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Don’t feed the Animals

I’ve
probably said this so many times over the last two years that it’s becoming more farcical
with each utterance, but I REALLY want to play more live poker.

I
recently picked up a sponsorship deal that evaporated almost before it had begun,
when the company decided to reverse out of the industry (I’m only 90% sure their departure
wasn’t my fault).

Anyway,
before the wheelbarrow of cash trundled off into the distance I managed to be late
for two of the staked tournaments (days before the law changed to allow late appearances!)
made the final table bubble in another comp, and - as I write - am days away from
playing in the last of my sponsored games. I’m so glad I have a garage filled with
branded T-shirts.

The
key point here thought is not about the sponsorship (I just needed to get it off my
chest) but about the joys of playing in live games. Yes, it helps develop your game;
yes, it helps you develop your reading skills; yes, it’s a more social ways to approach
the game. Yes, yes, yes…

However,
what I’d like to concern myself with today is the fact that playing live poker allows
you to meet the freaks. Smelly, stupid, egotistical, bullying, know-nothing morons
who play a £10 sit and go like it’s the WSOP and are more than happy to pretend
they’re Tony G when it comes to slagging you off for calling their minimum raise with
8-8, hitting trips and cracking their pocket aces.

I
recently found myself in a £20 afternoon freeze-out at one of London’s better-known
card rooms. Things were improved by the fact that a fellow journalist and keen poker
player was sat to my right, so I could at least enjoy his company (as well as re-raise
him for chuckles every time he tried to enter the pot.)

We
sat examining our table chums… and BOY had we struck gold! I kid you not, it was
like the poker zoo was in town and all the animals had stopped at our table to graze.
Over the next couple of entries (yes, I know it’s been a while - I was busy - sorry!)
I’ll be detailing them for you. PLEASE avoid ever becoming one of them. Thanks.

Exhibit
A: The Donkey.

He
handled his chips like they were oversized carrots and, when he accidentally made
an under-bet, was told by a friendly player ‘it needs to be at least double the previous
bet’. The donkey looked insulted. “Yes,” he honked, “I DO know how to bet”. He then
proceeded to prove otherwise by calling a raise and a re-raise for all his chips with
that monster of hands A-Q off-suit (I, incidentally, folded before him with AhQh,
so his chances were ’slim’ at best). As he trotted off sans chips I wondered if he
even knew how to spell ‘Bet’ let alone how to do it.