So near....

So my colleague, Sarah, and I made our way to Chiswick Poker Club, contained within Chiswick Snooker Club, last night. We had elected to make a bit of an evening of it, having dinner at the Blueberry before and a few glasses of nerve-settling white wine for Sarah, who was making her 'competitive' (ie playing against strangers for real money, on or offline) debut.

Neither of us really knew what to expect; we had just hoped it would be friendly to us, but to paint the picture, imagine a large darkened room, lit mainly from the lights behind the bar and over the snooker tables in use, situated at the arse end of an industrial park near the M4, with vans and Fiestas in the car park, populated exclusively by around 30-odd men, aged 35-60, mostly in tracksuits or old jeans and work's airtex polo shirts, drinking pints of Carling.

Imagine then, the stir that 2 late twenties/early 30's females could cause by toddling in; one short, curvy, northern, ballsy, blonde in summer dress and cream heels, one thin, tall, very pretty English rose-esque, shy-er brunette, in smart black trousers and top. Then multiply that stir by 10 when the blonde announces that they'd like to register to be poker members and play in the 9pm re-buy.
I think it took no more than 10 mins for the word to spread. I heard whispers of 'they're playing, you know', and 'yes, those 2 at the bar' and saw a couple of knowing/confused/beaming looks exchanged between the regulars.

So, we set about our forms and tackling our Guiness Extra Cold and Vodka, (neon, cat urine coloured) lime and soda (which together cost no more than a fiver). Before long, a slender, weathered chap with a pierced ear came over and politely confirmed for himself the rumour that we were here for the cards. He introduced himself as Eddie and extended a hand; he told us he'd be dealing and playing, as he does every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday there (he also plays in Twickenham on a Wednesday and in 2 other spots on the other days, giving himself one day a week off, never playing online as he thinks poker is about playing people not cards).

He made Sarah certainly feel at home and she was seated on his table, thankfully so knew she was going to be looked after with blind posting and what her options were in terms of checking, betting and folding. I drew table 1, seat 5.

The tournament was a £10 rebuy, 2000 starting chips, 10 quid for another 1000 if you got busted, but (seemingly occasionally and randomly) offered £5 top ups of 1000 during the first hour, regardless of stack, which seemed silly not to do at half price.

At the end of the re-buy hour, you could buy an additonal 3000 for a tenner, 6000 for a purple note and 9000 for 30 quid. Most people took 9000 which made that decision easy for me, with around only my starting stack in front of me, courtesy of a middle pair that was outkicked, a full house bettered by a bigger full house and a pair of 7s that ran into Aces.

With some chips and finally some proper cards, I called a raise to a decent player pre-flop with QQ which hit their set first card out on the board. I cunningly check called on the flop with a K and 5 also out there, and check-checked on the turn, which I think could have been an Ace, thinking back. I bet just over a third of the pot on the river when a 2 came, which he called almost as quickly as I flipped my ladies. I sensed a slight hush as he nodded 'you're good, nice hand', but I was still pretty short and only managed to mop up the blinds, shoving with KK pre flop with an average stack, of around 10 big blinds a little later.

It was a funny atmosphere, much like a home game, certainly not as tidy on the table as I am used to, even playing after hours in the office. On our first table, at least, everyone was sorting out their own change from their bets, mucked cards just went into the middle with the chips and burn cards, guys would often show the chap next to them their mucked cards, as they were throwing them away, or even fish them back out, mid-hand, to make a point about how unlucky they are. Sometimes they'd chat about the hand even if they weren't in it. While I didn't partake in any of the above, I didn't mind all that much; it was just different and a reminder, if I needed it, that no-one was taking it (or themselves) too seriously, which was refreshing.

I made the final table, happily - not the shortest stack, but way behind the 4 leaders. Sarah had gone out, very respectably, about 13th, getting them in with JJ only to be called by the big stack on her table; an athletic, mixed race guy with big scary muscles, tattoos and a shaved bald head (but yet puppy dog hazel eyes), who called and showed QQ.

At the final table, starting with the button in seat one, next to Eddie the dealer, who was now out himself, I folded lots of marginal hands, and one good one that I probably should have shove/called with, but bottled it as I just had a flash of women's intuition that the guy had a big pair and if my A didn't hit I'd be in bother.

2 of the other shorter stacks got busted out. I had checked my option in the big blind with 8-2 clubs. Flop came down J-7-2 (J and 7 being clubs). Big muscle-bound-tattooed man bets 3200, around a third of my remaining stack, with I think 2000 in there already.

I just fancied he might have gone all round it, so with my 'huge' pair of deuces but more importantly the flush draw, I pondered a moment, took a deep breath and announced all in, trying to look as cool and unbothered as I could and certainly not standing up and looking like I was on my way home just yet. He screwed up his face, which told me he didn't have a jack and he had probably just kissed that 3000 goodbye in his head. I couldn't help but laugh out loud when he folded, saying he hadn't caught any of it, but wasn't showing either of my cards, just in case I needed some fold equity later.

I managed not long after to knock the owner, Chad, out. This kind of move, as a newbie, will of course fast track you to some weighty respect, or possibly get you barred... He took it very well though. I had been sat to his left on the first table, he was loose, aggressive and had also been dealt some seriously good cards, the aforementioned Aces that trounced my 7s early - and quad Queens once; one of the 4 quads we saw on our table. I decided on this hand, seeing K-10 spades, to call from early-ish position, fully intending to shove if someone made me pre-flop, or on the flop seeing anything but 2 As or 3 red cards. Chad did shove, leaving me a paltry and pointless 2k when I called.

He flips A-Q off. Eeek. His A came on the flop, but so did 2 spades, and a spade on the river, while making his straight, completed my flush.

Phhhheeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww.

I realised, with the chips all coming my way to join the 2 whites that had been returned to me a minute before, uncalled, what I had done, and ridiculously apologised to him (more for the river suck out than busting him), and stood and leant across to shake his hand; anyone would have thought I was the one that had been knocked out. What an idiot. Am far too polite sometimes.

So then there were 5. 2 guys to my left that had had loads all the way through, one chap with a bit more than me and one with about the same. 4 were to be paid, 1st was getting around 380, I think, 4th getting 80 and 2nd and 3rd 200 and something and 100 and something respectively.

I think the boys had realised they were in a game now, there wasn't so much to pick between us either in stacks or ability, I felt; I could chuck out some pre flop 4x BB raises and get them to fold, in fact I had developed a thing for raising or folding pre flop and very rarely calling. I only realised I was doing it just before final table and figured I shouldn't stop then.

But then I got over excited, raising with Q-10 off, under the gun when realistically (and with the magic of hindsight) it was clearly a calling spot, at best. I am putting this down to (free) Magners and a slight case of tiredness, having been playing for 5 hours. I put nearly a third of my stack in, to hear 'fold' (Gooood...) from the next chap, but then 'all in' from the big stack, who, from what I had been able to gather, was a pretty tight but aggresive-when-needed player. Fold, fold at the other end of the table, unsurprisingly, and back to me.

Oh bugger.

My eyes roll back into my head and my brain clicks into gear.

.... So... If I call, putting my tournament on the line, but, somehow, miraculously win, I am the queen of the world; I have decimated Billy Big Stack and can push everyone else around or watch them scrap it out. This is a very good thing and, for a split second, I seriously consider this course of action.

However, if I call and see QQ, KK, AA or even JJ, another decent pair or, still AK, and (of course less likely but still possible, if he has sniffed my weakness) AQ, AJ, even A-10, and lose (and bubble) i) I am going to be absolutely livid with myself, much more livid than I already am and ii) I am going to feel - and look - really silly.

Why on earth did I raise? The cards look even worse now. Silly Hawkins.

I decide I have to fold. He doesn't show, of course, they are all speculating like me; KK, AA? The guy to my left reckons it was KK - he plays with him a lot, so I am going with his thinking and counsel, although he may just have been trying to make me feel better.

So now I am pretty short, 15k behind the next best and 25-30k+ behind the leader. I find QJ suited (spades) in the BB. I have the dealer (muscle, tattooed, baldy, puppy-eyes man) limping in and the small blind folds. I check, hoping to see either of my picture cards on the flop - and if they come, the chips have got to go in, I figure.
Flop is K, J, 3 rainbow. I gulp for a moment about the over card, but the chips are in and I am left with just my hole cards in front of me, praying that he doesn't have a King and he will either fold or maybe chase me and lose. I would take either.
He calls waaayyy too quickly for my liking; he has to have a King. This is far from ideal.

'It's ok', I think to myself, 'you can still hit another Jack or a Queen'.
Nothing I can do now anyway.

He waits for me to show. I announce 'Jack' a little bit hesitantly. He looks straight at me and, almost apologetically, says 'Trips' back to me. My eyes widen. He nods, to confirm what he has just said; like he thinks I think he is trying to mess with my head.

Ever the optimist, I suggest to myself it might only be trip 3s and the mountain might not be so high.

Then he lays the cowboys down. Oh dear.

It's a horrible feeling; for all intents and purposes drawing dead; best case scenario, drawing to a miracle. Especially on the bubble.

Nobody around the table (dares) announce that they folded one of my miracle outs. Eddie the dealer fist-taps the table, burns the top card and flips the turn. It was a 7, I think. It was low and and it was red, anyway, and therefore completely useless, so I have to go.

I shake hands with puppy eyes, thank everyone for their hospitality and wish them all luck, inside really wishing I was still sat with them and about to see another 2 cards.

I wander over to the bar, a little heavily and slowly as the disappointment really starts to hit, but pleased overall with how I played. I ask the nice guy AJ, Chad's nephew, to call me a cab to run me the short trip back down the High Road, as it's nearly 3am; Sarah had taken a cab about 40mins before as she had understandably had enough by then, even with them kindly putting the tele in the bar back on so she could watch Sex in The City between hands.

My merc chariot comes within 5 mins and I am home in another 3, get changed for bed and put my lotions and potions on.

What a good night, would have been brilliant to cash of course, and you never know with these things; one or 2 different decisions, cards or spots and I was competitive enough to have gone really deep there.

Not to worry, certainly no disgrace and I will definitely be back - happily confident I will be welcomed with open arms (and possibly air-kisses - I bet that doesn't happen much in there...).

I have a nice, new home, thanks fellas.