themselves in a way they can’t in public.
I actually had to wake up early yesterday and drive to Oxford for a basketball game. (Got to pay the bills somehow when the cards aren’t running well.) I hooked up with those two when I came back and we hopped in a $65 satellite. Tom and I ended up heads up after I laid the hammer on a guy to steal his big blind (I had him dominated. He had 5-2) and then put him out a couple of hands later.
Tom put the moves on my blind a few times when I had nothing and then I started stealing with junk since I wasn’t getting anything and pulled even. We finally went all in with hands I don’t recall. I do remember I had an ace and paired it. He still got $200 from a save we did.
We joined Maudie in a 4-8 game and pretty much ran everyone off with out goofiness. Tom was playing hands in the dark (and beating me), while I was raising with 6-2, otherwise known as the “Tuscaloosa” Johnny slick. Tom managed to crack both my A-A and K-K and killed any chance of profit I had in the game.
Best out of context Iggy line of the night: “I’d put on a skirt and walk around.”
With the action spread between the Gold Strike and the Horseshoe, the tournaments don’t have the same feel this year. All of the action at the Gold Strike is NLHE and the tournaments are only drawing 200 or less each day. Most of the good cash games are over here and it is hard to get a seat as usual. Action at the Grand has slowed up considerably since the World Poker Open started at the Gold Strike.
(Aside: Smokers have it bad. They have to leave their table every few minutes to come out here and take a few drags and POLLUTE MY SPACE. Fuckers. I’ve smoked a few cigarettes myself, for shits and giggles. I don’t see what the big deal is.)
Still not a lot of big names around. I mentioned half of those here already in this post. I’ll try to chat with a few in the next couple of weeks – if they can stop smoking long enough.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
More Tunica
I’ve returned to Tuscaloosa for a few days for a break, but I am heading back to good ol’ Tunica tomorrow. Let’s recap the events since my last post. (Unfortunately like some of my other stops, Internet access isn’t readily available to me so posts will be more infrequent.
After busting out of the tournament on Thursday I went over to the Horseshoe to play some $10-$20 limit when I spotted Dutch Boyd playing the same game at another table. I tried to get a table change to head over there, but he left before a seat became available.
On Friday night I watched Ted play in the $500 mega satellite at the Grand (1 in 20 wins a $10,000 buy in seat.) Ted seems to do well in these type tournaments as he won a seat in the WSOP main event this summer through one and had a good chance in this one. Five seats were available and Ted made the final table. Chris Grigorian, the Armenian Express (it says so on his cap), was there goading his competition.
“Y’all don’t forget to get grits for breakfast.”
“Y’all going to raise now y’all?”
“Y’all can’t call my bet y’all.”
The short-stacked Ted busted out 8th, squarely on the cash bubble (two guys received cash in addition to the five seats given away), but worked out a deal where the other seven gave him $100 each. Grigorian even gave him a hug.
“I like this guy,” he said.
I spent much of Saturday night playing this new table game Ultimate Texas Hold’em. Its rules are fairly complicated to try to explain to you here, but it seems like a game with reasonable odds if you know what you’re doing. The key in the game is to figure out which hands are better than 50 percent to win against a random hand and bet the max before the flop. There’s really not much strategy otherwise. I won $300 the first time I played it, but lost $200 the next after getting up $200. I’m sure it’s not beatable in the long run, but it is a lot of fun to play.
The other half of Saturday was spent in another $10-$20 game at the Grand. I fared much better in this one, winning $555. To my right for much of my duration of the table was a nice older lady named Diane. Her husband Walt was deep in that day’s pot limit Omaha event. Diane isn’t a very good player, but her husband apparently is. Clad in his ubiquitous Augusta National visor, I’ve seen him at several poker venues. The two, who are from Augusta, Ga., travel to many of the major tournaments.
Diane eventually left the game to go watch her husband. I saw the two later walk by while the tournament was still ongoing. Walt apparently finished on the bubble.
I played the Sunday LHE and there wasn’t excitement for me. I got AK thrice and never made a pair and busted out two hours into the event with QQ when a king flopped and I was too short stacked to go away.
The excitement at the event occurred two hours into the affair when an older gentleman suffered a heart attack. Players were told to leave their seats and vacate the tournament area while the man was attended to. You may recall that there was a heart attack victim at Foxwoods in what I recall was also the $500 LHE event. Dr. Will, the doctor I had met in Atlantic City, helped care for that fellow. There was no Dr. Will in Tunica, but paramedics resuscitated the man and Johnny Grooms informed the crowd later that he had survived. (And in case you’re wondering, his buy in was refunded.)
As a fellow satellite player recalled to me later, “He tilted this way, and then that way and then he just collapsed.”
I planned to play some satellites at the Gold Strike that night since the World Poker Open was finally cranking up, but I stayed at that damn hold’em table game all morning. I woke up, found Ted playing a satellite and invited him to a buffet.
We decided we might as well room together and save the money. With all the free food you can get and affordable rooms (less than $30 a night when two people split one) you can stay in Tunica and play poker on the cheap, but I like to go as cheap as I can.
More reports to come soon.
After busting out of the tournament on Thursday I went over to the Horseshoe to play some $10-$20 limit when I spotted Dutch Boyd playing the same game at another table. I tried to get a table change to head over there, but he left before a seat became available.
On Friday night I watched Ted play in the $500 mega satellite at the Grand (1 in 20 wins a $10,000 buy in seat.) Ted seems to do well in these type tournaments as he won a seat in the WSOP main event this summer through one and had a good chance in this one. Five seats were available and Ted made the final table. Chris Grigorian, the Armenian Express (it says so on his cap), was there goading his competition.
“Y’all don’t forget to get grits for breakfast.”
“Y’all going to raise now y’all?”
“Y’all can’t call my bet y’all.”
The short-stacked Ted busted out 8th, squarely on the cash bubble (two guys received cash in addition to the five seats given away), but worked out a deal where the other seven gave him $100 each. Grigorian even gave him a hug.
“I like this guy,” he said.
I spent much of Saturday night playing this new table game Ultimate Texas Hold’em. Its rules are fairly complicated to try to explain to you here, but it seems like a game with reasonable odds if you know what you’re doing. The key in the game is to figure out which hands are better than 50 percent to win against a random hand and bet the max before the flop. There’s really not much strategy otherwise. I won $300 the first time I played it, but lost $200 the next after getting up $200. I’m sure it’s not beatable in the long run, but it is a lot of fun to play.
The other half of Saturday was spent in another $10-$20 game at the Grand. I fared much better in this one, winning $555. To my right for much of my duration of the table was a nice older lady named Diane. Her husband Walt was deep in that day’s pot limit Omaha event. Diane isn’t a very good player, but her husband apparently is. Clad in his ubiquitous Augusta National visor, I’ve seen him at several poker venues. The two, who are from Augusta, Ga., travel to many of the major tournaments.
Diane eventually left the game to go watch her husband. I saw the two later walk by while the tournament was still ongoing. Walt apparently finished on the bubble.
I played the Sunday LHE and there wasn’t excitement for me. I got AK thrice and never made a pair and busted out two hours into the event with QQ when a king flopped and I was too short stacked to go away.
The excitement at the event occurred two hours into the affair when an older gentleman suffered a heart attack. Players were told to leave their seats and vacate the tournament area while the man was attended to. You may recall that there was a heart attack victim at Foxwoods in what I recall was also the $500 LHE event. Dr. Will, the doctor I had met in Atlantic City, helped care for that fellow. There was no Dr. Will in Tunica, but paramedics resuscitated the man and Johnny Grooms informed the crowd later that he had survived. (And in case you’re wondering, his buy in was refunded.)
As a fellow satellite player recalled to me later, “He tilted this way, and then that way and then he just collapsed.”
I planned to play some satellites at the Gold Strike that night since the World Poker Open was finally cranking up, but I stayed at that damn hold’em table game all morning. I woke up, found Ted playing a satellite and invited him to a buffet.
We decided we might as well room together and save the money. With all the free food you can get and affordable rooms (less than $30 a night when two people split one) you can stay in Tunica and play poker on the cheap, but I like to go as cheap as I can.
More reports to come soon.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Among the cotton and soybeans
Greetings from lovely Tunica, Miss. The more I travel on these poker adventures, the more these things feel like reunions. The dealer Connie from Arkansas, the “father figure” Ted from Oregon. Local Al Williams. Birmingham resident Hunter, a money finisher in the WSOP main event. Those are just a few of the familiar faces I’ve encountered since I drove over on Wednesday. There’s even the poker babe that has all the young turks swooning a la Ann of Foxwoods – Delaney from Jackson, Miss. – a brunette and professional online player for two years. She’s agreed to let me interview her, so more to come on her undoubtedly interesting story.
Most of the action is at the Grand Casino now, until the World Poker Open begins at the Gold Strike next week. Since Harrah’s purchased Caesars Entertainment, whose properties included all of the Grand casinos in Mississippi, they have started a World Series of Poker circuit event here and it has proven to be a big hit. There were 940 entrants in the first $550+$50 NLHE event Thursday, including me, thanks to a satellite win the previous day. I was never a factor, falling behind early on an ill-timed bluff and finally hanging myself later after betting the rest of my paltry stack into a 3-5-3 board after raising pre-flop with K-J. I was called by A-Q and dispatched from the affair.
I haven’t seen many big shots about yet, nor did I expect to. The big money tournaments don’t begin until next week. Chris Grigorian, the Armenian Express (it says so on his jacket) is here, as is Men Nguyen. Tournament director Johnny Grooms introduced “The Master” to the crowd not once, but twice, on both Wednesday and Thursday, as the Card Player Player of the Year. Nguyen took the microphone and spoke before the start of Thursday’s tournament, playing to the crowd and drawing hearty cheers when he talked about making his life in this country after fleeing Vietnam many years ago.
“America has been very good to me,” he said. “God bless America.”
Before the tournament began, Grooms said a new rule had been instituted.
“There will be no bluffing allowed today,” he joked.
I should have heeded his words.
Most of the action is at the Grand Casino now, until the World Poker Open begins at the Gold Strike next week. Since Harrah’s purchased Caesars Entertainment, whose properties included all of the Grand casinos in Mississippi, they have started a World Series of Poker circuit event here and it has proven to be a big hit. There were 940 entrants in the first $550+$50 NLHE event Thursday, including me, thanks to a satellite win the previous day. I was never a factor, falling behind early on an ill-timed bluff and finally hanging myself later after betting the rest of my paltry stack into a 3-5-3 board after raising pre-flop with K-J. I was called by A-Q and dispatched from the affair.
I haven’t seen many big shots about yet, nor did I expect to. The big money tournaments don’t begin until next week. Chris Grigorian, the Armenian Express (it says so on his jacket) is here, as is Men Nguyen. Tournament director Johnny Grooms introduced “The Master” to the crowd not once, but twice, on both Wednesday and Thursday, as the Card Player Player of the Year. Nguyen took the microphone and spoke before the start of Thursday’s tournament, playing to the crowd and drawing hearty cheers when he talked about making his life in this country after fleeing Vietnam many years ago.
“America has been very good to me,” he said. “God bless America.”
Before the tournament began, Grooms said a new rule had been instituted.
“There will be no bluffing allowed today,” he joked.
I should have heeded his words.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Merry Christmas
I wanted to share this story with you. This column, written by one of my former college professors, was published in The Tuscaloosa News last week. Enjoy:
Where I grew up in Texas, it snowed about as rarely as it does here in Alabama. The first snow I remember fell at Christmastime when I was 9 years old. It happened to be on the same day that my 12-year-old brother and I had planned to go out and find a Christmas tree and cut it down. We didn’t know it would be one of the worst days of our lives.
Our father didn’t like the idea. He didn’t even like to decorate at Christmas. “The simpler the better" was his motto. He particularly didn’t like big trees.
As soon as my brother and I had eaten breakfast, we were ready to set off. Daddy cautioned us, “Don’t go too far, and if it starts to snow, come home immediately. And, no matter what you do, don’t get a big tree. Get a small one that you can carry. NO BIG TREES!"
My brother and I had a different idea. We wanted the biggest tree we could find. There were acres and acres -- miles and miles -- of trees just across the pasture behind our house. We knew we could find the perfect tree. In our minds, that meant not only a tree shaped just right but a huge one.
There was no such tree at the edge of the woods. So we plunged in. We looked at one tree after another -- but one would be too small, another not shaped like a perfect cone, another not covered thickly enough with needles. But we were convinced that within the next hundred yards or so we would discover the exact tree we were hunting.
Around 3 in the afternoon, it began to snow -- slowly at first, and my brother and I barely noticed. By 4, though, the snowflakes were huge -- the size of quarters -- and the tree branches and dead winter grass and fallen leaves were hidden under a white blanket.
It was at about that time that we suddenly saw the tree we had been looking for. It must have been 12 feet tall. We were so impressed that it didn’t even dawn on us that the tree was much too big to fit into our house.
We got out our hatchets and began hacking away. It was a hard job and by the time we had finally got the tree cut down, the sun, hidden behind the snowy clouds, had almost set.
My brother and I grabbed hold of the tree trunk -- and suddenly realized that, with our minds so focused on finding a tree, we had paid no attention to where we were going in search of it.
We set off in what we thought was the most likely direction home. But as the woods got darker, we realized we were lost. We went on for several hours, hoping we soon would figure out where we were. With each step, we were more exhausted and, we feared, more lost.
For the first two or three hours, we continued to drag that big tree behind us. With each step we took, it seemed to get bigger. It certainly got heavier. But the last thing we wanted to do was give it up. It was like a treasure, as valuable to us as a chest of gold and jewels to pirates. We had searched for it so long, and it was the last thing we could think of losing.
Finally -- barely able to carry it any farther and becoming more and more afraid that we could never find our way home and would freeze to death that night in the woods -- my brother and I conferred. We decided to drop the tree. It was a hard decision, but the choice seemed to be between leaving the tree or freezing.
That was around 9 o’clock. By then we were hungry (we hadn’t eaten since early morning), tired and shivering. We continued to walk, probably in circles, hoping that soon we would catch a glimpse of our home in the distance.
In the meantime, around 4:30, when the snowflakes were getting thick, our worried father had begun anxiously watching for us. As the sun was starting to set and light was fading from the gray sky, he decided to set out to find us. Our mother had started praying.
Daddy walked for what must have been miles, but he returned to the house around midnight and told Mother he had seen no sign of us.
It was a short time after that that my brother and I, utterly lost and by now losing hope of ever getting home, suddenly saw a dim, small light flash on in the distance. It must have been at least a mile from us. It could be a barnyard light, we thought, or even, we wished, a light at our home. But if it came from our home, what could it be? The light was too high up to be shining from a window, and our house didn’t have an outdoor light.
Whatever it was, though, it was a light of hope.
We began walking through the deep snow as quickly as we could. We forgot how exhausted we were. We must have walked for an hour, but suddenly we found ourselves at the edge of our pasture. We crawled under the barbed-wire fence. There was the familiar barn in the distance. We began running: past the barn, past the garden -- and then home!
Our father and mother saw us as soon as we ran into the yard. Mother grabbed us and quoted from her favorite song, “I once was lost, but now I’m found," excitedly.
And then we saw what had made the strange light we had seen in the distance, high in the air. Daddy had attached a 150-watt light bulb to the end of a long extension cord, climbed to the top of the big tree in our front yard, tied the bulb to the tip of the highest limb he could reach, 80 feet up, and turned on the light. Mother, in her joy at having my brother and me home, exclaimed that it “was like the light that lighted the world!"
The next day, Daddy went out and bought 100 strings of Christmas lights and wrapped them all around that tree. People who lived in the area said for years afterward that it was the biggest Christmas tree they ever saw.
David Sloan is a professor of journalism at The University of Alabama. Reach him by e-mail at wmdsloan@bellsouth.net.
Where I grew up in Texas, it snowed about as rarely as it does here in Alabama. The first snow I remember fell at Christmastime when I was 9 years old. It happened to be on the same day that my 12-year-old brother and I had planned to go out and find a Christmas tree and cut it down. We didn’t know it would be one of the worst days of our lives.
Our father didn’t like the idea. He didn’t even like to decorate at Christmas. “The simpler the better" was his motto. He particularly didn’t like big trees.
As soon as my brother and I had eaten breakfast, we were ready to set off. Daddy cautioned us, “Don’t go too far, and if it starts to snow, come home immediately. And, no matter what you do, don’t get a big tree. Get a small one that you can carry. NO BIG TREES!"
My brother and I had a different idea. We wanted the biggest tree we could find. There were acres and acres -- miles and miles -- of trees just across the pasture behind our house. We knew we could find the perfect tree. In our minds, that meant not only a tree shaped just right but a huge one.
There was no such tree at the edge of the woods. So we plunged in. We looked at one tree after another -- but one would be too small, another not shaped like a perfect cone, another not covered thickly enough with needles. But we were convinced that within the next hundred yards or so we would discover the exact tree we were hunting.
Around 3 in the afternoon, it began to snow -- slowly at first, and my brother and I barely noticed. By 4, though, the snowflakes were huge -- the size of quarters -- and the tree branches and dead winter grass and fallen leaves were hidden under a white blanket.
It was at about that time that we suddenly saw the tree we had been looking for. It must have been 12 feet tall. We were so impressed that it didn’t even dawn on us that the tree was much too big to fit into our house.
We got out our hatchets and began hacking away. It was a hard job and by the time we had finally got the tree cut down, the sun, hidden behind the snowy clouds, had almost set.
My brother and I grabbed hold of the tree trunk -- and suddenly realized that, with our minds so focused on finding a tree, we had paid no attention to where we were going in search of it.
We set off in what we thought was the most likely direction home. But as the woods got darker, we realized we were lost. We went on for several hours, hoping we soon would figure out where we were. With each step, we were more exhausted and, we feared, more lost.
For the first two or three hours, we continued to drag that big tree behind us. With each step we took, it seemed to get bigger. It certainly got heavier. But the last thing we wanted to do was give it up. It was like a treasure, as valuable to us as a chest of gold and jewels to pirates. We had searched for it so long, and it was the last thing we could think of losing.
Finally -- barely able to carry it any farther and becoming more and more afraid that we could never find our way home and would freeze to death that night in the woods -- my brother and I conferred. We decided to drop the tree. It was a hard decision, but the choice seemed to be between leaving the tree or freezing.
That was around 9 o’clock. By then we were hungry (we hadn’t eaten since early morning), tired and shivering. We continued to walk, probably in circles, hoping that soon we would catch a glimpse of our home in the distance.
In the meantime, around 4:30, when the snowflakes were getting thick, our worried father had begun anxiously watching for us. As the sun was starting to set and light was fading from the gray sky, he decided to set out to find us. Our mother had started praying.
Daddy walked for what must have been miles, but he returned to the house around midnight and told Mother he had seen no sign of us.
It was a short time after that that my brother and I, utterly lost and by now losing hope of ever getting home, suddenly saw a dim, small light flash on in the distance. It must have been at least a mile from us. It could be a barnyard light, we thought, or even, we wished, a light at our home. But if it came from our home, what could it be? The light was too high up to be shining from a window, and our house didn’t have an outdoor light.
Whatever it was, though, it was a light of hope.
We began walking through the deep snow as quickly as we could. We forgot how exhausted we were. We must have walked for an hour, but suddenly we found ourselves at the edge of our pasture. We crawled under the barbed-wire fence. There was the familiar barn in the distance. We began running: past the barn, past the garden -- and then home!
Our father and mother saw us as soon as we ran into the yard. Mother grabbed us and quoted from her favorite song, “I once was lost, but now I’m found," excitedly.
And then we saw what had made the strange light we had seen in the distance, high in the air. Daddy had attached a 150-watt light bulb to the end of a long extension cord, climbed to the top of the big tree in our front yard, tied the bulb to the tip of the highest limb he could reach, 80 feet up, and turned on the light. Mother, in her joy at having my brother and me home, exclaimed that it “was like the light that lighted the world!"
The next day, Daddy went out and bought 100 strings of Christmas lights and wrapped them all around that tree. People who lived in the area said for years afterward that it was the biggest Christmas tree they ever saw.
David Sloan is a professor of journalism at The University of Alabama. Reach him by e-mail at wmdsloan@bellsouth.net.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Midseason Report
To some it’s crass to write about winnings, but as I set out on this one-year (and possibly more) adventure away from the working world, I vowed to be honest about what it’s like to give it a try and that means complete honesty on my financial success or failure. So here is a month-by-month rundown of my totals so far, compared to where I might be (based on the past couple of years experiences) if I had continued to work at the paper and played poker on the side.
Poker /Job + poker
July $4,985 $4,000
August $9,518 $4,000
September -$145 $4,000
October $3,660 $4,000
November $1,845 $4,000
December $2,995 $4,000
Total $22,858 $24,000
I probably won’t play much poker the rest of this month so the December figure is pretty much set. If you look at the six-month period, four of the months are below what I could expect from continuing on my previous path and only two are above it. Fortunately for me, August was a rocking month or else things would be much worse.
Now let’s luck at a few categories of poker games:
Win/loss traveling:-$895
Win/loss playing in town: +$4,409
Win/loss playing online: +$19,344
Now you can see how skewed the numbers are, and this figure doesn’t even include travel expenses, so overall I’m quite a loser traveling the tournament circuit. But that can’t be uncommon, not when you have hundreds or thousands of people traveling around and putting up $500 or $1,000 a tournament in which only 10 percent or less will cash. Most people will lose a little or a lot and a lucky few will win big. It’s the nature of the beast. So far, I’m in the lose a little category. We’ll see how Tunica goes next month.
I think, overall, this shows that it’s tough to get rich quick at this game unless you get lucky. I’ve felt I’ve played well and thought I was doing really well financially, but when I add up the numbers it’s not any more than I would have made otherwise (but I do get a lot more sleep.) And I’ve avoided that dreaded get-my-ass-kicked month as I’ve been able to stay pretty much even or better at all junctures.
But here’s the thing, I’ve had a ton of fun doing it. I have the freedom to go where I want when I want. I’ve traveled to Vegas (twice, once for almost a solid month), Atlantic City and Foxwoods and those sizeable expenses will result in good deductions when it comes tax time. In non-poker destinations, I’ve gone to Orlando, the Smoky Mountains, Philadelphia, Cooperstown and New York City. I got to work the Tennessee-Florida and Miami-Florida State football games, not to mention five games of my beloved Crimson Tide, and I got to go to Myrtle Beach to do a baseball game. I was able to do all these things in the last six months only because I can keep my head above water at poker. Now, if I can just get a book contract.
Poker /Job + poker
July $4,985 $4,000
August $9,518 $4,000
September -$145 $4,000
October $3,660 $4,000
November $1,845 $4,000
December $2,995 $4,000
Total $22,858 $24,000
I probably won’t play much poker the rest of this month so the December figure is pretty much set. If you look at the six-month period, four of the months are below what I could expect from continuing on my previous path and only two are above it. Fortunately for me, August was a rocking month or else things would be much worse.
Now let’s luck at a few categories of poker games:
Win/loss traveling:-$895
Win/loss playing in town: +$4,409
Win/loss playing online: +$19,344
Now you can see how skewed the numbers are, and this figure doesn’t even include travel expenses, so overall I’m quite a loser traveling the tournament circuit. But that can’t be uncommon, not when you have hundreds or thousands of people traveling around and putting up $500 or $1,000 a tournament in which only 10 percent or less will cash. Most people will lose a little or a lot and a lucky few will win big. It’s the nature of the beast. So far, I’m in the lose a little category. We’ll see how Tunica goes next month.
I think, overall, this shows that it’s tough to get rich quick at this game unless you get lucky. I’ve felt I’ve played well and thought I was doing really well financially, but when I add up the numbers it’s not any more than I would have made otherwise (but I do get a lot more sleep.) And I’ve avoided that dreaded get-my-ass-kicked month as I’ve been able to stay pretty much even or better at all junctures.
But here’s the thing, I’ve had a ton of fun doing it. I have the freedom to go where I want when I want. I’ve traveled to Vegas (twice, once for almost a solid month), Atlantic City and Foxwoods and those sizeable expenses will result in good deductions when it comes tax time. In non-poker destinations, I’ve gone to Orlando, the Smoky Mountains, Philadelphia, Cooperstown and New York City. I got to work the Tennessee-Florida and Miami-Florida State football games, not to mention five games of my beloved Crimson Tide, and I got to go to Myrtle Beach to do a baseball game. I was able to do all these things in the last six months only because I can keep my head above water at poker. Now, if I can just get a book contract.
Deal or No Deal
Interesting game show coming on NBC this week where a contestant picks a briefcase and by opening other briefcases, eliminates certain dollar amounts from the possible amount in his or her briefcase. The amounts range from a penny to a million dollars. After every few briefcases are opened, a "banker" upstairs offers to buy the briefcase from the contestant for an amount less than the average prize remaining on the board. For example, the average briefcase value might be $120,000 ($600,000 in remaining prizes with five left to be opened), but he only offers $110,000 for the briefcase.
There is nothing particularly interesting about this game show other than the psychology involved and how it resembles some decisions made in poker tournaments. As more briefcases are opened, the average prize remaining often goes up because there are so many low dollar amounts in the cases. As the possible stakes get higher, contestants begin to get the urge to make a decision that is unwise based purely on odds, but which will still provide them with a lot of money. Really, it's like making a deal in a poker tournament. You're the chip leader with only a handful of players remaining and you give up a little bit to split the prize pool. You don't win as much as you could have, but you still come away with a hefty prize.
There is nothing particularly interesting about this game show other than the psychology involved and how it resembles some decisions made in poker tournaments. As more briefcases are opened, the average prize remaining often goes up because there are so many low dollar amounts in the cases. As the possible stakes get higher, contestants begin to get the urge to make a decision that is unwise based purely on odds, but which will still provide them with a lot of money. Really, it's like making a deal in a poker tournament. You're the chip leader with only a handful of players remaining and you give up a little bit to split the prize pool. You don't win as much as you could have, but you still come away with a hefty prize.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
On Writing
I admit it. I hate to write. I think of all manner of clever and witty sayings when I'm in my car or in a store, but put me in front of a keyboard and let that cursor blink at me and my brain freezes. (April, I know you know all about it too. Writing leads for newspaper stories is a bitch.)
Now I always found it reasonably easy to write a newspaper story, in general. Most of the information is already there on your reporter's notebook or legal pad, just missing a few creative touches. But when you're writing from scratch, suddenly the art of the word becomes a lot more taxing. Human word processors like Stephen King or Sue Grafton amaze me. How do they write so much in a short amount of time? It's as if their brains are wired differently.
I find it easier to bring reports to you from my travels because I'm writing from my notes. It's like being back in the newsroom. But when I'm sitting here in my chair typing on the laptop, I'm writing from scratch and it becomes much more difficult. So that's one reason I don't write as much from home.
I'm such a procrastinator that I was late with one of my columns recently. It also involved a girl, an illegal substance and a dead car battery, but mostly it was me being lazy and not writing my column several days in advance, as I should do. The column has recently taken on new life, as two of the NY Times regional newspaper group's Louisiana papers picked it up. It now runs in four papers weekly. I suppose I could post my columns on here, but it'd essentially be preaching to the choir. Most involve basic strategy, concepts I'm sure most of the readers here (all four of you) mastered a long, long time ago. Eh, maybe I'll do it anyway, you know, for shits and giggles.
Now I always found it reasonably easy to write a newspaper story, in general. Most of the information is already there on your reporter's notebook or legal pad, just missing a few creative touches. But when you're writing from scratch, suddenly the art of the word becomes a lot more taxing. Human word processors like Stephen King or Sue Grafton amaze me. How do they write so much in a short amount of time? It's as if their brains are wired differently.
I find it easier to bring reports to you from my travels because I'm writing from my notes. It's like being back in the newsroom. But when I'm sitting here in my chair typing on the laptop, I'm writing from scratch and it becomes much more difficult. So that's one reason I don't write as much from home.
I'm such a procrastinator that I was late with one of my columns recently. It also involved a girl, an illegal substance and a dead car battery, but mostly it was me being lazy and not writing my column several days in advance, as I should do. The column has recently taken on new life, as two of the NY Times regional newspaper group's Louisiana papers picked it up. It now runs in four papers weekly. I suppose I could post my columns on here, but it'd essentially be preaching to the choir. Most involve basic strategy, concepts I'm sure most of the readers here (all four of you) mastered a long, long time ago. Eh, maybe I'll do it anyway, you know, for shits and giggles.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Of struggles, Bama football and Xbox 360 mania
I've achieved one of those long spells of laziness again, where the last thing I want to do is put fingers to keyboard. It's just my excuse for the drought between posts. I threw a few pictures your way the other day, dear blog reader. Perhaps that will provide some forgivenss for me.
It's also more enjoyable to share stories of big wins and exciting events, and unfortunately I've had neither in the past month. It's really making me realize what a grind this poker life can be. Sure, there was the $1,200 haul one night in our local game, but that win was an anamoly. My online money printing factory has ceased production as it seems the cards have gone on strike.
That 10-20 shorthanded game in which I was raking in the dough has turned against me. You may recall I was keeping $3,000 in there and cashing out either A) when I got up to $5,000, B) whatever surplus I had at the end of the month or C) whenever I felt like it to boost my confidence but always keeping at least $3K in reserve. Earlier this month, the account was at $3,500 after having cashed out $1,000 and I sat down to play heads up with a guy who had $400 in front of him. You haven't seen ugly until you saw that game. He hit every draw he had, he hit every kicker lower than mine to double pair. I missed EVERY draw, I NEVER paired my kicker. I finally quit when my account got down to $1,900. He was a friendly guy, even apologizing for the win. Surprisingly, I didn't blow up. I think I was too numb.
But it got worse. I started playing 5-10 because of the drop in my online bankroll and still I could not win. Two weeks later, I've got $400+ in that account. So I stopped playing that site for awhile and I've played more live games in Tuscaloosa, often staying at the 5-10 at the car lot from its starting time of 5 p.m. until it ends in the wee hours of the morning. I will write more about that game soon as it's something I should have done a long time. We've even got a mascot, a stray cat named "Slick."
I spent all Saturday over the past month working the Bama games for CBS. I don't know if I wrote about this before, but what I do is stand up in the press box, behind the stats monitors, and relay information to the guys in the truck who build the graphics with the stats on them. So if you saw that Brodie Croyle was 10 for 20 with 150 yards and an interception on your screen, I contributed to that. Pay is decent at $150 a game. The main reason I do it is it gets me a great view of the game for free. I worked home games against Florida, Tennessee and LSU and road games at Starkville (where every time a cowbell rings a redneck gets his wings) and Auburn (where every time a cow moos a redneck gets his milk.) That Auburn game was tough, with that terrible start for Bama, them falling behind 21-0 in the first quarter. The Auburn stats folks were gloating in the press box. I wanted to slug them.
So Bama's dreams of a national title and SEC title game were dashed, but they were never really that good. They mostly got by on will. I don't know how you can barely beat Ole Miss and Arkansas and expect to compete with USC, or even LSU. Nonetheless, the Cotton Bowl party's at my house folks.
Lastly, you may have seen the Xbox 360 craze that descended upon stores in this country on Tuesday. The same was certainly true in Tuscaloosa. If you weren't lined up at either of the local Wal-Marts by 5:30 p.m. Monday, you were out of luck. I called the stores and formed a plan with my brother to try to get as many as possible for an eBay offensive. I'm nothing if not creative at making money, and this seemed like an easy opportunity. I just stayed out all night playing poker and then hit the stores when the car lot game broke up. The problem was, as I went to each one there were already more people lined up than Xbox 360s available at each store. A woman at Toys R Us, lined up for one of only four available there, told me to try Sam's Club. I did and I got one, 18th in line for 20 systems. Knowing that the peak interest would be Tuesday and figuring I could get two the next day, I listed two of the systems on eBay on Monday. Unfortunately, I only had one to sell, but the $400 system brought $1,325 on eBay. What can you say, people are nuts.
It's also more enjoyable to share stories of big wins and exciting events, and unfortunately I've had neither in the past month. It's really making me realize what a grind this poker life can be. Sure, there was the $1,200 haul one night in our local game, but that win was an anamoly. My online money printing factory has ceased production as it seems the cards have gone on strike.
That 10-20 shorthanded game in which I was raking in the dough has turned against me. You may recall I was keeping $3,000 in there and cashing out either A) when I got up to $5,000, B) whatever surplus I had at the end of the month or C) whenever I felt like it to boost my confidence but always keeping at least $3K in reserve. Earlier this month, the account was at $3,500 after having cashed out $1,000 and I sat down to play heads up with a guy who had $400 in front of him. You haven't seen ugly until you saw that game. He hit every draw he had, he hit every kicker lower than mine to double pair. I missed EVERY draw, I NEVER paired my kicker. I finally quit when my account got down to $1,900. He was a friendly guy, even apologizing for the win. Surprisingly, I didn't blow up. I think I was too numb.
But it got worse. I started playing 5-10 because of the drop in my online bankroll and still I could not win. Two weeks later, I've got $400+ in that account. So I stopped playing that site for awhile and I've played more live games in Tuscaloosa, often staying at the 5-10 at the car lot from its starting time of 5 p.m. until it ends in the wee hours of the morning. I will write more about that game soon as it's something I should have done a long time. We've even got a mascot, a stray cat named "Slick."
I spent all Saturday over the past month working the Bama games for CBS. I don't know if I wrote about this before, but what I do is stand up in the press box, behind the stats monitors, and relay information to the guys in the truck who build the graphics with the stats on them. So if you saw that Brodie Croyle was 10 for 20 with 150 yards and an interception on your screen, I contributed to that. Pay is decent at $150 a game. The main reason I do it is it gets me a great view of the game for free. I worked home games against Florida, Tennessee and LSU and road games at Starkville (where every time a cowbell rings a redneck gets his wings) and Auburn (where every time a cow moos a redneck gets his milk.) That Auburn game was tough, with that terrible start for Bama, them falling behind 21-0 in the first quarter. The Auburn stats folks were gloating in the press box. I wanted to slug them.
So Bama's dreams of a national title and SEC title game were dashed, but they were never really that good. They mostly got by on will. I don't know how you can barely beat Ole Miss and Arkansas and expect to compete with USC, or even LSU. Nonetheless, the Cotton Bowl party's at my house folks.
Lastly, you may have seen the Xbox 360 craze that descended upon stores in this country on Tuesday. The same was certainly true in Tuscaloosa. If you weren't lined up at either of the local Wal-Marts by 5:30 p.m. Monday, you were out of luck. I called the stores and formed a plan with my brother to try to get as many as possible for an eBay offensive. I'm nothing if not creative at making money, and this seemed like an easy opportunity. I just stayed out all night playing poker and then hit the stores when the car lot game broke up. The problem was, as I went to each one there were already more people lined up than Xbox 360s available at each store. A woman at Toys R Us, lined up for one of only four available there, told me to try Sam's Club. I did and I got one, 18th in line for 20 systems. Knowing that the peak interest would be Tuesday and figuring I could get two the next day, I listed two of the systems on eBay on Monday. Unfortunately, I only had one to sell, but the $400 system brought $1,325 on eBay. What can you say, people are nuts.
Monday, November 21, 2005
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