Week 44
1st ($ 45/ 10pts): Randall "The Prodigy" Ryan
2nd ($10/ 7pts): Ray "The Promoter" Flowers
3rd ($0 / 4pts): Ken "The Final Suckout" Neafcy
4th ($0 / 2pts): Margaret "The Wannabe Newbie" Bridgeman
Low Stakes / 8# Players / 1 Table / 1245a Endtime
There are weeks that you win because you had great cards. And then there are weeks like this, where great cards get cracked, pushes have to happen with mediocre cards, you must scratch/claw your way into the wee hours, and then catch a few lucky breaks and have one memorable hand.
I prefer the latter. It gives the illusion that you know what the fuck you're doing, and for at least one week you can pat yourself on the back and say 'damn, I'm good.' Although if one is honest, after allowing yourself 24 hours to savor your victory you realize that your ass probably now has a big target on it for the next week or six.
But I digress.
Early on, I was having the worst possible scenario: catching pre-flop hands that would ultimately be 2nd or 3rd best. I lost with suited big slick, unsuited slick, 10s, A-Q (2 or 3 times) and pocket Qs vs. pocket 7s....only to see the board hit 3-4-5-6. As they say, that's poker. Which of course is code for "fuck you AND the hand you played."
Discussions tonight centered on (what else) the return of Margaret and her assets, why 'nice hand' and 'well played' ere thinly veiled insults, and why we all seek out and listen to music from our past that we now acknowledge to be crap.
So back to cards: Aaron went out first, to the delight of Ray and maybe a couple of others. I'm not sure how long Aaron dealt, but there were 3 mutual friends who had a child, one couple got divorced, another moved to Portland, someone changed jobs, and Aaron was still dealing. No one could take control of the table. At any time, 5 of the 7 remaining players had between 20K & 35K, but no one was dominant, and even the small stacks were always above 10K, making their all-in moves significant. But finally around 1am...ok, maybe 11:00...the dominoes started to fall. Donny, who had a decent stack for much of the evening, finally succumbed. Then a series of suck-outs and chip changes eventually led to the demise of Adam (sucked out by Ken) and Laura (sucked out by me). Margaret desperately courted extra luck by trying to convince herself and everyone else that she'd been away so long that she was again a newbie. Unfortunately, there was no poker doctor to repair her poker hymen, and her run only meant a 4th place finish and relegation to the hell of dealing until it all ended.
I didn't get any kills until late, but isn't that when you want them? Laura and then Margaret added to my chip stack, plus a significant earlier take from Ray (my straight held up against his higher straight draw) gave me a seemingly dominating 130K vs 35K advantage heading into heads-up.
But this was me vs. Ray, the one person who's historically been my nemesis. And at first he put some dents into my armor, building his stack to around 55K. But I continued to push...and he pushed back. We both probably took pots that we shouldn't have due to bravado.
And then I entered a pot with 9c-7c. Flop came: 10c, Jc and 9h. So, I've caught a piece and I'm on both a flush and a gut shot straight draw. I check. Ray bets 6K, I call. Turn is a K. I check again, Ray bets 8K, I call. River: 8c. I have hit the elusive straight flush. I think how to play it and bet 4K. Ray raises to 8K. Margaret (dealing) blurts out "I want to see this go to the end, because I want to see the straight flush." I put Ray all-in, he calls, and he has straighted to the Q...but alas, it is no match for the straight flush.
So I enter week 45 with a target on my back, an outside chance of being a bounty at the Supa Tourney, and the knowledge that, at least for one week, I fucking rock. And the full understanding that it's likely I'll be kicking my own ass next week for cards badly played. But hey...that's poker. Fucker.
.
2nd ($10/ 7pts): Ray "The Promoter" Flowers
3rd ($0 / 4pts): Ken "The Final Suckout" Neafcy
4th ($0 / 2pts): Margaret "The Wannabe Newbie" Bridgeman
Low Stakes / 8# Players / 1 Table / 1245a Endtime
There are weeks that you win because you had great cards. And then there are weeks like this, where great cards get cracked, pushes have to happen with mediocre cards, you must scratch/claw your way into the wee hours, and then catch a few lucky breaks and have one memorable hand.
I prefer the latter. It gives the illusion that you know what the fuck you're doing, and for at least one week you can pat yourself on the back and say 'damn, I'm good.' Although if one is honest, after allowing yourself 24 hours to savor your victory you realize that your ass probably now has a big target on it for the next week or six.
But I digress.
Early on, I was having the worst possible scenario: catching pre-flop hands that would ultimately be 2nd or 3rd best. I lost with suited big slick, unsuited slick, 10s, A-Q (2 or 3 times) and pocket Qs vs. pocket 7s....only to see the board hit 3-4-5-6. As they say, that's poker. Which of course is code for "fuck you AND the hand you played."
Discussions tonight centered on (what else) the return of Margaret and her assets, why 'nice hand' and 'well played' ere thinly veiled insults, and why we all seek out and listen to music from our past that we now acknowledge to be crap.
So back to cards: Aaron went out first, to the delight of Ray and maybe a couple of others. I'm not sure how long Aaron dealt, but there were 3 mutual friends who had a child, one couple got divorced, another moved to Portland, someone changed jobs, and Aaron was still dealing. No one could take control of the table. At any time, 5 of the 7 remaining players had between 20K & 35K, but no one was dominant, and even the small stacks were always above 10K, making their all-in moves significant. But finally around 1am...ok, maybe 11:00...the dominoes started to fall. Donny, who had a decent stack for much of the evening, finally succumbed. Then a series of suck-outs and chip changes eventually led to the demise of Adam (sucked out by Ken) and Laura (sucked out by me). Margaret desperately courted extra luck by trying to convince herself and everyone else that she'd been away so long that she was again a newbie. Unfortunately, there was no poker doctor to repair her poker hymen, and her run only meant a 4th place finish and relegation to the hell of dealing until it all ended.
I didn't get any kills until late, but isn't that when you want them? Laura and then Margaret added to my chip stack, plus a significant earlier take from Ray (my straight held up against his higher straight draw) gave me a seemingly dominating 130K vs 35K advantage heading into heads-up.
But this was me vs. Ray, the one person who's historically been my nemesis. And at first he put some dents into my armor, building his stack to around 55K. But I continued to push...and he pushed back. We both probably took pots that we shouldn't have due to bravado.
And then I entered a pot with 9c-7c. Flop came: 10c, Jc and 9h. So, I've caught a piece and I'm on both a flush and a gut shot straight draw. I check. Ray bets 6K, I call. Turn is a K. I check again, Ray bets 8K, I call. River: 8c. I have hit the elusive straight flush. I think how to play it and bet 4K. Ray raises to 8K. Margaret (dealing) blurts out "I want to see this go to the end, because I want to see the straight flush." I put Ray all-in, he calls, and he has straighted to the Q...but alas, it is no match for the straight flush.
So I enter week 45 with a target on my back, an outside chance of being a bounty at the Supa Tourney, and the knowledge that, at least for one week, I fucking rock. And the full understanding that it's likely I'll be kicking my own ass next week for cards badly played. But hey...that's poker. Fucker.
.
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