Balance: $0
Ashworths wins: 14
Ashworths losses: 3
Ashworths folds: 6
Today is scrappy, it’s like a dogfight over the channel. I’m still getting badbeats, my AA was taken down by QT (he hit a set of tens) but my balance is still the same. I’m weathering the bad beats, trying to stay afloat.
I’m also actually enjoying myself. There’s no disappointment in not making a million, just the fun of still being able to play. A game usually lasts 35 minutes, this one has been going for 49 minutes, I finish 6th – the worst position to finish. But I don’t mind so much, I’m still on $10.
It has gone. My final hand is AT, and the flop is 78T, a player raises, I 3bet, he goes all in, and shows me his 99. Another 2 diamonds flop out and give him the flush.
That’s me done for now, for a few weeks, I’m a bit disgruntled so I’ll go shoot some people on Battlefield, it’s therapeutic, and then I guess I’ll get back to doing useful things, such as auctioning and actually tidying my room.
I spend nine hours playing Battlefield with my friend, it is fun, we stab it other and laugh about it, as insane as that sounds. This will be my last poker diary entry here.
Monday 16 August 2010
Saturday 14 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 5
Balance: $10
Ashworths wins: 12
Ashworths losses: 3
Ashworths folds: 5
Two wins, two losses, irritating that my AK suited is taken down by 77 after my AA was beat by 56. I’ve had AA cracked twice. That’s just damn unlucky. Tilting, I enter two $20 tournaments, I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t do this, it’s a very bad idea, as it’s all of my bankroll on two tournaments, and I’m still going to be annoyed if I only win one. There is a moment of fear as I try and bluff with AT, it is called, a King rolls out, I raise all in and am called. The guy has A9 and is going for the flush draw, which miraculously, he does not hit. The moment of fear is replaced by cheering and whoops of relief: I should have been knocked out by rights.
The Poker Gods right the wrong by knocking me out 6th with AJ against KT, A5T flop, K river.
I melt back into my book, and play some less insane tables, register for the Edinburgh qualifier qualifier (to qualify for the actual qualifier, which usually costs £108 and my qualifier to play in the £108 costs £5) and play a couple of $10 games, with a fresh grin as the Ashworths earn me another set of blinds.
All is lost, I played too big, and now it’s gone.
I throw another £16 onto it, hoping not to tilt and resolving not to play in the $20 games, the % of my total bankroll is too high. My Dad pisses me off more by saying, in a petulant tone “aw you swore, you’re a swearer” after I claim that an A8 hitting a straight against my JK is “fucking bullshit”. There’s always Edinburgh.
Nope, after 2 hours, I am knocked out of Edinburgh qualifiers with QKsuited and the flop as QQA, with the chipleader to roll over AA upon calling my all-in. C’est la vie. I resume normal tournaments, $5. I do not do well. My final $10 goes into a tournament where I am finally rewarded with AA and it is cracked by 99. 3/4 Aces have been cracked today. I am sickened.
I add more money. This is not a good day. On the bright side, I have finally got my USB Poker chip in the mail, it’s very pretty, well worth my investment of nearly a hundred pounds. I don’t see poker as a worthwhile investment, I see it as a challenge now, the bad luck taunts me, and I hug the tilt lovingly.
My 99 is beat my 76 preflop. I am out.
I haven’t had a win in a while, I don’t mind, I just feel really unlucky, like nothing can win. Anytime I am called with an all-in, I minimise the window. I can’t watch more unluckiness unfold. I win whilst sat out, best way really.
Another bad out makes me angry, two pair, he calls, hits two hearts giving him a flush. Dis-fucking-graceful. More and more. I can’t win fuck all and I’m getting sick of it. I have $5 left. I am not happy one bit. The cards hate me today.
I enter one last tournament. A final $5 tournament – this is the last of my money, I have gone through my $50 balance and another £30 today. It’s not like I’ve been playing that badly, just have been getting incredibly bad beats. If I lose now I will stop for a week or two. Go back to Battlefield and put on hiatus my dreams of paying off my overdraft or as a very wise person suggested; actually do something useful such as write my book.
Finally I win where I should have – my JJ beats a TT (ten ten), putting me comfortably into the lead, I have $10, and will finish tonight on it. Tomorrow I will try to survive.
Ashworths wins: 12
Ashworths losses: 3
Ashworths folds: 5
Two wins, two losses, irritating that my AK suited is taken down by 77 after my AA was beat by 56. I’ve had AA cracked twice. That’s just damn unlucky. Tilting, I enter two $20 tournaments, I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t do this, it’s a very bad idea, as it’s all of my bankroll on two tournaments, and I’m still going to be annoyed if I only win one. There is a moment of fear as I try and bluff with AT, it is called, a King rolls out, I raise all in and am called. The guy has A9 and is going for the flush draw, which miraculously, he does not hit. The moment of fear is replaced by cheering and whoops of relief: I should have been knocked out by rights.
The Poker Gods right the wrong by knocking me out 6th with AJ against KT, A5T flop, K river.
I melt back into my book, and play some less insane tables, register for the Edinburgh qualifier qualifier (to qualify for the actual qualifier, which usually costs £108 and my qualifier to play in the £108 costs £5) and play a couple of $10 games, with a fresh grin as the Ashworths earn me another set of blinds.
All is lost, I played too big, and now it’s gone.
I throw another £16 onto it, hoping not to tilt and resolving not to play in the $20 games, the % of my total bankroll is too high. My Dad pisses me off more by saying, in a petulant tone “aw you swore, you’re a swearer” after I claim that an A8 hitting a straight against my JK is “fucking bullshit”. There’s always Edinburgh.
Nope, after 2 hours, I am knocked out of Edinburgh qualifiers with QKsuited and the flop as QQA, with the chipleader to roll over AA upon calling my all-in. C’est la vie. I resume normal tournaments, $5. I do not do well. My final $10 goes into a tournament where I am finally rewarded with AA and it is cracked by 99. 3/4 Aces have been cracked today. I am sickened.
I add more money. This is not a good day. On the bright side, I have finally got my USB Poker chip in the mail, it’s very pretty, well worth my investment of nearly a hundred pounds. I don’t see poker as a worthwhile investment, I see it as a challenge now, the bad luck taunts me, and I hug the tilt lovingly.
My 99 is beat my 76 preflop. I am out.
I haven’t had a win in a while, I don’t mind, I just feel really unlucky, like nothing can win. Anytime I am called with an all-in, I minimise the window. I can’t watch more unluckiness unfold. I win whilst sat out, best way really.
Another bad out makes me angry, two pair, he calls, hits two hearts giving him a flush. Dis-fucking-graceful. More and more. I can’t win fuck all and I’m getting sick of it. I have $5 left. I am not happy one bit. The cards hate me today.
I enter one last tournament. A final $5 tournament – this is the last of my money, I have gone through my $50 balance and another £30 today. It’s not like I’ve been playing that badly, just have been getting incredibly bad beats. If I lose now I will stop for a week or two. Go back to Battlefield and put on hiatus my dreams of paying off my overdraft or as a very wise person suggested; actually do something useful such as write my book.
Finally I win where I should have – my JJ beats a TT (ten ten), putting me comfortably into the lead, I have $10, and will finish tonight on it. Tomorrow I will try to survive.
Friday 13 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 4
Balance: $50
Ashworths wins: 8
Ashworths losses: 2
Ashworths folds: 2
I’m stuck breaking even, with my time ticking. I’m making the occasional poor call surrounded by decent play, and it’s giving me evens. Until I’m taken down by KT against my weak A5suited shortstacked, now it might be a bit choppy. Especially as my first Ashworths loss hits in, the guy has pocket Kings, I can’t fight that even after hitting a pair on the flop.
Coren is like therapy; she’s having a terrible time. It’s like being shot in the leg and somebody telling you about how they’ve been shot three times in both legs.
As I set up the laptop in the kitchen so I can cook tea and play poker, I finally win a single $10 tournament and go above $30 for the first time - $39 to be precise.
I enter another tournament and start cooking my Bacon and Mushoom Carbonara, suits me, I like being distracted – not too distracted, but distracted. Only a $5 tournament as I want to stay above $30. Tea is delicious, I’ve made a “good’un” and defeat in the next $5 after winning the one during tea does not damage my happiness. $38, tomorrow I go for $80, today I’m going to train in mixed martial arts: I have my priorities set, they just revolve around cagefighting and poker – uncharacteristically manly.
On a side note, I was chopping garlic and a decent-ish hand (A9) came up and I ended up having to move the touchpad mouse with my nose to raise and steal the blind. Who says men can’t multitask?
Well I did my MMA and loved it, my right shin is fucked and my eye and right temple are a bit red but in a masochistic way, the pain proves I’ve worked hard, and I savour it. After a bath where I grab my computer speakers, an extension cord, and an ipod; thus creating the best bath experience I’ve ever had, I get dried, dressed and open up PokerStars, win my first tournament while I eat some of the reheated meal I made earlier, it’s tasty. Two more tournaments; $10 each, I’m feeling lucky. I am not so lucky, I lose one, A6suited versus JK. He hits a straight. Ah well, I win the other tournament. Evens.
Another two tournaments; immediately knocked out with JJ against AA, down to one, fighting for evens. Evens is attained, I enter one. If I lose, I lose, if I win, I win. There is no evens, I prefer these stakes. There are three short stacks and one more to lose before I win, I sit patiently, and read Vicky Coren. End up winning, it’s 4am already, and tomorrow, I will try to qualify for the UKIPT – UK & Ireland Poker Tour, or qualify for the game to qualify. You get the gist.
Ashworths wins: 8
Ashworths losses: 2
Ashworths folds: 2
I’m stuck breaking even, with my time ticking. I’m making the occasional poor call surrounded by decent play, and it’s giving me evens. Until I’m taken down by KT against my weak A5suited shortstacked, now it might be a bit choppy. Especially as my first Ashworths loss hits in, the guy has pocket Kings, I can’t fight that even after hitting a pair on the flop.
Coren is like therapy; she’s having a terrible time. It’s like being shot in the leg and somebody telling you about how they’ve been shot three times in both legs.
As I set up the laptop in the kitchen so I can cook tea and play poker, I finally win a single $10 tournament and go above $30 for the first time - $39 to be precise.
I enter another tournament and start cooking my Bacon and Mushoom Carbonara, suits me, I like being distracted – not too distracted, but distracted. Only a $5 tournament as I want to stay above $30. Tea is delicious, I’ve made a “good’un” and defeat in the next $5 after winning the one during tea does not damage my happiness. $38, tomorrow I go for $80, today I’m going to train in mixed martial arts: I have my priorities set, they just revolve around cagefighting and poker – uncharacteristically manly.
On a side note, I was chopping garlic and a decent-ish hand (A9) came up and I ended up having to move the touchpad mouse with my nose to raise and steal the blind. Who says men can’t multitask?
Well I did my MMA and loved it, my right shin is fucked and my eye and right temple are a bit red but in a masochistic way, the pain proves I’ve worked hard, and I savour it. After a bath where I grab my computer speakers, an extension cord, and an ipod; thus creating the best bath experience I’ve ever had, I get dried, dressed and open up PokerStars, win my first tournament while I eat some of the reheated meal I made earlier, it’s tasty. Two more tournaments; $10 each, I’m feeling lucky. I am not so lucky, I lose one, A6suited versus JK. He hits a straight. Ah well, I win the other tournament. Evens.
Another two tournaments; immediately knocked out with JJ against AA, down to one, fighting for evens. Evens is attained, I enter one. If I lose, I lose, if I win, I win. There is no evens, I prefer these stakes. There are three short stacks and one more to lose before I win, I sit patiently, and read Vicky Coren. End up winning, it’s 4am already, and tomorrow, I will try to qualify for the UKIPT – UK & Ireland Poker Tour, or qualify for the game to qualify. You get the gist.
Thursday 12 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 3
I had a nice day, a very nice day, but it’s midnight now, I’m a bit tired, and I finally have the money to play a bit of poker. I throw £20 on after checking my auctions on eBay – slightly concerned that my “One Man Hug – Pick up only” joke auction has a watcher – and signing on to Facebook, and start a couple of $5 tournaments. The trick that I use is to play two tournaments, and if I’m playing on form, I’ll always win at least one, meaning I never lose per hour. Now I just need to get on form.
There’s a hand I play that in my brother’s poker games on a Friday we’d refer to as the Ashworths. The Ashworths is 79; not a good hand, but seems to win at least 50% of the time. Whenever I get the Ashworths (named after a player called Graham Ashworth who’d play them every time) I use them very aggressively, raising until the player folds, or unless he presents an actual hand. I love the Ashworths, they are a crazy hand.
Meanwhile, I go out of a tournament my QA not hitting against 88, c’est la vie. If I win the other tournament I’ll be 40cents down, mostly even. Very presentable. I will distract myself with Buzzcocks. The thing about breaking even is, I like playing, so I don’t mind not gaining, it’s better than losing. Also, you get frequent player points, of which you get around two per tournament, they can be converted into prizes like USBs and hoodies, or at least that’s the level I’m at, they do cars and plasma screen TVs too but they cost more points than I’ll get in 4 years.
Ah, my lower pockets just got beat by QA; I’m seeing a pattern emerging. Best not to think negative. QA for me, I bet big and stole the blind.
Another QA for me, out of position, stack not too healthy, I raise it big and am called by a lower stack, he has 77, I hit nothing on the flop and it looks grim, and then a bullet flies out, only a Kevlar seven can save him, and he doesn’t find it. Boom. That felt good.
That’s a win! It means so little to my balance, but to me it means a lot. I’ll play on now until I finish for the night, in a couple of hours; expect a head in hands update tomorrow.
There’s a hand I play that in my brother’s poker games on a Friday we’d refer to as the Ashworths. The Ashworths is 79; not a good hand, but seems to win at least 50% of the time. Whenever I get the Ashworths (named after a player called Graham Ashworth who’d play them every time) I use them very aggressively, raising until the player folds, or unless he presents an actual hand. I love the Ashworths, they are a crazy hand.
Meanwhile, I go out of a tournament my QA not hitting against 88, c’est la vie. If I win the other tournament I’ll be 40cents down, mostly even. Very presentable. I will distract myself with Buzzcocks. The thing about breaking even is, I like playing, so I don’t mind not gaining, it’s better than losing. Also, you get frequent player points, of which you get around two per tournament, they can be converted into prizes like USBs and hoodies, or at least that’s the level I’m at, they do cars and plasma screen TVs too but they cost more points than I’ll get in 4 years.
Ah, my lower pockets just got beat by QA; I’m seeing a pattern emerging. Best not to think negative. QA for me, I bet big and stole the blind.
Another QA for me, out of position, stack not too healthy, I raise it big and am called by a lower stack, he has 77, I hit nothing on the flop and it looks grim, and then a bullet flies out, only a Kevlar seven can save him, and he doesn’t find it. Boom. That felt good.
That’s a win! It means so little to my balance, but to me it means a lot. I’ll play on now until I finish for the night, in a couple of hours; expect a head in hands update tomorrow.
Wednesday 11 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 2
I don’t sleep well, not without Nightol anyway, my mind likes to think, and it takes a while to circumnavigate that issue. Eventually, we negotiated and after two hours lying in bed, I popped a Nightol and told my brain to go fuck itself.
There’s a rotation of thoughts – mixed martial arts, how I’d block, duck, weave, try a move (which never happens the way I plan it) and then there’s poker, how I’d block, duck, weave, try a move (which also never happens the way I plan it) as well as various bits of my social life and other things. After a while the Nightol kicks in and I have some more fucked up dreams, this time about cannibalism. I now am wary of a large man with close to his skin purple hair and little neck. If he turns up – shit’s going down.
Anyway, that’s off topic. Day two. I wake up quite late – 2pm and have a list of things to do around the house, so I go to it. My security deposit still isn’t in, so no poker, but I still think about it as I put some more auctions on eBay, about how this time I will be patient, reserved, bide my time, don’t make any unnecessary raises. It’s a mantra I should have tattooed on my arm.
I cook the tea, have a quick shower and go to Cobra Martial Arts Association (CMAA), where for an hour and a half I am choked, punched and kicked – and pay to do so. Later, I had a couple of mashed up eggs. A relatively poker free day: due to a relatively money free day.
There’s a rotation of thoughts – mixed martial arts, how I’d block, duck, weave, try a move (which never happens the way I plan it) and then there’s poker, how I’d block, duck, weave, try a move (which also never happens the way I plan it) as well as various bits of my social life and other things. After a while the Nightol kicks in and I have some more fucked up dreams, this time about cannibalism. I now am wary of a large man with close to his skin purple hair and little neck. If he turns up – shit’s going down.
Anyway, that’s off topic. Day two. I wake up quite late – 2pm and have a list of things to do around the house, so I go to it. My security deposit still isn’t in, so no poker, but I still think about it as I put some more auctions on eBay, about how this time I will be patient, reserved, bide my time, don’t make any unnecessary raises. It’s a mantra I should have tattooed on my arm.
I cook the tea, have a quick shower and go to Cobra Martial Arts Association (CMAA), where for an hour and a half I am choked, punched and kicked – and pay to do so. Later, I had a couple of mashed up eggs. A relatively poker free day: due to a relatively money free day.
Tuesday 10 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 1
I went to my bank today, with the £7.20 I had scrounged, and deposited it in my bank. On the way home I bought a chicken pasty, with the promise to myself that I’d hit the gym again in a couple of days, can’t be slacking. Once at home I immediately opened up my laptop, and was straight onto PokerStars and slamming in that $15 faster than my mum could ask for a cup of tea.
I decided on one game at a time, $5. Double or nothing games are the best to make money on, there’s less risk, you can sit back, chill out, have a drink and watch the carnage unfold. Of course, this is unless you get involved. First hand; KK, second hand; crap, third hand; crap, fourth hand; AA. Game on. I raise a little, enough to scare off the mavericks with the 98 of hearts which can flop out to knock you out in the same way a hired assassin can choke on a cheeseburger. It’s humiliating. Anyway: The hand. I had two biters, and a king flopped out, two low cards, good. I raise 500 (we start on 1500) and we have a fold and an all-in. He has a king. I double up, job done. So I sit out, and make that cup of tea.
I return to Kings again, poor position, a mild raise and a call of the subsequent re-raise leave me in a showdown with a player wielding pocket fours. It’s sods law, but he hits the 4, I am now back to 1500 chips.
More pocket Kings, I re-raise, another heads up: Ace Queen. Shit. Well I’m ok as long as the ace doesn’t hit. In the middle of thinking that the Ace flops out, I’m wounded, the King has been shot. Game over. A fast end.
I run things over in my head about my game-play – don’t get involved, steal the blinds, try not to go heads up, that way luck lies. The easiest way to win in a double or nothing is to do nothing, just watch, live in the shadows, hide from bullets and wait for the pocket rockets.
This logic does not help me in the second game, I’m tilting, and there’s the constant reminder that I have $5 left if I lose. Well, I do lose, quite quickly, 8th; disgraceful.
I decide to wait a little while, calm down, cool off, throw some potatoes in the oven, read some Vicky Coren and relate her early days to my current days, the playing with money you don’t have. Not the roulette though, I hate roulette.
Ever since I went into the bookies and there was a roulette machine which had had the last 9 outs as black, and I put £10 on red, and it hit black, and then £5 on red, and it hit black, and a pound on red, and it hit black, I have hated roulette, there’s too much luck, and if there isn’t luck to screw you over, you have the pre-programmed machines which pay out in the same way the slot-machines do.
Anyway, I enter my potentially last game until I get any more money. It could be tomorrow, I don’t fancy waiting that long; I love poker, it’s too long to wait. I do okay, a little over the start chips, then I get caught with QK of diamonds and two diamonds on the flop, fishing. I’m reduced to 560 chips. Fuck. The pressure sets in.
I claw a little back and lose a little more and end up on 500 chips. One more person needs to go out and everyone else is on 2000 chips and I resign myself to the 72 unsuited hands until I’m blinded out. And then the two chip-leaders unleash hell, I’m rooting for the bigger stack, if he doesn’t win, the other guy’s still on 1100 chips.
Miracles happen, I win, and I’m back up to $10.
It’s going to be a long day.
Another $5 game, I’m unfocused, I half my chips with nothing, then go on to half that with Pocket Fives and a low flop. It’s looking quite grim. 350 chips is a bit of a hill to climb. Fuck that, it’s a mountain, but at least the blinds are low. I get dealt pocket 8’s, my steak churns within me as my feeble all-in is called. My 88 versus his 9K, I’m worried. Flop: K 9 10. Well, thank you PokerStars, I really hate you- an 8 on the turn. I love you PokerStars, thank you. I’m back up to 700 chips. Wahoo, halfway up the mountain, there are discarded animal bones up here, I hope they’re animals. My book keeps me calm, I will have $4 if I lose, that’s not too bad, can come back from that.
JK suited – all in, pot stolen, kapow.
AK unsuited – all in, called, beats A10 with the flop 10 K 6 then a 6, then a 9. Job done: 2000 chips. I folded pocket 9s when the guy in front of me went all in, no point in risk. Then failed to steal with 10 A, the other guy raising minimum raise when a K rears its ugly head. My three bet (three times what he’d bet) caused a fold and I’m chipleader. This game is looking much better, I might even pull out the cigars, some bourbon. No. Focus.
I like playing with the TV on, it means I don’t get too focused on the game, meaning I play less hands. I don’t, however like having mundane conversations while I’m trying to think, but I don’t mind them, as I love my parents, and they are amazing for all the things they do for me.
Oh, while I was typing I had a fight with a guy with slightly less chips than me, I’m down to 1400 chips, my AQ suited did not hit. Never fight the big stacks.
Somebody just finished 7th, one more to go. Carnage. I love it.
I hate carnage. My pocket 10s just got annihilated by pocket 3s because he hit a straight. $4. It’s not promising. I hate you PokerStars.
It’s gone, all of it, got slaughtered on a table. Tomorrow I hope to find my security deposit in my bank account, so I can take £20 of it and convert it into dollars and seek to claim my fortune. For now I’ll just have to be happy with my book. I love Vicky Coren, I can relate.
JW
I decided on one game at a time, $5. Double or nothing games are the best to make money on, there’s less risk, you can sit back, chill out, have a drink and watch the carnage unfold. Of course, this is unless you get involved. First hand; KK, second hand; crap, third hand; crap, fourth hand; AA. Game on. I raise a little, enough to scare off the mavericks with the 98 of hearts which can flop out to knock you out in the same way a hired assassin can choke on a cheeseburger. It’s humiliating. Anyway: The hand. I had two biters, and a king flopped out, two low cards, good. I raise 500 (we start on 1500) and we have a fold and an all-in. He has a king. I double up, job done. So I sit out, and make that cup of tea.
I return to Kings again, poor position, a mild raise and a call of the subsequent re-raise leave me in a showdown with a player wielding pocket fours. It’s sods law, but he hits the 4, I am now back to 1500 chips.
More pocket Kings, I re-raise, another heads up: Ace Queen. Shit. Well I’m ok as long as the ace doesn’t hit. In the middle of thinking that the Ace flops out, I’m wounded, the King has been shot. Game over. A fast end.
I run things over in my head about my game-play – don’t get involved, steal the blinds, try not to go heads up, that way luck lies. The easiest way to win in a double or nothing is to do nothing, just watch, live in the shadows, hide from bullets and wait for the pocket rockets.
This logic does not help me in the second game, I’m tilting, and there’s the constant reminder that I have $5 left if I lose. Well, I do lose, quite quickly, 8th; disgraceful.
I decide to wait a little while, calm down, cool off, throw some potatoes in the oven, read some Vicky Coren and relate her early days to my current days, the playing with money you don’t have. Not the roulette though, I hate roulette.
Ever since I went into the bookies and there was a roulette machine which had had the last 9 outs as black, and I put £10 on red, and it hit black, and then £5 on red, and it hit black, and a pound on red, and it hit black, I have hated roulette, there’s too much luck, and if there isn’t luck to screw you over, you have the pre-programmed machines which pay out in the same way the slot-machines do.
Anyway, I enter my potentially last game until I get any more money. It could be tomorrow, I don’t fancy waiting that long; I love poker, it’s too long to wait. I do okay, a little over the start chips, then I get caught with QK of diamonds and two diamonds on the flop, fishing. I’m reduced to 560 chips. Fuck. The pressure sets in.
I claw a little back and lose a little more and end up on 500 chips. One more person needs to go out and everyone else is on 2000 chips and I resign myself to the 72 unsuited hands until I’m blinded out. And then the two chip-leaders unleash hell, I’m rooting for the bigger stack, if he doesn’t win, the other guy’s still on 1100 chips.
Miracles happen, I win, and I’m back up to $10.
It’s going to be a long day.
Another $5 game, I’m unfocused, I half my chips with nothing, then go on to half that with Pocket Fives and a low flop. It’s looking quite grim. 350 chips is a bit of a hill to climb. Fuck that, it’s a mountain, but at least the blinds are low. I get dealt pocket 8’s, my steak churns within me as my feeble all-in is called. My 88 versus his 9K, I’m worried. Flop: K 9 10. Well, thank you PokerStars, I really hate you- an 8 on the turn. I love you PokerStars, thank you. I’m back up to 700 chips. Wahoo, halfway up the mountain, there are discarded animal bones up here, I hope they’re animals. My book keeps me calm, I will have $4 if I lose, that’s not too bad, can come back from that.
JK suited – all in, pot stolen, kapow.
AK unsuited – all in, called, beats A10 with the flop 10 K 6 then a 6, then a 9. Job done: 2000 chips. I folded pocket 9s when the guy in front of me went all in, no point in risk. Then failed to steal with 10 A, the other guy raising minimum raise when a K rears its ugly head. My three bet (three times what he’d bet) caused a fold and I’m chipleader. This game is looking much better, I might even pull out the cigars, some bourbon. No. Focus.
I like playing with the TV on, it means I don’t get too focused on the game, meaning I play less hands. I don’t, however like having mundane conversations while I’m trying to think, but I don’t mind them, as I love my parents, and they are amazing for all the things they do for me.
Oh, while I was typing I had a fight with a guy with slightly less chips than me, I’m down to 1400 chips, my AQ suited did not hit. Never fight the big stacks.
Somebody just finished 7th, one more to go. Carnage. I love it.
I hate carnage. My pocket 10s just got annihilated by pocket 3s because he hit a straight. $4. It’s not promising. I hate you PokerStars.
It’s gone, all of it, got slaughtered on a table. Tomorrow I hope to find my security deposit in my bank account, so I can take £20 of it and convert it into dollars and seek to claim my fortune. For now I’ll just have to be happy with my book. I love Vicky Coren, I can relate.
JW
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