Saturday (Part II): Rich Man, Poor Man

I suppose the best way to illustrate my frame of mind on Saturday evening/Sunday morning, is to start at the end.

I was into the 1/3 NL game at Excalibur for a grand, sneaking up on 5 a.m., with about $150 in front of me when I live-straddled. Byron raised and Katkin re-raised behind him. Folded to me and I look at my cards for the first time: Seven-Two Off-Suit. I release my cards, hands headed for my stack, which I push in. As I do, the dealer grabs my cards (I'm in the always dangerous 10 seat) and moves them towards the muck. Thankfully, I catch him before they get lost in the pile. Retreived and suitibly double-checked for accuracy, I await Byron's fold and Katkin's call. It all goes as planned and Katkin makes the grevious error of bringing Pocket Kings to a Hammer Fight.

Flop: 654
Turn: 8

I'm a bad man. The result brought a mini-eruption and the table broke soon after. (Though the story had legs. On Sunday, I ambled into the Full Tilt hospitality suite and saw Katkin, who immediately turned to a colleague, pointed at me and shouted "THAT'S THE GUY!" Jon's played enough at Murder's Row and with other bloggers to be able to shake off the ridiculous beat, since he's seen it happen many times--usually to Hanel.) The fact is, this hand was pretty consistent with how I'd played all night. If I was in a pot, I was bluffing at it. I really don't recall hitting many flops. I was getting my silly ass kicked, but I was having every bit as much fun as I did back in March when I took $1400 off a similar table (the only difference being I became a card rack after I showed myself to be a moron). That might be a leak. I play a different game with bloggers, but they've seen it enough to adjust. And the booze? Well, I was feeling no pain, even as I reached into my wallet on four occassions. So, you see, even my rather large losses couldn't stop me from being the jackass playing The Hammer from a Live Straddle against a raise and re-raise.

Shane made me broke on three different occassions, two of them from the Live Straddle position (in his BB). I had outs the first time, with an OESD to his overpair. I was drawing about as thin as a person could be the second time with FHMK (that's five-high-middle-kicker/53o) to his set of 3s. I don't even remember what I had the third time, but I was told days later he had TPTK and the nut flush draw when the money went in. What a loose call.

I tossed some more chips away pre-flop to doubleas when his JT kicked my Big Slick's arse. I doubled up Veneno when we both had the OESD, which didn't hit, but her unimproved crappy cards were better than my unimproved crappy cards. Hmmmmm, who else did I pay off? I think that's about it.

I did win some hands, getting doubleas and smokkee to fold on the turn--after a pre-flop raise and a flop bet with unimproved SMTL. In their defense, it was a Hammer two-pair board, they held only ace-high and, well, it was pretty clear I was playing any two and could have a piece of the ragged board. I bluffed at a couple others, making myself the guy who won a lot of small pots and lost a lot of big ones. Not so much the way to go.

But, again, it was a blast. Ultimately costly, and I woke up Sunday morning feeling like a perfect ass for donking away hard-earned bankroll, but I honestly think it's a coin flip about what I'd have rather been doing that night: grinding out a small profit or sitting at a table with friends, old and new, and laughing until my face hurt. And it's no matter if they were buying me shots of tequila and making me laugh just to keep me at the table as long as possible so I could donate.

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It was not yet light this morning when I awoke, the smell of fresh rosemary--from her garden--teasing my nostrils. It wasn't a dream, I thought, as I rose and stepped into the living room where, under the herbs, I could smell her, too, her perfume clinging to my sofa.