Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. John Lennon said that and he must have been talking about the delirium at the $100 max buy-in PLO tables on PokerStars. While waiting for a $200 max table to open up, I got involved in two pivotal hands, with one good and one bad result. Back-to-back hands.
I'll spare you the mundane specifics of the first hand, but I had my Aces cracked by a Euro Lagtard. I even flopped a flush draw and whiffed. My Germanic opponent was hopelessly chasing a smaller flush and he backdoored two pair.
Nice catch, you schwilly shitbag from Stralsund.
On the next hand, I limped in with Kh-10s-10d-6c from middle position. Six players. The flop was Qh-10h-3h. When action was checked to me, I bet 2/3 the pot. Everyone folded except a Greek guy on the button who min-raised me. I didn't put him on top set of Queens. At best he had a flush and at worst bottom set or two pair. I decided to call and see the turn. That's when the 10c fell. I almost jumped out of my chair. I checked quads. I begged and pleaded and cajoled. I wanted him to bet the pot but he checked behind. The river was the 9h. That was not the best card for me. If he had Kh-Jh or Jh-8h, I was fucked my quads was going to lose to a straight flush. I fired away and bet the pot. If he had the absolute nuts then so be it. When he did not call right away, I knew that I had him and he was probably sitting on a flush. With time ticking down he called with Ah-2h. He flopped an Ace-high flush with no redraws. I chased the Greek down.
That's when he berated my play. Hideous barbs. Of course, I knew that the conservative play was to fold middle-set to a raise on an all heart board. Against a made flush, I'm a 70/30 dog. Then again, there was a chance that he held a meager two pair. The raise was not big enough to get me out, and what the fuck, I was on slight Eurodonk tilt after getting my Aces snapped off and looking to unleash some pain onto an innocent bystander.
If I whiffed on the turn, I probably check-fold to almost any decent sized bet. However, my miracle card fell. The turn gave me quads and I checked. The Greek also checked behind which indicated that he had put me on a set of treys, maybe even a set of Queens and he feared that I turned a boat. My bet on the river was small enough that he reluctantly gobbled up the bait and called.
I knew right away that he was one of those self-indulgent players who bitched and moaned incessantly about a bad beat and couldn't let it go and prattled on hundreds of hands later. You know, because the entire world is out to get him, especially the evil doers at PokerStars. In fact, when I woke up that day, I get an call from the PokerStars overlords on my secret cell phone telling me to specifically target the Greek. As soon as sit down at the table, they flipped the doom switch.
I usually ignore the chat-tards and let them spew their consummate hate. When possible, I turn off their chat and go about my business. Other times, I seize the opportunity to completely shove a player over the edge as he slips into the depths of tiltdom.
The other day at the 10/20 LHE tables, there was a horrible player at our table. I dunno if he was a donk stepping up in levels or if he was someone who played much higher limits and was slumming at our level. I had never seen them before. At any rate, he made really loose calls (even for LHE) and sucked out on one guy a couple of times with a runner-runner straight and a two outer. The losing player from Canada went ballistic and would not leave the guy alone. I tried to diffuse the situation because I wanted the bad player to stay at the table and keep on playing, especially after he won two decent-sized pots.
What's better than discovering a bad player at your table? A bad player with lots of chips.
The fish was on the verge of donating all of his surplus and then some, however, with the Canadian Crybaby created a hostile environment. Who wants to play at a table where you're going to be constantly bitched at and have every single play critiqued? The professional way to handle the beat would have been to not say a fuckin' word and tag the said fish. Instead of trying to blast him in the chat with useless homosexual slurs, the more effective method of exacting revenge would be to simply take note of his play and follow him around until you bleed the fucker dry.
Don't tap the glass.
Within one orbit, the fish swam away as I anticipated because he got sick of the verbal bombardment from the Canadian Crybaby. That's when I lashed out and gave the clown a talking to. His douchbaggyness directly affected my ability to win money. His low-self esteem issues which came out during the game and he scared away the fish. The Canadian Crybaby prevented me from a potential score and chased away my mark, heck he chased away everyone's mark. I quickly searched for the player and I could not find him at any other tables. Shit, that was the only full ring 10/20 table running at the time and those don't come together as frequently as we would all like. That's why I was even more pissed at Canadian Crybaby.
I tried to explain to him what he did wrong, he acted even more like a prickless brute. Within a few hands another player left the table. Then another. All of a sudden we were playing short-handed and I decided to bail. The asshole's whining and lambasting shut down the only 10/20 game running.
Nice work. Welcome to my shitlist.
On Saturday night, I got word that my brother was going deep in a PLO tournament on Full Tilt. I sweated Derek from the final two tables on. He made the final table, but as one of the short stacks. He ended up 6th out of 255. Not too shabby, bro. Good to see those Saturdays with Dr. Pauly skills paying off.
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