Release

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...............

It was late, past everyone's bedtime, and the only sounds came from Chevelle in my earphones. But then...I didn't care that I was gonna wake 'em up.

YES! FUCK! FINALLY!

Okay, so it was only a $30 two-table SnG, but it's the first thing I've won in a LONG time. What? I wasn't gonna play poker this week, you say? I blame Chad. He's got a silver and persuasive tongue after he's had 32 beers or so. He dragged me in on Tuesday night (less said about results the better) and with AJ and the dear an patient wife early to bed (stuffed with cake and pizza), I found myself alone last night with my laptop.

Giddyup.

I had the idea a few weeks back to concentrate more on these SnGs instead of the MTTs, as there is less time committment and, theoretically, less of a luck factor. I pursued this line for a few days before realizing that I was not only losing my bankroll at a faster rate thanks to the same ol' struggles, but that I was facing off with the same players nearly every time out. I had notes on several, which means they most certainly had notes on me. Which means I was forced to alter my standard play, to poor effect. Trying to feint while struggling with one's basic game is no real way to live. So I abandoned that particular level.

But when I logged on last night, I saw a $30 nearly filled up and recognized only one name. And we were off.

Thankfully, this group was notably poor, certainly playing at a lower level than what I expect for this buy-in. We had two maniacs trading chips often in the early levels, pushing on the flop with marginal--at best--holdings. The problem with those types is illustrated in the first hand I played.

At Level 3, a short-stack--already--to my right pushes UTG+1 (only 135) and I hand Baby Jesus a tissue and min. raise to 220 with my AKo. Both maniacs in the blinds call. Flop is 872 rainbow and Maniac #1 bets 1100.

I have 1100 left. The pot was only 800, so it's a clear over-bet aimed solely at me. The problem, naturally, is that the Maniac could very well have hit that flop. I discount a pocket pair since he would have pushed that pre-flop. So, did he hit it?

I trust the over-bet says no and call. He shows Q9, no improvement and I double up. Whew. In short order, I bust a smaller stack with AQ (to his AT) and steal another pot with AK with a continuation bet on a QJx flop. At this point, I'm sitting pretty with T4200 (blinds at 75/150), which is second overall.

You may have noticed that I have yet to actually have any hand better than ace-high. 'Tis true. In fact, I got all the way to the bubble WITHOUT so much as a pair.

Anyway, with six left (including both maniacs), I was the short stack. I still had 8x the big blind, but was well below 4th (money) place. Then the two Maniacs went to war and one got busted, pot-committing himself on the flop, on a draw, and failing to catch. Down to five. Then the guy I perceived to be the most solid guy left pushed in with top pair/no kicker and got busted by the remaining maniac. MONEY!

My good friend Donny came up with the expression, "I've been reversed." We used to it signify a new "feeling," generally when under the influence of recreational drugs. Suddenly, it happened to me at the table. I twice got the blinds with ATs and 66 to get a little more comfortable. I then nearly doubled up on the worst play I've seen in a while.

I called a minimum raise in the BB with 8c7c. The flop came 984 with two diamonds and I bet 3/4 of the pot. Maniac min-raised me and I re-raised all-in. It was only 750 more for him to call. Into a 4800 pot. He folded. Said he had JT. Um...thanks?

I fired out a big raise with pocket 8s, got called by the (chip leader) Maniac and saw a flop of 866. I smooth-called all the way down and he folded to my push on the River. I showed him.

I busted him a few hands later with another boat. My pocket sixes flopped The Anti-Christ, though with two spades out there, and I bet the pot. He called. No spade on the turn and I pushed. He called with an OESD and a second queen on the board finished him off.

We are now Heads Up.

Don't get comfortable. We were heads up for one hand. I raised with Kournikova, he pushed with K9s. I called and I won.

Dear family, sorry I woke you up.

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The non-smoking thing is not going well. The last three days have been brutal. I'm not even ashamed to admit that I paused at the Union Station gift shop today. I stood outside the door, scanning the racks behind the cashier. Forbidden fruit. I eventually walked away, but I wasn't over-joyed about it.

I am, however, over-joyed at Day Baseball, especially when the A's are on ESPN and I can watch them at work. That's right, I watch TV at work sometimes. Do you get those kinda perks at Full Tilt? Eh, suckers? (Pardon me while I try to Tilt the Tilt crew in advance of tomorrow night's home game.)

Day Baseball proves the existence of God. In fact, I just purchased 6 lower-deck, sun-splashed seats for a Saturday afternoon game next month in Oakland (there ARE some good things about having a small--though hard-core--fan base and the constant availability of excellent seats is one of them). Early forecast says I'm gonna need a designated driver and that the Ranger pitching staff is gonna get an earful (watch for flying chairs).

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Thanks for all the AJ birthday wishes. Really cool. The dear and patient wife got a kick out of it. Something to show--embarrass--The Boy in the future.