I had the privilege of spending some time with friends on an absolutely beautiful and perfect evening for St. Patty’s day. I had a big bowl of home-made comfort – Irish stew, sitting on a porch with pals. Later I sat in the back yard and listen to a cardinal loudly proclaim that spring is here. At last.
Unfortunately, I had to leave just when other friends were arriving who would soon be tuning up for some rollicking Irish ballads and jigs. I went home to my sick bed and didn’t roll out until late Sunday afternoon. Dammit, I hate being sick.
Earlier that day, I got to the Big Green Brawl at the Riverwind too late to unregister and get my buy-in back. The tourney had already started so I stayed. Even in top form (do I even have a ‘top form’? hah!), I knew I’d be dead money for this tournament, but as under the weather as I was, it merely became an exercise in stamina.
My woes were compounded by a steady stream of cold cards and bad play that had me folding top pair mediocre kicker to a single bet. Folding a small pocket pair to a min-raise (I woulda hit my set and tripled up…).
I had one or two lucid moments where a continuation bet got me the pot and a loose call with a 5-6 offsuit got me a flopped straight. A guy bet $500 into me which I raised to $1,100. He folded his A-9 face up.
My table had a LAG who had the shamrock firmly planted in his nether regions – the deck was giving him a concussion, he was hitting hands so much. We were all clearly intimidated by his good luck. Me? I hadn’t a clue as to how to play back at him. I didn’t have the will, either.
I made it to the first break with a below average stack and an M of 12.5. That was the last time I knew precisely what my M was – I got bitch-slapped by a dealer for using an electronic device, namely my cheesey wallet calculator, even though I was never in a hand when I used it.
I can’t do math in my head!!! I’m not kidding. I’m a complete and total math moron. And after reading all three Harringtons, I’ve concluded I’m a complete and total moron – period – to think I could ever do well in live tournaments.
But is that going to stop me? What do you think?
After my table was broken, I was moved to a table of mostly short-ish stacks. I started getting cards – but not hitting. Nor could I make any moves because these opponents weren’t ones to be shaken off their top-pair lousy kicker hands.
I was busted mid-way through the sixth level when, after a raise to $300 and two callers, I re-raised to $900 straight with my A-K suited. I got one caller, flop 5-7-2, caller bets $1500 into me, I think a moment… I try to think a moment… I don’t know what the hell I thought, but I didn’t put him on anything. I pushed and he called. He had 5-7 offsuit. I did get an ace on the turn, but no king on the river to rub in his face.
I deserved that. I’d given him 3-1 to call with my pot bet. But I didn’t think about that at the time. I might’ve pushed him off his crappy hand if I’d pushed instead. At any rate, I got out of there about 1:00 pm, drove home and spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch until it was time for some Irish comfort with good friends and good food. Now that’s really the pot-o-gold at the end of the rainbow, in my most humble opinion.