DOWN BUT NOT OUT
The time is now 11.47 am. I’ve been playing online since 3am, so that’s well over 7 hours in total.
I’m pretty demorlaised. I was 800 up at one point, but through a combination of fatigue and bad decisions on vital pots, I lost that 800 pretty swiftly.
Then, whilst I was hovering on even for a while, something weird happened – my shoulders slumped and I truly started to feel down. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like that and, to be honest, it was pretty scary.
It’s probably the combination of a bad week at the office, a struggle with the online ring games, and just sheer exhaustion. I kinda feel burnt out at the moment and I think it’s affecting my online play. In fact, I’m almost certain it is, I’m just not playing with the same vigour as before and everything seems a little arduous. At one point I remember thinking those fearsome words “what’s the point?” Once you start thinking like that, you know you’re in trouble.
I really shouldn’t have played for so long. I managed to get to 600 up again, but then ended up 800 down for the day. I knew I should have stopped, so it’s a clear indication that my discipline has temporarily deserted me.
I’m finding it very difficult to quit at the moment, mainly due to my lack of playing opportunites and my over eagerness to make some extra bucks. I’ve been far too keen to hit the cash tables and, as a result, it’s actually costing me money.
The way I’m feeling right now, I’m not too sure I should be playing the Gutshot. It’s not the money, it’s just my state of mind that I’m concerned about. Perhaps I need a break, but even that’s difficult when your daily duties lie with blonde and you have a live update almost every week. I honestly find it very difficult to avoid poker, even for just a day.
Ah well, I shall see how I feel tomorrow, but I’m sure you can tell by tone that I’m not myself. I may give online another go this weekend, just to see how it feels. I’m not 100% confident, but I reckon if I focus on my discipline I should be back to normal in no time. I refuse to believe my recent losses have been down to bad luck, I couldn’t lose a week ago and I felt great. Time for that form to return…
I’m pretty demorlaised. I was 800 up at one point, but through a combination of fatigue and bad decisions on vital pots, I lost that 800 pretty swiftly.
Then, whilst I was hovering on even for a while, something weird happened – my shoulders slumped and I truly started to feel down. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like that and, to be honest, it was pretty scary.
It’s probably the combination of a bad week at the office, a struggle with the online ring games, and just sheer exhaustion. I kinda feel burnt out at the moment and I think it’s affecting my online play. In fact, I’m almost certain it is, I’m just not playing with the same vigour as before and everything seems a little arduous. At one point I remember thinking those fearsome words “what’s the point?” Once you start thinking like that, you know you’re in trouble.
I really shouldn’t have played for so long. I managed to get to 600 up again, but then ended up 800 down for the day. I knew I should have stopped, so it’s a clear indication that my discipline has temporarily deserted me.
I’m finding it very difficult to quit at the moment, mainly due to my lack of playing opportunites and my over eagerness to make some extra bucks. I’ve been far too keen to hit the cash tables and, as a result, it’s actually costing me money.
The way I’m feeling right now, I’m not too sure I should be playing the Gutshot. It’s not the money, it’s just my state of mind that I’m concerned about. Perhaps I need a break, but even that’s difficult when your daily duties lie with blonde and you have a live update almost every week. I honestly find it very difficult to avoid poker, even for just a day.
Ah well, I shall see how I feel tomorrow, but I’m sure you can tell by tone that I’m not myself. I may give online another go this weekend, just to see how it feels. I’m not 100% confident, but I reckon if I focus on my discipline I should be back to normal in no time. I refuse to believe my recent losses have been down to bad luck, I couldn’t lose a week ago and I felt great. Time for that form to return…
posted by snoopy1239 @ 4:14 AM
1 comments
During the $50,000 H.O.R.S.E Event final (which included similarly familiar names such as Brunson, Reese, Bloch, Betchel and Cloutier), Phil Ivey raced out to the hotdog stand and queued with us mere mortals.
I love the Orleans – out of the way, quiet but lively, lacking the garishness of other casinos, a relaxed friendly atmosphere, plenty of familiar faces, aesthetically pleasing waitresses, a top notch cardroom, speedy room service, sizable rooms and, although it took me a week to work out what it was, a pretty good theme, if only for the fact that it meant that the waitresses had to don rather snug outfits. Marvellous!
Although Annie Duke was an obvious omission, Doyle Brunson, Barry Greenstein, Chip Reese, Andy Bloch and TJ Cloutier (the latter taking up a cubicle), were all chatting away about the comp in hand. All rather surreal, but I was determined to listen out for any scoops, and I wasn’t disappointed. I left the khazi with some cracking quotes that now make ‘poo watch’ a necessity for garnering info that would otherwise remain hidden from the media.
To the sensible drinker, the best thing about Vegas is the free booze. As far as I’m aware, you are at liberty not to pay any tip so, effectively, you could get drunk for nothing, but be warned, send the waitress away without any dough and your cocktail may return with a slight tang and a frothy layer.
I can’t tell you how tempted I was to go up to Phil Hellmuth saying “Phil, Phil, how about an autograph?” and when he says “Sure, no worries, kid”, sign the card myself and hand it over to him. The expression on his face would surely be priceless!
… goes to Sir Phil Hellmuth of Brattiness. On exiting the Main Event, the dude on the mic officially announced his departure, surely knowing full well the response it would provoke.
Coming from the land of ‘beans on toast’ and ‘fish and chips’, I always knew that the food over there would provide more than a slight improvement on my Brummie cuisine. 
At one point I accidentally stumbled in after searching for the local chapel. But once inside, it would have been rude not to meet and greet the neighbours. In fact, we all seemed to get on splendidly, so much so that they charged me for their hospitality.
Speaking of Full Tilt and their members, Barney Boatman broke my heart recently when he informed me that Vicky Coren was famous for playing the hand 7-4 a good while before it got a mention on blonde. Crikey, I guess we’ll have to change to 9-3 of diamonds after all, ‘7-4, it’s a Coren thing’ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.
(5) Creeping in at number five are the lasses from Crazy Poker – the thinking man’s totty.
and let you take the pillow home as a souvenir. Seeing Tom from Antes Up smelling his pillow like a man possessed is a sight that will haunt me for years.
This isn't my first visit though - when I was 17, I won a scholarship to study the magnificent architecture of Anotnio Gaudi, an absolute treat at the time for someone keen on the arts. On this occasion, however, visiting the sights was out of the question as the opening EPT of the new season was already underway.
And it was also great to witness Phil Ivey take the runner-up spot. Seeing the best player in the world run so well in his first EPT is not only going to make the whole thing ten times more entertaining, but also re-assure the dark side of my mind that poker isn't the solely luck-orientated game that so many people suggest it is. Ivey is the master and he has proven he is on a regular basis - it's just a shame that he couldn't take top honours.
That title went to Bjorn Erik Glenne, a 35-year old pro' from Norway. He fully deserved the accolade, even outplaying Ivey on a number of hands.
Due to the lack of taxi service and the swarms of Spaniards roaming the streets, getting home was a complete struggle, especially with the burden of our heavy laptops and the constant threat of being mugged. (Matt Tyler was knocked unconcious and mercilessly pillaged earlier on in the week.) 
Due to the inability to adjust my body-clock, the long working hours, and the difficulties in getting back to the hotel, I managed very little sleep in Barcelona, finally finishing with just the three hours on my final night - not great, but difficult to avoid under the circumstances. 
Okay, that's the tough, so what about the rewarding. Well, this job is still the mutt's nutts, and, quite frankly, I'd do these updates for free - as long as my expenses were paid for, I'd happily continue to stand at tableside, notepad and pen in hand - it really is that much of a joy.
The suburb of Walthamstow may not look like much, and it probably isn’t, but just off St James’ Street lies a neat little social club. In true Rounders style, although lacking the cage and KGB host, I was buzzed in only to be greeted in super-fast time by (1) the lovely lass behind the bar (left) (2) her husband and club proprietor, Chris Karanikki (also left) and (3) friendly Scot, Billy Whicher, whose equally accommodating son took an impressive three levels to win a hand – all keen as mustard to meet, greet, and chat with me even though I’d never stepped foot in the place before. Made me feel highly welcome!
As with everyone else in attendance, I wasn’t there to spin a roulette wheel or waste my hours at the Blackjack table, I was here to give the £200 Freezeout a shot – a quite splendid tourney which, with blinds starting at 50/100, offers a 10,000 starting stack and 25 minute levels. Although I had my reservations about the clock, the comp has one night to reach its conclusion, so you can't be overly generous with the structure. In fact, I doubt there are too many comps where you get this much play for one night’s worth of entertainment – if I was heading for the exit early doors, it would probably be of my own doing, and that’s kind of what happened.
Now, I don’t like folding top pair with so much invested in the pot and one card still to come, but, fresh off a season of watching Micky ‘The Worm’ Wernick, I knew I wouldn’t be dead if I folded. And seeing as how my opponent had played so few hands, I opted for a fold, sure that his all-in was a signal that I was in hot water, perhaps even drawing completely dead. He knew I only had 3k left behind, so I doubt he expected me to fold, which, in my experience, means I’m in trouble.
But my biggest praise must go out to The Equal Chance Club and the cracking atmosphere Chris Karanikki has created. It reminded me of the good ol’ days down the Gala, Notts. With the cardroom cut-off from the casino, there was a smashing atmosphere down there too, and plenty of characters to boot. Equal Chance is no different – a quick scour of the room and you’ll witness a larger than life Ade Bayo entertaining the onlookers with his table antics, a sick Dave Penley multitabling six high stakes tables at a terminal after returning from Vegas just hours ago, and the highly humorous quips of Jym Jam, an amusing fellow you won’t forget in a hurry.