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Fail

December 27, 2009

OK, fail may be too strong a title, but it certainly sums up how I feel about last night’s session at the Venetian.

Things started off well enough, as I found myself about $150 in the black after about 90 minutes of play. There were no big or particularly remarkable hands, just a series of consistent pots that kept adding chips to my stack. And then, I got my good hand of the night. A nearby table had just broken, bringing two new players to our table, including the guy who took the seat on my right with nearly a full rack of red birds.

He was the third pre-flop limper into the pot when I looked down and found Aces on the button. Sweet. I raised to $15 and got two callers, including the new guy. Action checked to me on a flop of J-5-5 rainbow, and I bet $35. One fold and new guy called. The turn brought the 10c and new guy check-called another $65. The 3d on the river didn’t scare me at all, and I got new guy to check call another $100. I turned over my Aces and he mucked. Suddenly, I was up over $300 and the night was looking good.

I won a few more pots, bringing my stack over $400 in the black when three things happened in rapid succession. First, F-Train showed up and claimed the open seat on my left. Then, new guy on my right called it a night and was replaced with Joe, a Brit enjoying his first live poker experience. I don’t know why warning bells, sirens and flashing lights didn’t begin going off immediately at these new developments, but, they didn’t.

I won’t recount the series of beats that left me feeling like I’d gone three rounds with Mike Tyson in his prime, but let me just say this. Kings failed twice. Queens failed and Jacks failed. 10s failed. 6s failed, though 7s held up. Any kind of suited connector or gap connector didn’t find the board, and the damn club whistle remained MIA except for one hand late in the session.

In short, that lovely $400+ profit I’d accumulated shrunk to just $44 by the end of my seven-hour stint at the table. Fail.

Of course, I have no one to blame but myself, especially considering the two Tweets I sent from the table shortly after Dave arrived.

Donkey on my right is en fuego. I need @ftrainpoker to summon his cooler powers.

Oh, and I need him not to use his powers against me. K? Thanks.

I should have known that was like asking the Giants defense to show up for today’s must-win game against the lowly Carolina Panthers. Build it and he will come, my ass. Ask for it and you’ll get fucked is more accurate.

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