Accessories of a Poker Player
Rings, bracelets, necklaces or nipple rings, if you ain’t got some of these then you’re just a part-timer, treating the game as a hobby, not truly a part of the real poker world, the world of the gambler.
I suppose this harkens back to the days when a poker player needed to constantly travel and this was the easiest way to carry large sums of money, if times got hard there would always be a pawn shop nearby. Even today in the states you will always find a pawn within a 2 minute walk of any casino. Maybe we can even blame the WSOP for encouraging this phenomenon by giving out gold bracelets to the winners all their events.
Whatever the reason, sometimes it seems the only difference between a winner and a loser is, the winner’s gold doesn’t turn his skin green.
It's not that I have anything against jewellery as such, it's more a question of taste, or maybe more the lack of it that sometimes reduces me to tears.
One of my absolute favourite pieces of bling is sported by John “The Brawler” Honan, it’s a ring he wears on his thumb, yes his thumb, that has a platinum outer band that supports an inner gold band that spins around, and has the 4 suits engraved on it, top class. Two words come to mind every time I see it, “Pike” and “e”. I’d really love to meet the dodgy Turk that sold it to John, I bet he’s still doubled over laughing.
But whatever about outlandishly vile and gaudy jewellery, which at the very least will give someone a good laugh, matching sets are just wrong. Tom “Kinder” Hanlon, one of Irelands foremost players, sports a rather fetching gold necklace which would be just fine if it wasn’t for the matching bracelet he wears with it. Combine this with the torn jeans he likes to wear and it’s not so much a pro poker look or even a tarmac your driveway in the middle of the day look, no, it's more a slip in the back entrance in the dead of night look. Hey, maybe this is the secret of his success, you’re less worried about his cards then you are that he’ll start rubbing your leg under the table, nice one Tom.
But of all the daft thing I have seen in the poker room, rings with rims, tee-shirts with a players own bloody name on it like Paul “The Hangman, really all the lads called me that at school” Roper, the single most embarrassing thing I have seen is a guy walking around the room with a Ferrari laptop, this belongs to Tom “The Opinion, and everyone knows what they say about opinions” Murphy, I mean good God man, what do you think goes through peoples minds when they see that thing. I am looking looking out for the new TV program, Pimp My Laptop.
Of course maybe I have it all wrong, maybe I shouldn’t be taking the piss out of people because of the ridiculous things they chose to adorn themselves with.
Should I instead celebrate the differences in people, be thankful for the dazzling variety of people you get to meet in the poker world, embrace the individual in everyone?
Bollock, it’s that kinda dumbass thinking that got women the vote, and see where that got us.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
A little more culture then normally appears on my blog
but i like it.
This was send to be by an anonymous source, simply signed
"your no.1 fan"
A poem by Ogden Nash
The Hunter
The hunter crouches in his blind
'Neath camouflage of every kind
And conjures up a quacking noise
To lend allure to his decoys
This grown-up man, with pluck and luck
is hoping to outwit a duck
but i like it.
This was send to be by an anonymous source, simply signed
"your no.1 fan"
A poem by Ogden Nash
The Hunter
The hunter crouches in his blind
'Neath camouflage of every kind
And conjures up a quacking noise
To lend allure to his decoys
This grown-up man, with pluck and luck
is hoping to outwit a duck
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Another fine mess
Why do we do it, I mean it seems like a good idea at the time but come on, we know better, drink and poker don’t mix. Fuck sake, the very clicking of the keys as I type this is causing an ache behind my left eye, Christ I need doctoring.
Anyway, despite all the promises I made to myself, I once again ended up in the Westwood last night, and had the mixed fortune of starting at the same table as John "The Milkybar Kid" Cullinane, Dave "Never leave your mobile unattended around this Bastard" Curtis and Pat "The Galway Man" O Callaghan. The company and crack was great for the 3.6 seconds (may have been a little longer but not much) that I lasted in the tournament, but it all went pear shaped fairly quickly as I found myself in a round with the 3 stooges.
The Kid and the mobile bandit were already well on it after enjoying some post work cocktails, so of course the Galwegian and I felt honour bound to attempt to catch up. So 1 hour and 4 pint after I got to the Westwood I was signing up for my first side table, oh man what a train wreck, a five hander winner take all €100 sit n’ go containing Fintan “The Suicide Bomber” Gavin, and good to his name he blew up on the second hand (he was playing ultra tight) and took 2 poor innocent bastards with him. I missed most of what happen over the next 10 minutes but suffice to say I was soon back at the bar celebrating my second place finish.
It wasn’t long before the 3 stooges became the gruesome twosome when the Kid joined me on the sit n’ go circuit. This of course meant that I got lumbered with the shitty job of having to go to the bar for John every time it was his round to save him the embarrassment of being asked for ID. A real pain in the ass but the Kid was on Jack and coke at this stage and he’s a mean drunk so I didn’t have much choice.
Soon enough Dave “I just bought a Harley, oh why oh why can nobody hear my desperate cry for help” Curtis and Pat “I’ll be very surprised if I don’t win tonight.” O Callaghan had also joined the minor leagues, the gallon mark had long since come and gone, and everything was starting to get a little hazy.
I remember playing notes poker, which is a little strange as I don’t remember every being able to play the game, also there was definitely some unlimited re-buy games that bore a closer resemblance to a riot the a card game. It all started to get darker from then on.
I woke for work this morning with a pounding headache, an empty wallet and a vague recollection of a cash game, Jesus I hope that doesn’t come back to bit me in the ass, and thought to myself, ‘”Why do I do it”, surely I am old enough and ugly enough at this stage to know drinking and gambling don’t mix. I’ll probably never learn, but it will be all worth will if even one young player reads this and learns from my foolishness, “Beware the demon drink”.
As for me I can’t wait to get pissed up at the Super Sat on Friday.
Why do we do it, I mean it seems like a good idea at the time but come on, we know better, drink and poker don’t mix. Fuck sake, the very clicking of the keys as I type this is causing an ache behind my left eye, Christ I need doctoring.
Anyway, despite all the promises I made to myself, I once again ended up in the Westwood last night, and had the mixed fortune of starting at the same table as John "The Milkybar Kid" Cullinane, Dave "Never leave your mobile unattended around this Bastard" Curtis and Pat "The Galway Man" O Callaghan. The company and crack was great for the 3.6 seconds (may have been a little longer but not much) that I lasted in the tournament, but it all went pear shaped fairly quickly as I found myself in a round with the 3 stooges.
The Kid and the mobile bandit were already well on it after enjoying some post work cocktails, so of course the Galwegian and I felt honour bound to attempt to catch up. So 1 hour and 4 pint after I got to the Westwood I was signing up for my first side table, oh man what a train wreck, a five hander winner take all €100 sit n’ go containing Fintan “The Suicide Bomber” Gavin, and good to his name he blew up on the second hand (he was playing ultra tight) and took 2 poor innocent bastards with him. I missed most of what happen over the next 10 minutes but suffice to say I was soon back at the bar celebrating my second place finish.
It wasn’t long before the 3 stooges became the gruesome twosome when the Kid joined me on the sit n’ go circuit. This of course meant that I got lumbered with the shitty job of having to go to the bar for John every time it was his round to save him the embarrassment of being asked for ID. A real pain in the ass but the Kid was on Jack and coke at this stage and he’s a mean drunk so I didn’t have much choice.
Soon enough Dave “I just bought a Harley, oh why oh why can nobody hear my desperate cry for help” Curtis and Pat “I’ll be very surprised if I don’t win tonight.” O Callaghan had also joined the minor leagues, the gallon mark had long since come and gone, and everything was starting to get a little hazy.
I remember playing notes poker, which is a little strange as I don’t remember every being able to play the game, also there was definitely some unlimited re-buy games that bore a closer resemblance to a riot the a card game. It all started to get darker from then on.
I woke for work this morning with a pounding headache, an empty wallet and a vague recollection of a cash game, Jesus I hope that doesn’t come back to bit me in the ass, and thought to myself, ‘”Why do I do it”, surely I am old enough and ugly enough at this stage to know drinking and gambling don’t mix. I’ll probably never learn, but it will be all worth will if even one young player reads this and learns from my foolishness, “Beware the demon drink”.
As for me I can’t wait to get pissed up at the Super Sat on Friday.
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