Maudie at PokerWorks

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Next week I get to go on a bit of a road-trip. I have to pat myself on the back for a stellar bit of whining that spurred my bosses’ decision that allowed said road-trip.

Annually, in my line of work, our professional organization stages a conference in either Oklahoma City or Tulsa. This year it is in Tulsa - which means a) a trip out of town at someone else’s expense and b) a trip to a town with a kick-ass poker room.

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There’re some very strange cosmic shenanigans going on that have me more than just scratching my head and wondering if these guys aren’t somehow channeling my experiences or visa-versa.

G-Rob’s post says just about everything I was about to ponder on in this post. But he’s saved me the trouble.

And Bad-Blood’s Wednesday’s post last week regarding his sense of failure - well, that echoed my own experiences, too.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been pondering a particular aspect of my game only to tune in to those G-Vegas boys and read about that very problem or experience.

You guys got a tail on me or something???

So, read G-Rob, then come back here for a donkey’s tale….

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I have to extend another round of kudos to pal Pauly. It was disappointing to read that the ESPN gig fell through, however, BRAVO to him for not compromising.

It couldn’t have been easy to let it go. The lure of that siren’s song had to be particularly seductive. A sweet gig if ever there was one.

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I’ve have returned from the great northwest and have a couple of pics for pal Pauly and anyone else who may be interested.

By the way - kudos to Pauly for the ESPN gig. I wasn’t surprised when he told me. He’s been on that path since the beginning and I’m damned proud of him. Gosh, I remember when he was just a tyke, taking his first tokes from his Tommy Tippy Bong and pretending to type on his high-chair tray… so cute… seems like it was just yesterday. My, how time flies… nice goin’ kiddo.

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Years ago when I was in grad school I took a photography class. My instructor imparted a bit of wisdom one day, that I’ve found to be applicable to more than just shooting pictures. Simply, he said “Change perspective.”

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A couple of weeks ago, in a fit of angst, I slammed shut the Harrington I’d been plodding through, placed it unceremoniously atop my burgeoning stack of poker books on the desk next to my bed and banished said pile to the table of forgotten literature in the corner of the room. Let Dan and the boys commiserate with Oprah for a while. I was done with them.

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Contrasting our affable table captain of my Friday session, was an “I’m - so - superior - but - don’t - look - now - I’m - an - asshole” table-captain of Saturday night’s visit to the casino.

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Remember when you used to admonish your table mates about their bad play after cracking your aces with Q-7 off suit?

Remember how you used to steam when, hand after hand, those donkeys would just cold-call every one of your perfectly calculated odds killing bets, chasing their draws only to be rewarded with the pot after rivering their one-outers?

Remember how you used to wish that Mr. Poker Expert in the 3-seat would just shut up!

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