Sometimes after a bad run out I’ll head to the poker odds web page and plug in the cards to see what the odds were, to figure out what I deserved to win.  Of course this is a foolish exercise, and I’d be better off foregoing it entirely. There’s this huge temptation to succumb to having a chip on my shoulder, to thinking that I am unlucky, when in reality, it was just one occurrence among hundreds of the evening. Obviously, losing a giant pot or two is what makes for a bad evening overall, but there’ll be other nights. Chances are it may take a few sessions, but I’ll probably win the money back. It’s still a setback, though, that’s not wanted. However, it should be, because it is, expected. There will be joy and suffering, it is inevitable, but if you don’t play suited one gappers, you can push your meter more towards the former.

So, I take this bad beat, I lose a bunch of money, and my little win streak. I get home, trying not to feel too bad about it. It’s almost 3am and I am in the backyard waiting for the dogs to piss, when I feel this splash of liquid on the back of my calf. Dogs were in front of me, so it threw me for a loop. I turn the flashlight on my phone and look at where I stepped. There, in the spotlight, cast about pebbles and twigs, lay the smashed remains of a giant slug. Poor bastard, of all the times to slither around, 3am must have seemed like a safe bet.

I played again two nights later and had another losing session. This one wasn’t so bad, in fact, I got a little lucky, it could have been far worse, so there’s that. My big accomplishment of that evening was that I tried and succeeded in playing poker without drinking. This is part of my training for Vegas, where I want to play a lot of poker, but I don’t want to be buzzed or drunk for five straight days. Yes, I am making a concerted effort to enjoy poker sober. I feel like I have to. If I can accomplish this on a regular basis, maybe I can pull it off watching baseball games, during family outings, who knows, the sky is the limit.