Anger Management and the Beer Hand Open

I'm the sort of person who needs a plan. I get really nervous when things don't go to plan or if the plan becomes so distorted it becomes unrecognisable. Whether big or small tournaments, I follow a certain ritual before a game. As I hope to play for most of the night I stay in bed for as long as is possible. Then I have breakfast, a relaxing bath and arrive at the game early to sus out the competition.

A scene from Lewis Carrolls 'Alice in Wonderland' springs to mind, in which the Cheshire cat questions young Alice about her intended journey. When Alice admits she is lost, our frank feline apologetically states that he cannot direct her there if she doesn't know where there is..

Never was I more in need of a Cheshire cat (or even a sat-nav system) than last Saturday. After a series of communicaton blunders between myself and the unusual suspects I ended up missing the D.L.R. and had to get a taxi to Acton for the London Beerhand Open.Unfortunate I know but that DIDN'T tilt me.

A master of geography my driver was not and after the wildest goosechase imaginable I arrived at the Western Card Room out of breath, 60 quid lighter(But STILL not tilting) and having missed the first two levels. The Western is Actons best kept secret and rarely utilized to its full potential so it was nice to see a good turnout on a Saturday afternoon
. The affable Geoff showed me to my seat on table 13 where I made my apologies and offered an explanation for my late arrival. I hadn't lost many chips and was actually doing better than some on my table. To my left was a veteran cash game player from The Vic. A few students, a dealer from Gutshot and Miss Kara Scott of Pokerzone fame. Nice Table!

I got AK under the gun and raised 1/5 of my stack getting no callers but picking up the blinds. While I normally don't agree in showing cards I decided to make an exception on this occasion. There was method in my madness though as a running ante was being introduced at the next level. If I could portray a super tight image early on by massively raising and showing premium hands, I might be able to steal a few cheeky blinds and antes later on when I need them.

When questioned about my strategy I put my shades and i-pod on. I was giving nothing away or so I thought. Being extremely myopic and not having prescription shades meant I couldn't see my hole cards without placing them about an inch from my nose. Shades off and specs on again.
"Well it was menacing when it lasted" offered Miss Scott.
What an idiot I am.

Recognizing her poker prowess I asked her if her parents played as she seemed to have poker in her blood. "Nope, and I'm only playing for three months" she added.
Now Gutshot knew that her Dad was Canadian poker aficionado Dr. Gene Scott and her statement was complete fabrication so I began to observe her body..eh..language!
She didn't flinch. This girl was so ruthlessly cold and calculating that she lied even when it wasn't nessessary.
I was starting to fall in love.

Having doubled up through the Gutshot dealer I shook his hand and bid him adieu. A new player was introduced to the table and when he asked what everyone was playing like, I scoffed that some players didn't play a hand for the first two levels.
It was Karas turn to be knocked out next and I was faced with a dilemma. Should I forfeit the tournament in pursuit of eternal happiness and beg Kara to go for a drink with me or continue on playing? Well there's plenty more fish in the cardroom I thought so I chose the latter.

And then it happened. The very thing I didn't plan for. I was being moved. My new table contained far less aesthetics but far more chips. I had to try to build up a new table image but within ten hands and some horrible outdraws I was out.The last two hands I'd played had been won by a husband and wife sitting to my left and right. Of course I'm not suggesting that any form of collusion was taking place. I was just a bit puzzled at how unlucky I was.(Still NOT tilting)
When they approached me in the bar to discuss the hands (Rub it in) I did the only decent thing and invited them back to mine for some High Stakes Strip poker.
The look on their faces as they made their excuses and scarpered from the bar...priceless.

I crossed the road for some comfort(junk) food. Even when I clearly asked for a plain Cheeseburger and got no meat in it, That DIDN'T tilt me!

When I was going over hands on the tube and missed my stop by 5 stops..That DIDN'T tilt me!

When I got off at Manor Park and couldn't find a pub or toilet, That DIDN'T tilt me! What sort of sick place doesn't have a pub?

When I got off at Finsbury Park an had to wait over ten minutes for my pint of the black stuff. That DIDN'T tilt me.

But when I looked down in horror to discover the barmaid had defaced the head if my pint with a Bart Simpson emblem.
Now that bloody tilted me....Grrr!