I’m Sick. Seriously sick. No matter what I do to control what’s happening to me, it’s taking over and I can’t stop it. No, I’m not The Incredible HULK… it’s something far more dangerous and sinister…I love poker.
Yes, the glorious game has become a permanent fixture in my once moribund life. Over the last two years I’ve become an all-singing all-dancing poker machine.
On my trusty laptop Youtube is continually scoured for classic poker nostalgia. Puggy Pearson and Amarillo Slim at the1973 world series… The Prince of Poker uttering the greatest poker one-liner ever: “You call, gonna be all over baby!”
A trip to the loo reveals a man-sized magazine rack stacked full of the latest poker magazines. Another favourite feature of my bathroom is the wireless broadband connection which allows me to ride upon my poker thrown, pushing all-in while busy pushing all-out.
My personal library is also bursting with poker literature; no longer chock with Jamie Oliver cookbooks or lonely planet guides - Harrington on Hold’em and Super System now take pride of place.
Living the poker dream does have its side effects though. I’ve become partially deaf and dumb, regularly struggling to recognise everyday conversation. Rachel asked me the date of Aunt Carole’s surprise 50th party and I answered ‘Trip nines’, busy mentally replaying last night’s key hand.
With that said, it’s not all bad news. I have made some massive strides in other key areas - chip shuffling for instance! I even recorded my personal best just last week with a total of 12 chips successfully stacked with no spillage. What a glorious day that was. Admittedly the shuffling and stacking of chips has alarming spread to non-poker-related items such as tea coasters, but that’s normal (I think?) while Americanisms like “Suck out” and “Sick” are thrown around at our home game like there’s no tomorrow. We sound like a bunch of yank nerds – but we don’t care – we love it!
My style and strategy have started to mature like a fine wine. I no longer playing 2-5 just because they’re suited and even fold Jacks pre-flop (well… sometimes). So where does it go from here? What do I want from poker? Well in the early days just being fifty quid up at the end of a month was a enough, but now I want more. I’ve even set myself some poker goals. In no particular order, they are:
1) Bust a major professional. No real preference who - although Doyle, Johnny or Phil (Ivey or Hellmuth) would be nice.
2) Cash in a major tournament. I don’t care which one - a cash is a cash.
3) Bluff a massive pot on the goggle box. Some TV time would elevate me to “instant legend” (well, at least down my local)
4) Be able to shuffle and deal like a pro. I’ve noticed some slick shuffling can gain you serious props at the table.
5) Make love on a poker table (not televised). No particular reason (well, apart from the smooth felt against my buttocks.)
So there you have it, five very real and important goals. I’ll keep you posted. Whether or not I still have a relationship by my next column remains to be seen, but there you go. (Hmm…I wonder what the reverse implied odds on that are?)
Yes, the glorious game has become a permanent fixture in my once moribund life. Over the last two years I’ve become an all-singing all-dancing poker machine.
On my trusty laptop Youtube is continually scoured for classic poker nostalgia. Puggy Pearson and Amarillo Slim at the1973 world series… The Prince of Poker uttering the greatest poker one-liner ever: “You call, gonna be all over baby!”
A trip to the loo reveals a man-sized magazine rack stacked full of the latest poker magazines. Another favourite feature of my bathroom is the wireless broadband connection which allows me to ride upon my poker thrown, pushing all-in while busy pushing all-out.
My personal library is also bursting with poker literature; no longer chock with Jamie Oliver cookbooks or lonely planet guides - Harrington on Hold’em and Super System now take pride of place.
Living the poker dream does have its side effects though. I’ve become partially deaf and dumb, regularly struggling to recognise everyday conversation. Rachel asked me the date of Aunt Carole’s surprise 50th party and I answered ‘Trip nines’, busy mentally replaying last night’s key hand.
With that said, it’s not all bad news. I have made some massive strides in other key areas - chip shuffling for instance! I even recorded my personal best just last week with a total of 12 chips successfully stacked with no spillage. What a glorious day that was. Admittedly the shuffling and stacking of chips has alarming spread to non-poker-related items such as tea coasters, but that’s normal (I think?) while Americanisms like “Suck out” and “Sick” are thrown around at our home game like there’s no tomorrow. We sound like a bunch of yank nerds – but we don’t care – we love it!
My style and strategy have started to mature like a fine wine. I no longer playing 2-5 just because they’re suited and even fold Jacks pre-flop (well… sometimes). So where does it go from here? What do I want from poker? Well in the early days just being fifty quid up at the end of a month was a enough, but now I want more. I’ve even set myself some poker goals. In no particular order, they are:
1) Bust a major professional. No real preference who - although Doyle, Johnny or Phil (Ivey or Hellmuth) would be nice.
2) Cash in a major tournament. I don’t care which one - a cash is a cash.
3) Bluff a massive pot on the goggle box. Some TV time would elevate me to “instant legend” (well, at least down my local)
4) Be able to shuffle and deal like a pro. I’ve noticed some slick shuffling can gain you serious props at the table.
5) Make love on a poker table (not televised). No particular reason (well, apart from the smooth felt against my buttocks.)
So there you have it, five very real and important goals. I’ll keep you posted. Whether or not I still have a relationship by my next column remains to be seen, but there you go. (Hmm…I wonder what the reverse implied odds on that are?)
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