My internet connection crashed in the middle of a cash game with pals on Poker Stars- this hasn't happened in a very long time. So I hope it doesn't mean that the world came to an end and I am now in some sort of Sarte-ian void, doomed to sit at my keyboard through eternity, typing away in a futile effort to reconnect with reality...
I didn't win a nanoPod. I had a good start in the tourney, but then I was transferred to a table half full of present players, the rest no shows. And then I'm next to this really pushy Scot. Who just happened to be chip leader at the time I got disconnected. He was playing some good short-handed poker. He wouldn't let me push him around. He put me to numerous decisions where my cards were good for a short-handed ring game, but just shy of good enough to risk a race for all my chips in a tournament. I'm a wuss. So now here I sit, unable to connect to find out how it's going. Unable to play with pals, and I was doing so well, doncha' know. I called an all-in with an ace on the board having called a pre-flop raise holding A-J. I knew Pinky (it was you in that hand, right?) had A-K at least. Doh.
I haven't had a T-Bird report in a while. How about one now?
A couple of weeks ago something interesting happened. I went out to the card-room a little later in the evening than usual (it was after the first WWdn tourney). I was assigned a table of college age folk - a welcome change, but a potentially dangerous seating. I had my radar on full as I figured most of these guys would probably have some poker smarts. I was right to a degree - the table was definitely tighter than I was used to out there. But I raised an eyebrow or two at what was being shown down. This was a tight table playing loose cards. What's more, whenever I took down a pot - usually out kicking someone, there would be surprised reactions and hub-bub. I'm guessing my table image was somewhat akin to soccer mom status and not of someone who knew (relatively) what she was doing.
Sitting across from me in the 3s was a young "surfer dude" who I had silently typed - dumb blonde. I know, terrible thing to do, but it's hard not to get on one's high horse. I try my best to avoid it. But I succumb just like the rest of us. And when I do, I'm liable to get bitch-slapped by karma, sometimes justifiably, sometimes not.
"Dude" would get a very confused look on his face while trying to decide to call or not (he never raised a pot) and he would take a considerable amount of time to decide. At first I thought this was a ploy, but it was soon evident it was not. More than once I wanted to tell him to fold - don't call, get out of the pot, save yourself. It was painful to watch him enter a pot knowing he was doomed to lose.
I was destined to be his executioner, though. I'd entered a pot with him and at least one other. I paired my ace on the flop and when it got to me I raised to push out draws (this was one of the few 3/6 games I've played at the T-Bird that this move could be successfully used). It drove out the guy on my left and when it got around to "Dude" he had one chip left and called. I took down the pot and he got up.
I was stacking my chips when I felt a hand on my shoulder, then there was a soft voice in my ear. "Keep playing patient and good luck." And he was gone.
No bitch-slap. Worse. Respect.
