Thursday, September 06, 2007

Crash Davis or Eric Davis

The sweat from the now lukewarm Aquafina bottle sitting on the wooden bench matches your drenched white Full Tilt t-shirt acquired several months ago while meeting some people in a Vegas casino side bar. Sounds of softballs twanging off bats towards fielders who came out to enjoy the sun and each others’ company surround a busy intersection of diamonds each lit up differently due to burnt out floodlights that the rec board hasn’t fixed yet. The field itself is a little lumpy, much like your mid-section after years of being away from that barking pitching coach that demanded one more wind sprint before first period Deutsch class with a wannabe Eastern Eurotrash teacher. Striding up to the plate, your presence as the number four hitter causes the familiar pitcher that’s sponsored by a sport bar known for some decent wings and ½ priced drink specials to shout for the outfielders to move closer to the green “285ft.” sign by the oval bent fence. A smile and a quick breath taken before engaging the end over end 12” USSSA approved softball coming over the place with the bat, you feel calm and confident…

Looking out over the perfectly manicured outfield that shows criss-cross cuts usually reserved for major league ball fields, there’s a sense you’re not in Kansas anymore. “We wear caps and sleeves at this level son” barks the gruff manager as you grab the newly minted silver and black cap with a popular bat brand hand stitched on the front and snuggly apply it to your head. While you’re not the smallest player on the team, there’s no question the level of competition isn’t what you’d find playing on the fields behind the St. Joseph’s church diamonds during the beer league on Thursday nights. The manager on that team is whoever grabs the book bought at Dick’s Sporting Goods before the season started, not some owner of a business that wanted to sport a uniform from the team he paid to dress. During the game, home runs are hit with enough g-force to make an astronaut sick from the speed. The players are all business except for some quick idle chatter when the manager is barking signals from third base, about the waitress walking on the above ground bar providing a peek underneath her loose fitting daisy dukes. “Do I fit in here?” as you glance at the Budweiser logo’d dry-erase lineup card stuck to the edge of the dugout that displays your name second from last out of 12 players…

… “Whatta donk” you mutter after yet another rack of virtual chips slides underneath the pirate avatar when your top pair top kicker held up against the fish avatar who enjoys any pair and has rebought enough times to afford a trip to Vegas and maybe catch the Blue Man Group. Playing three or four of these tables while chatting on the girly IM box with friends and sipping on adult beverages is established grounds for you since this is how you obtained a bankroll in the first place. Get a hand, have it hold up, toast another drink to the donators that need a hand ranking chart from a pack of Hoyle’s cards to figure out that four cards to a straight isn’t a made hand. Steady like a crack-addict after getting his fix for the evening, the green numbers in your Excel spreadsheet keep piling up like offers for low rate credit cards in your mailbox.

… “ouch” did he just check-raise me on the river when that flush card hit? “Stupid f’in idiot, doesn’t he know who’s behind the pirate??!?!?!”, but the set was no good to the flush and straight draw that got there and I couldn’t fold. The pop up box tells me I have insufficient funds to play the next hand and must click the “get chips” logo for a buy-in that has taken several months of rakeback and winning to obtain. Getting 3-bet, shown bluffs after flopping strong hands and blown off the hand by the turn to a floater, and stack sizes that could budget a family vacation to the house the Mickey Mouse built complete with passes to Epcot Center and breakfast at the Waffle House! The declamation on just one screen is enough to stare at the reflection bouncing off your laptop after you power down, just to look at the person who could compete but doesn’t have the swagger needed to win at that level.

Where are you with your poker game? Are you dominating the comfortable game and staying there, or are you dressing up to take shots in the game you should be playing but aren’t necessarily the best player at the table?

Just some food for thought before I dive headfirst into a mountain of TPS reports this morning.

Thanks for dropping by now please check out the World Cup of Poker live on the intertubes from PokerStars. The links are in my recent post at the blog that pays the bills.

No comments: