Poker-Related.

Warning: before you read anymore, this is pretty much about me. Me, me, me. If you can stand the narccisstic musings, proceed.

So I guess I just experienced my first "official" tournament for my run at the World Series of Poker 2008, which ended rather abruptly by Day 1 (haha!). I was pretty well-stacked (doing very healthy for the average chip-stack). But I made a few moves against the same guy, and he had my number. Every. Single. Time. Finally, some old man comes along to take me out with this:

Hero: JJ
Opponent: 22.

Flop peels off a 2. 7 6 2 rainbow. Death & mews ensue.

I wasn't too peeved; after all, making even into that tournament (I had to win a qualifying tournament to get there) was my personal goal, and everything else was bonus. I saw Bernard Lee (he was the guy who came in 13th in the WSOP 2005). He's kind of cocky, and from what I heard from the rest of the locals, he gave some negative commentary during the final table for EPT last year.

But this week I have been EATING & pooping poker it seems. I won a tournament on Wednesday, did a night session at Foxwoods on Friday, and barely woke up to come to the EPT WSOP tourney. I keep track of my session stats on cardplayer.com, so I promise I'll post my results by the end of the summer!

I know I'm doing straight at the $2-$5 cash tables ($5000 is the goal for three months!), but I feel that I'm holding back somewhat still. Parents are quietly protesting; friends are wary.

But I'm hungry for a tournament title for some reason. Maybe the amount of money, cameras, pros hobbling around made me a little star-struck.

Lifez.

So it's been a year and two days since I've started working for the man. A lot of my personal goals were measured against this bench-mark, so I'm making a bunch of frequently-asked-questions that you, dear reader, would have a burning desire to ask. Believe me. It's going to kick holy ass.

Considered yourself warned: this may be offensive like handicapped porn.

How is post-college life adjustment. For real.
Honestly, pretty sweet. I'm one of those sleazy bull sh-tters that somehow managed to land a decent job straight out of college and make decent bucks. My only small gripe is the free time. Doing nothing is something now. I definitely don't have the same social network that I used to kick it with. But it's right as rain. Quality control is up in this.

You also start experiencing weird discussions. M-words like "marriage" and "mortgages." Better-salary envy, too. People start going into cycles around you. Exactly half of your friends will break up from wifey-year-long relationships, and other half break off some spring love. The rest of you, break a leg.

New revelations?
People come and go. You just can't take anything personally, even if say you two were bffs during college. Moving the vineyard to California doesn't make Bordeaux anymore.

Ultimately, I found that my true friends stuck around, despite how useless I am (I never call anyone). And to those who know who they are, I cherish deeply.

Are you fat?
I guess ramen and campus food is the college student's equivalent to the supermodel cocaine diet. For me, college was so much more active that post-college. So long answer, yes, asshole. I am. Fatter.

So what's next?
Vote for Obama, pull up a chair and let's have lunch soon! I miss seeing a lot of you cats. For some reason NO ONE knew I worked in the Back Bay area, so come play. I hope everyone's summer is kicking.


Oh, dinner if you're hot.



p.s. Does anyone else think Google stock looks MIGHTY attractive below $550?

2008 Action Report.

Sorry this is for playing-notes only. If you were looking for anything deep, romantic, or depressing, read no further.

1st WSOP Satellite: Q-8 limp, BB limps, three-way.

Flop: Q 5 2. 1 bets, BB re-raises, I raise all-in. 1 mucks, BB thinks hard; finally calls.

Notes: BB specialed. Nothing spectacular. Blinds were coming up, and I was playing relatively mute. I just made a move with top-pair.

2nd WSOP Satellite: 8-7. LAG-sub-par player raises a ridiculous raise. 6x blinds. Loose image, has been showing down mediocre hands. I just call because one other guy calls, I have 3 to 1. Why not. 3-way.

Flop: 10 9 x. LAG over-bets AGAIN. I just move all-in. It's a 3,000+ chip pot. Only 900 more to go (the chip-stack ratio I couldn't help). He mulls, knowing I'm tight, and calls. Shows J-9. Turn: 8, which actually gives him a ton of outs now (sigh), river is nothing.

Notes: I guess the way this Satellite is structured is almost like a sit-and-go, TT style. I noticed this other guy I've befriended (seen him both times, he actually won the first Satellite I went to), and he selectively draws for his all-ins, and finds places to push. Moral of story: need to win a pot before the first level is over. I won a minor pot, but by the time the second levels came around, I was basically one of the two lowest chip stacks; everyone else either had a crazy-donkey moment or made moves.


Foxwoods (May 30): Wow, unbelievable.

Highlight of Night: A-K suited. $2-$5 NL. Guy raises $30 to go. I just call.

Flop: A K K. LLamas! I think I was giving myself a hand job after seeing that flop. It even had a cute flush draw.

Opponent bets $60. I count to 15 (Dan Harrington's tip to slow-playing, raises, calls). I look flustered, and call.

Turn: 10. Nothing, checks all around.

River: A. Whiskey, tango. My heart drops when he chirps, "All-in." I look over in disbelief, like "What the hell, this is so lame." I call. He shows A-10.

akldjf.


Hardest hand was actually my SECOND hand of the night. A-9. I just call (three people in front of me call, dubious? This middle-aged Asian guy, a bit tipsy, calls three positions behind me.

Flop is A-9-7. Everyone checks. I check. No flush threat at all.

Turn: 6. Checks all around. Asian dude bets $75. I re-up to $200, sandwiching a caller. I honestly was expecting to take the pot. Asian guy immediately calls, BB folds. At this point, I'm braced to slow it down. Something is not right.

River: 6. I check. He just puts me ALL-in.

Okay. At this point I'm completely befuddled. Pockets? He rarely raises, and when he does it's like a $15-re-pop (the rest of the table was committing $25-upwards....CRAZY pre-flop action with re-raises too). Deep-stack poker.

The sixes had to have helped him. He kept saying afterwards (and a little bit during the hand), that if he had me on a straight. He had me on ASS?? 8-10?

I think by the end of the night, I put him on A-6. or 6-7. My raise immediately signified I held at least A-x. He could've hit bottom pair, following a two-pair on the turn. Or overplayed an A.

Ugh, that hand basically left me in a funk, (and $200 down), and I was in recovery territory for the rest of the night. Sigh. I think the only other sexy hand was a QQ, where I had some cute raise, then I re-raised. Everyone else folded. I kept limping, and calling raises (EVERYONE was raising, it was ridiculous like Jurassic).

The good news is that I'm so hungry to hit the tables. I haven't hit Foxwoods since March, so it's nice to get back on this ice cream van. Going this Friday.

"Misery is almost always the result of thinking."

-- Joseph Joubert.