Monday, February 06, 2006


The Mrs. was out and about this past Saturday which meant yours truly got to sign up for an MTT and play with fewer distractions.  Not zero mind you, but fewer.

I signed up for the FullTilt $6k guaranteed based solely on its timing.  After 1 hour, I’d played perhaps 3 hands and stood below average at about T2100.  As is standard fare, half the field of 350 players was already gone.  With the blinds increasing as they are prone to do, I became M-limited and looked for pushing opportunities.

My first opportunity came with ATs.  I was called by pocket 5’s, hit two-pair on the flop and boated up on the turn.  I was then berated by the person who called me.  He asked me if I ever wondered how I got so short-stacked.  I didn’t reply, because I never wonder about getting short-stacked.  With 10-minute levels and a propensity to wait for good cards, most people wouldn’t find themselves surprised.  At least not me.

Fast forward a couple of hours and after winning one more race, I found myself at the final table.  I played situational tournament poker, mainly paying attention to stack sizes and positions more so than my actual holdings.  With six players left, the following hand arose.

I was in 5th chip position, with the short-stack to my left.  The play was folded around to me in the small blind, and with QJo, I pushed.  My thought was that I would only get called by a monster.  My opponent’s definition of monster was A6s.  I caught a Q on both the turn and river to eliminate him.  On came the berating.  I was a donkey, his hand was better, and I sucked out.

My cohorts in crime stood up for my play in the chatbox:  (The Bracelet, BiggestRon, Mourn, GeeknProud, Shane-O-Mac Nickerblog, StB).  A finer set of railbirds could not be had.  Pretty sure BG was there too.

I finished 5th for a $588 cash, after which BiggestRon claimed that PokerGeek would have a post up shortly about him finishing 4th.  (Mild guffaw)


In the playing poker with distractions department comes the following:

I’m in a hand.  It’s a big pot.  The door to the poker playing office opens and it’s MrsBlood with a handful of laundry.

“Smell this, just smell this!” she exclaims as she inserts a stack of my own underwear directly into my face.

Luckily, it was just cleaned and smelled fresh in a clean-air-breeze kind of way.

“I can do wonders with laundry, just so you know.”

I thanked her profusely but asked her to please move away from the monitor because I was in the middle of something right at the moment.

Her eyes did the MrsBlood roll and she said simply “Oh.”

I lost the pot, but all is not lost.

I have clean underwear.    

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