Viva Las Luton
Well the final day of the £750 main event wasn’t quite the result I had hoped for, and driving back from Luton I felt a touch depressed. Not only did it take me over two hours to get there due to motorway closures, after having played reasonably well yesterday, I lasted just 10 minutes or so of day two. Now I realised that I would have to endure a pretty rotten two hour drive home.
It’s a shame really, I thought to myself. I would have been in reasonable shape with 130k of the 900k in play. Obviously I would still have been more than capable of pissing them and plenty more away, but I felt in decent touch. If only I had managed to make my AA beat Pascal's 99 – was it his classic Gaelic shrug that encouraged the first nine over? And as my flush draw loomed large was there a secondary shrug to induce the quads? My thought process was rather rudely interrupted at this stage and I temporarily re-entered the real world. Elvis Presley was on the Magic FM airwaves, and Viva Las Vegas seemed far too upbeat for my prevailing mood. “I’m guessing he didn’t have Luton casino in mind when he penned the lyrics to that one!” I declared at a healthy volume to the imaginary passengers in my car.
At this stage I became quite pissed off with myself. Now, I have regularly tired of other people and their bad beat stories, but in a first for me I was now tiring of my own. In Britain alone an average of 1500 people die each and every day, many more will be diagnosed with terminal or other serious illness (over 100 women each day are diagnosed with breast cancer), these people have close friends and immediate family who will also suffer. Meanwhile I was driving home feeling sorry for myself, thinking that I was having the most terrible day. No I wasn’t! These people really are having a horrid day. Perhaps I should speak to any one of these people, tell them I have had my aces cracked, and see if any of them would like to play the worlds’ smallest violin for me.
Since I arrived home from Luton a few have commented that I seemed to take the outdraw with good grace, and that I didn’t even seem too pissed off with the way the hand unfolded or Pascal’s celebration. Well maybe, but would moaning get me a rebuy? And surely people have the right to show some emotion when they win a big coup? (late note: just got off the phone to Paul Parker he made the very same point) Ok so Pascal limped, I then raised, and Adda re-raised. So what if Pascal still wants to put the rest of his chips in with two nines. They’re his chips not mine. No one forced me to call with two aces – I chose to - and would again. Maybe it would have all been different had I been able to order a bacon sandwich prior to the start of play instead of having to settle for toasted chicken mayonnaise (see my tournament strategy in the Neil Appeal below). I was bitterly disappointed, but not bitter – good luck to Pascal I say – he’s a decent lad.
It’s a game, and a game with a generous helping of chance, when we sit down to play we are by this action agreeing to abide by whatever elements of luck go with or against us. Furthermore, it may be a living or it may be a hobby, but for both the professional and casual player alike it is still a game. So think of the starving millions in Africa, or the sick and homeless of Britain before declaring yourself unlucky.
It’s a shame really, I thought to myself. I would have been in reasonable shape with 130k of the 900k in play. Obviously I would still have been more than capable of pissing them and plenty more away, but I felt in decent touch. If only I had managed to make my AA beat Pascal's 99 – was it his classic Gaelic shrug that encouraged the first nine over? And as my flush draw loomed large was there a secondary shrug to induce the quads? My thought process was rather rudely interrupted at this stage and I temporarily re-entered the real world. Elvis Presley was on the Magic FM airwaves, and Viva Las Vegas seemed far too upbeat for my prevailing mood. “I’m guessing he didn’t have Luton casino in mind when he penned the lyrics to that one!” I declared at a healthy volume to the imaginary passengers in my car.
At this stage I became quite pissed off with myself. Now, I have regularly tired of other people and their bad beat stories, but in a first for me I was now tiring of my own. In Britain alone an average of 1500 people die each and every day, many more will be diagnosed with terminal or other serious illness (over 100 women each day are diagnosed with breast cancer), these people have close friends and immediate family who will also suffer. Meanwhile I was driving home feeling sorry for myself, thinking that I was having the most terrible day. No I wasn’t! These people really are having a horrid day. Perhaps I should speak to any one of these people, tell them I have had my aces cracked, and see if any of them would like to play the worlds’ smallest violin for me.
Since I arrived home from Luton a few have commented that I seemed to take the outdraw with good grace, and that I didn’t even seem too pissed off with the way the hand unfolded or Pascal’s celebration. Well maybe, but would moaning get me a rebuy? And surely people have the right to show some emotion when they win a big coup? (late note: just got off the phone to Paul Parker he made the very same point) Ok so Pascal limped, I then raised, and Adda re-raised. So what if Pascal still wants to put the rest of his chips in with two nines. They’re his chips not mine. No one forced me to call with two aces – I chose to - and would again. Maybe it would have all been different had I been able to order a bacon sandwich prior to the start of play instead of having to settle for toasted chicken mayonnaise (see my tournament strategy in the Neil Appeal below). I was bitterly disappointed, but not bitter – good luck to Pascal I say – he’s a decent lad.
It’s a game, and a game with a generous helping of chance, when we sit down to play we are by this action agreeing to abide by whatever elements of luck go with or against us. Furthermore, it may be a living or it may be a hobby, but for both the professional and casual player alike it is still a game. So think of the starving millions in Africa, or the sick and homeless of Britain before declaring yourself unlucky.
posted by Matt at 3:49 PM
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