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Wednesday, April 12, 2006

A Fine Line Between Confession And Whine

It was only with great trepidation that I approached the man. He was a middle-aged, balding loner, yet he possessed an aura unlike any other. He radiated peace and wisdom, tinged with a hint of disdain for all humanity, that made it clear he had the answers.

I crept closer and resolved to make myself speak.

"Forgive me father, I must have sinned. It's been forty days since I last hit a flop".

He half-turned to look in my direction, and spoke mildly with the faintest hint of reproach: "Come closer, my son, and unburden yourself of your earthly worries." Or maybe that's just what I heard.

I stammered and stuttered and hardly managed to let loose a word. When the words did finally come, they came as in a flood:

"My pocket pairs, father, they go unsetted. My straight draws fail to come well nigh all of the time. I fear that I have forever lost the ability to flush or boat. Yea, though I once turned quads, I was paid off in nickels rather than in the rivers of gold my heart so desired. I once had a luckbox but it was stolen from me; though I've spent the days and nights searching the wilds of yon internet, I find naught but emptiness and despair. Strangers attack my woeful purse without mercy, be they ahead or drawing very slim, they find a way to empty it inside and out. When I yearn to to turn the tables instead of the other cheek, I find myself left without outs, stacked and destitute once again. Even my trusty companion omaha has forsaken me, I am left alone, adrift on sea without port, friend or companion."

He was silent.

I had hopes, hopes that I would be led out of the wilderness.

He turned and walked away, with only a parting word or two from over his shoulder:

"Forget it, kid. My name is Sklansky, not fucking Jesus."


Tough night last night. By the time the Poker Savvy freeroll and the WWdN event rolled around, i had lost my earlier enthusiasm to play. Some of that was probably fatigue, some of it was the buyin I dropped at the PLO table when my passel full of outs hit in entirely the wrong fashion -- I played a hand hard and had my non-nut flush called by a bigger non-nut flush.

Long story short, I was vice-Gigli in the WWdN, out in the 30s or 40s of 47 in the PokerSavvy freeroll.

I guess that new hyper-aggressive post-flop strategy I was trying will be making a trip to the scrap heap. I did manage a 2nd in a two table $1.50 SnG, so it wasn't a total loss, but still. Ugly.

Tonight, I must sleep. I also apologize in advance to anyone who may be offended by the above.


April said...


Drizztdj said...

Excellent. I constantly remind myself how much variance is involved with Omaha before creating more holes in the walls at home.

Sometimes I catch myself, other times I get the spackle bucket out.

FatBaldGuy said...

They say confession is good for the soul. But only if you get forgiveness, so I guess you're screwed.