Born 30 something years ago into a card-playing clan in the North of England: the low-roller's poker odyssey has taken him from the school common-room via down-trodden Midlands' casinos, smoky Cotswolds pubs, celebrity Soho drinking spots and of course the ubiquitous world of cyberspace to the home of poker itself, Las Vegas. Join his search for juicy take-downs, great pot odds and the occasional back-door straight as he goes for glory.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Regrets, I've Had a Few...
But then again, too few to mention. I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption....and so ole blue eyes goes on. Last year my regret and ultimately my downfall was not playing a hand, KJ offsuit, after a raise from an aggressive player. I wrote about it last year, so I won't go there again. Two players ended up all-in, one with a bottom straight, one with two pair (Ronnie the raiser had 9-7 offsuit) and I would have had the nut straight, and tripled my stack. I ended up losing all my money to these same two (I haven't quite told you the truth yet about last year - slightly too embarassing). Well I guess now is the time for a bit of honesty, so here I go... I had pocket 9s and call a raise from Ronnie, and the flop comes J-4-2 with two hearts. Ronnie to the right of me (Irani to the left as the song goes - sorry.....utterly irrelevant) bets half the pot and I come over the top, not believing him....oh dear as he shows Jack-Ten of hearts. So there it is: the shameful truth - better out than in, I guess. This leaves me crippled and I later go all-in with Ace-Six, first to act on the button and Irani - giving me a pitying look (we made friends in the dinner break), calls with an Ace-King and there it is. I will never forget that feeling and the look in their eyes, the whole table, a kind sympathy....there but for the grace of god go I, written across those faces.....or was it just me? Anyway ten seconds later they had forgotten and I had remembered...... the perfect tonic... a strong cigarette, blagged off another kindly soul outside, followed by an even stronger one back at the hotel room. There is a genuine camaraderie in this game, especially in The Big One. Everyone has the dream, and all bar one will ultimately have that dream dashed. And the guy who will be most gutted of all will be the guy who comes second. Sure he'll wake up the next morning and smell the roses, realise he is the six-million dollar man and party like it's 1999, but in that instant there is an intensity that is sweet and tragic and desperate all at the same time. So regrets I've had a few.....but what is the purpose of regret. Well there are two as I see it: The L-plates of regret: Firstly to Learn from it, secondly to Let it go. So there it is - I hope I've let it go and I know I've learnt from it, which brings me to my current regret.....
I woke up today at 1.23 p.m. and my waking thought was King-Eight of spades. I was two off the button, having just built my stack to average - the feeling of being above or below average is akin to Mr. Micawber's situation:
"Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen nineteen six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery"
Above average I am bold and fearless, but below average I play weak and timid. This is something I have to deal with, because as we know fortune favours the above average. So I decide to play it safe: I'm at a new table and the players are still unknown, but having said that, my very first hand at this table, having been moved from my first table where I'd been playing overly tight, players were always stealing my blinds, but with no cards to play back with, I had been avoiding the potentially costly bluff reraise, especially after I had made a big bad bluff and ballsed it up (see Errors above, coming soon to a screen near you) so the move to the new table had been a blessing. First hand I am in the big blind for $400, and with antes of $50 there is $1100 in the pot and I pick up 9-4 offsuit and everyone folds to David the button, who appears to be an inscrutable Oriental (I have in fact arrived slightly intimidated - all bar two are wearing sunglasses, all bar one have bigger stacks than me and I have come from a table where they were beating up on me). All of this was in my mind. David turns out to be an affable Englishman, just graduated from the Warwick University school of poker - he's good and he's fearless, and flawed too, like every last one of us. So David makes it $1100 to play and I am being asked to call $700 to win a pot of $2200 - odds of over 3-1. If I fold the first hand they are going to see me as an easy mark. So after due thought, like I have a hand, I call, even if it means folding to his continuation bet. The flop arrives A-7-2, Rainbow (thanks Zippy for all the memories, and yes, you too Bungle - you dickhead) so I check, and surprisingly David checks too - an error but my thought in calling had cast doubt. so the turn brings a King and I come out firing with $1200 and take down the pot....yeah baby. And my reward Siegfried and Roy in the small blind on the next hand as Rodney Trotter (see last night) tries a steal from the button....I re-raise a further 3000 bucks and my table image starts off on the right foot. Siegfried and Roy are a couple of queens who like playing dirty with big pussies - unusual I know, but this is Vegas, you gotta expect the unexpected.
So King-Eight of Spades I fold, although that little voice is saying go on get in there, raise. Instead I act too quickly and make the book play...that little voice is the most valuable friend we have as ultimately he knows all the answers: we are all part of the one universal mind, and he is the guvnor. So ignoring the guvnor, I am immediately annoyed when everyone folds to the blinds who simply call - in fact they both have pocket pairs, (not all trappers wear fur). The flop arrives 8-8-7 and the small blind bets just over half the pot (he has pocket 10s), which the small blind raises up, at which point the small blind re-raises all-in, which is called in an instant as yes you guessed it, the big blind has pocket 7s and has flopped a full house. No ten appears, but the turn does bring a King, which would have given me the top full house...... So here's how it would have played out had I raised. Both the blinds would have called, and when the flop comes, the small blind with his 10s would check intending to go for a check-raise as he mostly likely puts me on two high cards, certainly not an eight. The Big Blind has come in his pants by this stage and is too busy looking for tissues, so also checks and I come out betting, as no-one expects me to have tripped the eights, and building a big pot with a big hand is mandatory (a while ago I would have checked my monster - utterly wrong). So as I bet, the small blind most likely will raise a good amount. The big blind is still smiling as he mops his brow with his tissue (a different one I hope) and simply calls to get my money in too, and so I simply call too. Who's trapping whom? Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? (who will watch the watchers?). As the turn comes a king, TenTen (Chinese adventurer with a dog called Zno-Wi) may back off, but in fact has only $10,000 chips or so left and the pot is going to be around $30,000 so might just go for it. Tissue-boy still reckons to be cleaning up so will call, as will I and all the money will be in, come what may. Two of us will need new pants, two of them will have brown trousers and I'll be laughing all the way to the bwank. I would have had over $100,000......So there is the purpose of regret - don't play poker without a big box of tissues and a spare pair of pants.
As a last aside I have to post you all those lyrics from Big Frank, as they seem quite poignant right now:
And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, Ill say it clear,
Ill state my case, of which Im certain.
Ive lived a life thats full.
Ive traveled each and evry highway;
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.
Regrets, Ive had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.
I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.
Yes, there were times, Im sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.
Ive loved, Ive laughed and cried.
Ive had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.
To think I did all that;
And may I say - not in a shy way,
No, oh no not me,
I did it my way.
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!
As from tomorrow I'll be playing poker my way, listening to the guvnor and setting my sights on that Final Table
10:50 PM | Permalink
and frank hates it. won't sing it.
it is also the number one most popular funeral song (in the uk). a rich irony, everyone thinking they are doing it their way, which as it turns out, is everyone else's.
however, you mr hooch, are the genuine article. an original. go assert the power of that most important number. the one. you wanna be on top? will it. ace it baby.