Voy Por Ustedes

With all the attempts made recently to sample the buffets of Europe’s most exotic poker locations, no attempt had been made at the Pigeons game for quite some time. So it was on Armistice Day with renewed determination and a side bet on who could knock Tim out, the Mob embarked on what was to become yet another futile attempt to negotiate a minefield of poker ability and disability to take down what has become the hardest game to beat in the western world and another tally of unacceptable Pigeon K.I.A’s.

With two tables I at least had an advantage as far as the side bet was concerned, as I was the only Mob member on Tim’s table, but as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. As it unfolded, a series of four hands sealed my fate; each one arriving with as much welcome and promise as the four horsemen of the apocalypse.


So it goes.

In middle position with the gay mechanic (queen with a jack) I raise to 150 called by Joy, SB folds BB calls.

The only time I ever really felt confident I was ahead in this hand was on the turn. I knew I was beaten when the board paired on 5th street. I didn’t expect Aces, but I knew somehow I was beaten. The Terminatress still insists she’s not sure what she’s doing. I have my doubts. There’s an icing of the blood that occurs when Joy calls a substantial bet and with not a flicker of emotional behind her bi-focals, any bet on the next betting street requires a perfect blend of courage and lunacy.

***

In hindsight, I have to concede I played this hand badly. I wasn’t aggressive enough and fortune favours the brave or the maniac. At the time however, I wasn’t thinking quite so lucidly, so I’ll recount the hand according to my reactions at the time as that’s more entertaining.

Ok what the fuck is this all about? I accept that you need the poker equivalent of the Rosetta stone to figure Tim’s play out, but even by his standards this is insane. Had Gus Hansen played a hand like this it would be on YouTube within minutes, but with all due respect to Tim, he might be unpredictable, but he’s not Gus Hansen. Gus has a method to his madness. Tim, Tim is just …Tim is just on this Earth to deprive me of pleasure.

Let’s just look at this hand again kids. Tim is under the gun here with 2-3 of hearts. Now, I know he likes his suited connectors, and I like them just as much as the next man or woman (thank you Loretta), but 2-3 in first position is going in the muck every time in almost all circumstances. Especially in a game with 5000 starting chips and it’s the first cock-sucking, pussy pig-fucking level.

Deeeeep breaths, deeeep breaths. Ocean noises. Woooooosh woooooosh. OK calm now. So I’ve re-raised to 500 and surely he’ll muck now? It’s ok seeing a flop cheaply with this hand, but calling a re-raise? No! Obviously though, he calls. On a board of 2h, Kd, 4s of course he’s gonna fucking ignore my initial re-raise and bet 600 on the flop. Who wouldn’t? Everyone, that’s who! OK OK woooooosh woooooosh, in with the good air, out with the bad.

Now then, since he didn’t think about his bet, I assume he has no king. If he had a king he’d at least have taken a couple of seconds to think before betting. So, I call. I should have re-raised to find out where I was, but even if he had called or re-raised, with this player, to be honest, I still wouldn’t know.

Obviously as it happened he didn’t have a hand so surely, even Tim must now give up the ghost? Surely, please Lord and the baby Jesus, please tell me Tim isn’t thinking his pair of fucking cunt knocking deuce’s is still good after the action I’ve given him.

Turn card is the five of spades. Tim now has an open ended straight draw and obviously he chucks in a 1000 because this is Christmas for him. At this point I said to myself, if he’s got A-3 I’m never playing this game again. I dismiss this and call. Again I should have re-raised if I felt I was winning, but for several reasons I took the circumspect approach and in doing so got what I deserved.

So far though, from Tim’s point of view, he’s seen me raise his initial bet, call his bet on the flop, call his bigger bet on the turn and so please, Allah, Zeus and Yahweh, please wake Tim up. Please give him vision enough to see that his pair of knob jerking, bollock jockeying deuces is cock sucking cunt licking beaten. Straight draw or not…if the river does not improve your hand you must give up Tim, even General fucking Custer would wave the white flag.

River card, 6s. Tim bets 1500. I fold. I’m still not entirely sure how I’m beaten, but with three spades and 2, 4, 5 and 6 on board I know I’m fucked. Even if has no straight or flush, there is still the faintest of chances he was betting with a King anyway.

Deuce, three of hearts it is then! I think the Pigeons swear box is owed £1 per gentle swear word, £2 for a fuck (bargain Paul!) and £3 for a cunt. I owe it £250. In real terms, I played as badly as Tim here. I should have jammed it on the turn. I didn’t want to go out early and I paid the price.

The aggressive player won the pot and fair enough, although I do feel that he was betting initially because he felt 2-3 of hearts was a decent starting hand and I do feel he felt his pair of deuce’s on the flop was still good, after that with the open-ender coming on the turn it was gravy for him.

Obviously he then went on to shit-cunt my chips off to all and sundry and was out within 30 minutes, but this was of scant consolation to me. Tim is an intriguing blend of all three of Dorothy’s companions in the Wizard of Oz. You can’t fault him for his heart and courage. Brains? Well, that’s a different matter. His potential should he find some is really quite frightening.

***

I forget what possessed me to move all-in here. I was very comfortable chip wise at this point after recovering from my earlier losing confrontations. My lack of patience again or the combination of painkillers and Guinness had me thinking I was indestructible. I destructed though.

***

Board no help

Bubble boy. On Remembrance Day a day to forget for the Mob. Let’s have a moment’s silence shall we.