Psoriasis Ain’t Got Nothin’ On Hold ‘Em!
Sometimes I wonder just why in the hell do I play low-limit Hold ‘Em in the first place. Then, when a miracle draw, hand, game, tourney or night happens, I remember. Cause actually winning at that game gives me a sense of wonderful accomplishment, a personal glow of well-being that makes life seem like a beautiful place to be. It’s those “other” nights when I begin to question what little sanity I have left.
My friends think it’s just funnier than hell. Here I do my best to write a Hold ‘Em column, which amazingly enough quite a few people seem to read, yet “Mr. Big Time” (as I have been laughingly called) gets his ass kicked about two out of every three games I play in, and only win one out of every five or six tourneys I get in. If there is a drunken, obnoxious suck-out artist anywhere on the planet, they always seem to end up one seat to my left wherever I end up playing.
For example, about a week ago, I finally decided to sit in a tournament for the first time since October when I hurt my back too badly to be able to sit for any reasonable length of time. Well, that night I floated out to my friends’ car, and laughed and chuckled all the way home. Of course, by now I’m sure you figured out I won. Yes,
Two nights later, I got into another tourney. Made it to the final table, and was down to six players, I was holding a pair of sixes in middle position with 1K-2K blinds. The guy behind me called the blind, I did too, and a couple others folded, then the small blind went all in. Everybody else folded except the player to my right, who called. All the sudden I’m looking at two 20K bettors, and my 66 wasn’t near as purty as it was half a minute ago. So, I do “the right thing.” I fold. The flop made me two pair, the turn was no help but the river made a full house 66655. Needless to say, though I showed no outward sign of distress other than standing up, tearing off all the wall paper, left-hooking the cocktail waitress and yelling, ”You low-life, lousy, illiterate (*&(**&^^%$#%’s!!!” I will admit to being a bit upset. I would have knocked out two other fairly strong players, assured myself of 4th place (the final paying position) and become chip-leader by a nearly unbeatable margin.
Then, on the next hand, in much better position, I get pocket Jacks. No raisers in front, so I go all in. I don’t better the J’s and some bone head calls with a Q4 o/s catches a four on the flop and another one on the turn. From guaranteed 4th to shrugging my shoulders and shuffling off to watch the Blue Hair’s play the penny slots in less than two minutes.
So, in a matter of just a couple days I went from being on top of Mt. Everest to the pits of Dante’s Hell. The last tourney I got in just last night in fact, was a much bigger tournament with 1st place paying around a thousand dollars. In this tournament, I was either the first or second player in the field tossed out on his ear. I can’t feel too bad, as I was in late position with pocket Aces, only one half-hearted raise in front of me and when I re-raised everybody dropped but the original raiser who only called. The flop came AJ3. He checked, I raised all in and he called. The turn was a 7. The river was a Q. With his K-10 off suit, he killed me.
My ride partner and friend, who was also in the tourney ended up with the other three “finishers,” chopped the prize money and they all cleared about 450 apiece. Of course, after losing a (for me) rather expensive buy-in, then having to hang around a casino for three more hours with no live tables, I ended up adding another hundred or so to my losses, so this time the ride home was my being very quiet and my friend Doug chattering away about the various hands that led him to the final table. Though I really didn’t want to hear it, I had to remember how I felt on the night I won. I was and am happy for him.
However, it did get me into a mood where I really began to wonder why the heck I even play low-limit hold em. I know part of it is I don’t have the financial backing to play at pot-limit to no-limit levels, and another part is that I don’t have a car yet so I can’t really do the “circuit,” and play in places where they don’t ALL know how I play. Plus, when it really comes down to it, I have to classify myself as a “social player.”
All those things put together mean that until and unless something changes, I will almost always be at the mercy of the drunken beginners, the suck-out artists and those “expert” players who simply have the finances to call every bet anybody makes just to be in the hand. What really amazes me is that those same experts always seem to know exactly what everybody else had in their hands, how they should have played them, and what a lucky, unskilled card player everybody else was when their Big Slicks, suited connectors or high pocket pairs do beat the “expert’s” J3 offsuit.
I’m beginning to think that whoever came up with that slogan, “The Heartbreak of Psoriasis,” must have never played Texas Hold ‘Em. Or else the slogan would be more like, “The Mild Annoyance of Having to Put Cream on Your Face.”
Well fambly, I guess that’s it for this week. I have high-speed internet now (for the first time) so I guess I’ll surf around and try to find out how in the hell one goes about not getting one’s ass kicked on a semi-regular basis whilst continuing to play Hold ‘Em.
Also, I may be working on a special project for our Commander-in-Chief here at PTP, so once I know a bit more about that, we’ll see. As always, play fair, play safe and always remember, it’s not called playing for no reason.
Oh, and Santa? I know I ain’t been all that good this year, but do you think you could slip a very wealthy “banker” in your present bag for me?
Vinny Setala
“It Could Be Just Me” by Vincent “Vinny” Setala
December 15th, 2006
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