1/04/2009 01:41:00 pm / The truth was spoken by Rich /

If you hear a rumour that I only make money in poker tournaments by having a percentage of Alan, ignore it, cause it's true and I don't want you thinking I'm shit. The first time we ventured to the Grosvenor Casino in Bristol Alan cashed and I was out in the first hour. First time we played at the Isle Casino in Coventry Alan cashed and I was out in the first hour. Last night at Aspers in Northampton I was out in the first hour and Alan won. There's a pattern emerging here, I just can't quite figure it out.

To be fair to myself, while Alan was chopping the tournament for half a bag of sand, I was able to ask myself some searching questions about my game and I came to the conclusion that I had not made some daft mistakes, had I not blown the tournament out my arse in the first few levels, had I not played like someone ravaged by Alzheimers, then I could of won - it's a fine line.

Actually people, the hand that saw me crying into my latte was the right move just at the wrong time. I still think it was the right thing to do and I'll thank you not to snigger at me. There'd been a lot of limping see and one guy in particular, we'll call him Woger, cause he had a speech impediment and I hope he's been cursed with an unpronouncable name - he'd been applying a limpers tax frequently.

On this occasion with the blinds at 100/200 I limped with 4-5 of diamonds and two other dudes also limped at which point Woger made it 1,000 to go. I had something like 5,000 at this time. The blinds were due to go up to 200/400 in ten minutes time so I decided I shall have a stab at nicking this pot as I wanted to try and build me a stack so I wasn't in shove or fold mode when the blinds went up.

I decide upon a stop and go move. I call the 1,000 everyone else folds. I sense that Woger is uneasy and fancy my move is going to succeed. The flop is 2d - 2s- 6d, Smashing! Flush draw and gut shot - even if I am called I have outs. I move my remaining stack into the middle, but before they get there Woger's chips are in already!! Woger you see has a pair of frookin sixes!

Any flop that does not have a six on it and I feel my move succeeds. I thought he was weak, he was, I thought his hair was silly, it was. But still I was sent hurtling to the rail with nothing but a "sowwy mate" from Woger to ease my suffering. Did I need to make that move? Should I have held my horses for a few more rounds? Will Susan ever find out about Martin's affair? Find out next week.

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In other news, I don't know if the weather reads my blog, but for fucks sake weather, why so cold? There's no need for you to be colder than my freezer. When we returned from Northampton last night it was -4! My windscreen was filthy as we traveled back so I tried using my washers, unfortunately the water turned to ice immediately and I couldn't see noffin. A worse decision than playing 4d-5d for my whole stack I think you'll agree. At least only my tournament life was as stake on that occasion. Phew.

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Call me cwazy, but I prefer the BDO darts on the BBC. Yeah I said it, I said that shit. One thing I noticed about darts Sky Sports style last night, which I was able to watch at the casino as I had a few hours to kill, was how much more enjoyable it is when there's no sound.

I prefer the more subdued atmosphere of the Lakeside and Tony Green's commentary which is soothing and pleasant as opposed to the shrieking fucking nonsense of Sid Waddell and the terrifying mental instability of the crowds.

Darts on the BBC is like wearing a comfy pair of slippers, where as watching Darts on Sky for an hour makes me feel like I've been in a car accident. I've never subscribed to the school of thought that bigger and louder is better. That's why I find Americans so hard to tolerate for lengthy periods of time.

What is it about that bit of music Sky play before intermissions that de-evolves the entire crowd by a quarter of a million years? I can't imagine 2,000 rabid monkeys behaving with any less decorum. Some sort of hypnosis afoot here me thinks.

If they played that music into the work place of some of these people would they still involuntarily throw their arms in the air and make the loudest noise possible from the backs of their throats? I think surgeons like to listen to music when they operate...God help the heart transplant patient when that music is piped into the operating theatre and his surgeon happened to be at the Alexandra Palace the night before.

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