Thursday, July 31, 2008

You Won't Believe This



I've tried to think of all sorts of funny shit to say about this one. I just keep typing and hitting backspace because nothing I can think of does justice to the hilarious level of stupidity achieved by the subject in the video. Just watch it, it speaks for itself.

Special thanks to Change100 for posting this over on Pot Committed.

I know all I've been doing is posting funny shit I've seen lately. That's because I have nothing to say about poker. For some reason my mind just isn't in it and my results certainly show that. For what it's worth I won 500 bones in a $50 online tourney the other night, lost half of it already, got raped at Harrah's in Nawlins', won some money in a few cash games, lost every race I've been in for 6 months, see people catch up to my straights with the same straight, a better one, or a flush, sweat my balls off, drink cheap beer, unsucessfully quit smoking, and generally play like I'm on 4 valiums waiting for a flight to Haiti.

Oh, that and I was busy for 2 months building a race car. The race was last weekend. Now THAT was fricken fun. Article to follow, in the meantime a teaser pic...

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Design the T-Shirt Contest



Alright folks, Big Slick Small Money is obviously on the fast track to the upper echelon of the blogosphere. What with contests, auto racing (HUH?), and supposed give aways, it's almost as though I'm acting like this is an actual website. I've already promised the submitter of the winning "screen name of the week" will win a "Big Slick Small Money" T-shirt.

And because someone other than me submitted the last winner, I guess I better get to thinking about making those t-shirts. But in order to make a t-shirt, one must first have a logo (in the middle of this I am donking off hundreds of dollars in the dumbest cash game I have ever played, I hope the rest of this makes some goddamn sense, fuck!).

So, as to not drag this out any further (Bodog SUCKS!!@#$), we now have a "Design The T-Shirt" contest.

Mr. Ferrara has been kind enough to submit the first entry in the contest. It is shown above. If anybody out there has any artistic ability, please help us out.

24 Hours of LeMons


Ain't been much posted about poker lately. While my buddies from Burnley have all been feverishly running satellites to get into one of the $1,500/$2,000 donkaments out at the world series, I have been preparing for a much more noble cause: The 24 Hours of LeMons. What? I'm donning a chapeau and offering very little resistance, you say? Going to the land of croissants, cigarettes, and meaningless political demonstrations? No, not LeMans, I said LeMOns as in "lemons". The "24 Hours of LeMons", what the hell is that?

The 24 Hours of LeMons is a celebration of the human spirit, the will to survive, to triumph, to overcome adversity, and to drink beer. In the words of founder and organizer Jay Lamm The 24 Hours of LeMons is.....

Nasty. Brutish. Not Short Enough.
The crowd. The spectacle. The pall of blue smoke and roasted clutch discs. In all motorsport, no event captures the universal human need to whale on old crapcans and hoover down greasy barbecue like the 24 Hours of LeMons.

Each LeMons race is for cars purchased, fixed up, and track-prepped for a total of 500 dollars or less. But before reaching the grid, you'll have to survive trials like the Personal-Injury-Lawyer Anti-Slalom, the Marxist-Valet Parking Challenge, and the Wide Open Throttle Rodthrowapalooza. Twelve hours into the race, the car voted People’s Choice is called in and awarded a cash prize; simultaneously, the car voted People’s Curse is called in and summarily destroyed. At the end of 24 hours, a gala awards ceremony plies the survivors with trophies, plaques, and four-figure purses in canvas bags full of nickels.

My team, Howard J. Turkstra Motorsports will be one of 90 teams participating in this racing extravaganza, to be held at Carolina Motorsports Park July 26th & 27th. We have located and are in negotiations to procure a 1984 Nissan 200SX. Once in our possession we will then gut the interior, knock out the glass and put in a roll cage and racing seat. We will scour various junkyards of the Carolinas in a veritable scavenger hunt for spare radiators, rear end assemblies, tires, alternators, and our long forgotten sanity. The race will encompass two full days, with teams of 4-6 drivers each taking turns chasing the rabbit in their juiced up jalopies around the 1.1 mile road course under the inevitably blazing sun.

The crowd is forecasted to be slightly less than the temperature is forecasted to be. BUT, the event will be covered by various grass roots racing magazines and websites so if you've got something you'd like to promote, sponsorship space on the car is still for sale but going fast. For more information email me at krhussey@hotmail.com


"The French are a smallish, monkey-looking bunch and not dressed any better, on average, than the citizens of Baltimore. True, you can sit outside in Paris and drink little cups of coffee, but why this is more stylish than sitting inside and drinking large glasses of whiskey I don't know." —P.J O'Rourke (1989)

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Milfs by a Landslide


In a landslide victory, "PocketMilfs" is this week's screen name of the week.Out of a whopping 6 votes, the mothers in your pocket received 4. JerrBudd submitted it so he'll get a "BigSlickSmallMoney" T-shirt when I start makin' em.

R.I.P Sydney Pollack



Sydney Pollack died yesterday after a 9 month battle with cancer. He was one of my favorite directors and a hell of an actor. He was awesome in Michael Clayton, coining the classic line "He's an asshole...but he knows it." Eh, I got nothing else but I just wanted to pay homage to a genuine talent in that sea of shit known as Hollywood.

RIP Mr. Pollack

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Some Hands are Just Unplayable


I just beat some guy for about $75 on a $.50-$1.00 table (Hey! Don't laugh, you know the name of this place) because he's awful. He LIMPED in EARLY position with K-5 offsuit (not that suited would further justify this play). He bet, I raised, he went all in for his last $35.

He had a pair of kings with a 5 kicker on a 10-9-K board, all clubs.

I flopped a flush with 4-5 clubs.

Here's the bonus. He just re-loaded.

Thanks to these guys, we drink better beer.

Monday, May 19, 2008

We're Goin' Dancin' With Lord Stanley



Well I'll be cow kicked, the Steel City juggernaut known as the Pittsburgh Penguins are once again going to the Stanley Cup! The Pens sent the Filthadelphia Flyers to an early tee time by destroying them 6-0 yesterday afternoon. It will take them years of self loathing and intense group therapy to recover from this monumental ass whooping.

By the way, that's $24 paid on a $20 bet on blowdog, I now not worry from where those next 6 gallons of gas are coming.



The Black and Gold simply looks unstoppable. They've got three bona fide superstars in Sydney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin, and Marion Hossa. Those three alone have combined to score 59 points in only 14 playoff games (22 goals, 37 assists). With support from Ryan Malone, Jordan Stahl, Peter Sykora, and a defense that is suffocating the opposition, the Penguins are a complete team playing a complete game. In the rare occassion that the front 5 allow anyone near the net, 3rd year goalie Marc Andre Fleury has been damn near unbeatable with a Goals Against Average of 1.70 and a save percentage of almost 94%. And the icing on the cake is George Laroque. He isn't the fastest skater or the best puck handler but he beats the shit out of people.



The Pens are 11/10 to win the cup, I got 'em 4 weeks ago at 7/2. Click below and it'll explain the title.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Have They Nothing Better To Do?


IF you're looking for a completely crime free place to live then I guess Charleston, SC must be it. Apparently the streets are so devoid of any wrong-doing that the police force has only one thing left to do. Commit enormous time and resources to bringing down that well-known apocalyptic scourge on civilization: Home Poker Games.


Instead of keeping people safe, ridding the roads of drunk drivers, and sweeping the meth out of the gutters, the law enforcement community of this southern tourist community has identified Public Enemy Number One as....wait for it... "people playing cards"?


On April 4, 2008 police officers from the Charleston area laced up their jack boots, donned their riot helmets, took a nice long hot piss on individual freedom and proceeded to raid three separate homes where people were playing cards, yuckin' it up, having a good time and drinking a few beers. Among those thrown in the hoosegow were a Deputy District Attorney, a police officer (something tells me he may have known this was coming), a Navy Officer, a teacher, and several prominent businessmen.


In total, 65 arrests were made and well over $40 grand was stolen from these otherwise law abiding citizens. In related news, it was reported that the $40,000 will be used for internal drug buys, unauthorized trips to Key West, and prostitutes for the higher ranking members of the Charleston police force. One arresting officer was excited about the prospect of a bonus so he could go to Vegas and "put it all on black".


But have no fear South Carolina tax payers, your dollars are hard at work and will be put to good use. After all, those arrested, if convicted, face misdemeanor charges and fines of "a few hundred dollars".


Authors Commentary: As you can see, this is nothing more than a shake down. The raids will do nothing to curb the frequency of home poker games NOR will it net any appreciable revenue by way of fines charged. BUT the Charleston law enforcement community gets to STEAL $40 grand from its hard working citizens and use it for the aforementioned vacations, hookers, and blow. The tertiary benefit, as always, is that 65 people will be forced to hire attorneys at rates on the average of $200 an hour. The cops benefit, the judges benefit, and the cops' and judges' buddies known as attorneys also benefit. So you see once again, everyone involved in the Justice System, except for individual citizens, benefits from this. La Costra Nostra would be proud of this level of organized crime.


Thankfully, this is not entirely just another story of the gestapo unnecessarily taking a shit on a good time and maybe something good will come out of it. Although the penalty is just a misdemeanor and paltry few hundred bucks, many charged are not taking that easy way out: They are choosing to fight.


Let's wish them luck.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Screen Name of the Week

So far we've got four submissions:

"StackSmacker"

"ibetmywife"

“OutOfToiletPaper”

“StuckAssInFishBowl”

Monday, May 12, 2008

I got assworms


Well, it's final. In a blowout victory, "igotassworms" received 40% of the total vote to win the "screen name of the week" award. As was announced last week, readers of B.S.S.M. will submit nominations for the funniest, or most thought provoking, screen name they see on the internet. You know what? it doesn't even have to be on an online poker site. Anywhere you see, or make up, a screen name is fine. Even if it came from your favorite "I love Harry Potter" fansite or "Isn't Halo Just the SHIT!!" discussion board, it will still qualify.


The reader submitting the winning name will receive a free "Big Slick Small Money" T-shirt once I get around to making them. And since I submitted this week's winner, looks like my wardrobe will be upgraded....some day.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Courtesy of 50 Online Players

About 5 weeks ago I was staring out the window looking at the lake and cursing myself for playing online poker. It was 70 degrees on a Saturday afternoon and here I was hacking away at some $.50 - $1.00 cash game. "Caveman" I said to myself, "you need to get the hell out of your cave and go do something, anything but sitting here on beautiful late March afternoon." Just as I was thinking I couldn't be any more of a slug if I tried, my good buddy Phil called me with an interesting offer. "Dude, I just got a new bike, you wanna go mountain biking? you can ride my old one". I was tired and probably hungover but without a second's thought I said Hell Yeah.

Phil's one of those nonstop, do it all, all the time guys. Active as hell and in pretty good shape. Me? Well, I go to the gym 5 times as much as I want to but only half as much as I should and I really like beer. My right arm is slightly toned though, from dealing cards and occasionally moving around some 11.5 gram poker chips. Let's just say that I'm not at my fighting weight. Phil could climb The Matterhorn without stopping, I hadn't ridden a bike that requires pedalling in about ten years. But I do occasionally ride motocross, I was a local BMX champ in my early teens, and I do have the penchant for putting my bodily safety at risk. This was going to be interesting.

Phil threw all his old gear at me. "Here, you can wear this stuff" he said as I cautiously eyed a padless helmet and a Camelback drinking system that looked like he found it at Lance Armstrong's mother's garage sale back in '92. As he strapped on all his new gear and hopped on his new ultra plush, full suspension mondo kick ass mega bike, I felt underequipped, both physically and materially. But I was grateful as hell. I hadn't ridden in forever and it was time to get back on the horse.

Two minutes into the ride I was hooked. All it took was a few powerslides into the turns and about 2 feet of air off the first jump and that rush came back to me at once. We rode for about an hour and a half. I felt like someone just beat the shit out of me. His old, suspension-less bike had taken its toll on me. I was exhausted and most of my muscles were cramping but I couldn't stopped smiling. A good workout and having fun at the same time. Why the hell didn't I do this sooner?

As we loaded the bikes back into the truck I asked him how much one of those new fangled bikes with full suspension and disc brakes (yeah, just like a car!) would cost me. "Minimum of a grand for one worthwhile," he said, "guess you're gonna have to win a poker tournament." Hmmm, he had a point.

I immediately got heavy into it, riding 3-4 days a week. I spent the next few weeks riding his old dinosaur and my roommate's recreational level bike, knowing that sooner than later, I would need my own new ride. Phil's old bike was more of a torture rack, wrong size and old as hell, and Jeramy basically indicated I should either decide to buy his or move on.

Something needed to happen, soon.

Well, long story not so long, a little sun shone on this dog's ass the other night. As I often do, I grabbed a sixer of Sierra Nevada and plunked down $20+2 on the Bodog $6,000 guaranteed. I finished 2nd out of 319 players. And I should have won but my K-10 lost to K-9 just as I was about to capture the chip lead. With a flop of x-9-10 you tend to call your opponent's all in bet heads up w/ K-10. But another 9 came crashing down on the turn and I yelled a naughty word out loud. It happens all the time, better get used to it. My anguish and self pity came to a quick end, however, when the little box popped up saying "Congratulations, you finished 2nd in the tournament and won $1,035".

"THERE'S my new BIKE!" I yelled gleefully to nobody in particular and did a little dance.

I took that G down to Performance Bike and plunked it down on a nice new shiny Mongoose Teocali Comp. That's 4 hours in front of a laptop, well spent.

More on that later, gotta go ride.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Screen Name of the Week


I'm fairly certain that both of the readers of "Big Slick, Small Money" play at least a little online poker. I do as well and in the course of wasting more of my time than money, I have come across a few genuinely funny screen names. Some are meant to intimidate, some are meant to deceive, but these names are just meant to amuse. So, it got me to thinking (cue rising smoke) we should have a weekly contest to spot the funniest screen name (or just make 'em up).

Every week users will submit screen names they've either seen or fabricated, either way - it doesn't matter, and we will vote on the funniest. The weekly winner will be announced every Friday (or sometime hopefully by Sunday if I forget). Each week's winner will receive a free "Big Slick, Small Money" t-shirt, as soon as I start making them. No names with "420" in them will be accepted, that whole thing is way played out. To get us going, here's a few I've seen:

"ijustwentpoop"

"igotassworms"

"UglylikeLiebert" (mean but lets' admit it, pretty funny)

"Waiting4Gus"

User submissions will be accepted in the "comment" section.

Break Out the Brooms...

...'cause it's gonna be a sweep. That will be one Ulysses S. Grant, Mr. Buff.

Last night, the Pittsburgh Penguins continued their domination of the hockey world, embarrassing the New York Rangers in their home dump called Madison Square Garden. High scoring games, low scoring, rough and tumble...it doesn't matter. No matter how many goals the opposition scores, the Penguins simply score more.


In a development that will leave many Pens fans grinning between gulps of Iron City, it was learned after the game that New York's chief punk-ass Sean Avery had ruptured his spleen. It is reported he will make a full recovery, so there is nothing wrong with making fun of him. He's a douche bag and a habitual line-stepper but we wish no ill health on anyone. Make a full recovery Mr. Avery, so the Penguins can kick the shit out of you next year!


A victory in tomorrow night's game would make 8 in a row. Thank god it's not Detriot, where you'd have to be on the lookout for a flying octupus. Don't worry about that happening, the Ded Wings are an aging, decrepit collection of hockey fossils and also rans. They'll never win another 8 in a row and if they are so fortunate to emerge from the inferior Western Conference, they will be soundly defeated by the Pittsburgh Juggernaut. I will have no mercy for them, they just don't have a chance.

Happy Birthday Dale


Amid the scurry of getting out of town to see Widespread with Gosney, I was remiss to mention Dale Earnhardt's birthday yesterday.


Dale was obviously a god amongst men, the best race car driver ever to ever fire up an engine. He was also one of us. He came from nothing. He never kissed anyone's ass. Never smiled for the camera and said the right thing, never made excuses. He never sought the spotlight and he never ran from blame. He did what he wanted to do: WIN. He did what we all wanted to do. He just seemed to be a little better at it.


Dale was REAL. He was no character carved from some corporate vanilla, mass appealling mold. His goals, his aspirations, his talents, his flaws....we all felt them in us too. He humbly, quietly went about reaching his goals, climbing from the bottom, undeterred by any obstacle in his path, asking no favors and giving no quarter, on his way to becoming the best ever. To quote a line out of Jeff MacGregor's (my favorite author EVER) book "Sunday Money", when asked to describe the mystical appeal that Earnhardt garnered with all his fans, one of those fans, an RV dealership Service Manager in the midwest, simply answered "Well, he drove like I feel." That about sums it up.


Dale Earnhardt. The God of Thunder, Forever The Man.


Click Here for an article on Thats Racin

Friday, April 25, 2008

Quick Post


They just played a cut off of Slayer's classic album "Reign in Blood" over the PA system at the Penguins playoff game. Told you Pittsburgh is awesome!

VALUE CHECKING



The Scene: 1-2 Pot Limit Omaha.

Players: 4

Position: Cut off
On the button: Todd, a good solid player, especially in Omaha

I’m dealt Qh-Qd-7d-10s. I’m running good (for once!) and we were only 4 handed so I raised to $6. Todd called and both blinds folded. The flop was a juicy Qc-6s-2s. I threw out $10 and Todd called. There was now $35 in the pot. The turn was a 4c, a seemingly harmless card, no reason to overcharge here. I bet $20. He didn’t think long and made a smooth call. There is now $75 in the pot. At this point I’ve got to consider what he’s got. A big pair sticks in my mind but he called too easily so I add a flush draw to the reasons he’s putting chips in this pot. The river is a harmless 9 and this is where I think I will do something different the next time. I’ll tell you what I did shortly but first a discussion of philosophy.

The basic premise of poker is to force your opponents to make tough decisions. Although in No Limit Hold Em the tough decision is usually whether or not to commit their chips after you’ve bet at them or raised their bet. This decision almost always boils down to a simple “do I have a better hand than he does?” and chips are then moved accordingly.

Let’s say you’re you’re dealt J-J on the button. You make a raise and get one caller. The flop comes Kc-8h-9d. Not bad, one over and some draws. Checked to you. You bet about ¾ pot and get called. The turn is the 4h. You bet again, get called. At this point straight and flush draws are highly probable, maybe a king. The river is 5h. It’s checked to you. Unless you put your opponent on exactly 10s, betting here is usually not a good idea. As they say on the internet, it has "negative ev". You will only be called by a hand that beats you.

Well, to me I’m in the same exact situation in this Omaha hand but the positions are reversed. I will be only be RAISED by a hand that beats me. I’ve bet the whole way through and now it’s likely I have by far the best hand, Top Set, 2nd nuts in fact. If I bet, what can I expect to be called with? An underset is the only hand I can see paying me off but given the progression of this hand, I almost guarantee he does not have one. If he’d hit a set there would be a multitude of reasons for him to raise my bet on the flop .

The 5-3 is obviously the ONLY hand I fear. But he’d have to have some weird hand like K-K-3-5 for that to happen. My luck’s been bad lately, but hopefully not that bad. The case against 3-5 is overwhelming. Again, with the flush draws and ever present possibility of pairing the board on the river, he would have certainly raised the turn if he hit a set.

In this scenario, one that I feel is under-addressed in the realm of pot limit Omaha discussion, we are presented with the case for “Value Checking”. Betting into them makes their decision to fold way too easy. When your opponent misses their draws on the river, put them to a tough decision: They’ve missed their draws and now it’s time to decide “Should I bluff or not?” And the bigger the pot, the bigger the temptation they’ll have to try to steal it back. $75 is not a ton of money but he’s put $36 in there and he probably wants it back. He’s a gamer and to simply wave the white flag would not constitute a very high level of gamesmanship.

What did I do? I bet $35 but next time I won’t. He almost certainly has a hand he knows cannot win in a showdown. The temptation to bluff will be overwhelming. No straight, no set, big pot…Why not check and force him to try to steal it? Next time folks…..next time.

By the way, yeah – he put on a little “maybe I’ll raise” show and folded.

Monday, April 21, 2008

A belated 420 wish


Okay, I'm one day late but that's the way it should be on such an occasion as this. It was Sunday, so I get a pass on this one. Either way, if you forgot, happy belated 420 and as a token of my gratitude, below we have a classic clip from the Price is Right. Don't give up too early, at about 0:40 you'll see what I mean.



The Penguins are Steamrolling


In an almost embarrassing display of dominance, the Pittsburgh Pengiuns sytematically beat the living shit out of the weak ass Ottowa (where?) Senators. The Pens performed the only sweep of the first round of the NHL playoffs as Evgeni Malkin and Sydney Crosby diplayed offensive prowess reminiscent of the early 90s duo of Lemieux-Jagr

Because all the other teams in the east are lame asses who aren't worth a pair of used goalie pads, the Pens are gonna have to wait another day or two to see which collection of dirt surfers they will send crying to the golf course, or some hog farm in Moosejaw, Saskatchewan.


While we wait, click on the video below to see Ryan Whitney pounding the hell of Wade Redden. Weather's getting warm, days are getting longer, girls are wearing less, and it's the NHL playoffs. Damn! I love this time of year.


Thursday, April 3, 2008

Circling the Drain


I’ve absolutely fallen apart as a poker player lately, particularly in tournaments. While it would better time spent to sit out on the sidewalk of Burnley drive every Wednesday evening, passing the time lighting 80 dollar bills on fire, one at a time whilst sipping on Gin and Juice, I keep trying. What it is that makes me so bad lately, I can’t quite put a finger on. Am I too tight, too afraid to bluff, too unsure whether the entry level nimrod, hustling over from another late night in the cubicle at One Wachovia, will have the intelligence to fold his middle pair? Or is it this insatiable desire to do stupid things? I don’t know but I do know that I’m playing like shit.

A little story for ya:

As is typical, last night I get some juicy starting hands in the first level of the tournament and I pick up a few chips. And then, as usual, I piss them away and immediately go on SST (Short Stack Torture), dragging around 10 big blinds, unable to speculate, and, like Larry Holmes in the twilight of his career, wielding not a single weapon but a feeble Sunday haymaker. A case in point from last night, should however clearly explain why I find myself starting the cash game for the last two months.

It was 50-100, the second round of blinds. Since there’s so much contemplating, posturing, ball scratching, and general coffee housing going on at our game, that probably means it was about the sixth hand of the night. Anyhow, BOC opens the pot for 300. In position I have AQ and I feel aggression is the order of the day. We both have chips (like I said, it’s early in the tournament) and I’m pretty sure he does not want to tangle without a really big hand. I make it 1100 to go. Darryl is in the small blind and after losing a decent pot, he’s down to about 6500. That won’t stop him though, he’s a calling station and it’s irrelevant that I think it’s quite perilous to put in 18% of your stack, most likely with Jacks, out of position, after a raise and a re-raise, when putting any chips in post flop will effectively commit the rest of your stack.

As much as I know Darryl, though, he knows me too. I put him on Jacks and he puts me on two big cards and if recent history is any indicator, ain’t no way I‘ll hit the flop. Whatever, he calls, pot odds dictate that BOC reluctantly calls. I don’t know what he has, it doesn’t matter, I have position and I’ll worry about him if he becomes a factor. There’s about 3500 in the pot. The flop is some kinda non threatening junk like 2-5-7. They both check. I know what I SHOULD do here but I just can’t help my self. I look down at my hand, moving independently of all the other oxygen and carbon in my body, effortlessly reaching for 2 orange chips and tossing them in the pot. Before I can even ask my hand why the hell he just threw 2000, in position, with big over cards, into the pot, Darryl moves all in.

His raise is 3475 more, which puts my dumb ass into quite a predicament. There’s now about 11,000 in the pot. I’m getting about 3.2 to 1 on the call. With 6 outs, using the rule of 4, I’m about 77 to 23 on the call, just about the exact odds I need to justify a call. But it isn’t about that anymore. It’s about how moronically I’ve played this pot. I should have either checked or just moved all in on the flop, getting the same odds but reversing the decision onto Darryl’s shoulders. Darryl plays the numbers, there’s no emotion in it for him. He knows from time to time that he’ll be quietly sipping scotch next to the fire, snuggled up with the jacks that just sent him walking from yet another tourney. But that’s the way it goes sometimes. A caller never, a bettor be.

Calling leaves me with about 6000, folding keeps me at 9500. So, if nothing more than to punish myself for my seemingly endless stupidity, I fold.

The simplest of concepts, swirling the drain of my mental capacity. I better get my shit together.

Idiotic Sports bets from the last Two weeks


Been a while....my poker game has once again fallen to shit so let's just not talk about it right now. I have been making silly bets on some of my favorite sports. I think the NFL withdrawal is finally letting go..... Let's see what's happened the last 10 days or so...........


Mar 22, 2008. Brad Keselowski (18 to 1) to win the Nationwide (formerly Busch) Race at Nashville. Yeah, I know both of you reading this have no idea who Brad Keselowski is but he drives for Dale Earnhardt Jr’s Bus..I mean Nationwide team and 18 to 1 is hard to pass up on a talented driver in top equipment. He did finish 4th.

Wagered: $6.67 Lost: It all

Mar 22, 2008. Clint Bowyer (+140) to finish higher than Kyle Busch in that same race. Busch has been on fire (not in a Ricky Bobby way, thankfully) especially in the series formerly of his namesake but his driving style still costs him in many ways. He wears out tires and his competitors, from previous experience, have NO problem getting into with him more than any other driver on the track. Plus, Clint Bowyer is a great driver in top equipment. I didn’t see it but someone spun Busch out of the lead late in the race. Thank You.

Wagered: $6.67 Won: $9.34

Mar 22, 2008. Brad Keselowski (-110) to finish higher than Stephen Leicht. Keselowski is in what I would call a “Positive Expected Value” position when it comes to betting on him in racing. He’s relatively young and unheard of, which will give him long odds. He is, however, in the best equipment on the track and the oddsmakers have not yet caught up to his current performance. They will soon but for now he’s like an undervalued stock and I’ll keep buying shares.

Wagered: $6.67 Won: $6.06

Mar 29, 2008. Washington Capitals (-130) vs. Florida Panthers

Sometimes I bet on hockey just so I have a reason to watch the game. With the Caps, though, I really don’t need to do that. Alexander Ovechkin is reason enough to watch any game. Next to Sidney Crosby, who plays for the best franchise in the history of competitive sport, Ovechkin is the most exciting hockey player to hit the ice since Mario Lemieux. And I knew they would pound the Panthers. An easy 10 bones.

Wagered: $13 Won: $10

March 29, 2008. PARLAY!

Tampa Bay Lightning (+115) vs. Carolina Hurricanes AND Under 6

Tampa blows this year. For the most part, they can’t beat a rented mule. But I noticed a couple things. Carolina had played a tough game the night before in Raliegh and then had to fly to Tampa. They were beat up and tired. Tampa, like I said, sucks. Sounds like a low scoring game, huh? Ok, so we got the under out of the way. Then I noticed Tampa is something like 15-5 vs Carolina the last 20 games in Tampa. Carolina has suffered a rash of injuries and it just looks like their heart is gone. Tampa would figure someway to squeak this out. And they did, breaking a 1-1 tie with about 8 minutes left in the game. I’m a genius!

Wagered: $20 Won: $63.95

March 30, 2008. A bunch of Heads Up bets on the Winston I mean Next….I mean Sprint Cup race at Martinsvillle:

Greg Biffle +105 vs. Kasey Kahne
Wagered: $9.52 Lost: All of it

Juan Pablo Montoya (-105) vs. Jamie McMurray. McMurray finally pulled his head out of his ass. Thanks Metro!
Wagered: $25 Lost: All of it.

Jeff Gordon (-165) vs. Kyle Busch. Keep trying shrub.
Wagered: $16.50 Won: $10

Kevin Harvick (-145) vs. Carl Edwards. Carl must have found a new ‘Roid dealer
Wagered: $14.50 Lost: All of it.

Jeff Gordon (-130) vs. Jimmie Johnson. Jimmie just don’t have his shit together right now.
Wagered: $13 Won: $10

So, in the last 10 days I have wagered $131.53, Won $109.35, and lost $55.69 for a net gain of $53.66. That may not mean much to you but to me that is one 1.75 Liter bottle of Ketel One with enough leftover to buy the gas to get to Frugal McDougal’s.


Next: Circling The Drain

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Favre Hangs It Up


I've never seen anybody enjoy what he's doing anywhere near as much as when Brett Favre played football. Although he often put covering the spread in grave jeopardy, his ability to have fun while playing at the absolute highest level of his profession is unmatched.

A truly brilliant sports career, one of the best of all time.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Gentleman John Gale and the Weak Lead


Note: If you haven't yet read Indian Larry and the Online Misfits, click this link before reading on.


At my new table I immediately recognize a familiar face from the World Poker Tour, none other than “Gentleman” John Gale. If you know his post knockout ritual, you’ll know why I desperately did not want a hug from this well known poker pro. I immediately searched my memory (as the day went on my focus increased and things were coming to me much clearer than usual) of what I’d seen from his play in a few TV telecasts. I recalled that he’s rather tight but when he gets into a pot, very aggressive. I did not want to tangle with him without a very good hand. The Gentleman held true to his reputation, politely chatting with his fellow players and dealers, and methodically building his chips. It felt good though, to notice he didn’t have a whole lot more than me. Yes, these guys put their pants on one leg at a time, just like us.

By this time, the money was getting very close and play was tightening up considerably. I did my best to subscribe to the bubble axiom of taking advantage of the tight play but the cards weren’t coming and I wasn’t about to risk weak hands against the guys who were one by one being forced to play. And after an under the gun raise by a young lady with average chips, I’ve never so easily laid down pocket jacks on the button. Everyone folded, she showed Kings, and I again reminded myself how much of a genius I was. Then it was announced. We were on the bubble. 64 players remained. 63rd got about $1,700 and 64th got nothing.

On the bubble, the tables play hand-for-hand, meaning that one hand is dealt at every table and the next hand is not dealt until all the tables finish playing the current hand. This is to avoid any confusion should two players be knocked out at relatively the same time. Play tightens up considerably. The blinds were 2,000 - 4,000 with a 500 ante. I had 70,000, no danger of being blinded off, and no reason to go nuts without anything but a monster. The nice thing about the bubble is that you don’t have to worry about dwindling your chips very quickly. The hands move sooo slooooooow and almost all of them get folded around to the blind, were you just pick back up what you’ve invested that last round if you didn’t win a pot anyway.

Waiting for every hand to end, I had plenty of time to get a quick check on Jay and Blake. While Blake seemed ok with about 40,000, Jay was justifiably nervous with about 18,000 and the big blind only 2 hands away. As we were about to return to our respective tables a roar erupted two tables over and the high fives began instantly. The bubble had burst and we were all in the money. You should have seen the smile on Jay’s face, it was priceless. I later learned that the bubble buster happened when pocket kings lost to 6-7 offsuit. I did not want to see the look on that guy’s face. It was 12:15 and it was announced we would play to the end of the blind level at 1:00 AM. Incidentally, Jay and Blake were 63 and 62, the first two out in the money! What’s worse for Jay, he flopped trips and lost to a straight on the river.

As one may imagine, the play immediately loosened up. The 20,000 stacks were now gambling and as long as it took to knock the bubble out, they were now going out pretty quickly again. Although I didn’t want to do anything stupid, I was looking for a spot to play. Soon I would get the opportunity to do both. Against the best player at the table. Mr. Gale, who like everyone else folded his way through the bubble, opened in mid position for a raise to 12,000. It folded to me in the big where I held A-8 of spades. I’m not immune to boredom and against my better judgment I ….called. What was I looking to do? Flop an ace and perhaps leave in an unceremonious vortex of domination? Flop two spades and gamble the rest of my stack on a flush draw? What’s worse, the flop came 8 high, men’s warehouse. Instead of doing what I did next, it would have been better if I had just grabbed a handful of chips, walked over, handed them to Mr. Gale, and dropped my A-8 in the nearby garbage can. I committed the ultimate sin of the “weak lead”. Let’s see, there’s my 12, his 12, 2 in the small blind, and 4000 in antes. Into a pot of 30,000 I led out for …..13,000?

Before the chips hit the felt, I realized the grave err of my ways. Gale’s a pro. Pros make their living by pouncing on weakness whenever they see it. Regardless of the quality of my hand, my bet looked weak and I was immediately 100% sure I would get raised. While the small mistake was calling the preflop raise, the HUGE mistake was leading weak because it didn’t do anything to define to Gale the strength of my hand. Whether he even wanted to or not, he knew had to raise. I knew he did too, and therefore I quickly had NO idea where I was in the hand. He could easily have 99 or better, maybe a monster and he was raising to see if I flopped a set, or maybe nothing but the knowledge that I underbet the pot and it was his for the taking if he just showed a little initiative. He quickly made it 20,000 more to go. As the “what the hell have I just done” thoughts kept running through my head, one overriding thought kept coming back: I want to play tomorrow. Maybe he’s making a move here, maybe not but I still have 50,000 left and it’s enough to still do some damage.

On the last hand of the night I got all those chips back anyway. With two limpers in the pot, I looked at A-K of clubs on the button, moved all in and hoped, almost prayed for a caller. I was either taking the 20,000 pot, busting out, or doubling up. Everyone folded and I was back to 72,000. I bagged up my chips, put my name on them, ordered my FIRST Ketel & Tonic of the evening and strolled out of there absolutely wired with adrenaline. I found the rest of the guys at the blackjack table, cut the deck for them, they started winning, and I went back to the hotel, laid in bed smiling, and as far as I know I caught a little sleep.

Day 2

Coming in for day 2 was pretty cool. There was a print out of all those remaining in the tournament, their home town, and their chip count. There was 56 players remaining and I was only slightly less than the average of 90,000 with 72,000. Looking over the tournament sheet I also noticed the payout structure. I tried not look but with only 12 big blinds (the blinds were now 3,000 – 6,000 with 1,000 antes) it’s a good idea to know the money situation. What I saw was not encouraging. The payout structure was incredibly top heavy. Not every player received a gradually increasing payout; it was structured in brackets where 48-54, 41-47, 35-40, etc. got the same payout. And the increases in every level were quite miniscule. The first bracket got $1,800, the next $1,920, the next $2,048, etc. I noticed the payout didn’t jump to over $3,000 until something like 15th place or so. I knew I just couldn’t fold my way to more money; it was just so far down the road for any material increase in payout. Tournament organizers know this and they don’t want to be there til 5 in the morning either.

Tight play was way out the window. Chips were flying, small stacks were dying, and the big stacks were getting bigger. At my table, two guys got knocked in a hurry and, like just about every other table, we were playing shorthanded at 7. The blinds and antes were costing 16,000 a round and reality was setting in. Another problem I had was that there was only one stack shorter than me, the rest of the guys had a lot of ammo. If I didn’t get some chips, I would be out in less than an hour. Then reality really set in. The fortunate beneficiary of both the previous knockouts started raising. A lot. With his stack, I thought to myself, I’d be raising a lot too. On his 3rd raise in the last 4 hands I was in the small blind with a pair of 7s. Then I started thinking about the wrong stuff. I was thinking of the antes, the 9,000 in blinds every 7 hands, the slow payout structure, the need to double up. What I didn’t do was relax, sit back, and take a long look at my opponent for any signs of strength, weakness, nervousness, comfort. As I’ve been told by many an ex-girlfriend, I was only thinking about myself. I felt the need to double up so I said, one last time, “I’m all in.”

With only 50,000 more left and his huge stack, there was no question that he was going to call. I knew that and I wanted to get into a race, gamble for some chips or hit the bar. I was looking for Ace-King.

Although I was flying home on USAir, he must have been on American Airlines. He had Aces. Jay was watching me on the rail and others had planned to join later. I looked up at him, forced my best smile and said “Well. That’s it!”

To this day, I stand by my play but I don’t think I’ll do the same if I ever get the chance again. Reason number 1: Who knows when I’ll get that chance again. Reason number 2: Like my buddy Mr. Positive says, in tournament poker you always want to be the one pushing the action. Moving in with a mid pair to a guy who is guaranteed to call isn’t exactly pushing the action. And while the blinds were getting there, my stack was still nowhere near critical condition. At this stage of the tournament, 10 big blinds is not that small of as stack. I gave up a little early. I failed to realize that until I got to the payout table.

We started play at 2 PM that afternoon with 56 players. I went out in 42nd place, at 2:35. In 35 minutes, 15 players got knocked out. While the pace of knockouts would slow as the field shrunk, I realized that I didn’t totally take all the short stack gambling into account. Who knows, maybe I could’ve knocked one out, then doubled up to 200,000 in two hands.

Like I said, I stand by my play but next time I’ll probably do it differently.

One thing is for sure, I have not experienced such an adrenaline rush and the high of competition since playing for the state championship in High School Hockey.

Indian Larry and the Online Misfits

Shortly after the break I get moved to a new table. This table was so different than the first one that I thought I had woken up in some surreal dream were I was actually playing poker inside the main server at Full Tilt Poker (dot com). It was FULL of young, hyper agressive online maniacs, with their chief conspirator a 120 lb. goofball I dubbed “Indian Larry”. This nickname is for no other reason than the kid looked to be of Indian descent. Larry literally opened raised at least 75% of every pot and three of his buddies would jump in with him.

There were so many barely legal mouse mavens that one of them actually finally recognized Larry by his cyber moniker. 10 minutes after arriving at the table, this peach fuzz laden skinny kid suddenly piped up out of his seat and said to him “Hey, you’re ‘interblublublah 73 on FT, right? Yeah, I played a 109 with you last night”. As I was just about to inform this young lad that his handle was in fact “Indian Lar”….”Yeah!? That’s me,” Larry answered. Thanks for ruining the joke, Larry.

Watching them toss chips back and forth while I was catching nothing was starting to get to me. But then I remembered this is no weekly tournament, where the blinds go up every time someone scores in the basketball game on TV. I didn’t like it but then I remembered that I don’t have to play a goddamn hand for 2 hours if I don’t want to. I’ve got plenty of chips and the blinds aren’t going anywhere for another 50 minutes. Also buffering my spirits was the fact that I was quickly noticing that we had about 4 Full Blown Squeezers (FBS) at the table playing some serious LDP (Lock Down Poker). Aside from folding 20 hands in a row, one FBS actually went as far to admonish one of the young guns for calling off a quarter of his stack with K-Q while getting 5 to 1 on someone else’s all in bet. It’s nice when someone goes out of their way to tell you just how tight they are. It was feast or famine. Stay out of the way of the nut jobs and pound on the tighties whenever possible. That strategy did well to maintain my stack while waiting for a few of the nut jobs to blown themselves up.

It didn’t take long. Larry finally finished the effortless task of bluffing off his chips and instantly the table took on a different complexion. We were playing poker again. There were now 3 online kids who looked lost without their leader (and without many chips), 4 Bonafide FBS’s, me and the gentlemen next to me, whom we will call “Angry Guy”. As fate would have it, he and I would go to battle many times. You could see the fury boiling within him as I held over him in repeated pots. Sets of 5s, wired aces, AK over AQ, I couldn’t lose to him and he was losing his mind with my repeated raises and re-raises. It was a shame, he was the only guy whose play I respected and in the end it cost me chips. If it was one of the on liners, they would have paid me off many times over. No worries, holding over angry guy in those few pots and built my stack up to almost 50,000.

At this point in the tournament people were dropping out pretty quickly. The FBS coalition held on to their dwindling stacks, a few on liners gambled their way out, and our table finally got broken up. It’s good when the tables are getting broken up, it means the field is thinning and we’re getting closer to pay day. When I sat down at my new table, it was very apparent that it was crunch time. The pseudo tough guidos and internet hot shots were growing fewer and farther between and most of those who remained appeared to very much know what they were doing. I was just hoping I was one of them.

This part of the tournament is commonly known as “Moving Day”. You’re taking a stand with your good hands and either moving up into the money or moving on to the poker room and trying to get your grand back in the cash games. At this point in the game, everyone has their agenda. Are they squeezing their chips, trying to limp into the money? Are they gambling excessively in an effort to reach the final table with a big stack? Are they frustrated, about ready to melt down with a less than premium hand? DON’T EVER WEAR HEADPHONES AT A TABLE WHERE YOU DON’T KNOW THE PLAYERS. Listening to what they are saying will tell you so much about the types of hands they are willing to play and you will be much better prepared to play accordingly when facing them in a pot.

For the most part everyone’s playing about the same, not risking their whole life without a big hand, and hoping to scrape enough pots to stay ahead of the blinds, which were 800-1600 with antes of 200. Gazing around the table, I was glad to see there were few stacks much bigger than mine. There were one or two quite a bit bigger, a few about the same size, and a few short stacks that I hoped were soon to take the long walk. Then I looked at the faces. There’s nothing more exhilarating then recognizing one or two from tournaments you’ve seen on TV. There was one guy, not a household name, that I remembered seeing about 2 years ago on a show called “Speed Poker”. I remembered his name was Billy Hill. And I also remembered that he played like a solid pro. He didn’t overly bluff but he raised in position, followed up his bets with continuations and knew how to float a hand or two. I also noticed his diamond encrusted Rolex. No matter, most of the play was “raise and take it” and walks to the blinds.

I held my own, raising few hands, betting when appropriate and laying down when necessary, I was at least maintaining my chip position. Then Billy and I got into a hand. He raised early to 4800. With position on him I called with K-Q offsuit and the big blind also called. There was 17,000 in the pot. The flop came Queen high with 2 spades. The big blind checked and as expected Mr. Hill came out with a controlled, emotionless bet of 9,000. The pot now had 26,000 in it. With about 42,000 chips I am not laying this down, I’m not calling, and any raise will commit me to the pot. If Billy has A-Q, I’m crushed. If he has A-K, he’s crushed. The big blind was the x-factor though. He may have got in here with 2 spades, some straight cards, or even a small pair that could set up on the turn. I felt very confident I had the best hand and if I can’t go with it here then why the hell would I even show up? These guys are not getting another card without paying another 33,000 to see it. “I’m all in”. They both fold pretty quickly and any lingering feelings of uncertainty were replaced with an almost euphoric realization that I could most certainly hang with these guys. I now have 68,000. A couple uneventful rounds go by and finally the level ends, the dinner break is announced, and I have slightly above average chips of about 58,000.

Daryl was long gone to the poker room and Jerry was frantically searching for Rain Man at the blackjack tables, so Jay, Daryl’s buddy Blake, Jason, and I sat down for dinner at the Metropolitan. Jay, Blake, and I are still in and with about 100 players remaining we are all cognizantly aware that the 63 money spots are right around the corner. Not to jinx anything, Jay confides to me “Man, there’s no way I’m playing this long, going this far without making the money.” We’re all feeling it man. Big time. I’m pretty healthy with my stack but Jay and Blake are both hanging on with about 25,000 – 30,000 each. It’s 9 PM, we wish each other luck and head back to the tournament, ready for the home stretch that should last until about 2 AM. Walking back into the tournament, I caught myself sizing up every stack at every table I walked by. I was pleased with what I saw. There were a lot of stacks much smaller than mine and it was apparent the attrition rate would be accelerating.

More good news. Shortly after play resumes my table is broken up, the flies are dropping just like they should. Walking to my new table I quickly look around and I’m happy to see both Jay and Blake are still alive and the information screen shows 81 players, 18 to go.

Next: Hugs all around with the Gentleman.

Monday, January 28, 2008

It all started with a Limo


Well, I'm back and I apologize for making my loyal readers, both of them, wait so long to hear about the glamorous life of low stakes gambling. The turn of the new year brought lower interest rates, and being in the mortgage business I am absolutely SLAMMED with that dreaded four letter word: Work. Anyone who would like to take advantage of these dropping interest rates, please feel free to contact me at kevin@mortgagelighthouse.com. I would love to help.

Enough shameless self promotion, back to the action: As some of you know, I was the fortunate winner of a satellite tournament that bought me into one of the preliminary events at the annual WPT Borgata Winter Open.




I’d been playing well leading up to the $1,000 buy-in preliminary event at the WPT Borgata Winter Open. This would be my first tournament with a buy-in of over $200. Yeah, my indoctrination into the “low-to-mid roller club” was about to commence and I would need focus. I ramped up my work out schedule (hit the gym 3 times in 9 days!), went to bed before 3 am, switched to beer, and ate sensible meals. …..Ok, I didn’t sleep at all the night before, I worked late into the night the 3 nights before we left and, honestly, I was way too amped to sleep anyway.

The day before we flew out I received the following email from Daryl: “Caveman, Everett’s dad is picking us up in a limo at the airport.” The trip was definitely starting off on the right foot! Upon entering the limo at the Philadelphia Airport we were greeted to Jason’s dad, his high roller buddy, and cheers of “First stop, Liquor Store!” It was noon and I was zonked but the fact that those two Budweisers tasted pretty good gave me high hopes for the weekend to come.

We arrived in Atlantic City Thursday afternoon; the tournament was to start at 11:00 am the next day. I fished the low limit Harrah’s poker room for $200 in beer money and was in bed by midnight. My decent night’s sleep would serve me well. Standing in line to register for the tournament, I was surrounded by smelly tri-state area degenerates and began to think this might not be so tough after all. I laid down my grand, got my seat assignment and headed into the massive ballroom in which the tournament was being held. What an atmosphere! A monumental coliseum of poker was laid before my eyes; tables, dealers, huge screens with ESPN, and $640,000 was spread across the landscape as far as the eyes could see.

This tournament had 640 entrants and I could not quite grasp such an immense gathering of east coast pseudo-toughs, grease balls, and bottom feeders. The Guido Factor was of unbelievable proportions. Looking around the room, this cologne drenched, gold chain wrapped collection of knee-breaker wannabes made an episode of the Sopranos appear culturally diverse. In the words of Paulie Walnuts, what bunch of Stunads. I never thought I would miss the collection of striped-shirt hotshot douchery that so permeates the Las Vegas scene. At least those guys wear the expense cologne.

On to the game:

I sat down at my table at 10:58 and studied my adversaries. I was glad I did not recognize a single face from any of the way-too- many poker tournaments I have watched on TV. With 8,000 chips and blinds starting at 25-50, the first hand was dealt. Everyone folded to the cut off seat who raised it to 150, and everyone after that folded. The raiser guy showed pocket kings and we all chuckled. “Nice start” I thought but compared my next hand that was nothin’. Yep, I may have flown in on USAir but on the 2nd hand of the tournament, I’m flying American Airlines. I raise to 150 with my Aces and PRAY that nobody calls, I just don’t want to get into a tangle 2 minutes into the tournament with 9 guys about whom I know absolutely nothing. Thankfully they all fold and I get this eerie feeling that this just might turn out to be a good day. This feeling kept getting stronger as play went on. Other than the 50-something guy with the neatly trimmed mustache wearing a Penn State jacket (my alma mater), this table was pretty soft and I was getting my share of cards. I saw no reason to lay off the gas, playing every hand with sensible aggression and throwing in a few bluffs here and there. I usually don’t strive to achieve the “Table Captain” image but these guys were developing a healthy respect for my plays and someone had to drive the action.

Timing is everything and though I wasn’t getting an unreasonable amount of good cards, they always seemed to come at exactly the right time. I was taking blinds with Ace-King and three limpers, coming over the top with Queens, and catching a flush on the turn with 3 in the pot. Things were going pretty well. And when presented with a tough decision and sketchy cards, I just threw them away. The blinds lasted an hour long and at this stage of the tournament patience and selective aggression were rewarding me well when the following hand came up: With the blinds at 150-300 the fellow to my right, “Jersey Jim” for lack of better name, raised it to 900. I called with a pair of 3s. The flop was A-3-7 and Jim bet out 1,500 which I smooth called. The turn was another Ace and Jim checked to me. I didn’t really like that but I was also certain Jim had a big Ace and no worry of pairing his kicker for a better boat. I bet 4,500. Jim gave it about 10 seconds thought, muttered that A-J must be no good and chucked his hand into the muck. “Well, Jim, you’re just too good” I thought to myself and decided that if he was going to make big laydowns then by God I would give him plenty of reason. I decided to pound on him whenever possible.

A few hands went by and the blinds had just gone to 200-400. It was folded all the way around to Jersey Jim on the button. He made it 1200 to go and along with the general aroma of Guido wafting through the air, I also smelled a rat. I held 4-2 offsuit (more on that later) but the guy on my left was playing extremely tight so I decided to give Jim the once over and contemplated a steal. Jim’s chest was heaving a little too hurriedly and his mouth was pinched tight. I re-raised it 4,200, set my chin in my hand and stared blankly at the felt. Big Blind folded and Jim calmly flashed K-Q, mentioned something about giving me respect, and I collected a free 1600. This is working, Jim. Let’s keep playing. Another opportunity presented itself two hands later.

The table was tightening up and it folded all the way to Jim in the small blind. Jim limped in and I looked at A-10 of clubs. I raised to 1200 and Jim called. With a flop of King high and two clubs, Jim checked to me and I bet 2000 and then….Jersey Jim came alive, min-raising it to 4000. My previous beatings on Jim had given me about a 20,000 to 12,000 chip lead on him and most importantly, he had enough chips to fold here. With my chin resting gently in my left hand (I had concentrated on cultivating this constant pose during every hand) those words I had been patiently waiting to utter came out of my mouth. “I’m all in”. God that felt good. And it felt even better when Jim showed a King as he folded, AGAIN throwing away the best hand. I now had about 28,000 in chips and the luxury of picking my spots, riding the range, and punchin’ them dogies. A couple orbits went by and it was again time for Jim and I to go to battle. With a few limpers in the pot, Jim raised to 1800, leaving him about 9000 behind. This time it was for real, I peeked at one King, and then another. The most wanted outlaw in the land was back in town and ….“I’m all in”. Jim had seen enough of this shit and took a stand with Ace-Queen. Well, an ace hit the flop and another hit the river. Jim doubled up and I was back to around 15,000. But salvation was right around the corner……

A few hands later the tournament director announced that this was the last hand before a 15 minute break. A nice, bald gentleman (we’ll call him “Dilbert”) who had earlier conversed that he owned a small engineering firm limped in middle position and it folded to me in the small blind. I called with 4-2 offsuit and the big blind checked. Alright, I have junk and my main concern was getting this hand over with and finding the rest room with the shortest lines. Well Valhalla! The flop is 2-2-4, two spades. Row, row row your boat, gently down the boardwalk, merrily merrily life is but a .. I hope you have a spade draw!

Here’s some rope, Dilbert, check. Big blind checks, Dilbert checks. Turn is a 10 of spades, Oh Hallelujah, Thank Ya Jesus! I notice Dilbert has about 14,000 left, he has perked up at this turn of events and my only concern is coming up with the best way to liquefy his assets. With 1800 in the pot, I lead out for 2000. Dilbert does his best impersonation of the Make-A-Wish Foundation, making all our dreams come true by raising to 6000. No use laying low here. “I’m all in”. GOD those three words sound so gooooood. I flinch just a little as he insta-calls me with…..Q-10 offsuit? The river is a blank, I’m up to about 32,000 and I practically skip to the rest room, glancing back as the unsuspecting gentleman gathers his belongings. Isn’t poker just awesome!!!!!

Next: Indian Larry and the Online Misfits.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Illusion or Not, We are Still Here



Widespread Panic played Phillips Arena in Atlanta last night. I caught the end of it on Sirius radio. They absolutely smoked that place down.





Happy New Year and your pots be monsters.