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The Poker diaries 3
I still suck at it. That's pretty much all the news I got. I keep winning for a few weeks only to hopelessly crash and burn the next. That means my game still isn't any good or I would be winning all the time. I think my chances of ever becoming professional are between non-existent and no way in hell fool
That doesn't mean I can't make fun of others all the way though. In fact, I'm thriving on it.
I held a little poker tournament a while ago and only now did I find the courage to write about it. mainly because I didn't win. I got stuck in the sink hole just outside the prize money because I placed my trust in a pair of nines. Idiot.
Anyway, I sure as hell got to kick ass for a time. Joep didn't stand a chance against my masterfully played hand and had to buy himself back in, only to be beaten by someone else. ouch, that had to hurt.
Any thoughts on that evening, Joep?
Then there was our Phil Hellmuth wannabe. This guy came dressed in a Hawaii shirt and wearing a cap. Goddamn, he probably still carries the Phil Hellmuth book in his pocket or maybe he ingrained it on the inside of his sunglasses.
Either way, it was a lousy Phil Hellmuth impression. For weeks, the object of discussion at my weekly Poker game at the local bar has been his spectacular inability to predict anyone's cards, despite talking almost all the time.
"Hmm, I'm betting you have a pair of jacks. "
"Hmm, can't do it with this hand. You had a pair?"
"I'm sure you have a flush or a straight..."
Well, let me tell you with the magic powers of hindsight, you were wrong almost all the time. If you can't talk your way into the cards of other people, then don't. All you end up doing do is entertain people instead of taking their money.
This picture shows our Phil Helmuth wannabe and to the right, unbelievably as it may seem, the winner. This drowsy looking character had a rough night before the tournament and couldn't get over his look of utter depravity. He practically screamed for his bed. Still, he won. The world is a cruel and unfair place.
Other then not winning, the night was pretty fun. We even had someone driving all the way down from Arnhem to my little place only to get his ass kicked by a bunch of peasants from the Dutch countryside. Hehe. Ah well, he did get to annoy me with rule technicalities so I suppose the night wasn't a complete waste for him either.
Next time, Marsman, next time.
Now, its back to the Phil Helmuth book of not sucking at poker. Or how the coyote from Road runner would put it:
Back to the drawing board.
Poker still rules!