And "what are you doing with yourself these days?" are two fine questions both of which I'm completely incapable of answering. They are my Achille's heel.
There isn't a question in the world you could ask me that derives as much hesitation, awkwardness and general social discombobulation than these two fine questions.
They actually wouldn't be so bad if they were asked in the middle of a conversation. I'd be OK with them then. I'd have "my eye in" as it were and have little problem stringing the few sentences together necessary to answer them both. But if you catch me cold with these two Q's boy do I turn into a babbling mess.
The truth is I don't have a job or take holidays. My life is a vocation. My life is a holiday. There's not one day in my life I don't enjoy anymore and that's the truth. I'm in the car business. I'm a gambler. I'm a ducker and diver. I'm not a plumber. Sometimes my pursuits send me on journeys which are like holidays. In fact I often treat them as such.
Life is for living and not for looking forward.
If you hate your job, leave your job. If you want a holiday do whatever it is you do on your holidays this weekend. If you want sunshine move out of Ireland. Life is so simple and yet we make it so hard.
Live in the present and the future will look after itself.
That's my take on it anyway. Life.
Meditation tapes to follow.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Friday, April 12, 2013
Traffic jam vulgarity.
There's few things in life that people can agree on unanimously but I suspect the dislike of traffic jams may just be one.
Dublin traffic is particularly bad. We get to see scouring faces, dismal, dewy weather and most of all, an abundance of mostly boring, always silver, cars.
You never quite know who's sat in the car next to you. Could be a millionaire. Could be your future spouse. Could be a murderer. Could even be all three? Today I'd be getting to meet one of my fellow commuters face to face.
Tiptoeing my way through three lanes of traffic on the Long Mile Road, the collision happened.
The screech rings through the air like the noise of a coke can scraped along the ground by a foot. It's the sound of two cars scratching against each other. One moving. One stationary. I, driving the moving car, feel every inch of the scrape like a nail against my skin. The motorist of the idle car can only furrow their brows and flood their brain with insults, accusations and general hatred towards me.
A friendly chat this would be not.
Like any deranged woman, neither a hoard of traffic nor the very real chance of death stopped her from diving out of her car, onto the main road, to confront me.
"You bett'r have insurance" screams the banshee as she makes for first the passenger and then the driver's side window, unaware of where I might actually be found in my vehicle.
Following a minute or so of abuse I finally shut the deranged woman up by pointing at the traffic which is starting to move around her.
We relocate to a nearby McDonalds where I once hosted my birthday to continue our discussion on the disrespect of youth today, boy racers and of course the uninsured driver.
"I've worked in the courts for four years." She says whilst shaking her head furiously. Such a righteous woman, hard to believe she didn't just have me arrested there and then for all my misgivings.
We needed a quote for the damage and it wasn't long before my Dad came to assess the repair costs.
"He needs to be thought a lesson" she says after we all agree a figure.
I guess I am lacking a bit in indecency.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
So I got clamped.....
Yesterday at around 5pm. The sign declared "DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DRIVE AWAY" and to be honest I had no intention. Montague Lane can be a lonely spot at the best of times (not least when you've done your conkers in the Jackpot) and yesterday was no exception. But Valentines day 2010 was not about teddy bears and chocolates or even flowers for all I could see was tarmac, puddles and a big yellow hindrance on the front wheel of my car.
With no parking fees on a Sunday you would guess its pretty difficult to get clamped. This was not the case (as the notice on my car was only too happy to tell me). Clamping is an all-day job and I'd bet it would have taken the full 24 hours too had we played "find my car in Dublin's city centre". But find it they did and clamp it they did and then I had to pay €80 to get it removed.
As the rain spitted down I got to see a full range of today's couples, arms linked. They strolled by my car ever so slowly in what was some kind of Valentine's piss take. Much like Romeo I was not so much in love as I was in love with the idea of being in love. Elderly couples even, walking around Montague Lane! I wanted off this set as it just didn't add up.
Then I called the clampers. I must say, the operator was tremendous. He got the tone just perfect, like a funeral director alone in his office. "How may I help you sir". To be fair, I think he knew what was coming next.
With the car reg, credit card, location and fine amount confirmed, everything was in place for me to get home and listen to the Smiths or something. €80 worse off and an ETA of one hour 15 mins all I could do was sit and contemplate the wasted time and money which the evening had resulted in. I could have been at home on facebook or having €80 on Dallas to win the Superbowl but instead I was a prisoner in my own car. On Montague Lane.
But the operator had one more question.
"OK Sir. Everything is now in place. Finally, would you like to receive a text message alerting you when your clamp has been removed for just 20 cents?"
"Nah. Sure I'll be able to see it being removed when I look out the windscreen."
With no parking fees on a Sunday you would guess its pretty difficult to get clamped. This was not the case (as the notice on my car was only too happy to tell me). Clamping is an all-day job and I'd bet it would have taken the full 24 hours too had we played "find my car in Dublin's city centre". But find it they did and clamp it they did and then I had to pay €80 to get it removed.
As the rain spitted down I got to see a full range of today's couples, arms linked. They strolled by my car ever so slowly in what was some kind of Valentine's piss take. Much like Romeo I was not so much in love as I was in love with the idea of being in love. Elderly couples even, walking around Montague Lane! I wanted off this set as it just didn't add up.
Then I called the clampers. I must say, the operator was tremendous. He got the tone just perfect, like a funeral director alone in his office. "How may I help you sir". To be fair, I think he knew what was coming next.
With the car reg, credit card, location and fine amount confirmed, everything was in place for me to get home and listen to the Smiths or something. €80 worse off and an ETA of one hour 15 mins all I could do was sit and contemplate the wasted time and money which the evening had resulted in. I could have been at home on facebook or having €80 on Dallas to win the Superbowl but instead I was a prisoner in my own car. On Montague Lane.
But the operator had one more question.
"OK Sir. Everything is now in place. Finally, would you like to receive a text message alerting you when your clamp has been removed for just 20 cents?"
"Nah. Sure I'll be able to see it being removed when I look out the windscreen."
Tuesday, February 05, 2013
The meander
It's never good when you're overtaken at 3mph. I was coming to the end of my walk this evening when the episode happened. Apparently a lot of these incidents take place close to home and this one was no different. She was a walker (you know the type - female, 40s, black gloves, swaying arms etc) who overtook me slipstream-style. That is, she trotted right up behind me, breading down my neck almost and then weaved out violently to the right and past. The initial reaction was one of shock. Disbelief. It was only a short while after the event that I began feeling dejected. I keep telling myself it was a 'leisurely stroll' but it will not over-ride the voices. It will not conceal the fact that I am in fact a snail.
L'escargot may have halted the run of Red Rum's Grand National wins but being thought of as the snail of my local area is a frightening thought to me. It floods back many ill-fated memories of heel clips in corridors by those walking at normal speeds behind me. Like a learner driver, a cargo train or the slow boat to England, nobody likes a plodding walker. To be honest the whole concept of walking or 'going for a walk' is probably somewhat foreign to many in my age bracket. It doesn't quite have the same ring to it as 'going on the lash' does it? I don't have headphones in either for that would distract me. Walks are for thinking and especially muttering. 'That's Limerick City' I muttered at one point tonight for absolutely no reason.
During one of my summer walks I was stopped by the police on Greentrees Rd. The car pulled up alongside me at a walking speed as if I were a hooker. "Name" is all I heard from the passenger’s seat. I'm not sure what way they're thought in Templemore other than the critical tutorials into the development of bad attitudes. Either way, the result is when they graduate they don’t talk in their native accent, ask questions or talk in coherent sentences. Instead they learn a list of words which are randomly juxtaposed and fired at 'individuals'. He was like one of those gangsta rappers that say random one word statements like "Word" and what not. I was flummoxed. Looking around me like a bad liar all I could muster was "What?” The officer repeated his one word statement and eventually I gave him my name following a moment of needless reluctance. He looked me up and down as I continued to play the role of prostitute. Dressed in a hoodie and trackie bottoms it was also well past midnight all of which led him to his concluding statement. "Away home now Gary"
L'escargot may have halted the run of Red Rum's Grand National wins but being thought of as the snail of my local area is a frightening thought to me. It floods back many ill-fated memories of heel clips in corridors by those walking at normal speeds behind me. Like a learner driver, a cargo train or the slow boat to England, nobody likes a plodding walker. To be honest the whole concept of walking or 'going for a walk' is probably somewhat foreign to many in my age bracket. It doesn't quite have the same ring to it as 'going on the lash' does it? I don't have headphones in either for that would distract me. Walks are for thinking and especially muttering. 'That's Limerick City' I muttered at one point tonight for absolutely no reason.
During one of my summer walks I was stopped by the police on Greentrees Rd. The car pulled up alongside me at a walking speed as if I were a hooker. "Name" is all I heard from the passenger’s seat. I'm not sure what way they're thought in Templemore other than the critical tutorials into the development of bad attitudes. Either way, the result is when they graduate they don’t talk in their native accent, ask questions or talk in coherent sentences. Instead they learn a list of words which are randomly juxtaposed and fired at 'individuals'. He was like one of those gangsta rappers that say random one word statements like "Word" and what not. I was flummoxed. Looking around me like a bad liar all I could muster was "What?” The officer repeated his one word statement and eventually I gave him my name following a moment of needless reluctance. He looked me up and down as I continued to play the role of prostitute. Dressed in a hoodie and trackie bottoms it was also well past midnight all of which led him to his concluding statement. "Away home now Gary"
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Orange Juice Heaven
They say ‘You are what you eat’ and if that’s truly the case then I’m a crisp sandwich. You see packed lunches have been as much a part of my near 20 years of schooling as books have. My earliest memories of packed lunches were on field trips. Remember the class trips in school when you had to bring a double-lunch? Gosh you’d be stuffed. I got sick into my jumper coming back from Mosney one year. I figured it’d be more polite to get sick into that than the girl sat next to me. People kept asking me the whole way back to Kimmage Manor why I did it, why did I ruin my jumper. They wanted the girl puked on, evil bastards.
Speaking of girls. In an amazing turn of events last year, my reliable carton of Sqeez doubled as a cross-journalism-classroom-flirtation-mega-prop in which I captured the heart of a (possibly) Belgian girl. As I pierced a hole through film then carton, I knew it was on. Her eyes glazed over and she paused in mesmerisation. Suddenly and without warning she snapped out of her daze and reached into her schoolbag in a love scene taken straight from the script of a Deep Riverrock ad. And there it was a two litre carton of Sqeez, which she drank with both considerable ease and allure. My pen dropped, still wet from my mouth. It was a match made in orange juice heaven.
It’s also a unique gambit to a best man’s speech. Speaking of weddings don’t they always seem to involve cake? Now cake is a dish which is usually served casually. That is, its rarely part of a sit-down meal. “Will ya have a bit of cake?” is a favourite line among many a pastry giver. With two arms full of saucers you feel obliged to help the lady out. So you accept it grudgingly, you might even take a bite to please the host. Mouthful of Heineken and double chocolate fudge: sure isn’t that what were all after?
But it’s not over there. Oh no. You have now become a cake eater and they won’t relent until you burst. “Will ya have another bit of cake, there’s a load left?” and before you can begin to answer there’s another plate in front of you. Their eyes light up when they see you- the cake givers. People who wouldn’t dare speak to you all night suddenly approach you like you’re their long lost brother. If they associate your face with cake, that’s it.
Just a closing thought on food-offerings-politeness. It’s important to leave 1/8th of your food if somebody makes you a meal. An empty plate is a great insult to somebody’s generosity. How are they supposed to know if they gave you enough? Although it’s a thin line you walk, anything less than 2/3rd’s of an empty plate and you hated the meal. “Ah you probably don’t like sausage and chips?” is one such jab you may get.
They also say ‘the quickest way to a girl’s heart is through her tummy’ and filling it with alcohol certainly seems to do the trick. For me it’s been somewhat of a role reversal 20 years on except the girls aren’t getting sick in jumpers. Part of me wishes I took the chance to get sick on that girl while the offer was on the table and it was still deemed acceptable. If nothing else it was a certain crowd pleaser. I can still hear the mixture of laughs and gasps – somewhere in my imagination.
Speaking of girls. In an amazing turn of events last year, my reliable carton of Sqeez doubled as a cross-journalism-classroom-flirtation-mega-prop in which I captured the heart of a (possibly) Belgian girl. As I pierced a hole through film then carton, I knew it was on. Her eyes glazed over and she paused in mesmerisation. Suddenly and without warning she snapped out of her daze and reached into her schoolbag in a love scene taken straight from the script of a Deep Riverrock ad. And there it was a two litre carton of Sqeez, which she drank with both considerable ease and allure. My pen dropped, still wet from my mouth. It was a match made in orange juice heaven.
It’s also a unique gambit to a best man’s speech. Speaking of weddings don’t they always seem to involve cake? Now cake is a dish which is usually served casually. That is, its rarely part of a sit-down meal. “Will ya have a bit of cake?” is a favourite line among many a pastry giver. With two arms full of saucers you feel obliged to help the lady out. So you accept it grudgingly, you might even take a bite to please the host. Mouthful of Heineken and double chocolate fudge: sure isn’t that what were all after?
But it’s not over there. Oh no. You have now become a cake eater and they won’t relent until you burst. “Will ya have another bit of cake, there’s a load left?” and before you can begin to answer there’s another plate in front of you. Their eyes light up when they see you- the cake givers. People who wouldn’t dare speak to you all night suddenly approach you like you’re their long lost brother. If they associate your face with cake, that’s it.
Just a closing thought on food-offerings-politeness. It’s important to leave 1/8th of your food if somebody makes you a meal. An empty plate is a great insult to somebody’s generosity. How are they supposed to know if they gave you enough? Although it’s a thin line you walk, anything less than 2/3rd’s of an empty plate and you hated the meal. “Ah you probably don’t like sausage and chips?” is one such jab you may get.
They also say ‘the quickest way to a girl’s heart is through her tummy’ and filling it with alcohol certainly seems to do the trick. For me it’s been somewhat of a role reversal 20 years on except the girls aren’t getting sick in jumpers. Part of me wishes I took the chance to get sick on that girl while the offer was on the table and it was still deemed acceptable. If nothing else it was a certain crowd pleaser. I can still hear the mixture of laughs and gasps – somewhere in my imagination.
Monday, January 14, 2013
The Disko Bar
Trudging down the tight, windy staircase
surrounded by metal walls I should have known this was no ordinary nightclub. The
entrance was suspicious too, a tall wooden door like that of a haunted house.
Never a man to shy away from subtle curiosity, I had to pop in for a look.
Located on the main thorough-fair of Latvia's capital city, you would have thought it was a reputable spot. Only a select few bars are open at 1am and fresh from poker and NFL punting success I was in no mood to go home. The Disko bar was the perfect night-cap for me.
Upon entry I was treated to an open-armed welcome and a cry of "Come in!' by the friendly barman. Gosh there was hardly anybody in the place yet he could still muster a smile.
The barman proceeded to wax lyrical about the range of drinks he had to offer before I cut him short and plumed for a bottle of the local beer.
Not long into my second bottle, we were greeted by the arrival of a pair of local stunners who stumbled down the stairs full of giggles. Hesitant by the lack of people inside they almost turned around but alas gentle persuasion remains a man's best friend and it wasn't long before the two were perched alongside the drunken Irishman and his impossibly good humour.
"Drink for the girls?" suggested the bar-keep. It was like he had read my mind.
Sambuca x 4 and vodka cocktails was the order of the day and before too long we were all up on the dance floor raising the roof and running the show.
I was drunk and there was no escaping it.
It had all the makings of the Eastern European party you would never forget. Beautiful women are so plentiful in Latvia that they have to hang out somewhere. Tonight they'd be partying with me. It was a story which no one would believe but I didn't care. I was too high on life and vodka cocktails.
"The bill, Sir?" Says the friendly barman just as the DJ lowers the tempo of what had been a rocking set.
€218.40 is a figure that's difficult to compute no matter how drunk you are. It would also prove hard to forget as I'd be reading it 5 times on my bank statement the following morning.
Let the disko-bar-beverage-buyer beware.
Never a man to shy away from subtle curiosity, I had to pop in for a look.
Located on the main thorough-fair of Latvia's capital city, you would have thought it was a reputable spot. Only a select few bars are open at 1am and fresh from poker and NFL punting success I was in no mood to go home. The Disko bar was the perfect night-cap for me.
Upon entry I was treated to an open-armed welcome and a cry of "Come in!' by the friendly barman. Gosh there was hardly anybody in the place yet he could still muster a smile.
The barman proceeded to wax lyrical about the range of drinks he had to offer before I cut him short and plumed for a bottle of the local beer.
Not long into my second bottle, we were greeted by the arrival of a pair of local stunners who stumbled down the stairs full of giggles. Hesitant by the lack of people inside they almost turned around but alas gentle persuasion remains a man's best friend and it wasn't long before the two were perched alongside the drunken Irishman and his impossibly good humour.
"Drink for the girls?" suggested the bar-keep. It was like he had read my mind.
Sambuca x 4 and vodka cocktails was the order of the day and before too long we were all up on the dance floor raising the roof and running the show.
I was drunk and there was no escaping it.
It had all the makings of the Eastern European party you would never forget. Beautiful women are so plentiful in Latvia that they have to hang out somewhere. Tonight they'd be partying with me. It was a story which no one would believe but I didn't care. I was too high on life and vodka cocktails.
"The bill, Sir?" Says the friendly barman just as the DJ lowers the tempo of what had been a rocking set.
€218.40 is a figure that's difficult to compute no matter how drunk you are. It would also prove hard to forget as I'd be reading it 5 times on my bank statement the following morning.
Let the disko-bar-beverage-buyer beware.
Monday, January 07, 2013
The uninvited guest
It’s not something you do when you’re sober is it – walk around the side of a house and look underneath the half shut blinds. It seems there’s nothing quite as hypnotic as the sound of guitars blasting and drunkards whaling when you’re walking home from a night out. It’s like a magnet which draws you in – regardless of gates and vehicles for obstacles. I have no doubt what I would have done had I been caught too. I would have run for the hills like a burglar who’d got the lot.
But the allure of the late night party is all encompassing. You convince yourself that you knew their cousin or you’re friends with the man that put in their alarm. The common ground is endless once the house owner gives you a fair trial. Lenient owners will often agree with you. ‘Ah you know Kevin who put in the alarm? Marie he knows Kevin who put in the alarm. Get him a can of Carlsburg there.’
I’ve had some incredibly ridiculous conversations at these sorts of parties which never seem to happen under normal conditions. Like 1990s formula 1 racing, Harvey Keitel films or whether or not David Connolly played up front for Wolves with Robbie Keane. There’s always a trivia buff at these gatherings it seems - whose useless knowledge is otherwise redundant normally. Often, when you play back the arguments which take place you realise it was him that had brought up the Jos Verstappen pit-stop fire in 1994 so he probably did know what team he was driving for at the time.
We all have guilty pleasures like eating Liga or making 100s of prank calls but there’s something about the late night party which makes it both the greatest and most illustrious guilty pleasure of them all for me.
There have been quite a few shindigs which I’ve rambled across whilst plastered and I have often wondered what the etiquette is. At the time I’m always convinced ‘it’s what they would have wanted’ when I loiter outside a house for hours. I tell myself if I was hosting a party I’d want nothing more than passing drunken traffic calling in for a chat and a free drink.
But it’s not really what they want is it? In the cold light of day I now know it’s not ‘what they would have wanted’ and if anything I should be reported.
But the allure of the late night party is all encompassing. You convince yourself that you knew their cousin or you’re friends with the man that put in their alarm. The common ground is endless once the house owner gives you a fair trial. Lenient owners will often agree with you. ‘Ah you know Kevin who put in the alarm? Marie he knows Kevin who put in the alarm. Get him a can of Carlsburg there.’
I’ve had some incredibly ridiculous conversations at these sorts of parties which never seem to happen under normal conditions. Like 1990s formula 1 racing, Harvey Keitel films or whether or not David Connolly played up front for Wolves with Robbie Keane. There’s always a trivia buff at these gatherings it seems - whose useless knowledge is otherwise redundant normally. Often, when you play back the arguments which take place you realise it was him that had brought up the Jos Verstappen pit-stop fire in 1994 so he probably did know what team he was driving for at the time.
We all have guilty pleasures like eating Liga or making 100s of prank calls but there’s something about the late night party which makes it both the greatest and most illustrious guilty pleasure of them all for me.
There have been quite a few shindigs which I’ve rambled across whilst plastered and I have often wondered what the etiquette is. At the time I’m always convinced ‘it’s what they would have wanted’ when I loiter outside a house for hours. I tell myself if I was hosting a party I’d want nothing more than passing drunken traffic calling in for a chat and a free drink.
But it’s not really what they want is it? In the cold light of day I now know it’s not ‘what they would have wanted’ and if anything I should be reported.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
The Student's Union Councillor
“Here, that microphone was supposed to be returned by 11am” began the voicemail. I’ve learned through experience that anybody who starts a sentence with the word ‘Here’ will always be difficult. Attacking a man on the telephone when you know he’s hungover is cruel but leaving it in a voicemail is cowardly. I wouldn’t have minded as much if I hadn’t to wait hours the previous day to get a hold of it. 11.03 in the AM and she’s already on my case.
Their offices look like something a five year old would design. There’s pink walls, huggie pencils and posters everywhere. There’s a shelf full of opened envelopes and an unlimited supply of sellotape. Picture a crèche without the coloured balls. They have “campaigns” to get in and they were persistently bullied throughout school. They are Students Union representatives and they sit there, eating Haribo, full of their own importance.
All set for a long and prosperous career in HR they spend their entire work day either shaking their heads or passing the buck. They are the people responsible for Jock Soc, Block Soc, Dock Soc and Lock Soc. Hundreds of thousands of taxpayer’s Euros wasted on these societies whose sole purpose is to provide logo-ed hoodies, facepaint and rented bouncing castles. I recently had to hire a microphone from these kids and good Jesus was it vexing.
“Is this for the LGBT night?!” asked one boy excitedly with neatly folded hair. There are a lot of these acronyms in college and despite being tired of them I had to ask him what that was in English. “Oh it stands for the Lesbian Gay Bisexual and Transgender society.” In the moment of insultation I weakly used the acronym myself in demanding “Why, do I strike you as an LGBT?”
I was hurt yet unsure which of the four I best represent. College is all about overcoming social adversity. With the bullies weeded out, people are free to be young free and gay. Having social charisma is about being different. I sometimes wonder if I was less normal would I become more popular. I’m not an L a G a B or even a T and I still can’t see the hilarity in Ultimate Frisbee.
I did eventually get the microphone back, albeit in three journeys. Her face became more disgruntled on each of my reappearances. Maybe the more she sat and glazed expectantly the quicker and more efficient she thought I would become?
The one time I actually required her services she was gone. I planned to collect my deposit after the final leg of the microphone returning shift but sure enough all that was left was a burly, curly-haired assistant. I looked around in confusion, like a dog that’s lost his ball. “There’s a very important meet-e-onay going on in there.” He was like Ned Flanders trapped in the body of Leo Cullen. The one administrative service I required was put on hold because of the very important meeting - probably to decide if the walls should be painted yellow next year.
Their offices look like something a five year old would design. There’s pink walls, huggie pencils and posters everywhere. There’s a shelf full of opened envelopes and an unlimited supply of sellotape. Picture a crèche without the coloured balls. They have “campaigns” to get in and they were persistently bullied throughout school. They are Students Union representatives and they sit there, eating Haribo, full of their own importance.
All set for a long and prosperous career in HR they spend their entire work day either shaking their heads or passing the buck. They are the people responsible for Jock Soc, Block Soc, Dock Soc and Lock Soc. Hundreds of thousands of taxpayer’s Euros wasted on these societies whose sole purpose is to provide logo-ed hoodies, facepaint and rented bouncing castles. I recently had to hire a microphone from these kids and good Jesus was it vexing.
“Is this for the LGBT night?!” asked one boy excitedly with neatly folded hair. There are a lot of these acronyms in college and despite being tired of them I had to ask him what that was in English. “Oh it stands for the Lesbian Gay Bisexual and Transgender society.” In the moment of insultation I weakly used the acronym myself in demanding “Why, do I strike you as an LGBT?”
I was hurt yet unsure which of the four I best represent. College is all about overcoming social adversity. With the bullies weeded out, people are free to be young free and gay. Having social charisma is about being different. I sometimes wonder if I was less normal would I become more popular. I’m not an L a G a B or even a T and I still can’t see the hilarity in Ultimate Frisbee.
I did eventually get the microphone back, albeit in three journeys. Her face became more disgruntled on each of my reappearances. Maybe the more she sat and glazed expectantly the quicker and more efficient she thought I would become?
The one time I actually required her services she was gone. I planned to collect my deposit after the final leg of the microphone returning shift but sure enough all that was left was a burly, curly-haired assistant. I looked around in confusion, like a dog that’s lost his ball. “There’s a very important meet-e-onay going on in there.” He was like Ned Flanders trapped in the body of Leo Cullen. The one administrative service I required was put on hold because of the very important meeting - probably to decide if the walls should be painted yellow next year.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
The unknown victim
We live in a society that demands shoes taken off at the front door. We are all au fait with our coats being taken as a house guest, just look at 'Come dine with me'. But it won’t be long, I predict, before you hear the phrase ‘Can I take your shoes?’ upon house entry. For a long time now I have automatically taken my shoes off when entering my home. This may seem daft to some but for the rest it’s normality. Today, I’m regretting my stance on this issue.
One of the best forms of adrenaline is that which comes from the moment when you know ‘this is going to hurt’. Climbing smugly down the attic stairs following an impressive darts session, the glee was quickly wiped off my face as my feet went from under me. I crashed through the half-open door like a first-and-goal running back to hear the yelps of ‘Are you all right?’ 0.25 sec after I hit the ground. You’re never quite sure if you are in fact all right until about 5 seconds after. All you can do is let your senses reset and hope that you’re not greeted with agony on the other side. Thankfully today there was nothing broken. Just a few grazes but they never get any commiseration.
In these moments of hilarious stupidity I always rue my habit of wearing socks indoors. I fall down the stairs about twice yearly and every single time it is for that reason. Gasping in a heap all I can do is cuss the lack of grip with which my socks permit me. I could consider buying those slipper socks but a vague recollection tells me they were pants not to mention shoe unfriendly. No point wearing socks that you can’t wear shoes over I say.
When it comes to spills we all have fond memories of the RTE news ice faller but spare a thought for those who didn’t get the limelight. On Christmas Day last year while most were eating pudding or unwrapping bad gifts, I fell twice in as many roads unnoticed. In one footstep I went from perfectly upright to flat on my back. Duncan Stewart tells us that ‘gas is a silent killer’ but that ice is no godsend either.
In 2005 ice broke my elbow after it turned over my moped on a trip to DIT. Two doors down from my house, I swore like a Chinese rapist through my fogged up helmet. Abandoning both bike and reason, I stormed back to the house while the wheels spun and the engine continued purring in the background.
Society demands injury for sympathy and I’ve learned from experience that my recent slip will go largely uncommiserated. ‘Show me the wounds and I’ll show you my pity’ is the general consensus I have found and without a sling I am but an unknown victim. I urge those of you who un-shoe to take care around the house. Carpeted stairs are particularly hazardous.
One of the best forms of adrenaline is that which comes from the moment when you know ‘this is going to hurt’. Climbing smugly down the attic stairs following an impressive darts session, the glee was quickly wiped off my face as my feet went from under me. I crashed through the half-open door like a first-and-goal running back to hear the yelps of ‘Are you all right?’ 0.25 sec after I hit the ground. You’re never quite sure if you are in fact all right until about 5 seconds after. All you can do is let your senses reset and hope that you’re not greeted with agony on the other side. Thankfully today there was nothing broken. Just a few grazes but they never get any commiseration.
In these moments of hilarious stupidity I always rue my habit of wearing socks indoors. I fall down the stairs about twice yearly and every single time it is for that reason. Gasping in a heap all I can do is cuss the lack of grip with which my socks permit me. I could consider buying those slipper socks but a vague recollection tells me they were pants not to mention shoe unfriendly. No point wearing socks that you can’t wear shoes over I say.
When it comes to spills we all have fond memories of the RTE news ice faller but spare a thought for those who didn’t get the limelight. On Christmas Day last year while most were eating pudding or unwrapping bad gifts, I fell twice in as many roads unnoticed. In one footstep I went from perfectly upright to flat on my back. Duncan Stewart tells us that ‘gas is a silent killer’ but that ice is no godsend either.
In 2005 ice broke my elbow after it turned over my moped on a trip to DIT. Two doors down from my house, I swore like a Chinese rapist through my fogged up helmet. Abandoning both bike and reason, I stormed back to the house while the wheels spun and the engine continued purring in the background.
Society demands injury for sympathy and I’ve learned from experience that my recent slip will go largely uncommiserated. ‘Show me the wounds and I’ll show you my pity’ is the general consensus I have found and without a sling I am but an unknown victim. I urge those of you who un-shoe to take care around the house. Carpeted stairs are particularly hazardous.
Tuesday, December 04, 2012
Life as a layabout.
It’s quite the fright you get when you open your curtains in the morning and there’s a man staring back at you. I’m not sure who got more of a scare but I guess he certainly had more to lose. If you get a fright on a ladder it’s a long way down, although my head went perilously close to the roof. Washing windows is not a noble profession but the last thing you want is a person looking out at you suddenly from the inside. It makes the job a whole lot worse.
We all have unfond memories of hard labour but I think I might be allergic. One of the reasons I stayed in college so long is the sheer threat of getting up in the morning and having to go ‘ta wurk’. Women love men who can put up a shelf yet I can barely put out the bins. Manual labour may make you more masculine but it seems like the pursuit of the mindless. It’s all 6am starts and carvarys at noon, sweating your way through the day.
I once had to dig up Harolds Cross greyhound track and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered. In and out of tractors, cutting your hand twice an hour and wanting to punch someone on your way home was the customary day. Wearing your worst Adidas bottoms and a pair of your old runners it’s seems like after the first couple of minutes you couldn’t wait for a shower. Maybe it could be your calling in life but the only thing I could hear were swear words.
“Don’t mind me” he says, barging through the door of my room. To be fair this chap was a gentleman. Watching Racing UK in my boxers and scoffing a bowl of Raisin Splitz at 11am, he must have thought I was an absolute layabout. Yet he didn’t pass any comment. He was a man at work and I wasn’t many grades up from a corpse. We shared a delicate few minutes as he washed the inside windows and I lay in silence. I thought about making conversation but my self esteem was not at its highest. In fact the only steam apparent was that which left my ears on his departing comment.
“Good night.”
We all have unfond memories of hard labour but I think I might be allergic. One of the reasons I stayed in college so long is the sheer threat of getting up in the morning and having to go ‘ta wurk’. Women love men who can put up a shelf yet I can barely put out the bins. Manual labour may make you more masculine but it seems like the pursuit of the mindless. It’s all 6am starts and carvarys at noon, sweating your way through the day.
I once had to dig up Harolds Cross greyhound track and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered. In and out of tractors, cutting your hand twice an hour and wanting to punch someone on your way home was the customary day. Wearing your worst Adidas bottoms and a pair of your old runners it’s seems like after the first couple of minutes you couldn’t wait for a shower. Maybe it could be your calling in life but the only thing I could hear were swear words.
“Don’t mind me” he says, barging through the door of my room. To be fair this chap was a gentleman. Watching Racing UK in my boxers and scoffing a bowl of Raisin Splitz at 11am, he must have thought I was an absolute layabout. Yet he didn’t pass any comment. He was a man at work and I wasn’t many grades up from a corpse. We shared a delicate few minutes as he washed the inside windows and I lay in silence. I thought about making conversation but my self esteem was not at its highest. In fact the only steam apparent was that which left my ears on his departing comment.
“Good night.”
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Close call with a phony thief
Its 5am and the warm November Tenerife sun is about to come out. I'm stood outside a house waiting for the kind soul who 'happened upon' my phone to return it and am looking forward to getting home after another very drunken night which begun and ended as a solo excursion.
'I believe you lost your phone mate?' the guy says as both statement and question. Tiresome, drunken and altogether fed up I can only nod in agreement. He gives me a consoling look and begins walking in the direction of a nearby gateway to an apartment complex. We share some small talk for both situation and language constraint reasons as villain number two enters the set shielded by the black gate.
Carrying what looks like an ice cream tub, my latest villain is of Romanian descent. 'You want your phone back, you pay me 400' he begins whilst fumbling through at least eight iPhones in the tub. In the moment of exasperation all I could do was remember back to only a few days previous when I heard a radio discussion panel declaring that swinging an iPhone around at night-time was the equivalent of waving around a €300 banknote.
Crestfallen, indignant and more than a little annoyed with myself I pull out €180 from my pocket in partial belief the thief would be treating himself to some cash as well.
But sometimes the storm eases when you fear it's at its worst. There would be respite on this occasion and I guess I should be thankful that thieves are still as thick as ever. I'd be getting my phone back instead of the more obvious route of getting robbed for the lot.
At this point, rather hilariously, we had to figure out which of the stolen iPhones was actually mine. After a while of looking at photos of cats and strangers' girlfriends eventually he got up a photo of a car I had recently taken and I declared 'That’s mine'. As he handed me back the phone I correct myself by saying 'the phone not the car' with a giggle in a transaction which could only be reserved for absolute rage.
On the face of it I'd certainly prefer to lose the €180 than the phone and as a budding optimist that's the reflection I'll leave with. Yes I should have called the police. Yes I was being an idiot. But also yes to the capacity for rational thought and safe guarding of phones waning after the last of the '3 shots & 3 cocktails for 3 euro' is sunk.
Maybe you might learn something from my mistake. Hopefully I will.
'I believe you lost your phone mate?' the guy says as both statement and question. Tiresome, drunken and altogether fed up I can only nod in agreement. He gives me a consoling look and begins walking in the direction of a nearby gateway to an apartment complex. We share some small talk for both situation and language constraint reasons as villain number two enters the set shielded by the black gate.
Carrying what looks like an ice cream tub, my latest villain is of Romanian descent. 'You want your phone back, you pay me 400' he begins whilst fumbling through at least eight iPhones in the tub. In the moment of exasperation all I could do was remember back to only a few days previous when I heard a radio discussion panel declaring that swinging an iPhone around at night-time was the equivalent of waving around a €300 banknote.
Crestfallen, indignant and more than a little annoyed with myself I pull out €180 from my pocket in partial belief the thief would be treating himself to some cash as well.
But sometimes the storm eases when you fear it's at its worst. There would be respite on this occasion and I guess I should be thankful that thieves are still as thick as ever. I'd be getting my phone back instead of the more obvious route of getting robbed for the lot.
At this point, rather hilariously, we had to figure out which of the stolen iPhones was actually mine. After a while of looking at photos of cats and strangers' girlfriends eventually he got up a photo of a car I had recently taken and I declared 'That’s mine'. As he handed me back the phone I correct myself by saying 'the phone not the car' with a giggle in a transaction which could only be reserved for absolute rage.
On the face of it I'd certainly prefer to lose the €180 than the phone and as a budding optimist that's the reflection I'll leave with. Yes I should have called the police. Yes I was being an idiot. But also yes to the capacity for rational thought and safe guarding of phones waning after the last of the '3 shots & 3 cocktails for 3 euro' is sunk.
Maybe you might learn something from my mistake. Hopefully I will.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Time to improve
A long two weeks of poker and little joy. It started with a trip to Killarney. Connie put on a good show as usual put my show never got started. A short stack going into day two I was gone in 10 hands. Made an incorrect fold of two pair against Caoimh and put a bluff on a fella who was always going to call with top pair no kicker. Looking back on it I'm quite disappointed in how I played. Towards the end of day one I was extremely reckless calling people down with ace high for no reason. It was desperation stuff in what seemed like a run of a gazillion tournaments Ive played without picking up any wealth of cards.
I tried to brush myself off after my Killarney exit and relaxed for a few hours before playing a cash game that night. I played long and hard into the night and was never ahead. I ended up down €600 for the night. I watched all the other poker lads having a good time at the bar and thought of all my other friends back in Dublin who were out in town that night. Saturday night. And here was me with a bunch of 47 1/2 year olds, doing my nuts.
Sunday was another expensive day. I searched for a lift to Clonmel so I could get up to the coursing festival. 150 poker players in the Killarney main event, surely somebody would be making the trip up. Several hours later I had bagged myself a lift. A watch salesman from Galway offered me a spin for the price of the juice to get there. A central clause in the deal. The journey up was a little frightening because of three reasons. Number one he was stoned from all the hash he was smoking en route. Number two he was driving 80mph+ and overtaking everyone, even on single white lines. Number three he was talking to my face rather than looking ahead.
I arrived in Clonmel a little bit ill but relieved that this particular roller coaster was over. Then the watch-man cornered me. He wanted me to buy half his entry into the €300 tournament in return for the lift he had given me. Oh dear. The only thing that he had actually lifted was my stomach to just below my mouth, surely I wouldn't have to give him that much money? So there I was trying to reason with him that €150 was a bit much for a drive from Killarney. I offered him €50 and he snapped my hand off. This was one of the more casual muggings I have experienced. Later in the week I would encounter a much more above the line heist watching travellers playing 3 card trick outside Clonmel Racecourse, also for €50s.
I played cash that evening and posted my second losing live session of the week. I played bad and ran bad. A good effort all round. The one saving grace was that i had secured a room for €40 a night during the coursing festival. A fair saving from the €720 the Clonmel Park Hotel quoted me for a 3 nights stay. You do get one evening meal with that though.
The time was right too for our gentleman offering lifts. He got a room for next to nothing as well. In fact it was nothing. He didn't pay anything just checked out the following morning and left me with the bill. I do tend to get shafted betimes.
I played two more days in Clonmel and continued the losing streak. Rather ironically I believe I played quite well the final two days. It was tail between your legs time though and back to Dublin out of pocket. I played pitch and toss and mythical on the way back. I was €50 down on that too.
Finally it was the Red Cow and the Deepstack main event. I love this tournament and did a preview on the Poker Ireland site for this month's article. I was delighted with how I played getting late into the day Saturday and knocked out with 30 left to James McManus who went on to finish fifth. I got dealt Aces and Kings not once for the duration of the tournament. With a few more cards maybe I would have cashed.
I was delighted to see my good friend Francis McCormack win it. He is on a roll at the moment (I flagged him up in the first article of the year on Poker Ireland as a man bang in form) and not a nicer fella could take over Dara O Kearney's crown. I'm also delighted for Sean Kilroy who I urged to take a shot at the festival. He finished 9th and put in the performance of his life. Well played indeed. Sean Gregory too was another I was pleased to see do well. Obviously it was a great run by Dara too to come 15th. He defended his title valiantly.
So that's it for the foreseeable future. The Irish Open is the next big tournament. I would love to play it but I'll need to satelite in. My live fund has taken an awful hammering these past two weeks with Killarney (-1150) Clonmel (-1400) and the Deepstack (-1650). Ive got some money in my Paddy Power account which I will use to try satelite my way in. Other than that i will be be multi-tabling 1/2 for the time-being.
All these knocks seem disheartening but I feel quite happy with poker at the moment. I'm delighted that I could take these shots on my own money ans still be in action. I have no problem hibernating away for a few months and going for it again. My game is improving all the time and one day it will all click and I truly believe I will get a big score in a tournament. For the moment I'm happy to learn my trade. Grinding away online is helping to grow my foundations as a player.
As long as I am looking to improve, that's all that matters.
I tried to brush myself off after my Killarney exit and relaxed for a few hours before playing a cash game that night. I played long and hard into the night and was never ahead. I ended up down €600 for the night. I watched all the other poker lads having a good time at the bar and thought of all my other friends back in Dublin who were out in town that night. Saturday night. And here was me with a bunch of 47 1/2 year olds, doing my nuts.
Sunday was another expensive day. I searched for a lift to Clonmel so I could get up to the coursing festival. 150 poker players in the Killarney main event, surely somebody would be making the trip up. Several hours later I had bagged myself a lift. A watch salesman from Galway offered me a spin for the price of the juice to get there. A central clause in the deal. The journey up was a little frightening because of three reasons. Number one he was stoned from all the hash he was smoking en route. Number two he was driving 80mph+ and overtaking everyone, even on single white lines. Number three he was talking to my face rather than looking ahead.
I arrived in Clonmel a little bit ill but relieved that this particular roller coaster was over. Then the watch-man cornered me. He wanted me to buy half his entry into the €300 tournament in return for the lift he had given me. Oh dear. The only thing that he had actually lifted was my stomach to just below my mouth, surely I wouldn't have to give him that much money? So there I was trying to reason with him that €150 was a bit much for a drive from Killarney. I offered him €50 and he snapped my hand off. This was one of the more casual muggings I have experienced. Later in the week I would encounter a much more above the line heist watching travellers playing 3 card trick outside Clonmel Racecourse, also for €50s.
I played cash that evening and posted my second losing live session of the week. I played bad and ran bad. A good effort all round. The one saving grace was that i had secured a room for €40 a night during the coursing festival. A fair saving from the €720 the Clonmel Park Hotel quoted me for a 3 nights stay. You do get one evening meal with that though.
The time was right too for our gentleman offering lifts. He got a room for next to nothing as well. In fact it was nothing. He didn't pay anything just checked out the following morning and left me with the bill. I do tend to get shafted betimes.
I played two more days in Clonmel and continued the losing streak. Rather ironically I believe I played quite well the final two days. It was tail between your legs time though and back to Dublin out of pocket. I played pitch and toss and mythical on the way back. I was €50 down on that too.
Finally it was the Red Cow and the Deepstack main event. I love this tournament and did a preview on the Poker Ireland site for this month's article. I was delighted with how I played getting late into the day Saturday and knocked out with 30 left to James McManus who went on to finish fifth. I got dealt Aces and Kings not once for the duration of the tournament. With a few more cards maybe I would have cashed.
I was delighted to see my good friend Francis McCormack win it. He is on a roll at the moment (I flagged him up in the first article of the year on Poker Ireland as a man bang in form) and not a nicer fella could take over Dara O Kearney's crown. I'm also delighted for Sean Kilroy who I urged to take a shot at the festival. He finished 9th and put in the performance of his life. Well played indeed. Sean Gregory too was another I was pleased to see do well. Obviously it was a great run by Dara too to come 15th. He defended his title valiantly.
So that's it for the foreseeable future. The Irish Open is the next big tournament. I would love to play it but I'll need to satelite in. My live fund has taken an awful hammering these past two weeks with Killarney (-1150) Clonmel (-1400) and the Deepstack (-1650). Ive got some money in my Paddy Power account which I will use to try satelite my way in. Other than that i will be be multi-tabling 1/2 for the time-being.
All these knocks seem disheartening but I feel quite happy with poker at the moment. I'm delighted that I could take these shots on my own money ans still be in action. I have no problem hibernating away for a few months and going for it again. My game is improving all the time and one day it will all click and I truly believe I will get a big score in a tournament. For the moment I'm happy to learn my trade. Grinding away online is helping to grow my foundations as a player.
As long as I am looking to improve, that's all that matters.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Catching up...
Hmmm been another long time since an update. I don't loath blogging at all but for some reason I just keep shying away from doing it. It's logging into this site that's the toughest part, after that it's a breeze!
I got knocked out of an IO sat last night on Paddy Power Poker in 5th place and 2 tickets. I wish I could play more of these type sattys than I do as I've got a solid strike rate any time I give them a shot. A diary, a plan, a scribble on my hand, I'm not sure what is needed to stop me from saying at 8.35pm on a Sunday "Damn, I missed the Irish Open/Killarney/Deepstack satellite again!"
The Irish Open is a tournament I've always wanted to play and I'm hoping this year can be my chance. With satelites running twice weekly there is no excuse for me not to be in the line-up come April. Also Killarney is not too far away and I'm looking forward to my first shot at the lakes of Killarney festival as well.
The 50,000 starting stack extravaganza ain't too far away either and I'm counting the days I must say to the Deepstack Festival II. It is a really fun tournament and a great experience to play it. It even got crowned tournament of the year on the Blonde poker site. In many ways I feel like it's an age since the first one. Yet in other ways it feels like I've been in poker slumber since last Feb. Although I've not been unsuccessful since then, I just think I have yet to achieve the same sort of glory which I took from my second place finish last year. I certainly feel as though I've aged a lot power-wise since then.
I find it interesting that Lloyd is giving the Deepstack a miss. On what seems like a sabbatical in his poker career, he has distanced himself from the game for whatever reason. There is no doubt that for all the moments of joy which you can get in poker (and the game has been good to Lloyd) it can still be more hassle than it's worth. There can be a lot of disheartening moments and when they pile up this takes from your hunger to play. For me it does anyway.
I wonder how Dara is feeling about the defence of his crown. For him too I would say it has been a long year of education in poker. He has been very consistent since but I have no doubt he too is searching for similar glory which was dished out in Drogheda last year. It's also rather interesting that he will head for the Deepstack with an even better game than last year! It's going to be hard to improve on first place!
I too am longing for a return to the poker headlines. Maybe it was a once off last year but I do believe I can achieve a lot more in this game if I concentrate on improvement.
The past 12 months I've tasted failure in lots of areas.
I don't think I ever cut it as a live cash player. For unorthodox reasons more than any perhaps. It's not that I was uncomfortable with the money or playing deep (in fact I relish both) but the late hours, the drunks, the mental pressure of being up all night and asleep all day was just too much.
I'm disappointed that I've yet to become properly successful online. Daragh has done very well and even with the hindrance of taking money every month whereas I've done merely okay and took out diddly squat. I need to play more hands and I need to play them better. Some of my hold'em manager stats are quite off and I'll be looking to keep them in check in the future. I don't think I'm a million miles behind Daragh as a player but the figures would suggest that I most certainly am. I'll be looking to try emulate Daragh more by getting back in a routine of meeting him regularly.
Another problem is that I think I have lost a lot of confidence in my game. Going into last year's Deepstack game I was on cloud nine. I wish I could smile and be happy when I'm playing rather than feeling rather apprehensious, doubting and critical of every move I make. I feel a bit like James Wade is at the moment for those who follow darts. He was always jovial as he progressed within the sport. In 2007/2008 he won three major titles out of nowhere. He deservedly became a huge name and draw and was duly built up as Taylor's fiercest rival. On the turn of the year at the Darts World Champs he looked a tired, distant image of his not-so-long-ago success. He was gloomy, down-beat and very critical on the oche every time he missed a regular shot. You could see him beat himself up and his game lost it's flow. He had lost his confidence and out went the performances too. I don't want to become like that but I do think I'm berating myself a lot more than before. End of rant!
Elsewhere I was talking about the prospect of playing the GUKPT final last time and I have since done a report on the Paddy Power blog. Also in my last entry I conducted a poll on the performance of the year in Irish poker. Congrats to Marty Smyth (the surprise winner-lol) who took the poll along with a few other awards in the Poker Ireland end of year review from December. This month's article I take a look at how recent form has lead to some stand-out trends in the results in poker tournaments of late.
That's it for now. It's been a bit of a mumbled entry but an entry none the less. I'm hoping to have a report from Killarney and the Clonmel coursing festival on my blog next as I will be playing both over the coming weeks.
I got knocked out of an IO sat last night on Paddy Power Poker in 5th place and 2 tickets. I wish I could play more of these type sattys than I do as I've got a solid strike rate any time I give them a shot. A diary, a plan, a scribble on my hand, I'm not sure what is needed to stop me from saying at 8.35pm on a Sunday "Damn, I missed the Irish Open/Killarney/Deepstack satellite again!"
The Irish Open is a tournament I've always wanted to play and I'm hoping this year can be my chance. With satelites running twice weekly there is no excuse for me not to be in the line-up come April. Also Killarney is not too far away and I'm looking forward to my first shot at the lakes of Killarney festival as well.
The 50,000 starting stack extravaganza ain't too far away either and I'm counting the days I must say to the Deepstack Festival II. It is a really fun tournament and a great experience to play it. It even got crowned tournament of the year on the Blonde poker site. In many ways I feel like it's an age since the first one. Yet in other ways it feels like I've been in poker slumber since last Feb. Although I've not been unsuccessful since then, I just think I have yet to achieve the same sort of glory which I took from my second place finish last year. I certainly feel as though I've aged a lot power-wise since then.
I find it interesting that Lloyd is giving the Deepstack a miss. On what seems like a sabbatical in his poker career, he has distanced himself from the game for whatever reason. There is no doubt that for all the moments of joy which you can get in poker (and the game has been good to Lloyd) it can still be more hassle than it's worth. There can be a lot of disheartening moments and when they pile up this takes from your hunger to play. For me it does anyway.
I wonder how Dara is feeling about the defence of his crown. For him too I would say it has been a long year of education in poker. He has been very consistent since but I have no doubt he too is searching for similar glory which was dished out in Drogheda last year. It's also rather interesting that he will head for the Deepstack with an even better game than last year! It's going to be hard to improve on first place!
I too am longing for a return to the poker headlines. Maybe it was a once off last year but I do believe I can achieve a lot more in this game if I concentrate on improvement.
The past 12 months I've tasted failure in lots of areas.
I don't think I ever cut it as a live cash player. For unorthodox reasons more than any perhaps. It's not that I was uncomfortable with the money or playing deep (in fact I relish both) but the late hours, the drunks, the mental pressure of being up all night and asleep all day was just too much.
I'm disappointed that I've yet to become properly successful online. Daragh has done very well and even with the hindrance of taking money every month whereas I've done merely okay and took out diddly squat. I need to play more hands and I need to play them better. Some of my hold'em manager stats are quite off and I'll be looking to keep them in check in the future. I don't think I'm a million miles behind Daragh as a player but the figures would suggest that I most certainly am. I'll be looking to try emulate Daragh more by getting back in a routine of meeting him regularly.
Another problem is that I think I have lost a lot of confidence in my game. Going into last year's Deepstack game I was on cloud nine. I wish I could smile and be happy when I'm playing rather than feeling rather apprehensious, doubting and critical of every move I make. I feel a bit like James Wade is at the moment for those who follow darts. He was always jovial as he progressed within the sport. In 2007/2008 he won three major titles out of nowhere. He deservedly became a huge name and draw and was duly built up as Taylor's fiercest rival. On the turn of the year at the Darts World Champs he looked a tired, distant image of his not-so-long-ago success. He was gloomy, down-beat and very critical on the oche every time he missed a regular shot. You could see him beat himself up and his game lost it's flow. He had lost his confidence and out went the performances too. I don't want to become like that but I do think I'm berating myself a lot more than before. End of rant!
Elsewhere I was talking about the prospect of playing the GUKPT final last time and I have since done a report on the Paddy Power blog. Also in my last entry I conducted a poll on the performance of the year in Irish poker. Congrats to Marty Smyth (the surprise winner-lol) who took the poll along with a few other awards in the Poker Ireland end of year review from December. This month's article I take a look at how recent form has lead to some stand-out trends in the results in poker tournaments of late.
That's it for now. It's been a bit of a mumbled entry but an entry none the less. I'm hoping to have a report from Killarney and the Clonmel coursing festival on my blog next as I will be playing both over the coming weeks.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Bragging, moaning, book reviews and voting....
It's been another few weeks since I last posted. This is becoming a trend eh? Oh well I guess I am getting lazy when it comes to blogging. Maybe I'm blogged out!
Played one live tournament so far this month up in the Green Isle Hotel for the Bruce festival, I was pretty happy with how I played although was a little disappointed at making a final table and nothing more. As always there is only 3 prizes in poker tournaments. 1st 2nd and 3rd. Any lower than that and it is place money in every sense of the word. Id much rather win one in 50 than to place in 15. Exotic Dancer has placed in every 3 mile chase imaginable over the last two years but nobody wants to own him. Everyone wants Denman.
Maybe I shouldn't be as pessimistic. We can't all win and we can only use the cards we are given. But then again a poor workman always blames his tools. But then again I'm not a mechanic.... Okay I'll stop now.
I'm playing in London next weekend in the GUKPT final which I'm v excited about. It is practically an Irish Open considering the buy-in. I satted in a few weeks ago with Paddy Power and this should now be my last major tournament of the year. I think I'll have a good chance as I am playing well at the moment and I have recaptured the feel back in my game which had been lost somewhere in the middle of the Nevada desert since last summer.
The reason that I say this is because I'm back playing online, properly. I've played 10,000 hands so far this month which is unprecedentedly high for me. I have not played as many hands in a month all year. I am trying to clear the $3000 bonus on Bruce and it is proving to be a very useful form of blinkers for me to get some hands in.
That's twice I've refereed to horse racing in this blog entry. I really am becoming a sick gambler. No seriously, I am. I have never felt gambling being an issue for me as strong as I have this year. Having money is a burden I wasn't used to and it seems to be burning a hole in my pocket at times. Gamblers anonymous seems a bit drastic but I certainly need to cut down on sports betting or I will be leaking out anything that comes in and more. It's like anything else in excess, it's just not good for you.
Hmmm I'm reading Barry Greenstein's book at the minute and he warns against complaining and bragging being the two dullest conversation forms. It's incredible how I've managed to articulate both so well in this entry! I must say I am enjoying the book. It is a most unique poker book that touches on the many things required for life as a professional before you even approach strategy. It is one of two poker books that I have enjoyed immensely this past while. The other being the Las Vegas big game cliff notes entitled 'the Professor the Banker and the Suicide King'. It is interesting that both books are non-theory based, I hope this doesn't say something about my appetite for improvement!
The last two theory books I read were both hugely disappointing. Dan Harrington's book 'Harrington on Cash Games Vol 1' and Daniel Negreanu's 'Power Hold'em strategy'. The former is a dull after-thought to a fabulous trilogy on tournaments. The latter is nothing other than a money spinner for Danny N and his chums. The section on small ball is merely "okay" with the rest rather awful.
This month's Poker Ireland piece is now up on the site. I take a look at something which has been annoying me continually of late, bad behaviour. It has crept in quite silently this past while and it seems to be the American TV producers who are encouraging this childish, classless behaviour. Dara O Kearney being one of the many victims of this nonsense upon his exit in the Green Isle last week.
Finally, there is now a poll on the site which I will be using for next month's final Poker Ireland article of the year. In what should be a fun piece I will be crediting the achievements of the year within the Irish poker scene with the performance of the year vote being the headline award. Get your votes in!
Played one live tournament so far this month up in the Green Isle Hotel for the Bruce festival, I was pretty happy with how I played although was a little disappointed at making a final table and nothing more. As always there is only 3 prizes in poker tournaments. 1st 2nd and 3rd. Any lower than that and it is place money in every sense of the word. Id much rather win one in 50 than to place in 15. Exotic Dancer has placed in every 3 mile chase imaginable over the last two years but nobody wants to own him. Everyone wants Denman.
Maybe I shouldn't be as pessimistic. We can't all win and we can only use the cards we are given. But then again a poor workman always blames his tools. But then again I'm not a mechanic.... Okay I'll stop now.
I'm playing in London next weekend in the GUKPT final which I'm v excited about. It is practically an Irish Open considering the buy-in. I satted in a few weeks ago with Paddy Power and this should now be my last major tournament of the year. I think I'll have a good chance as I am playing well at the moment and I have recaptured the feel back in my game which had been lost somewhere in the middle of the Nevada desert since last summer.
The reason that I say this is because I'm back playing online, properly. I've played 10,000 hands so far this month which is unprecedentedly high for me. I have not played as many hands in a month all year. I am trying to clear the $3000 bonus on Bruce and it is proving to be a very useful form of blinkers for me to get some hands in.
That's twice I've refereed to horse racing in this blog entry. I really am becoming a sick gambler. No seriously, I am. I have never felt gambling being an issue for me as strong as I have this year. Having money is a burden I wasn't used to and it seems to be burning a hole in my pocket at times. Gamblers anonymous seems a bit drastic but I certainly need to cut down on sports betting or I will be leaking out anything that comes in and more. It's like anything else in excess, it's just not good for you.
Hmmm I'm reading Barry Greenstein's book at the minute and he warns against complaining and bragging being the two dullest conversation forms. It's incredible how I've managed to articulate both so well in this entry! I must say I am enjoying the book. It is a most unique poker book that touches on the many things required for life as a professional before you even approach strategy. It is one of two poker books that I have enjoyed immensely this past while. The other being the Las Vegas big game cliff notes entitled 'the Professor the Banker and the Suicide King'. It is interesting that both books are non-theory based, I hope this doesn't say something about my appetite for improvement!
The last two theory books I read were both hugely disappointing. Dan Harrington's book 'Harrington on Cash Games Vol 1' and Daniel Negreanu's 'Power Hold'em strategy'. The former is a dull after-thought to a fabulous trilogy on tournaments. The latter is nothing other than a money spinner for Danny N and his chums. The section on small ball is merely "okay" with the rest rather awful.
This month's Poker Ireland piece is now up on the site. I take a look at something which has been annoying me continually of late, bad behaviour. It has crept in quite silently this past while and it seems to be the American TV producers who are encouraging this childish, classless behaviour. Dara O Kearney being one of the many victims of this nonsense upon his exit in the Green Isle last week.
Finally, there is now a poll on the site which I will be using for next month's final Poker Ireland article of the year. In what should be a fun piece I will be crediting the achievements of the year within the Irish poker scene with the performance of the year vote being the headline award. Get your votes in!
Monday, October 20, 2008
The quest to become Fintan Gavin....
Wow, its been a while! This could be a long one.... Its tough to give reasons for the lack of updates but I guess it is mainly because of two things. A) I haven't actually been playing all that much and B) When I have played I ain't really been winning. But as Gordon says blogging is mainly just for bragging and I have fallen soundly into that particular trap.
So where can I start this brag.....
I have played both the IPO and the Killarney festival since my last entry so I guess I should sum them up asap. In Killarney I had a dose of day two syndrome for the third time in as many tourneys. Absolutely bolted out of the traps once again and had a fabulous day one, then boom crash wallop another day two disaster.
I'm suffering from a very strange problem which I cannot really explain with out sounding like an elephant. When I get to day two of a tournament I have decided that everyone is going to be making moves, everyone is re-raising with air, everyone is 3-betting so light I would be surprised if they even had a picture card and by and large everyone is out to get me and in particular my chips. Everyone. I guess I am suffering from paranoid-day-two-syndrome. I wish I could just relax. I over-think when it gets close to the money in tournaments and really I am just second guessing myself rather than trying to play smooth solid poker (that I have often been doing the previous day).
So 135th in Killarney for €0 and then about 1135th in the IPO for €0. Truth be known I didn't play my best in the Regency and deserved to get knocked out early. I think I should either concentrate in such tourneys or just not play them. There's never a reason to play like a donkey which is what I was last weekend.
One positive I can glean from the past while is that i managed to qualify for all three October tournaments thru satellites. It was a mini-goal I set myself about a month ago and I achieved it. I think playing satellites and being successful in satellites is a most beneficial skill to have. Every decent tournament out there has online satellites these days and I should not be paying the €500's and the €1500's to enter them when I am capable of satelliting in. In the case of the IWF it took 5 attempts but it's all good practice for next year. See I would really love to play both the Irish Open and the World Series next year and the only way this is possible is thru sats.
My next goal is to launch an assault on the LECOOP on laddies. With over $500,000 in added money over the course of the event it is possibly the best series on the net. I bubbled the satellites for the ME a few times (grrrr) but I need to get my name on the lists for as many of these tourneys as possible. Hopefully the sats prove fruitful as I would particularly like a spin in the $1000 ME, the $500 short-handed and the $500 HU Championship. Not to mention all the other added money nighty's to boot.
Also I have and will continue to dabble on PokerStars tournaments in particular their EPT sats. The chance of being the next Fintan Gavin is an opportunity I have most certainly bought into. From the few $109 sats I have played they seem tough yet achievable. I have yet to give the $800 sats a shot but I have got a token for one which is something.
Elsewhere it appears my online cash pursuit is taking a back seat for the moment. I got immensely bored with it during the summer and haven't quite recovered even still. After the LECOOP and my bash at the EPT sats I will probably have no option but a return to grinding out the 1/2 tables on the net. Or else I could do a Fintan Gavin and go on the uber spin....
Finally my live cash is absolutely dead too it appears. I haven't played live cash at all since I went back to college and I must say it is for the better. Ross J maintains its a creepish existence doing the rounds on the live cash scene and I would have to agree with the big man. At least i can wake and sleep similar hours to my friends and family now! The only thing I miss is Duke and Sarah and the rest of the Jackpot crew. I love the banter in there when all the regs are in the house but I guess the hours just ain't for me.
So not much else to report I guess. I believe a few ppl saw me on TV at the darts cheering on Phil Taylor last week. He is the greatest sportsman alive and is an absolute Goliath in his profession. And If bookies keep chalking up 11/8 I will keep storming in :)
So where can I start this brag.....
I have played both the IPO and the Killarney festival since my last entry so I guess I should sum them up asap. In Killarney I had a dose of day two syndrome for the third time in as many tourneys. Absolutely bolted out of the traps once again and had a fabulous day one, then boom crash wallop another day two disaster.
I'm suffering from a very strange problem which I cannot really explain with out sounding like an elephant. When I get to day two of a tournament I have decided that everyone is going to be making moves, everyone is re-raising with air, everyone is 3-betting so light I would be surprised if they even had a picture card and by and large everyone is out to get me and in particular my chips. Everyone. I guess I am suffering from paranoid-day-two-syndrome. I wish I could just relax. I over-think when it gets close to the money in tournaments and really I am just second guessing myself rather than trying to play smooth solid poker (that I have often been doing the previous day).
So 135th in Killarney for €0 and then about 1135th in the IPO for €0. Truth be known I didn't play my best in the Regency and deserved to get knocked out early. I think I should either concentrate in such tourneys or just not play them. There's never a reason to play like a donkey which is what I was last weekend.
One positive I can glean from the past while is that i managed to qualify for all three October tournaments thru satellites. It was a mini-goal I set myself about a month ago and I achieved it. I think playing satellites and being successful in satellites is a most beneficial skill to have. Every decent tournament out there has online satellites these days and I should not be paying the €500's and the €1500's to enter them when I am capable of satelliting in. In the case of the IWF it took 5 attempts but it's all good practice for next year. See I would really love to play both the Irish Open and the World Series next year and the only way this is possible is thru sats.
My next goal is to launch an assault on the LECOOP on laddies. With over $500,000 in added money over the course of the event it is possibly the best series on the net. I bubbled the satellites for the ME a few times (grrrr) but I need to get my name on the lists for as many of these tourneys as possible. Hopefully the sats prove fruitful as I would particularly like a spin in the $1000 ME, the $500 short-handed and the $500 HU Championship. Not to mention all the other added money nighty's to boot.
Also I have and will continue to dabble on PokerStars tournaments in particular their EPT sats. The chance of being the next Fintan Gavin is an opportunity I have most certainly bought into. From the few $109 sats I have played they seem tough yet achievable. I have yet to give the $800 sats a shot but I have got a token for one which is something.
Elsewhere it appears my online cash pursuit is taking a back seat for the moment. I got immensely bored with it during the summer and haven't quite recovered even still. After the LECOOP and my bash at the EPT sats I will probably have no option but a return to grinding out the 1/2 tables on the net. Or else I could do a Fintan Gavin and go on the uber spin....
Finally my live cash is absolutely dead too it appears. I haven't played live cash at all since I went back to college and I must say it is for the better. Ross J maintains its a creepish existence doing the rounds on the live cash scene and I would have to agree with the big man. At least i can wake and sleep similar hours to my friends and family now! The only thing I miss is Duke and Sarah and the rest of the Jackpot crew. I love the banter in there when all the regs are in the house but I guess the hours just ain't for me.
So not much else to report I guess. I believe a few ppl saw me on TV at the darts cheering on Phil Taylor last week. He is the greatest sportsman alive and is an absolute Goliath in his profession. And If bookies keep chalking up 11/8 I will keep storming in :)
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Busted by Rob but he pays me back
Just back from Cork. Another interesting weekend in what is one of Ireland's premier poker tournaments. Ken and the Macau run a fine establishment and I must say the tourney as a whole was top class. There was a lot of griping about levels being skipped which should not have happened but by and large I could not fault the show put on. The casino itself is comfortable and spacious. The dinners were great and plentiful, easily the best I have gotten at a tournament to date. I would recommend this festival to a friend you could say.
The tourney itself was yet another learning curve for me. It seems every time I get home I realise how much I have to learn about playing perfect poker (if there is such a concept). For the third tourney in a row (Waterford 500, WSOP and Macau) I absolutely burst out of the traps and had a commanding chip lead within two levels. I would guess I was chip leader for most of day one and was certainly by the end of play with 73,000. (To give you an idea of how much that was, Rob Taylor made the final table with 90,000 in chips).
But alas, yet again day two proved to be unfruitful! Its always the same with these poker tournaments, you do need a nice slice of luck along the way. I'm not saying you need to suckout, I just mean you must win all your 80%ers which is running good in itself. For me it was races I couldn't win. I lost 40,000 in two AK hands and the rest on a bluff against Rob Taylor. I have no regrets about how I played. It just always seems to be day two that gets me. If I was a greyhound my form would read "early paced sort who should lead to the bend but stamina remains an issue. Trios?"
I was delighted to see Nicky chopping it in his first outing for Bruce Poker. He is such a quality player, I had no doubt he would be at the forefront of another tourney before long. Paul Smallwood will no doubt be delighted with his coup as will Mr Power in Waterford when he lodges his cheque during the week! The big congrats goes to Rob Taylor however. Having lost all my chips to him I can genuinely say I wanted him to go on and score (I told him as much before I left). To say he is due would be a huge under statement and I know this result will mean a lot to him. He also netted me €1000 as I had a small wager on him on Betfair.
LOL pokerbettingaments indeed.
The tourney itself was yet another learning curve for me. It seems every time I get home I realise how much I have to learn about playing perfect poker (if there is such a concept). For the third tourney in a row (Waterford 500, WSOP and Macau) I absolutely burst out of the traps and had a commanding chip lead within two levels. I would guess I was chip leader for most of day one and was certainly by the end of play with 73,000. (To give you an idea of how much that was, Rob Taylor made the final table with 90,000 in chips).
But alas, yet again day two proved to be unfruitful! Its always the same with these poker tournaments, you do need a nice slice of luck along the way. I'm not saying you need to suckout, I just mean you must win all your 80%ers which is running good in itself. For me it was races I couldn't win. I lost 40,000 in two AK hands and the rest on a bluff against Rob Taylor. I have no regrets about how I played. It just always seems to be day two that gets me. If I was a greyhound my form would read "early paced sort who should lead to the bend but stamina remains an issue. Trios?"
I was delighted to see Nicky chopping it in his first outing for Bruce Poker. He is such a quality player, I had no doubt he would be at the forefront of another tourney before long. Paul Smallwood will no doubt be delighted with his coup as will Mr Power in Waterford when he lodges his cheque during the week! The big congrats goes to Rob Taylor however. Having lost all my chips to him I can genuinely say I wanted him to go on and score (I told him as much before I left). To say he is due would be a huge under statement and I know this result will mean a lot to him. He also netted me €1000 as I had a small wager on him on Betfair.
LOL pokerbettingaments indeed.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Swimming Upstream
An update at last! It's been a long time since I've updated this blog so i guess I better give an update from my bizarre world. Well as you might have guessed it ain't been going too well. I may be suffering from a case of what Gordon calls "only blogging when you are winning" syndrome. There's no doubt its much easier to blog when you are feeling triumphant, an emotion I am not familiar with en ce moment.
I made an error in my latest Poker Ireland piece. I let my emotions take over the theme of my article and that's quite a bad characteristic for a writer. I should be able to write unbiased and not let my emotions at the time affect the tone of the piece. Another area I am learning in I guess.
I've been playing a lot of live cash in the past few weeks and the results have been poor. I've lost 8 out of my last 10 sessions and 7 from my last 7. I have no idea what has gone wrong which is even more worrying. I have been running bad obviously but I played some hands quite sloppy too which is disappointing. Also thinking back over the hands I seemed to get in a lot of huge pots with OESF draws and the like. Essentially racing in circa €1500 pots. Of the four that I can remember off hand, I lost every one. For a live cash player in Dublin, you need to win these pots. Otherwise you will be having losing months like me.
In one of the aforementioned pots I got it all in with the nut flush draw and two over-cards against Troy's bottom pair and non-nut flush draw. We were racing for the pot basically. Flip a coin. He offered to take money out of the pot and I refused quite quickly. I then lost the pot. In hindsight I guess I should have taken money back but I can't predict the future (just ask Byron or Emmett Hegarty down the dogs). You have to let poker balance itself out I believe and if you start taking money out of some pots and not others you are interrupting the natural course of poker. Taking money back from pots is just not the way I operate but it was an interesting proposal none the less.
Speaking of interesting proposals, some of the regular lads (namely Seamus, Dermot and Marc) were in the jackpot last week and put forward the idea of playing dealers choice. I'm rubbish at every game (okay moderate at hold'em) so naturally I agreed. Blind man's bluff, 5 card Omaha, double-flop hold'em, double-flop Omaha, Omaha Hi-Lo, Blind Omaha, Hold'em deuces wild, Crazy Pineapple, you name it. It's rather uncomfortable to note that this was one of my winning sessions from the last 2 weeks. Lets hope they get it going more regularly in the Jackpot over the coming weeks.
Poker loves rewarding the undeserving of late it seems. Take Tues ROE tourney in the jackpot for example. I had 6000 at the break (25% of the average stack) and ended up being heads-up with the chip lead a few hours later. Thanks to my sterling efforts in the Omaha no doubt. Fish are certainly swimming strong at the moment.
Another fish swimming strong at present is Micheal Phelps. The man was "born to swim" they say and he has been doing plenty of that in Beijing. Gordon, (who is playing pro Olympics tipster during the games) doesn't seem to rate him as not once has he tipped him so far. Fwiw he reckons Pieter Van Den Hoogenbend is going to be thereortherabouts in the 100 metres freestyle tonight and is a stonking each way bet at 16/1 with laddies. God loves a trier but I think the only thing Gordon is trying to do is take the weight out of our wallets with this one.
Not much else to report unless you want me to divulge each and every cent I've lost over the past few weeks. I'd rather look forward to be honest. I don't need to look too far forward either it seems with the Macau Festival on this weekend. I'm heading down tomorrow on the train with Dermot so I can be there in plenty of time before the ME starts at 7pm on Fri. I picked up a slightly-cheaper-than-the-normal-entry-price-ticket so no doubt Ken won't let me in. A big result would be welcome so one time plz dealer and all that nonsense. Or I could just shout at myself instead of the dealer. Wouldn't that be unique?
BRING IT HOME!
There we go.
I made an error in my latest Poker Ireland piece. I let my emotions take over the theme of my article and that's quite a bad characteristic for a writer. I should be able to write unbiased and not let my emotions at the time affect the tone of the piece. Another area I am learning in I guess.
I've been playing a lot of live cash in the past few weeks and the results have been poor. I've lost 8 out of my last 10 sessions and 7 from my last 7. I have no idea what has gone wrong which is even more worrying. I have been running bad obviously but I played some hands quite sloppy too which is disappointing. Also thinking back over the hands I seemed to get in a lot of huge pots with OESF draws and the like. Essentially racing in circa €1500 pots. Of the four that I can remember off hand, I lost every one. For a live cash player in Dublin, you need to win these pots. Otherwise you will be having losing months like me.
In one of the aforementioned pots I got it all in with the nut flush draw and two over-cards against Troy's bottom pair and non-nut flush draw. We were racing for the pot basically. Flip a coin. He offered to take money out of the pot and I refused quite quickly. I then lost the pot. In hindsight I guess I should have taken money back but I can't predict the future (just ask Byron or Emmett Hegarty down the dogs). You have to let poker balance itself out I believe and if you start taking money out of some pots and not others you are interrupting the natural course of poker. Taking money back from pots is just not the way I operate but it was an interesting proposal none the less.
Speaking of interesting proposals, some of the regular lads (namely Seamus, Dermot and Marc) were in the jackpot last week and put forward the idea of playing dealers choice. I'm rubbish at every game (okay moderate at hold'em) so naturally I agreed. Blind man's bluff, 5 card Omaha, double-flop hold'em, double-flop Omaha, Omaha Hi-Lo, Blind Omaha, Hold'em deuces wild, Crazy Pineapple, you name it. It's rather uncomfortable to note that this was one of my winning sessions from the last 2 weeks. Lets hope they get it going more regularly in the Jackpot over the coming weeks.
Poker loves rewarding the undeserving of late it seems. Take Tues ROE tourney in the jackpot for example. I had 6000 at the break (25% of the average stack) and ended up being heads-up with the chip lead a few hours later. Thanks to my sterling efforts in the Omaha no doubt. Fish are certainly swimming strong at the moment.
Another fish swimming strong at present is Micheal Phelps. The man was "born to swim" they say and he has been doing plenty of that in Beijing. Gordon, (who is playing pro Olympics tipster during the games) doesn't seem to rate him as not once has he tipped him so far. Fwiw he reckons Pieter Van Den Hoogenbend is going to be thereortherabouts in the 100 metres freestyle tonight and is a stonking each way bet at 16/1 with laddies. God loves a trier but I think the only thing Gordon is trying to do is take the weight out of our wallets with this one.
Not much else to report unless you want me to divulge each and every cent I've lost over the past few weeks. I'd rather look forward to be honest. I don't need to look too far forward either it seems with the Macau Festival on this weekend. I'm heading down tomorrow on the train with Dermot so I can be there in plenty of time before the ME starts at 7pm on Fri. I picked up a slightly-cheaper-than-the-normal-entry-price-ticket so no doubt Ken won't let me in. A big result would be welcome so one time plz dealer and all that nonsense. Or I could just shout at myself instead of the dealer. Wouldn't that be unique?
BRING IT HOME!
There we go.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Vegas Pt.10
No WSOP success this year. I came into the day short-stacked and vacated the building shortly into the second level when I had got to a stage where I needed a double-up to compete. The average was 150,000 and I had 50,000. Approaching the bubble with a short-stack was never going to be much fun and i made a stand with AK. I was racing against 10s and was left to race for the door with no pairing of my overs.
It's been a tough tournament which consisted of a great day one, a really tough day two and a standard day three. I'm out of pocket having refused all staking offers and footed the bill myself and this is what hurts now. But then again I'd look like a genius getting out if I had have scored big. Either way I have learnt a lot from this tournament. Ive a lot of hands I will be putting up on boards over the next few days .
My first WSOP over and I just hope I get another crack of the whip in the future. I will be older and wiser next time around, that's for sure.
It's been a tough tournament which consisted of a great day one, a really tough day two and a standard day three. I'm out of pocket having refused all staking offers and footed the bill myself and this is what hurts now. But then again I'd look like a genius getting out if I had have scored big. Either way I have learnt a lot from this tournament. Ive a lot of hands I will be putting up on boards over the next few days .
My first WSOP over and I just hope I get another crack of the whip in the future. I will be older and wiser next time around, that's for sure.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Vegas Pt.9
Very tough day in the RIO on day two. The wealth of riches which I was getting on day one seem a distant memory as I picked up very poor cards today. I finished the day on 69,300 which on reflection is quite reasonable. There was a lot of tough spots and some big stacks on the table which made play uneasy. I survived I guess is the best way to put it. There are still a lot of players below 40k so I suppose it could be worse. I could use a double up but with blinds at 750/1500 there is no panic just yet.
I've been told that Poker News didn't update on me today which I didn't realise. I'll be sure to say it to some of the guys tomorrow as I know some of the staff. Try Poker Listings for my progress perhaps. They seemed to be lurking around my area more and plus Chris and Rod from Blonde work for them and I do be talking to them throughout.
Day three is going to be one tough day. Even if I do get a double up early the chances are I'll still have a below average stack approaching the bubble which could prove to throw up a plethora of tough decisions form the table bully's and the short-stacks alike. Looking forward to a most interesting day tomorrow. I'll need some luck to get through to day 4 but there is no reason why I won't get some.
I've been told that Poker News didn't update on me today which I didn't realise. I'll be sure to say it to some of the guys tomorrow as I know some of the staff. Try Poker Listings for my progress perhaps. They seemed to be lurking around my area more and plus Chris and Rod from Blonde work for them and I do be talking to them throughout.
Day three is going to be one tough day. Even if I do get a double up early the chances are I'll still have a below average stack approaching the bubble which could prove to throw up a plethora of tough decisions form the table bully's and the short-stacks alike. Looking forward to a most interesting day tomorrow. I'll need some luck to get through to day 4 but there is no reason why I won't get some.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Vegas Pt.8
Through to day two with 79,300. Day one went very well and I'm pretty hopeful going into tomorrow. My table looks tricky with a Swede who final tabled in 2004 and a Swiss guy who has had plenty of cashes throughout the world. The latter has a nice stack with the former going into the day short. I'm not overly concerned about table draws at this point, it's out of my control. I'll have to face good players and big stacks throughout so I'm neither happy nor unhappy with the table I've drawn. One positive is that I'll go into the table as chip leader.
I have no idea what to expect/hope for tomorrow. I had a roller-coaster on day one so I may get more of the same on day two. I just have to play each hand as best I can and make good decisions throughout. Good decisions, stay focused and remain confident, if I can achieve these three things throughout tomorrow I'll be happy.
And again a bit of good luck would be nice :)
I have the same plan as the night before day one, tonight. A meal, a cirque de soliel show and then off to bed early. It worked as good prep for day one so would be delighted if it helps me perform well again tomorrow.
I have no idea what to expect/hope for tomorrow. I had a roller-coaster on day one so I may get more of the same on day two. I just have to play each hand as best I can and make good decisions throughout. Good decisions, stay focused and remain confident, if I can achieve these three things throughout tomorrow I'll be happy.
And again a bit of good luck would be nice :)
I have the same plan as the night before day one, tonight. A meal, a cirque de soliel show and then off to bed early. It worked as good prep for day one so would be delighted if it helps me perform well again tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
