Mean Gene

A Nice Weekend

Rather than spout off for 2,000 words about the officiating in yesterday's Steeler game, I'm gonna dial it down a bit, get a little mellow, ease it on down. Frankly, I'm pooped. I never much bought into the whole "emotional exhaustion" thing, believing that one could always generate a proper amount of bloodlust given the right motivation. Not the case. After yesterday's game I felt like I'd climbed the Matterhorn, emotionally speaking. Hope I can get properly amped for the start of our new volleyball season. I have faith.

I don't recall what I did Friday night...oh yeah, took an unsatisfying nap around 7PM then woke and played poker. The pickup league I play in on Thursdays moved back our start time to 8:30, and we play till around 10:30, meaning we don't get to the bar for medicinal brews until 10:50 or so. I usually don't make it home before 12:30, and I don't officially hit the hay until 1. The alarm goes off at 6:15, which makes for a rather Fuzzy Friday. Coffee, lots of it, and the occasional head bob. Last week I nearly conked out on the drive home, just a few yards from my house.

So I had my little nap and played some poker, winning two, maybe even three bucks. Saturday my brother came over to see if he could resusciate his old desktop and give my new DSL line a dance partner. I would've set the odds at about 10-1 against, as computers hate me, but after considerable disk-swapping and driver-loading and three beers apiece he pulled it off. I'm still mildly in shock. Yes, dear reader, I have been laboring all these years with dial-up (well, at home, at work we have a zippy connection) and now I click on CNN and not wait 37 seconds for the lead photo to load. Hosannahs in the highest!

I can also play at Full Tilt without the certain knowledge that my computer is biting off more than it can chew. I never played much at FTP because the action went so slow, and the fact that it was MY fault didn't change my attitude (it never does). But I tried Full Tilt this weekend and between the computer and the DSL line I fairly purred with delight at the results. I even two-tabled, no problem. And I actually worked off FIVE DOLLARS of a FTP bonus. I was so proud I hugged myself while rocking back and forth. It didn't hurt that after going way up then falling way down I hit a few hands and booked a nice 20BB win. Oh, yes, I shall return will bells on. I'm pretty sure I can kill the Razz game there. Once I re-read the rules.

After I quit for the night I decided to wander around and see if any pros were playing. There were--Erik Seidel playing at a low-limit PLO8 table, John D'Agostino at a $10/$20 NL table, Farzad Bonyadi at two NL tables. I spectated for a few minutes, realized this wasn't exactly a productive use of my time on earth, and went to bed.

Oh, one thing I saw Friday night (I think it was Friday, like I said I was sleepy). I was trying Full Tilt with my noble but underpowered laptop and after giving up I saw that there was a heads-up $50/$100 limit game going on. I clicked to see who was there and recognized Matt Matros' screen name, so I decided to watch a bit before I collapsed. They each had two grand to start with and the game went back and forth a bit before Matt took control and all the chips. His opponent typed something like "lol...you're a good player" before offhandedly re-loading with about 20K.

All well and good. What wasn't well and good was a guy railbirding in the chat. Not having played much in live casinos I've never see people trying to hustle up a stake, but I'm sure it's an uncomfortable situation to be in. But the guys trying online to get some scratch together...I feel pity for them, but I can't help feeling a fair amount of revulsion. The guy at this table said something along the lines of "If I can just get $5 I know I can kill these tables". Five bucks? That's...bizarre. Another time I was watching a high heads-up match (I'm trying to improve my own heads-up game--watching other folks play isn't helping much) and a one of the players was engaged in conversation with a dude trying to get a $20 buy-in to a tourament. "I'll split what I win 50-50," the railbird said, to which the player answered, "How do I know you'll pay?".

"My word is good," answered the railbird, unsatisfactorily. Though I suppose that's the only answer you could expect. What's he going to do, FedEx you some collateral?

I guess I have a problem with this because I'm a soft touch, I'd like to have a magic wand and make everyone's worries disappear. Which is another reason why I'll never be a good poker player--the killer instinct isn't there. Unless you're wearing a zebra uniform and make a horrible call against my Steelers. At which point I would gladly fly at you in a shrieking rage and reduce your physical form into a CSI case study. But that sort of motivation doesn't come up very often, and, hopefully, won't come up in the next few weeks.

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