Of Beasties Boys, Bad Beats, and Being Blessed
I got money, I got juice
I got to the party and I got loose
...
I got ill, I got busted
I got dust and I got dusted
What are the odds that just as I'm about to type this post, trying to figure out how and where to start, that the song quoted above should begin to play in the background?
Not as bad as you'd think actually. Anyone that knows me knows that I listen to an inordinant amount of Beastie Boys. Timeless wisdom.
This ... journal ... almost died out as quickly as it started. Yesterday was a bad day, and it took a toll on me mentally and emotionally that I thought I was prepared for, but clearly wasn't.
There was this members only freeroll tournament held at Poker Source Online (more about them some other time) for which the first place prize was "$10,000 US Poker Championship entry at the Trump Taj Mahal".
There were only 232 entrants.
I knew I was going to win.
I knew this in much the same way that I knew I'd be drunk within an hour of winning it... and I get drunk 7 nights a week... and there are 6 bars within walking distance of my house... and by walking distance I mean it takes as long (or longer) to drive to them as it does to walk. Viva Las Vegas, Baby.
I'm sure at this point it's obvious where this story is going, but I'm not one to jump to the end too quickly.
The morning and afternoon went pretty smoothly. My head was in the right place, and my game was tight. Made a fair amount playing ring games, working off a deposit bonus, with a group of players that were chatty in that amicable, no hostilities kind of way that makes you (almost) feel bad about taking their money. A few hours left to go till the tourney starts, and I decide to take a break to get some household chores done, and clear my head proper before my big break.
I knew I was going to win. Knew.
I've got the TV going in the living room, cable radio, reggae channel or some such while I'm washing dishes, when suddenly it goes dead silent... "hrm, did the cable just go out?"
Panic.
I rush into my office and check. Yup. The internet is out too. Tourney starts in 30 minutes.
Quick call to a friend on the far side of town, "Dude, your internet out?".
"Nope."
"Mine is, I might call you back in a second.", I may have clarified this statement, but if I did I didn't need to. This is one of my closer friends who hears me talking about my new hobby at least once a day. Many of them knew about this tournament for a few days, though I doubt any of them realized how much of myself I had invested. It's one of those things you talk about afterwards, when you've already won, never before, and there is a reason it is done this way.
Call another friend, "Hey man, is your internet out?"
"Lemme check... nope."
"Can I come over and take over your office and computer for a few hours?"
"Since when do you need to ask?", but I barely even hear it as I'm hanging up, because I don't need to, it's just good protocol. I am blessed with incredible friends.
I arrive 15 minutes later, with a case of Coke, a bag of chips, and my guilty-secret (I'm both kinds of vegan), a couple bags of M&Ms.
"You all set man? What do you need?", I hear him asking before he even speaks.
"Nothing, just peace, so I can keep my head till this is done."
"No problem. I'll tell the others."
There are a few other people in the house, yet none of them hovers, talks, or bothers me in anyway untill I am done, so none of what is about to transpire can be placed on their shoulders.
It was ugly before it got ugly. I don't even remember any specific hand. I played too many, played them poorly, and was just totally off my game. I had let the stress get to me, and the competition here was not to be laughed at or taken lightly. Thirty minutes into it, there were still well over 200 players left of the initial 232. I know this because thirty minutes into it was when I was in the middle of a hand that I finally had the cards to win with when I got the message, "You have been disconnected, because this account had been logged into from another computer".
The internet back home is working again, and I'm a moron.
That was all she wrote. I only missed the one hand and got back in the game a moment later, but it hardly mattered. It drug out for another 30 minutes, but I don't remember any real details. There were no bad beats, or stupid moves by lucky idiots, or anything... I just blew it.
I busted out at #200 of 232.
I think this was nothing more than the amount of time it took to weasel away the blinds of the 32 players that didn't show up.
I lost $10,000.
Yeah, I know it isn't technically true, but it has taken me more than 24 hours to come to terms with the fact that I never actually had that money. I truly knew (not believed, knew) that I was going to win that money. I lied to every friend I told about the tourney in advance, "I know there is no way I'm going to win this tourney, but I'm excited about it anyhow". Lied to their faces. I knew I was going to win.
Then I was did something really stupid. My head was in the wrong place, and even knowing that I went home to start grinding back some of the 10k I had just lost. But instead I dumped a lot. I lost everything I'd made that morning and then some.
In the two weeks that I have been playing, I haven't sufferend any real losses at all, and I've been making a surprising amount of money. Surprising to me, your milage may vary. I won't insult anyone by posting amounts here. The point is that now I can't stop giving away money. You'd think I would have stopped at $10,000.
Stupid fish.
I stopped. I went out drinking. I drank like the stupid fish that I am. The night got worse in ways not worth documenting, and I got drunker.
This morning I woke up. Clear head as usual. I am the only person I know that can drink untill the black outs kick in, and feel perfectly ok the next day. I don't know if this is a side effect of being an alcoholic, or the root cause of it.
Get something to drink (non alchoholic), sit down at the computer. Debate playing for a moment, but fuck it, there's still money in the account, I'll play a little in the background while I read my morning news and shit.
Tao of Poker is the first thing I check. This is pure habit, as the WSOP is over, and although I still need my WSOP news fix, there is no WSOP left to provide Pauly news to be reported. I move on.
Fifteen minutes later and I'm back. This fucking habit will take me a week to break. It is as bad as the urge to read slashdot every 5 minutes, even though I know there is nothing new there, I keep checking it.
Game is going good, I'm up about 1/3 of what I dumped last night.
Nothing else to read, so I start looking around Pauly's site, and am reading my way down the "Quality Posts" on his sidebar when I come across, "Sink or Swim: The Biggest Night of My Life".
I'm about halfway through it when I realize just how close to home this has the potential to be. I'm sick to my stomach the whole time, feeling that knot from last night. This isn't sympathy I'm feeling, this is self pity. There is nothing to worry about for him, the post is positive, an online pschying up of hisself. It's just that unlike me, he had the guts to put his shit out there for everyone to see before the hand, whereas I'm a total pussy, confessing my lies after getting caught. And by the very nature of having read his post earlier today, I'm not even being that original about it.
Game is going pretty well, I'm actually almost even.
I scroll up looking for the post that must inevitably follow. Ouch. Bummer. But hey, obviously not the end of the word for him, he seems to be doing pretty good these days, and appears to be blessed with good friends.
It occurs to me I'm even on my losses from last night.
It's sunday evening, and I make the call I make every sunday evening, to the friend who's computer I took over last night, "Hey man, what you up to?".
"Hanging out, watching TV, you coming over?"
"It's sunday ain't it?"
"Alright man, see you in a few."
Hop in the car, 15 minutes later I'm hanging out in my friends kitchen, eating one of the vegan burritos that they keep stocked for me out of fear that I might starve to death if I don't eat their food on Sunday nights.
"So, you ok? You left here awfully fast last night, but I figured you'd be ok...", this conversation is no surprise. Mostly protocol.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just got my head in a weird place."
"So you done with poker then, or are you still gonna make millions?"
I'll be fucking damned if I'm not going to try.
I give it to him straight, "I've made a fair amount of money in the past few weeks, and I've never even read a poker book yet. Statistically, the losses are gonna happen. I'll learn to deal with it better.", and I make a mental note that the book situation is something I need to change in the very near future.
"Cool.", he replies, and we go watch TV. I make a mental note to keep up with the posting when I get home. I may be a stupid fish, but I'm not going out like this, not on the first beating.
I make another mental note.
I am blessed with incredible friends.
-Tommy
I got to the party and I got loose
...
I got ill, I got busted
I got dust and I got dusted
What are the odds that just as I'm about to type this post, trying to figure out how and where to start, that the song quoted above should begin to play in the background?
Not as bad as you'd think actually. Anyone that knows me knows that I listen to an inordinant amount of Beastie Boys. Timeless wisdom.
This ... journal ... almost died out as quickly as it started. Yesterday was a bad day, and it took a toll on me mentally and emotionally that I thought I was prepared for, but clearly wasn't.
There was this members only freeroll tournament held at Poker Source Online (more about them some other time) for which the first place prize was "$10,000 US Poker Championship entry at the Trump Taj Mahal".
There were only 232 entrants.
I knew I was going to win.
I knew this in much the same way that I knew I'd be drunk within an hour of winning it... and I get drunk 7 nights a week... and there are 6 bars within walking distance of my house... and by walking distance I mean it takes as long (or longer) to drive to them as it does to walk. Viva Las Vegas, Baby.
I'm sure at this point it's obvious where this story is going, but I'm not one to jump to the end too quickly.
The morning and afternoon went pretty smoothly. My head was in the right place, and my game was tight. Made a fair amount playing ring games, working off a deposit bonus, with a group of players that were chatty in that amicable, no hostilities kind of way that makes you (almost) feel bad about taking their money. A few hours left to go till the tourney starts, and I decide to take a break to get some household chores done, and clear my head proper before my big break.
I knew I was going to win. Knew.
I've got the TV going in the living room, cable radio, reggae channel or some such while I'm washing dishes, when suddenly it goes dead silent... "hrm, did the cable just go out?"
Panic.
I rush into my office and check. Yup. The internet is out too. Tourney starts in 30 minutes.
Quick call to a friend on the far side of town, "Dude, your internet out?".
"Nope."
"Mine is, I might call you back in a second.", I may have clarified this statement, but if I did I didn't need to. This is one of my closer friends who hears me talking about my new hobby at least once a day. Many of them knew about this tournament for a few days, though I doubt any of them realized how much of myself I had invested. It's one of those things you talk about afterwards, when you've already won, never before, and there is a reason it is done this way.
Call another friend, "Hey man, is your internet out?"
"Lemme check... nope."
"Can I come over and take over your office and computer for a few hours?"
"Since when do you need to ask?", but I barely even hear it as I'm hanging up, because I don't need to, it's just good protocol. I am blessed with incredible friends.
I arrive 15 minutes later, with a case of Coke, a bag of chips, and my guilty-secret (I'm both kinds of vegan), a couple bags of M&Ms.
"You all set man? What do you need?", I hear him asking before he even speaks.
"Nothing, just peace, so I can keep my head till this is done."
"No problem. I'll tell the others."
There are a few other people in the house, yet none of them hovers, talks, or bothers me in anyway untill I am done, so none of what is about to transpire can be placed on their shoulders.
It was ugly before it got ugly. I don't even remember any specific hand. I played too many, played them poorly, and was just totally off my game. I had let the stress get to me, and the competition here was not to be laughed at or taken lightly. Thirty minutes into it, there were still well over 200 players left of the initial 232. I know this because thirty minutes into it was when I was in the middle of a hand that I finally had the cards to win with when I got the message, "You have been disconnected, because this account had been logged into from another computer".
The internet back home is working again, and I'm a moron.
That was all she wrote. I only missed the one hand and got back in the game a moment later, but it hardly mattered. It drug out for another 30 minutes, but I don't remember any real details. There were no bad beats, or stupid moves by lucky idiots, or anything... I just blew it.
I busted out at #200 of 232.
I think this was nothing more than the amount of time it took to weasel away the blinds of the 32 players that didn't show up.
I lost $10,000.
Yeah, I know it isn't technically true, but it has taken me more than 24 hours to come to terms with the fact that I never actually had that money. I truly knew (not believed, knew) that I was going to win that money. I lied to every friend I told about the tourney in advance, "I know there is no way I'm going to win this tourney, but I'm excited about it anyhow". Lied to their faces. I knew I was going to win.
Then I was did something really stupid. My head was in the wrong place, and even knowing that I went home to start grinding back some of the 10k I had just lost. But instead I dumped a lot. I lost everything I'd made that morning and then some.
In the two weeks that I have been playing, I haven't sufferend any real losses at all, and I've been making a surprising amount of money. Surprising to me, your milage may vary. I won't insult anyone by posting amounts here. The point is that now I can't stop giving away money. You'd think I would have stopped at $10,000.
Stupid fish.
I stopped. I went out drinking. I drank like the stupid fish that I am. The night got worse in ways not worth documenting, and I got drunker.
This morning I woke up. Clear head as usual. I am the only person I know that can drink untill the black outs kick in, and feel perfectly ok the next day. I don't know if this is a side effect of being an alcoholic, or the root cause of it.
Get something to drink (non alchoholic), sit down at the computer. Debate playing for a moment, but fuck it, there's still money in the account, I'll play a little in the background while I read my morning news and shit.
Tao of Poker is the first thing I check. This is pure habit, as the WSOP is over, and although I still need my WSOP news fix, there is no WSOP left to provide Pauly news to be reported. I move on.
Fifteen minutes later and I'm back. This fucking habit will take me a week to break. It is as bad as the urge to read slashdot every 5 minutes, even though I know there is nothing new there, I keep checking it.
Game is going good, I'm up about 1/3 of what I dumped last night.
Nothing else to read, so I start looking around Pauly's site, and am reading my way down the "Quality Posts" on his sidebar when I come across, "Sink or Swim: The Biggest Night of My Life".
I'm about halfway through it when I realize just how close to home this has the potential to be. I'm sick to my stomach the whole time, feeling that knot from last night. This isn't sympathy I'm feeling, this is self pity. There is nothing to worry about for him, the post is positive, an online pschying up of hisself. It's just that unlike me, he had the guts to put his shit out there for everyone to see before the hand, whereas I'm a total pussy, confessing my lies after getting caught. And by the very nature of having read his post earlier today, I'm not even being that original about it.
Game is going pretty well, I'm actually almost even.
I scroll up looking for the post that must inevitably follow. Ouch. Bummer. But hey, obviously not the end of the word for him, he seems to be doing pretty good these days, and appears to be blessed with good friends.
It occurs to me I'm even on my losses from last night.
It's sunday evening, and I make the call I make every sunday evening, to the friend who's computer I took over last night, "Hey man, what you up to?".
"Hanging out, watching TV, you coming over?"
"It's sunday ain't it?"
"Alright man, see you in a few."
Hop in the car, 15 minutes later I'm hanging out in my friends kitchen, eating one of the vegan burritos that they keep stocked for me out of fear that I might starve to death if I don't eat their food on Sunday nights.
"So, you ok? You left here awfully fast last night, but I figured you'd be ok...", this conversation is no surprise. Mostly protocol.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just got my head in a weird place."
"So you done with poker then, or are you still gonna make millions?"
I'll be fucking damned if I'm not going to try.
I give it to him straight, "I've made a fair amount of money in the past few weeks, and I've never even read a poker book yet. Statistically, the losses are gonna happen. I'll learn to deal with it better.", and I make a mental note that the book situation is something I need to change in the very near future.
"Cool.", he replies, and we go watch TV. I make a mental note to keep up with the posting when I get home. I may be a stupid fish, but I'm not going out like this, not on the first beating.
I make another mental note.
I am blessed with incredible friends.
-Tommy
posted by Tommy at 9:37 PM
2 Comments:
Thanks for metioning those previous posts!
Shit, you found me.
I purposely left the address part out of the email I sent you...
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