OK, I have some bad poker habits, that cause me to create the consensus that I’m a lousy poker player. There are times when certain plays leave me listlessly walking to my hybrid SUV. I’m glad I chose a hybrid, so I can save on gasoline, and spend it on poker. So are the ladies and gentlemen who play poker tournaments at the Pensacola Greyhound track, because I suck at poker, and they want people to buy my book, The Trained Ghost Gimmick, so I have more money to lose in poker games and tournaments. I have my nicknamer who called me Snarky. The last time I made the money in a tournament, he eliminated me yet again and won that tournament, and renicknamed me Sucker Snarky Mark. It’s got a catchy ring to it, but I don’t like it, but there’s no crying in poker. At least, not til you get to your hybrid or whatever you’re driving home in shame.
The past Saturday night, it was Marlon who was money whipping me with his incessant all-in moves. He had a short stack of chips the first time we battled that he was skillfully nursing along. He moved all-in with his 2,800 chips when I had about 15,000 chips. We start with 10,000. I had Ace-Jack, so I faded his bet. He had a 5-7 off-suit. I hit my Jack on the flop, but he hit his 6 on the river to make a 9-high straight. Later, I had pocket Queens on the button, and he moved all-in from under the gun. I still had him out chipped so I snap-called. I didn’t even request a counting of his chips by X, the dealer, who looks like the smiling, redheaded vampire, Atticus, in my, soon to be released, vampire book called The Lost Art of Bloodletting, about a vampire who loves blood, but hates to kill. Atticus would say, “I used to love me some chicken nuggets, but I hated killing chickens.”
Even though I like X, he doesn’t like me if the cards he deals to me are any indication of what he thinks of me lately. I figured myself safe with pocket Queens against Marlon who played 5-7 like Aces earlier, but I suck at poker, and Marlon was marketing when he played the 5-7, and Sucker Snarky Mark came right down the primrose path of poker iniquity. Marlon had pocket Kings, and doubled up once again at my expense.
Now I didn’t start Saturday night at table 20. I started at table 18. Virtually every player at that table had been previously mentioned in an article of mine, and each one had defeated me. It was to be a challenging mix of players. There was only one stranger at the table. I worried for the safety of her stack of chips, but she would outlast me twice that night. Her name was Monee, but it sounds like Monet, the artist, and she corrected me when I referenced that artist. Little did she know that Sucker Snarky Mark would mention her in his blog. I bet she regrets it now. Speaking of regret, let me talk about the first time Sucker Snarky Mark was eliminated.
I was sitting next to the gentleman known as Doc, who I described as a solid poker player in my first blog article about a newbie who bluffed into a dry side pot. Doc had a shorter Stack around 3,000, because Monee had flopped a set of 10’s against him that turned into a full-house earlier. I had Ace-Queen of suited Diamonds myself. He was in the small blind and I was in the large blind. Gabe, who had been mentioned in a previous article, because he had made the money with me in an earlier tournament, had limped in before the blinds had a chance to act along with a few others. From the small blind, Doc moved all-in. My response with my own suited A-Q was to move all-in with my 8,500 chips. My goal was to isolate him and get the limpers to fold. Much to my surprise, Gabe went all-in with his pocket Kings. Doc flipped up his own suited A-Q, only his were spades. Neither Doc nor I improved. By the way, I am also a retired doctor. I used to call myself Doknbox. I have a YouTube channel by that name also where I talk about stroke recovery, the Chicago Cubs, and the Chicago Bears, never the White Sox. I have to make that clear, just in case Warren stumbles onto my blog. He’s an Australian regular poker player, who actually has a World Series Ring, because he was a scout for the Sox when they won the World Series years ago. Some people think I chose the Doknbox name for my first email address on AOL, because I was once and Obstetrician and Gynecologist. Box was a slang term for a certain female body part I used to specialize in, but I digress.
Sucker Snarky Mark had to wheel his table with his Corona, spit cup, and potato soup to the side of the room where alternates sat and waited after they re-entered the tournament. I often say that I just want to outlast my beer, my soup, or Sinister Smiling Ray. Tank, the dealer, who is built like a tank, once noted that I moved all-in before I finished my soup. That was an obvious tell that he pointed out. Lately, I’ve made a habit of moving all-in when I still have soup and a fresh cocktail, and I’ve paying the price, because I’m Sucker Snarky Mark, and everyone knows it.
I was seated at table 20 for my next shot at the tournament where I was being obliterated by Marlon, who had been with me at table 18 to witness the earlier demise of Sucker Snarky Mark. Many from table18 who outlasted both me and my soup were moved to table 20 as players were eliminated, and the number of players declined. In addition to Marlon, Monee, Sincere Smiling Ray, and Mr. Psycho-killer Phil were brought to table 20. I nicknamed his wife, Alice, the Psycho-killer. Phil said something to me later that evening that should pissed me off. Previously I wrote that revenge is overrated, unless it’s with the pen or keyboard. I enjoy the banter with Phil. Phil, you’re not a psycho-killer at the poker table. That title is reserved for Alice, but you can be Mr. Psycho-killer. However, let’s not get carried away. I won’t be calling you both Mr. and Mrs. Psycho-killer. You have to earn your own nickname. However, the vampire who was the maker of the vampire, Atticus, was named Philanescu, which is Phil for short. It’s really ironic, because I wrote the book before I met any of you mean people who do nothing but insult me, but there’s no crying in poker.
So, I had to order some soup, because I’m a diabetic, and I can’t afford to become hypoglycemic, especially around Phil, Monee, and Marlon. Because of Marlon’s habit taking my chips, I had to make a play with only 6,500 in chips with the blinds 1,600-1,600-800. I was in the small blind when Marlon had limped from early position. I moved all-in with my King-Jack. He called after they counted my stack out. He showed pocket 6’s. It was basically a coin toss. I told Tank to give me a King. He did better than that. He gave me a King and a Jack, but he also gave Marlon a 6. I still had a shot to hit 4 cards for the win, but Sucker Snarky Mark was compelled to bring his soup and cocktail to the side of the room as Tank Called out, “Seat Open!”
As I collected my soup, drink, and card protector, Phil said to me, “Maybe you should try reading about poker instead of writing about it.”
Sucker Snarky Mark didn’t fight, because he writes. For the record, I don’t blame dealers for dealing me losing hands, but I can’t help but notice Tank smirk when I have to carry my soup to the side of the room.