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Wednesday, August 20, 2008 

Is This Faintly Ridiculous or What?

The algorithm on Full Tilt never ceases to amaze me. Having just won a $55 Turbo Sit and Go, I am three hands into another one and find two black jacks from early position, so I raise the pot to $140 and get four callers, no respect and a flop of 8-7-6 all spades, so happy-go-lucky I dive all-in. The first guy folds, the big blind is of no concern and the button hits "time" - so far so good - the little shit calls eventually, "slow-rolling" his way through amazement via delight with a stopover at smirk-city, as he reveals the stone-cold nuts - 10-9 of spades, a straight flush, an everyday occurrence round these parts, along with his twin brother quads. I smile and reach for the blog button.

Sunday saw the culmination of Full-Tilt's regular series, a $500 buy-in event, for which I'd played three qualifiers earlier in the afternoon in Oxford. I'd finished my week of videos in Henley with Barry feeling as good as it gets - thank you, thank you, thank you. U-Tube "Barry Long" if you must, but unlike what I said last time he ain't for the curious. This planet isn't quite ready for BL just yet....

I bubbled the one qualifier, making a small profit, lost another, but won the key one, a $75 Sit and Go. I'd actually had no intention of playing, but had been 'instructed' by a curious pub sign, The Seven Stars, having hired a postal dvd of The Seventh Seal, which I had found out (too late alas) to be utter garbage, but felt a certain obligation to watch it anyway. Demi Moore, pregnant back in the 80s, with shades of Rosemary's Baby, shades of The Omen and shades of shite too, but my sort of shite nonetheless. So ten minutes in, sanity is only retained by switching on the lappy, logging in and playing a blinder. An hour or so later, my seat assured, I pack it all up with the clock closing eight and head to pick up my son from Worcestershire, where I'm met with the inevitable delay as I look for more of these postal dvds. Cancel the subscription, cancel the credit card and never go there again.....

Max and I are now in the motor, the Main Event starts at eleven and it's two hours up the M1 before I'll be back home......so I'm wondering who can start the tourney off for me - not my brother as he'll donk off chips for sure, not Tom as he thinks Tilt sucks, but there is Shaun out in New Zealand... so a couple of text messages later and he reckons he'll be home before me, once he's dealt with the bank in Monday-morning Kiwiville, so I take my foot off the pedal and ease into the average-speed camera police-state scenario. Three great tips for these:

1. Change lanes all the time (recommended by the internet).
2. Hide behind lorries (Russian roulette and not enough of them on a Sunday night).
3. My favourite, as yet unproven but a lot of fun: flash the headlights right in their face with a joyous "fuck you" and fingers.

So no tickets yet touch-wood. It's at this point that I discover that banks in New Zealand are as you'd expect, slow, backward and full of Kiwi sheep-shaggers as well as other monday-morning stereotypes, so Shaun's not getting home anytime soon. I now have to step on it, with some well-timed lorries, some full-beam bonanza and hope in my heart...."It's a mission from God". I get home and luckily everyone's asleep, so no delays there. Max my son is in bed in seconds, while the computer is warming up, although a new software update costs me a few more blinds. But I'm soon in along with nearly 5000 others, having lost only 40 minutes and 400 chips (out of 5000). There's two and a half million dollars in the prize pool, with nearly half a mill for the winner, a hundred grand for fifth and money right down to 648th. I'm also racking up four tables of Omaha cash to add a further 50% to the burgeoning bank-roll.

Anyway I start well, negotiate the bubble with a shortish stack, and reach 23rd place at my peak (with around 100 players left), before running out of cards and shoving $150,000 all-in from the small blind. There was $40,000 in the middle from the blinds and antes, everyone else had folded and I had AQ off-suit, after what had seemed like hours of six-deuce. The big blind insta-called holding A-7 of diamonds and flops the nuts, three diamonds to shouts of "robbed" and "rigged" from my rail buddies - Shaun and now also Texas-Jake from the villa who'd been following progress and dreaming of a big win with flights to blighty for a slap-up. It was not to be: out in 54th place out of 4880 runners but I did take home $4500 for my troubles to cap a $7K week. The key is surely to play less - weird but true. Enough of my bad beats - it was good to show the boys I can still play the game after some no-shows in Vegas. Not smoking is a biggy for me, Mr Barry Long is bigger still for me, and the rest is down to the cards. Maybe just one more game....

1:12 AM | Permalink |

Friday, August 15, 2008 

Must Do Better

Yes, this is me apologising to you for not writing for far too long. The navel has been gazed, the smoking has continued with no quantum of solace, UNTIL.....08 08 08 a momentous day when an Olympic decision was made to put it to bed once and for all. The result is I'm feeling great, still playing poker but less addictively and more effectively. This week I've been watching videos near Henley, spending time with a man called Barry who's no longer with us but his legacy lives on - www.barrylong.org will give the curious an idea. I've played poker twice this week, once from the comfort of my car as thunder, hail and rainbows saw me play perfect Omaha for just under an hour - the result: I lost $500 with equanimity. Luckily I had just received my monthly rakeback of $550, so $50 profit...or not.....I flop the nut flush, he has the straight flush, I'm shafted and so it went on. Unphased I returned to the tables later that evening after another hour with Barry with my mind set on some righteous payback - the alternative was celebrating a birthday with a thousand teenagers at the house in which I'm staying half-an-hour's drive away in Oxford. Back on the Omaha tables I made my $500 back and signed in for a Pot-Limit Omaha Hi-Low Eight or better tournament, $75 to enter with eighty-five other runners.....Three hours later we were down to the bubble....ten players left with nine getting paid ($150 upwards). I'd been playing well and was leading by a fair margin.... One hour later we finally eliminated a player to get to the final table. I'd played well but no longer had the lead..... Twenty minutes later I'd regained the lead by which time we'd knocked out six of the nine players. Third would win $840, 2nd $1140, 1st $1920. This is the most important stage of any tournament - you have to convert these - my ratio at this stage is good and one hand later the point was proven. I dealt with the last two offenders in one fell swoop, very satisfied if not somewhat cheated as I'd bypassed the whole heads-up phase of relentless bluff-glorious bullying. Still I was not complaining. I'll give you the hand in due course for those wanting an education in the vagaries of Hi-Lo action. Right now it's bed and Barry again tomorrow. Thanks to you loyal readers who've been checking for updates. Bob, your jigsaw is next...I've done all my other orders and have saved the best for last. Andy great that you've enjoyed the diary so far - thanks for your comment too it means a lot to hear especially after my muppetry in Vegas and the ensuing blues that has been my diet for a few weeks now. 08 08 08 has dispelled all that - JOYOF6 is back: check my home-page for clarification. James and all you others I can promise you there's more in store.....adios amigos.

1:03 AM | Permalink |

Saturday, July 19, 2008 

Homeward Bound

What a joy to be back in this country of ours. I was done with America, its appalling media and its prozac-happy falseness. I can now turn on the radio without moronic commercialised blandness fucking my head-space, turn on the tv and not find bloody baseball. Everywhere in America, for me particularly noticeable in the poker rooms, there is this background of bollocks tv. Last year while playing the main event I nearly puked over seat 10 as the hot-dog eating championships aired to the unsuspecting. This year it took place in Vegas a week or so ago and some metabolic freak broke the world-record. In twelve minutes he managed to stuff in 66 dogs, that's one every eleven seconds - these people need to be arrested and stopped, in the name of public decency. They will pay with their lives in the long run of course, a simple failure to acknowledge that your body amounts to what you put in. Enough of them anyway - Bobby was good to me, putting me up beyond my expected stay. No thanks to manyana Mike - too long working in the marijuana dispensary I suspect. It is now legal in much of California, all that is needed is a doctor's note and some rizla.....

So here I am quietly clicking away in the background, still on Full Tilt, plying my two accounts (mine and my 'mum's', which affords me four-figure rakeback every month) playing some freeroll with a chance (eventually) to play Phil Ivey and Gus Hansen for a million quid. There is only one prize at this stage, $500 and a seat, so I am waiting for No-Limit-Shiva and Shivalingus to be moved to the same table, so they can get fruity. In the meantime I have had two nights back in Yorkshire and have been playing the tightest Omaha, six tables at a time, turning a tidy but very necessary profit. Daytime has seen me behind the wheel of the treadle machine, cutting jigsaw puzzles in between watching some weather-beaten golfers and searching for some unlikely hope in Headingley. I am lucky to have a thousand quid of jigsaws to cut and nearly the same back in the bank from some judicious omaha decisions. Max, my son arrives at midnight on Monday, Zeb my brother on Wednesday for his annual party and I am enjoying my first cigarette of the day - you can beat post-prandial. The night-shift has begun and my nut flush is being nailed by the straight flush, my full house by quads - bent poker on full tilt seems to be my karma right now. I'm still in the freeroll with both 'Shivas' - just limped with AK to flop quads and get paid off by some muppet with jack high. My poker is way better than before but will this translate into reddies? Watch this space.

9:45 PM | Permalink |

Tuesday, July 15, 2008 

The Real Hustle

A trip down Larry Flint's Hustler casino was a sufficient substitute for the Donkeyhouse. Guys pushing all in with nothing while I was smiling a full house all the way to the bank. The money was short-lived however as when I woke up my car had disappeared, leaving me to think of LA gangs hustling my little red Kia on a few drive-bys. The reality was I'd parked in front of someone's drive, and 200 bucks later it was free from the pound......oh dear. Spirits are high after a slight wobble and tomorrow I'm in the air. I've final-tabled a fair few online tournaments, but the big money (for the top three spots) is still proving elusive. As I write the world series main event is within one person of its final table. The biggest 'bubble' in poker as the remaining nine will be assured of lucrative pay-offs with big sponsorship deals to boot. I am ready for England - LA is a lonely place and my buddies from the villa are sorely missed. I still appear to have a few regular readers so I will try and keep up the writing. It does sometimes feel a little exposed here with the diary, but blog on I shall. It's also that poker is essentially mind-numbingly boring, so we may have to branch off....Evil Dennis has some suggestions but I'm not sure I can go there. Til soon...

10:21 AM | Permalink |

Friday, July 11, 2008 

Still doing Good Business

The poker session continues and the sun still shines somewhere outside and sometimes the moon too. I make occasional excursions outside to smoke and savour, before returning to raise and fold. Bobby and I have just concluded a 150 person rebuy tournament. We went into the final table in first and second position, and eventually finished third and second, my Ace-10 of hearts being outdrawn by KQ of diamonds when he hit runner-runner for his flush. Occasionally a shout from the other room - "he's yours Bobby, take him down", and Bobby duly did. Three seems to be the magic number - Mike get over here, I know you're reading this - I made the final table of a 6-handed multi last night (I had contributed a good portion of the $3 rebuys in a vain attempt to build chips early), reshoving Captain Aggression with King-Jack suited only to walk into his pocket Queens, busting out third after some Lazarus-like revivals, while pedalling my customary short-stack. I want a big stack please.

So we're back in the zone again and the day is young, although I'm no longer creaming the super-turbos, rather the opposite in fact - shafted by 'poker-donks' or maybe 'bots' with strange betting tendencies, programmed by nerds in some dark corner of Northern Europe to play the poker-screens while Klaus enjoys his sauna with Inga. No stereotypes here.

The poker robots are becoming increasingly prevalent and profitable. Bots were discovered milking the cash games on Full Tilt, one of the only two sites available to US players, thanks to big bad Bush, seems not give a damn as 24-hour robots mean 24-hour rake and more 'players'. Barack Obama loves his poker - whereas McCain has been known to love a 14-hour craps session, so the legislation may be reversed: it was after all sneaked in at the back of another bill that had already been approved, 'piggybacking' as it is known - this is why the Main Event numbers have declined since the peak of 2006 when almost 9,000 runners contributed to Jamie Gold's $12 million legal dispute. Come November, America will be a different world and poker will be on many people's minds with the circus returning to town for the WSOP final table. Who would you rather have in the Oval office, a geriatric foul-tempered crap addict or the guy who knows his way round a full house via the back-door flush. It's a no-brainer - old crappy crinkly guy or unite the nation weaver-boy? So America may get more choice than 'PokerStars' - great but not available on a Mac or the other option, Full-Tilt, where bots swarm, and data-miners track your every inclination. Yes I'm fed up with Tilt - spent a few hours earlier playing against lucky bots/donks.

It is a murky world - don't go there unless well-equipped, and the hands are ridculous - set-ups, stitch-ups and bad-beats. Anyone who says that online games aren't juiced up needs to come down to my poker-den for some improper education. Late/early last night I flop a set of 6s (three-of-a kind to the uninitiated) on a board of A-10-6. I get all-in with two others, both of whom have A-10, and without even a blink up pops the 'case' ten to nail my ass.... Pocket Aces every five minutes, usually in conflict with at least two other pairs, all flopping sets. More royal flushes than fingers with nut-flush draws, overpairs and more back-door options than the pet-shop boys' greatest hits. Online poker is like TV poker, they edit out the boring bits and every one goes broke, the bad players get lucky and all for one reason.....money. They sit on billions of our hard-gambled cash reaping the interest on top of the rapid-fire rake and they can't even mange customer support. Having said that Day one of the Main Event saw a flop of A-K-Q all clubs. The pre-flop raiser bets his trip Aces, which is then raised the minimum. The turn brings the fourth Ace, and all the money goes in to reveal J-10 of Clubs for the Royal Flush, busting out Quad Aces. So rigged or not rigged - who knows?

Evil Dennis is back from myriad misdemeanours, looking for more and liking the change of pace here in LA but is already hankering for bright lights and magnificent breasts.......although The Donkeyhouse, an underground poker den run by Thais with far too much gamble in their blood beckons.

So I'm in a knockout tourney - just taken my first scalp - a $2 bounty and Bobby's doing the six-table rebuy option, just seen a Royal Flush in spades, I've had the same once in a live game at "the Fox" which curiously led to me being backed by Nick and Rupert. I will be back next year to do justice to your investment. I'd like to come back for November and write it up for the poker-starved and maybe a wider audience too. What with a new president and the WSOP final, I think November here in the great-again USofA will be worth writing for.

...... fuck, fuck , fuck ....just fell victim to the curse of the pocket Jacks. I raised the limper, who'd just restolen our steal, and then the button raises just over half our stack. All I need to do is flat-call, see the flop of 7-2-2 and shove it right up his Yankee butt and he has to donk or fold his Ace-King. As it was I pushed pre-flop and the ever-present Ace on the river nailed my butt instead. You know what Evil has to say about this - yes me, a fucking loser. I need to get into playing more flops, trusting my instinct more and listening to the voices out there and that little voice in here. Rather like the pyramid of power, my 4-sided jasper pyramid that I place on top of my chips. Whenever I went to make an ill-fated raise it would slip somehow. I heard the message, "don't do it" yet couldn't stop myself and went ahead anyway. Does anyone know a cure for this? Answer's on a postcard to one the poker suites of BobbyTransville. AAARRGGHHH.

10:19 PM | Permalink |

Thursday, July 10, 2008 

Three is the magic number

It's been a strange but somewhat wonderful day. I attempted to go to sleep until someone from Manchester rang me at 5.30 a.m. for the second night running.... Evil Dennis has plans for Manchester. Unable to return to sleep I resolved immediate action and hit cyberspace armed with cartons of cigarettes, cups of tea and my new-improved knowledge. I dropped Jake off at the airport, Sean off at the Imperial Palace and the kids off on the way out. Heading out on Interstate 15 into the sunset we made good progress, thanks in part to Evil Dennis's cavalier disregard for the speed limits. Stopping for gas, smokes and sustenance I consigned Evil to a sulk in the back seat and discovered the wonders of cruise control...."you fucking loser was the refrain from behind" - I pointed out the five cop cars we passed at a sedate seventy but Evil is a thrills and spills man so wouldn't be told. Arriving in LA a few hours later, I made it to Downtown and Bobby Tran's place, covered in a film of pollution. It took us ten minutes and a sandwich before we got out the poker chips and the beer. Eight hours later Lam (Bobby's cousin) headed off to work the corporate legal world, lighter by a few dollars, and Bobby and I headed to the screens, where we are still conducting good business. Bobby's made it into the money of the $3 rebuy, I've raped the super-turbos, quadrupling my initial $400 buy-in and Evil is conducting his deviant agenda as usual. I have prised myself away from multi-table mayhem, content with just the two tourneys to write, currently lying 8th out of 78 in the hi-lo eight or better and looking to go higher. The lows are gone and I'm scooping the pot, buoyed by three wonderful messages - first my brother Zeb: "Hi Sim, really sorry to hear that you've been busted out. I imagine you've replayed the hand many times in your head and it's probably a bit of a head fuck. Try not to dwell on it and enjoy the rest of your stay. You have a sympathetic ear from me when you get back....and don't go crazeeee in the meantime!! Zx", made my day you did Zeb, that and the two comments on the blog. The mysterious Woody - who are you and how come you're here - wherever here might be? and Jo where can I possibly begin - perhaps where we left off.....? Thank you thrice, twice as nice, you have rocked my world....and got me back between the lines of low-roller heaven. That's your lot as Evil's champing at the bit, I'm off break in the multi (now lying second) and Bobby's in deep and doing well in the poker too: 14th out of 412 starters with 32 left, loving LA....

8:14 PM | Permalink |

And then there were two

Just Sean and I eating blueberry waffles, before a final swim and a race across the Mojave to Bobby Transville in downtown LA. I am feeling good - I know what action needs to be taken. Poker got me into this and poker can get me out. I put $400 onto the account, having donked off with some unlucky Omaha outdraws. A few hours of play later and it's over $1100, so the future's bright - it always is if you want it that way. I have made some friends for life, with options to visit Texas, Kiwiland and Thailand, and have learnt more about poker in the last two weeks from these guys than I have in the last two years. I may yet stay the distance - my flight is booked for the 15th and there's some money to be made in this ole screen here, plus an adventure or two, maybe even a return to good ole Vegas - I hear the Rhino season may be upon us soon - probably when Tom busts the main event (hopefully not til November)..... I also have a suitcase that's has been resident in New York for two and a half years so I should get it fedexed over, which will necessitate the delay - there's some good stuff in there. That's it for now - thank you my 53 loyal readers. thank you Paul for this great house

2:06 AM | Permalink |

Wednesday, July 09, 2008 

Aces and Kings

I found my aces today, alas not in my hand but in Captain Donkey's when I had kings - so he broke me. The house has been running bad or at least the good guys have. Dinner on Stu with his $48K payout was not forthcoming....Kiwi Sean and Streetfighter Jake have been diamonds. We've just returned from a double bill at the movies: Wanted and Hancock proving a good night's entertainment. The numbers on the blog seem to be rising...god knows why. Schadenfreude is still a beautiful word. Returning to England is not going to be easy. Three years I've spent my online profits here in Vegas and I'm questioning many things. I'm writing now more out of sense of duty than any real desire. Thanks for reading, thanks for backing me....should the book ever emerge and more crucially sell more than 52 copies I will be true to my promise and your investment shall return, but who's to say? It's five to four here and three's been good company tonight. I'm looking forward to a hug from my boy - a quantum of solace for the credit-crunch kid. The dream is not extinguished but the silver lining is elusive in a cloudless sky. Go west young man....

11:37 AM | Permalink |