P-P-P-P-Pick up the Penguins

6/07/2009 10:31:00 am / The truth was spoken by Rich /

While I was wasting my time at Dusk Till Dawn last night the Detroit Redwings were hammering the Pittsburgh Penguins 5-0 and thusly taking themselves within one game of proving that I am not indeed the most astonishing hockey prognosticator since Duncan Williamsburgh of Digby Nova-Scotia in 1878 who pronounced while shuffling a piece of frozen dog shit across a pond with a broom stick to his brother Dougas, "I think we got ourselves a game here Doug, eh?"

I haven't seen the game yet as I was busy having pocket queens beaten by an Ace-10 and an Ace-Queen beaten by an Ace-8 and various other crap, so I cannot account for such a one-sided score line. I must hope for the sake of the game of hockey and my Stanley Cup book that it was an aberation though and the Penguins will tie the series up back in Pittsburgh on Toosday thus wearing this Dads Army of a Redwings team down and winning the cup in Detroit's own barn on Friday.

The Redwings are trading at 1.28 as we speak so I will be laying them cause it's money less likely to go down the swanny than had I used it to ante up at the poker tables in that Oxford Cup thing later today or anywhere else any time soon for that matter.

To quote Jules Winnfield in Pulp Fiction, last night when I was driving back from Dusk Till Dawn, "I had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity." Might the reason I suffer from a lack of patience and discipline be because I'm utterly bored of the game? Yes!! EUREKA!!

The last few games I've played I've busted out holding Ace-Queen twice, Jack-5 and 8 high. Not exactly premium holdings. I think that tells you all you need to know about my enthusiasm for waiting for good spots to get my money in. I called three all-ins last night with Ace-3 sooted because I thought it be would funny if it won. That is what the kids call -EV.

I'm afraid the masochist in me is no longer dominant enough to allow me to sit at a poker table for seven hours playing a game which I could theoretically play perfectly yet still lose. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why, Why? Perfect play and end up with absolutely nothing - who does that? In what other walk of life would this be considered a healthy diversion from the hellish tedium of this unforgiving godforsaken life? Apart from football and I'm sick of that too.

I will re-evalute later today over a bacon sandwich and a bag of pork scratchings. But I'm quite sure I need to find something else to do with my evenings. I quite fancy learning how to do the rubiks cube. Anyway, I'm glad I've got that off my chest. It's like the twelve steps of alcoholism recovery. First step admit you have a problem. I feel liberated. Shit fucking game. Bollocks to it. Probably a French game anyway.

The end.


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