Joe Speaker

I hadn’t realy planned to play much poker this weekend. But then I won the seat to today’s FTOPS Event and felt like I needed to work some dormant muscles–the ones that don’t correspnd to donkitude–and played the $28K Guaranteed on Full Tilt last night.

I think. Recall is fuzzy, but I’ve got some scars that prove I was there.

It all started with a beautiful Southern California evening. As I am newly wireless, I decided to start the tourney off on my balcony. Feet up and the sweet amber goodness of scotch on my patio table. The combination made the Balvenie (aged 21 years, finished in port casks) go down like water. I was drinking it Tommy Gavin style, 8 fingers please. The girlie chat was filed with my favorite girlies, who were sweating me, less I think to see my poker play than to be there when I did or said my next stupid, drunken thing.

The $28K wasn’t keeping pace, however, and I had to throw odds to the wind in the second hour. There was a small raise in EP and two callers, so I cast my lot into that burgeoning pot, which was already about 60% of my remaining stack, with 9c8c. The BB called, as well, so it was worth it. When the flop came AcTx7x, I figured I’d go to the wall with it, though maybe I could get a free card?

Yeah, dream on. The initial raiser bet 1000 (into 1600 or so) and when it folded back to me, I gambled my last 1300. I knew where I was in the hand, but went for it nonetheless. The six on the river trumped his AJo and I had over T4000 and was well on my way, doubling up twice thereafter in rapid time, the second with a flopped set of 6s (evil afoot!) against a limping AA.

I ultimately finished 21st, taking one bad beat (also known as a “Bracelet”) with about 60 left. I was big stacked at that point, so recovered from that. Down to 3 tables though, my M was in the 3-4 range along with most everyone else. My decision to push my 99 after a Big Stack raise turned out to be a bad one as he had aces.

I was VERY happy with my play and again wondered what it is that makes me play a solid aggressive game when I’m fucking trashed. Because I was hammered. Ask anyone. It manifested itself in an unusual way with an innocuous start.

In the hand where I caught my 8-outer to stay alive, the player with AJo was not quite happy and let me know about it in chat. Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, I ignore that stuff, even when scotch-addled. But he typed something that intimated I didn’t know I was behind when he money went in and then he said I should have known I was only drawing to two outs. So I typed…

2?
lol

Which set him off a little. Okay, a lot. It went on for a few minutes and I finally commented again. For some reason, I wanted him to know that I wasn’t an idiot. My ego is fragile. After I explained, I apologized if my lol came off as dick-ish. To his credit, that ended it and when I doubled up soon after, he gave me a nh, which added to my guilt over violating my “nice” image at the table.

He got moved shortly thereafter and I wanted to remember his handle. I didn’t have any paper handy, but I did have a Sharpie and was wearing a sleveless t-shirt (which some people call a muscle shirt, but that would be a misnomer in my case), so I wrote his username on my arm. Which eventually led to this silliness.

As my last act of contrition, I will transfer 5% of any winnings (up to $100) in today’s FTOPS to The Kunta. I came up with that idea as I was passing out on the couch. Usually I dismiss those midnight delusions, but, in the light of day, it still seems like a good idea, less because that money will make it okay, more for a deterrent to similar behavior on my part in the future. My smart mouth cost me cash and a sharpie blemish on my flawless skin.

I think I’ll play on the balcony today, too. But I put away the markers.

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 12th, 2007 at 12:20 pm and is filed under Uncategorized.