I missed the annual Vegas pilgrimage this year as am devoting my vacation time and funds to getting married, you have to keep these things in perspective after all.
Over morning coffee each day I’ve been keeping track of the tragic/hilarious tales of bad beats and drunken action from over the pond, courtesy of Jimbo’s blog, and it’s just leaving me despondent that I’m missing out on all the fun. As couldn’t manage to pull together a sensible game this week with so many of the boys away, I decided to drag myself along to one of Blapo’s pub games, this one being the final event at MyHotels in Bloomsbury. In honour of the Vegas crew and given that this was due to be a comparatively cheap game (£25 tournament with one rebuy and a £20 max sit-down cash game, so likely to be £100 exposure max) I elected to get blind drunk and play the role of poker-fool at the table.
As planned I succeeded in making an absolute nuisance of myself in the tournment, finally going broke holding AKs vs ATo aipf and just missing the final table.
Multitabled the tournament with the cash game, where I made a small profit and no friends after drunkenly shoving blind numerous times and doubling through people who were calling me light when I actually had the goods. At one point Julian (Laurence Fishburne lookalike) basically told me to f*ck off, and he’s about as charming and pleasant as it’s possible to be at the poker table. Hilarious stuff.
The chav quotient was reduced last night compared to Blapo’s usual crowd, but I had cause to remember why I don’t especially like this group of players. We’re down to twelve handed, and on my table one of the tighter players finds himself heads up with the only remaining girl in the tournament. They get it all in on the turn, him with top-two, her holding AKo for a gutshot straight on a JTx board. She’s made a bad call, but that’s what you have to expect in these silly little games. However this bloke can’t handle it and just goes mental.
“What the f*ck did you call with that for? Oh no…for f*cks sake.”
You have to remember, this is a £25 tournament, not the WSOP, however he’s acting like all his worldly possessions are on the line in a spot where he’s a 90% favourite. Inevitably the river blanks.
“GOOD!” he spits at her, “thanks for the call!”. Blapo (who is dealing) announces a hasty break to defuse the ridiculous situation.
In retribution, I elected to target this ‘gentleman’, succeeding in bluffing him off of the best hand three times in a row after his display of ungraciousness. However in the end he outlasted me after my outdraw by a different player.
All in all a good value night out. Lost two hands of ‘Smallsover’ with the man himself (despite swapping cards with him after the deal on one hand), but won a £20 last-longer with the Racist and Smalls to put myself up on prop bets. Won another £20 or so in the cash game, which just about covered my tournament entry fee. Think I may have given away £15 in ‘bonuses’ during the tournament (free money I was putting in the middle to try to induce people to get their chips in bad). Add in several rounds of drinks, a tomato salad and Cinzano and orange (thanks Racist) and it all turned into a great value two-figure night out.
British Grand Prix this weekend to pull me away from the felt, and then before I know it the boys will be back covered in glory / poop (delete as appropriate), so it’ll soon be back to the grind of strictly sober poker.
Julian, if you’re reading this, apologies for the muppetry last night. I know you love me really… LOL!
