In the Money

I haven't won a sit n go for what feels like ages. Thankfully that changed tonight on PKR. Goodness knows how, though.
Apparently, according to the chap in the cap from Watford at the final table (who, incidentally, went out 5th for no money), I was like a bad itch that wouldn't go away. He had a point, in fairness, I had virtually no stack, even less decent cards. To get me back into something resembling contention, it took a friendly pocket pair of 8s (oh, how I love 8s) and an over exuberant shove over the top of my raise with K6 from the guy to my left (aggressive little sod, he was going to do it sooner or later). My pair held up and, while still behind one guy and absolutely miles behind the chipleader (4 to 1 or so), I combined battling back with sitting back, while the boys got silly.
Somehow, considering I had nearly gone out in the first 20 mins, I had ended up heads up. With such limited expectation, having exceeded any I had had in the previous hour just by getting this far, I managed to get my man to fold to lots of flops, even when he'd raised pre-.
All those hours sat, knelt, laid, shuffling on the living room floor playing 20p-40p blinds with Leigh came into their own; One huge pot, as is often the case, changed the complexion when my 10 came on the river and he didn't believe. Then, when my Jack hit on the turn a few hands later and he shoved with A high, I couldn't call quickly enough. I think the word is 'tidy'. Me and poker are, happily, the best of friends again.
Hmmmmmm, bed time......

The Good Girls Don't Win

So, the Golden Nugget was the venue of choice tonight. Considering I had 2 hands (both 9's) for the first hour, which both faced hideous flops, I felt good going to the last 3 tables of the tourny. Had hit a straight and bluffed another big pot for a few chips but still no real monsters. Needing to make a move before too long, I got dealt QJ suited under the gun 2nd hand after the most recent break and shoved. Folded round the the BB, the only other female left; fake blonde, cap, (fake) Coco Chanel shades... She had a bit more than me (she had had them in twice before in the previous levels, behind - and had sucked out).
I knew she was calling when she said, sorry, whined, "I kinda like my hand... I know you're ahead, but..."
She flips Q-10 off. Ten on the flop. Should have known when the dealer announced "4-8 more, Lise". Stupid Essex Solidarity.
I might cry. Didn't do anything wrong all night and yet am still somehow embarassed.
Bugger...

Keeping it casual

Ok, so low stakes cash poker in the pub in Putney after work vs your boss, his girlfriend, an ex dealer and a rank beginner I know aint the WSOP - however it does serve as a nice bit of light training and a good laugh for a Wednesday evening, which would otherwise have been spent in front of the tele. Shame though, that when the other 3 had gone out and I was starting to get the chips flowing in one direction (towards moi) heads up, that it was very obvious everyone else was having far less fun than us two, so we agreed to call it a day.
Managed to generate a nice 50% profit on the evening, though, which was very wisely re-invested into a lamb shish kebab with garlic sauce and all the salad, on Chiswick High Road at half 11.

Reaaaallly want to play Friday, now; I heard a rumour Kensington Hotel (or a Hotel in Kensington, not sure which) has a 20 quid tourny and 1-1 cash games, so could be there - or The Vic, or the good old Golden Nugget on Shaftesubry Avenue - it's so crap in there, it's actually quite good; Guinness is 3.50 a pint and they play 90's dance music - I am in my element. I hope I still have my good poker vibes come the weekend.

Back into the swing

Having decided to can the fleeting idea of buying directly into the last chance Sunday 215 Euro satellite for EPT Monte Carlo, in favour of staying out in the London sunshine with Leigh and cocktails and northern ale yesterday (with absolutely no regrets), I thought I'd have a roll of the old PKR dice tonight.
Did a multi-table sit n go which took longer than it probably should have but I was 1st-2nd all the way through and (in my humble opinion) played rather well, thank you very much.
Yes, I got decent cards and, helpfully, average players shoving into my straight with a paired 8, but I also won several pots with no more than 6 high with some clever and strategic bets into impressionable men. Then got hideously card dead and outdrawn repeatedly at the most inconvenient time. When, heads up, my ace on the river completed the eventual winner's flush (which he - and in turn, I - checked) I figured the Poker Gods had made their choice and I succumbed 2-3 hands later.
Still, a tidy profit and reminder, if I needed it, that I've still got it.
I can feel some more live action coming on. Possibly Friday. Hmm, need to make a plan...

Forever Blowing Bubbles

My face hurts.
I just slapped it really hard on both temples in dire frustration and annoyance.
I just bubbled in the Monte Carlo Sunday final satellite.
I was pretty much nowhere to nearly there all the way through in fairness; I played ok but hadn't really got any great cards and made a lot of my own luck.
Made it through to the final table in around 6th, I think, and got down to the final 4, 2 of them way ahead (why couldn't I have had the donkeys on my table so I could swell my chip stack??!), so was realistically only ever playing for 3rd. I was about a thousand down on 3rd place at the last break and, after a glass of wine supped like a cowboy going into a draw in the street, decided to come out fighting. Shock and awe, I think the yanks call it.
I won a big pot, got over-excited and over-confident and re-distributed the chips pretty much the hand straight after. Got rivered twice in a row when I had been ahead all the way through (meanwhile the Siberian numpty I was chasing was given AA twice in 3 hands), played too fast and too hard, admittedly, in a couple of pots, when the evil poker fairy in my head (who may have also had a glass too many of chardonnay) suggested to me that I had a divine right to the money in the middle with middle pair.
I finished up re-raising with QQ and getting re-raised all in by AK; rag, rag, rag on the flop, blank on the turn. A on the river.
What an utterly stupid game it is.

Too Easy

Sat down with 500 tonight. After a couple of steals and one or two brave calls with middle or pocket pairs, I found myself with around 1800, then took a deep breath and called an all in with top pair (A) and a Q kicker. Guy had been an aggressive little sod all the time he had been sat there and he thankfully only had A-3. I had 6k when I had to go to the doctors. Easiest money I have made, certainly the quickest.

What a shame this is Poker for blackberry and not real life....

Rubbing shoulders

OMG.

Met Jennifer Tilly last night.

Had the Lyceum Spring Social (Gaming Industry piss up) last night in a very small room in No. 5 Cavendish Square. Phil Laak and John Tabatabai were there too. Tabatabai struck me as a really friendly and sociable chap, he was there pretty late, but don't think I saw him dancing like a loon like the rest of us. He really is as tiny as he looks on tele. My colleague insinuated he was a bum as he played poker for a living. He agreed.
Am sure Phil Laak smiled at me (twice); he did at the last one too - maybe he thinks he knows me? Maybe he just has a thing for well-stacked ladies. Either way, he is very cool.

Jennifer was delightful. Well-dressed, immaculate make up, lovely long dark hair with blonde highlights. She's really tall. Even in my heels, her chest was still nearly at my shoulder height as she very graciously posed for a photo; well 2 photos, I think I blinked or pulled a dopey face in the first one, so we had to go again.
Thankfully I (think I) made sense and didn't gush too much, in spite of having fuzzy earlobes I was that excited. She's just got Vicky Coren's book. See, we could be sisters!.... She gave me a minute or so of very polite conversation, she wished me luck with my poker and told me she hoped to bump into me in a tournament someday. Part/most of me does too. The rest of me thinks she'd kick my arse.

Out of focus

Didn't qualify for the Sunday Monte Carlo Final tonight. In fact, finished in the middle of the field after less than 90 mins, flattered to deceive a lot, lost about as many hands as I won, just that the 'minus' total was quite a bit bigger than the 'plus' one.
If I am honest with myself, I only played as there was nothing good on the tele (not until the 9pm Masterchef final) - and because I hadn't seen a card of any colour or denomination all weekend and was starting to crave a game; is this what it's like to be a smoker?
Wasn't in anything like the right and proper frame of mind to play a ('serious') tournament, and once I started going backwards, I couldn't (be bothered to) find the handbrake.
I knew the girl had also hit her A, and that she had a K kicker; quite why I shove-reraised with AQ, I am not sure, it was just the most humane thing to do at the time; just to get it over with. Am not even disappointed. This isn't me.
Going to close the lap top now, go find my mojo, and come back later in the week a bit more intelligently.

Oh What A Night

Wow.

I bought my train ticket to go home to my parents in Rock n Roll Bognor Regis on Thursday lunchtime, to save time and any need to get involved in the ticket hall bundle at Clapham Junction in the evening. I had planned to get the 6.38pm, which would get me into Barnham for around 8pm, where I could get a cab to my parents and await their arrival from Gatwick, where they were due to land around midnight.
At 5.50pm an email popped up at the bottom right of my screen.
'Leigh' (my other half)
"Am not going home until tomorrow now. Am meeting Taylor (former colleague and fellow casino repribate) for a beer in Farringdon, if you fancy it? x'
I knew immediately i) I was not going to be on the 6.38pm train and ii) we would have a few and end up in the Empire or The Vic.
'Ok, plan B', I thought to myself and logged onto the Southern Railway website to check my options for trains from Victoria around 10-10.45pm to Barnham or, worst case scenario, around 11-11.45pm to Gatwick airport, where I could meet my parents (probably a little the worse for wear) and get a lift with them. So I txtd Dad to say I was going for a couple of beers and would see them later, one way or another.
Around 9pm, we were toddling down from Edgware road tube towards the Vic, me dragging my suitcase behind me. Josie, another former collleague (and Blackjack junkie) suggested to Leigh the chivalrous thing would be to help me with my bag. "It's ok", said Leigh, totally genuinely, "It's on wheels".
Now, I'd like to think I am not overly high maintenance, but the look on his face as he said it told me he knew that comment was going straight in the same vault as when, on one of our early 'dates', he replied to the lady in Cineworld Hammersmith that we'd be paying separately, when she asked him.

I nearly didn't get into the Vic. I am used to the bouncers at the Empire joke ID-ing me so they can have a chat, but this guy was serious. I thought my suitcase could be an issue, so I was ready with my doe-eyes and charm anyway, but he had a problem with my (I think rather nice River Island) jeans, which have a tiny bit of (intentional) fraying at the knee.
"Now, I'm going to let you in tonight, but you shouldn't come in here looking like that", he hissed. "Your friend's been warned about this before. There's a note on his file".
Really??! Good lord. Ok, if you try to pull a fast one on them, or get into an altercation with a dealer/croupier/another punter, fine, but they have notes on your fashion sense?! Hitlers.

Anyway, feeling like a schoolkid, I deposited my bag and grey Fitch hoodie (also banned) in the cloakroom and proceeded to register myself for the 1-1 and 1-2 table(s). 2-5 was way too scary to even contemplate. I grabbed my 4th sauvignon blanc of the evening and went to watch the guys piss some money away on roulette.
Such a silly game, roulette. I hate it. I can't even put someone else's money down. The ONLY way I could see it being anything close to fun is if they let you set the wheel and the ball off yourself. There is something so deliciously fluid about it, I get mesmerised, like babies and cats do with the washing machine. One goes one way, one the other, like the wheel is made of silk; 2 inanimate objects about to bankrupt or rescue the poor saps sat around the table.

Back upstairs, I was seated at a 1-1 game. I was given table 11 originally but another person who was waiting took that seat, so the nice lady plonked me down on table 9, seat 6, with a lovely view of the Benfica-Liverpool game and, later, Premier League Darts.
It seemed like a friendly enough table; all men, unsurprisingly, probably aged between 25-40 when I got there.
I folded a lot of hands early on, mainly as the majority of my cards were proper cack, but also deliberately to make sure I had a feel for the temperature of the table; do they play lots of big pots, multi-handed, just 2 or 3 of them, who raises, what they raise. I had never played 1-1 before, so without a proper, big(ger) blind, I wasn't 100% sure what was appropriate. It seemed to be anywhere between 7 and 12, but there was also quite a bit of straddling - which I categorically DO NOT GET. Quite why you'd want to put any more money in when you don't have to and haven't even seen a card yet is beyond me. I think it must be my Yorkshire roots.

They all clearly had more than an idea what they were doing (it was probably too early for the tourists/work colleagues out on a piss up to be in yet), but they all seemed pretty well-behaved and reasonable too. I sat down with £150, which was more than plenty to be able to compete; I think only 1 or 2 of them had much more than that when I got there, so I felt comfortable and unlikely to be bullied out of too much, just on bankroll alone.
I won the first pot that I played, around 10-15 minutes in. My A hit on the flop and I bet it (slightly overbet it, actaully, just in case anyone still in the hand was thinking about trying to chase me - and to let the rest of them know that I was serious and had come to play). Fold, fold, fold. Thank you very much, gentlemen.
By 11pm, it was obvious that, even if I wanted to leave, I wasn't going to make it over to Victoria in good time, so I txtd Dad to say I was going to stay in town and would come down in the morning.
By this time, a older guy with white fluffy hair and a 2-tone brown cardigan had sat down in seat 9. He had seemingly taken a bit of shine to me, nothing sexual, I don't think, just in a (grand-)paternal kind of way; Could tell from the way he talked and played that he probably played quite a bit, and it was maybe just a nice change to have some female company and chat - although, when I found out he was from Essex, the chat generally centred around the current travails of Colchester United.
He was raising alot, had plenty behind, and was winning most pots - and, in fairness, when he needed to show (and sometimes when he didn't), he'd flip over the goods. That said, he was re-popped a couple of times and laid then down and there was a couple of (I thought) quite fishy-looking steals, so I kept my guard up when I was in a hand against him, but also had some pinches of salt handy in case I needed them.
There was another memorable chap in seat 1, think he'd been there a while before I arrived. Young, confident lad, but not cocky at all, he'd smile at you if you were looking for a read, he was polite, I warmed to him and I think him me, I sensed by the end a level of genuine mutual respect. He clearly knew what he was doing; yeah, he got lucky on occasions, but also got himself into bother unneceesarily once or twice with a loose call too.
I tangled with him first with my Jacks. I hate Jacks. They always ruin someone's night. And that someone is usually me. I raised them, of course, pre-flop. To £10, I think,. 1 caller. The flop was a pleasing bunch of undercards, so I bet out. He called. Hmmm. Interesting. Not overly worried though. Another random-looking blank on the turn. Bet again. This time with meaning. £15, from memory. I picked up the red chips and chucked them in with as much distain and non-chalence as I could muster. He calls. 'Will you bugger off!' I think to myself. A rag on the end I bet 20, or maybe just over. He calls and flips over 6s. Thanks for coming, sweetheart.

Was into it now, 2nd chipleader on the table, knocking back the white wine (the Essex grandad had offered to buy me one but I politely declined), chatting away to Taylor who was sat on the table behind, shouting across to my boss, who was, unsuprisingly, also in there, playing 2-5 with the big boys. I felt totally at home.
With my new-found wealth and confidence, I raised with AJ pre flop and got 2 callers. Bet the flop, having missed. Called by the Essex grandad only. Turn was a Q. Hmmm. Check, check. Then he bets 40 quid into 45 on the river, with the Q probably the only really scary card out there.
I just got this sense, straight away, that he was at it. It was like a poker fairy had come and sat on my shoulder and whispered 'Bluff' in my ear.
I thought. I thought a bit more, I looked him up and down. I went back through the bets, calls and checks. I was so desparate to call a hand that 3 months ago I'd have folded before you could say 'daylight robbery'.
So I decided to ask him (knowing full well the answer), "What was the bet?". Annoyingly the dealer answered for him, so I pretended I hadn't heard and said again, looking right at him, "40 quid, yeah?". He mumbled an 'uhum' and shuffled in his chair.
Got you, you little sod! It was just like when Jennifer Harman sees the guy's eye twitch in the Full Tilt advert. Ok, similar.
About half an hour before, a huge older blonde woman with really dry hair, bad mascara, a green jumper and blue nails had sat next to me. Superior little witch, she was. As she sat down, she made a point of telling everyone loudly and in one of those annoying (probably put on) posh voices, she had been playing in the £100 'comp'. Comp???! You mean tournament, surely? I couldn't help myself - I asked her how many had started (40) and then turned to the blinds clock to find out there were still 2 tables going, so asked her 'how many are going to get paid? 5-6?' (ie not you, love). Anyway, possibly understandably, she had clearly taken a disliking to me and she actually called for the clock, while I was deliberating this pot size bet for the best part of 100 quid. I had never heard this before. Sure if someone's taking an age in a tournament, of course you have to move it along, but I am sure I had only been thinking for no more than 60 seconds. My blood was boiling. I made some snide remark back to her along the lines of 'It's alright for you, I have to work for my money, so I like to take care of it'.
Anyway, I call and the grandad tells me, 'That was a very brave call, young lady'. He picks up his cards, I think for a minute he was going to muck them anyway, so I eagerly flipped my AJ over with a rush of confidence. Indeed, he had K9. I'm good. There was an audible intake of collective breath on the table and the "Nice hand"s and "Nice call"s start.
"Thank you, thank you", I say.
"You won't try that against me again in a hurry, will you?", I think.

There was one other hand against the young, good player that will stand out for me for a while. I check my option in the 'big' blind with K-9 spades. Think there was 4 of us. Pretty impotent-looking flop. A 2nd spade on the board comes on the turn. I bet £15, hoping to not have to see the river. Only the young lad calls.
No aces out there, in fact no picture cards. Pocket pair? Paired the board? Not sure. Another spade on the river. Wonderful. I can only be losing to A-something spades. He'd have raised with an A, at some point, surely. Wouldn't he? I bet £25, hoping more for a call by now. He raises to £90.
Gulp.
Does he think I'M at it??!? Does he want a call? Maybe he's missed that last spade and thinks his pair/2 pair is winning? Shit. Does he have A-2 of spades? ...Oh God. That would be hideous.
Then the poker fairy's back. "You're good", she whispers.
"65 more?" I ask, just in case he has miraculously changed his mind, miscounted, anything to make it a bit cheaper.
"Yes, 65 to call" replies the dealer.
"Ok, I call". He seems not happy but not unhappy either. I think I might just be good. He flips over 6-7 spades. I show off my K-9 and exhale deeply.
Am pretty sure I heard applause somewhere. Our table is really animated. Taylor, who has seen the hand, stood behind me, and is more oiled than me, clearly, starts playfully tugging on my ponytail, "Hawkins!!! Yes, Hawkins!! Yes!!"
Dennis, my boss, has worked out what's going on and starts shouting "Ship it, Hawkins, Ship it!" acrosos the room.
I am on top of the world.
"Nice hand", the young man says, genuinely, but a bit sheepishly.
"I just didn't think she'd bet a flush draw", he says to the guy next to him.
"Why not?" I enquire. And then realise. "Oh, it's a compliment. Sorry"
"Yes, well played"
I am £230 up.
It's late. Or early - depending which way you look at it. Everyone's getting on well, 4 or 5 of us are all really chatty. I'm only staying at the table for the social aspect now, if I'm honest - unless I see a monster hand. I am getting tired, but want to enjoy it a bit longer. But equally not blow it.
I have one last bluff though, just for giggles, and to prove to myself I've still got it. Small-ish raise with AJ from the small blind. 3 callers. Flop comes 8, K, 5. Check behind me. I bet £10. Fold, fold, fold. The intelligent Asian chap in seat 4 is trying to get me to show. I give him the obligatory, "you've got to pay to see them". He tells me had A-5. I tell him he was miles behind. He actually followed me a couple of paces when I finally retired and went to cash out. "That hand with the King on the flop, what did you have??"
"Queens", I lie, and go and get my money, wondering what I am going to buy myself with it.

I got the train home at 2pm on Good Friday and scribbled the notes for this on the way, with my expensive Thorntons Easter Eggs for Mum and Dad, purchased at Victoria, next to me, and my wallet bursting with big, red notes.

I am a very happy bunny.