…well after eight hours and far too much coffee for a comfortable sleep, I split last night’s poker tournament three ways for a very healthy profit.
Admittedly, I got my fair share of luck along the way, but that’s the nature of the beast. I’ll debate anyone who tries to deny the skill that is clearly involved in the game, and required to progress, but I’ll never dispute that you need a bit of good fortune too.
Anyway, work tomorrow, so that may be my casino adventures for 2020!
I used to play a lot of poker, and I do mean a lot. Back in 2015 and 2016 I played cash poker every weekend, almost without fail, and most of the other nights I’d be sitting playing a tournament. This went on for many months.
I was pretty good too, relatively speaking. I made money most weeks, and when the end of the year rolled around I was up by thousands of pounds.
I’m not saying it to boast – I very much doubt I could have maintained it as a career path – but more to compare and contrast it to right now. I’m off work tomorrow so I decided to take the opportunity and play a tournament.
It’s my first time for a long while behind the baize, and I’m probably doing all right… considering. I’ve reached the first break, so that’s something. But these are shark-infested waters, and I feel like they are hungry and I have forgotten how to swim.
Yeah, I know. It’s been a while, so I’ll be posting updates over the next few days to bring whoever may be interested up to speed.
The twenty-four hour online poker marathon in December went very well. I’m guessing the threats of violence obviously worked, because in the end over £1,300 was raised for Cancer Research UK – more than even my lofty expectations. Thanks to everyone who chipped in, and apologies to those I annoyed more than once for a donation… although some of you will know that’s what I’m like with charity drives. I always factor in a 10% friendship loss whenever I do these things.
You can check out the totals here. Feel free to throw me some cash if you have any Christmas money left over… or if you were one of those who promised but conveniently forgot.
Yes, I know who you are.
Last week I decided to forego the fast ride and the buxom blonde typically associated with the male mid-life crisis, and opt for the somewhat more sedentary escape of entering the APAT English Amateur Poker Championships, which took place over the weekend of June 29-30 in Coventry. I was visiting my nephew in Salisbury the following week anyway, so it slipped rather nicely into my schedule, and trusting that the planets had aligned in such a manner for a reason, I decided to pony up the not insubstantial buy-in and register.
Less expensive than the sports car, and (mindful of how I phrase it) ultimately more fulfilling than an eighteen year-old, I thought a couple of days of poker may be just what I needed to recharge the batteries.
Of course, a seven hour drive timed so that I would arrive with about ninety minutes of rope is not the best preparation for ten and a half hours of poker, but that’s just what I did. Somehow, running on instinct towards the end of the night, I made it though to the next day as one of the 36 remaining from the initial 147 entrants.
After a fairly uncomfortable sleep in a hotel I would only recommend for the cute Eastern European woman behind the bar, I hit the casino to finish off the tournament. Three hours later there were 15 remaining, and I had been nursing the shortest of stacks for about thirty minutes. Finally my monster hand of 5 3 offsuit was taken down by the eventual winner’s A 10.
Can’t complain. I turned a 100% profit on the entry fee.