Slain by the Dragon

I had my best ever live tourny result on Friday night. So, why, one may wonder, did it end in tears (literally), kicking a tiled wall in the ladies loos?

The venue was the London Poker Circuit at Kensington Close Hotel. A nice tournament, 5k starting stack, freezeout, decent structure and decent players for the most part (but some very questionable calling with A-3 type hands early and some over-adventurous moves in the middle when there still seemed ample time to me).
I had won probably only 3 pots of really sizeable proportions for the first couple of sessions, one with KK that I had the total fear about, having seen a guy busted with them twice in 2 hands 5 mins before; once losing to a full house over trips v AK on the river and the 2nd time losing to a straight I think.

I think a couple of the guys, one who I could have sworn was Snoop Dogg, thought I was there to be bullied and tried to chuck out some big raises against me which got the heart pumping, but which also got (correctly) called.

I got very lucky with pocket Jacks that I seriously considered shoving with preflop late-ish on with 2 tables left, but opted for a decent raise, which was called by one player. Flop was A-5-7. My opponent, who was shorter than me, went all in. I had got myself into a spot of bother by over-committing myself and, while I was pretty sure he had caught, I just had a sense my jack would come. And, equally, I wasn't going to sit there with a handful of chips, needing to shove with a lesser hand, 10 mins later when it had got beyond critical.

He turned over his Ace first, which I acknowledged with an 'I know'. Then he turned an 8. His 8 also paired on the turn, which obviously didn't change much, other than to make him even sicker when the Jack did come on the river.

I honestly couldn't help my 'whoo-hoo', which was ill-advised, I know, but really, genuinely, out of relief, other than anything else. I hate Jacks at the best of times, it was just so nice to see them do me a favour for once.

So I had eeked and creeped my way to the final table, never going below my starting stack, which I think is a first for me, certainly live or in an MTT.
I arrived at the Promised Land around 8th I think, making a big double-up early, when a guy raised from early position to have me shove over the top with A-Q diamonds. He collapsed in a heap when everyone else had folded and he realised he had to call for another 7-8k even though he only had 3-4 off suit (and worse, show the cards to the rest of the table). I then managed to knock out the guy to my left, raising with KK the same amount as I had done the hand before when I saw 10-10 which was enough to take it down pre-flop. He shoved over the top, everyone folded back to me. I couldn't do anything but call and my cowboys held up vs his A-8.

I got involved in a pot which got messy, with the aforementioned 3-4-off raiser. I had 7s, with which I raised pre-flop and got called. With an A and Q as well as a couple of under cards by the turn, when he shoved, I figured I was losing to too many hands to put my tournament life at risk.

A couple of the big stacks then proceeded to clash, taking each other out, leaving me 5th but very short and blinds coming round and going up (I think I had 4-5 BBs left at that point).

So, with the actual money being secondary (it was only 4x the buy in for 4th place) and more the principle of cashing the thought at the forefront of my mind, I was stuck between ensuring I wasn't being blinded out like a loser and not making a silly shove; and therefore trying to find a sensible enough middle-ground move.
I ended up seeing K-J clubs from early position not long after and figured they were as good as any.

My friend at the other end now his with the Top Gun shades on and a cheeky smile said, 'oh no, please, not a big pocket pair' and called. I turned my bottom lip over, shrugged and flicked the cards over into the middle. He had 8s. 8s!! My favourite pocket pair, how they could they possibly put me out?!
I stood up, with no remaining influence other than a 'Do your job, Dealer' comment. He tried, in fairness to him; 2 clubs out on the flop. I thought for a moment he'd find another. Or a King. Or a Jack. So many outs...

And then it was over. I was 5th of 31.
Bubble.
Again.

I shook Top Gun's hand and that of the remaining other 3 (like they do on tele on the feature tables nearing the end of a tournamnent). I picked up my handbag and pashmina and walked over to Leigh who was playing cash, having got unlucky and gone out 7th. He looked up at the screen, to check how many players were listed as left and the prizes being awarded, looked back at my sad face and then his face dropped too as he realised what I had done. Or rather not done...

I thought I'd let him down as much as myself. And, so, like any self-respecting amateur that heaps far too much pressure on herself, I went and kicked the tile in the toilets and spent the next 5 mins trying to get rid of my puffy eyes and tidying up my mascara.

It's like trying to get to the next level on a computer game; you spend ages, going through the motions, jumping from ledge to ledge, dodging bullets and flying baddies, picking up extra energy/weapons, finding the secret door to fast-track yourself along; you can do most of it in your sleep - and then when you've got through all of that with your skill, guile and luck, you just have to finish off the big dragon-y monster to advance, but he always smokes you.

One day soon, that bloody dragon is going to get what's coming to him. It is surely only a matter of time.

I hope.