I neglected to post about the poker game I went to at Roger’s two Fridays ago, or was it a Thursday, I forget. Roger’s game has been pretty good lately. Lots of players, people waiting on the rail. You know when his game is going well when you don’t get texts from him. When he’s got a ton of people there, there’s no need for him to fire out a “CRAZY STOOPID ACTION!!!!” On the other hand, when he’s been having trouble getting players, that’s when you get the texts. So, yeah, lately, no texts. Something’s up, and it’s not me. The last time I was there, which like I said was something like ten days ago, the table was full, people were pretty deep. I took some hits early and was down like $280, but then rallied and was four or five bucks from being even for the night, and then this hand happened…

So there’s this kid called Ziggy. He’s youngish, I’d guess mid-twenties, although I am a horrible judge of such things. He’s got a lot of chips, definitely up, and he’s in a pretty good mood. As oftentimes happens with poker players when they are up, Ziggy’s range opens up too and so does his mouth. He’s been in a lot of the hands, loads of commentary, it’s pretty much Ziggy’s game.

Somebody opens, maybe it’s me. I was late, maybe in the cutoff. It’s around 1am. There’s maybe eight of us left. I have King 5, diamonds I think. I know, I know. Ziggy and another guy are in the hand when the flop comes down KKJ. Check check, and I bet like 20 into 32. The player who is not Ziggy folds. Maybe there wasn’t even another player in the hand, I forget. Ziggy snap calls. Of course I don’t think he has a king because he was happy and goofing around. Does that make sense? No.

I fire at the turn, which was a brick, another call, this one with some acting. He’s hamming it up now, “what do you have?” Pure theatrics from this guy, but of course, I can’t see it as anything other than a bluff, or not even so much as a bluff, but as make believe, as though when somebody puts on a performance, it can’t possibly mean they’re good, can it. They’re simply pretending.

Here’s the thing though. He had a boat and got like 70 bucks out of me in that hand, maybe 80, but in all honesty, what sunk me was the performance. It was almost intentionally bad, but intentionally bad on purpose. By that I mean, he was over the top, but in a way that was confusing for me to read. He must have repeated that “what do you have?” line like five times, and it echoed in my head for about three days.

So that was that game. I ended up out eighty bucks. I told Rog I would show up around nine tonight, but there were more texts than usual which gave me a feeling that it might be a slow night over there. So I sent out a “I’m coming” text just to make sure the game was on. I was half out the door when he called and told me to meet him some place in Revere.

Revere?! For Christ’s sake that’s way too far. At moments like this you wish you had a backbone. I was crossing the Charles fifteen-twenty minutes later. I was too busy fiddling with Waze to set up some music, so the iPod just played up the first thing in my library, Adrenaline Night Shift. Normally this might be just the thing to fire you up as you sneak out of the house at 9:30pm on a Tuesday night, but the prospect of the relatively long drive had my mood soured. I got to the place and was directed to a dimly lit building. When I say dimly lit, I mean, it was dark. Very dark, as though the building hadn’t had its door opened in over five years. As I approached that door, one of the guys who directed me over there asked me what I was there for. Cards, I replied. This prompted him to direct me into another building.

I go down some steps and who is the first person I see? A cop!

There was a tourney going on that I guess qualified the gathering as some kind of charity affair, which meant it was quasi-legal. I waited for about five minute before a second table opened. The game was pretty good, but I couldn’t get any traction cardswise. There was a kid there with slicked back hair and a voice pulled out of a 1930s gangster movie. He was the life of the table, and like Ziggy above, was loose and gabby about it too. He must have been up two or three hundred. For the most part, the rest of the table was fairly passive and calling stationy, including myself to some extent. I never claimed I was a good player.

The place was kind of depressing. Maybe on another night I would have really dug this scene. It was a kind of basement gymnasium type deal with a small bar in the corner. A bartender/waitress would swing by and you could buy drinks for $2 and $3. The table I played at was pretty beat up and the chips were doled out in odd combos. I bought in for $250 and was given 8 greens, 9 reds, and 4 ones. This was pretty standard across the table. Also, and this will sound super nitpicky, but the $25 chips were clay, while the $1 and $5s were ceramic. Completely different sets. I dunno, for the cost of raking a 1/2 game for an hour, you could buy yourself a nice set of 1000 Pioneers.

And don’t call me a snob until you’ve played in my basement.

Anyhow, I didn’t do so great. I played B- poker for me. The game broke at 12, “by law” I guess, although the cop was long gone. Call me down $115 for the night, which means for both of the games in this post I am down a whopping $195. When you factor in that I spent $20 of my roll on beers Sunday night, you’ll understand what a dire predicament I am in.

Did I mention I got a new job two and a half weeks ago? And oddly enough, ever since landing it, I have not had one single winning session!!!

Hopefully that changes on Friday in what very well may be my last trip to the Crescent Lounge. More on that later.