BadBlood's Homework: Part I
I remember the day I won the entry to the WSOP. Who knew what a strange turn of events it would spark. I figured it would be fun to go and meet the bloggers. If I survived that it would all be well worth it.
It all started innocently enough. I deposited my fifty bucks into Poker Stars for one of the many WBPT sanctioned tourneys that had become the more frequent as the biggest event in poker grew nearer. I figured I was dead money. It is hard enough to win a tournament when everyone you are playing against is a fish, but when you take on people who are as serious about poker as the bloggers it becomes damn near impossible. I have always found it fun to play in these games though. Knocking out people who you respect is a lot of fun. I started my warm-up to the competition my usual way: by losing the other seventeen bucks left from my deposit. I figured I was not going to build a roll on Poker Stars so I might as well have some fun at 100/NL. Of course, with that little money, after a few blinds you basically are all in anyways so unless you get really lucky you’re not going to win.
I felt my normal trepidation and excitement as the tables for the tournament started filling up. I am the eternal optimist, and the foul pessimist all wrapped into one. The alpha and the omega. The beginning and the end. A schizophrenic minor deity of the poker blogger world. I always start these things with the best of intentions. I figure if I play a tight game and catch a few cards I can do well. Inevitably I always end up feeling a little dejected. Having my stack eaten away by bad beat after bad beat. Playing marginal hands too hard. Always seeming to end up just outside of the bubble. At least there were only eighty people to beat this time.
I hardly recognized anyone at my starting table. I have trouble keeping the online site names in line with the blog names anyways, especially since some people change there site names more than I change my underwear. However I really was clueless as to who this bunch was. The universe that is bloggerdome grows and contracts at such a high rate of speed that it is nearly impossible to keep track. Different factions spin off and form there own little universes at alarming rates. Each one bringing something somewhat unique to the whole entity. It is really very amazing.
The table chatter was incessant as usual. My kind of game. If there are two things that bring my game up a notch they are verbal banter and verbal abuse. The later being more fun. I am always on the lookout for someone who wants to start something. It keeps me distracted between hands and I am more willing to wait for something good. I decided to stay away from the Yahoo! chat this time since it was a little too distracting.
The first hour nothing really huge happened. A few of the well know bloggers took some bad beats and were knocked out. It was kind of sad to see Pauly make a set with his Hiltons only to lose to a rivered set of Aces that were overplayed on the flop. Damn those Hiltons! Nobody told me how Otis got knocked out but I am sure it was something similar. Texas was down to the felt as usual, and a few of the lesser known bloggers had met there fate.
One of my only big hands in the first hour was when I made a loose call with a flush draw. Hell, if he wanted me to fold he needed to bet something worth while.
“I can not believe you fucking called with that you asshole”, my nemesis typed in the chat.
“I had pot odds” I replied, fully knowing that I did not. Fuck him though. If he wants to start shit then let’s go.
“You did not even have close to pot odds you moron”, he replied, “You needed to be getting 4:1 and you barely had 2.7584:1”.
“Close enough” I snickered.
“WHAT!!!” he screamed in outrage, “How the hell can you say that!”
“I won didn’t I?” was my reply.
Shortly after he was finished off by another player with a slightly questionable hand. The Poker gods frowned on him this day. They are a fickle lot. Sometimes opening up a world of opportunity and other times crashing down upon you like an angry wave of fury. Only the rocks survive. The one’s who have been there for so long that the crashing waves no longer do much damage to them, except polishing their already smoothly worn surfaces.
Next Entry: Part TWO. The Poker Stars tourney heats up as I start playing some of the bloggers I know. The railbirds take up the cry: Sir! Sir! Sir!. The river giveth and taketh and giveth some more.