Do you call it survival?
Is it yet another layer of blankets to protect you from the elements?
Everyone has life happen to them. Unless you're watching 24 hour re-runs of Hollywood Squares and Little House on the Prairie with that nine inch black and white Tee-Vee with aluminum foiled rabbit ears down in mommy and daddy’s basement, come on up to enjoy this twisted reality most of us go through daily.
I try to incorporate a little poker into my postings because it is my favorite hobby despite the urge to use my laptop as a frisbee at times. The cash games have not treated me well lately, actually I’ve done rather poorly due to tired calls when I’m beat, and fancy level 26-type plays at pots that only the latest Intel microprocessor would be able to figure out.
Good weeks, bad weeks, and weeks that you have to call upon your backup quarterback to stop the booing despite giving up on your horrid season of mis-management of resources (I'm looking at you Mr. Run-Taylor-Middle). Luckily I have a bankroll that I keep within to absorb any slap shots to bare shins and still limp away with nothing more then some discolored skin and a slight limp. But, to a former hockey player who’s used to taking such abuse, its shrugged off like a forgotten mosquito bite after the itching dies down.
At what point while playing poker are you able to look back at a board which your opponent was drawing to two outs and say “Nice game sir” after the river card turns your winning hand into paper mache and actually mean it? When do the twinges of “bad beat” pain become nothing more taking a little bigger gulp of hot coffee then your mouth could handle?
Sure layers of protection help fend off things like cold toes and STD’s but in poker don’t you want to feel a little bit alive when your 95% didn’t come in? Having a one-way express ticket to Tiltsville isn’t healthy for any bankroll, but if you don’t enjoy the thrill of the gamble nor care a little about winning or losing what’s the point of playing unless you transfer your lockbox chips from Commerce over to Wells Fargo for the mortgage payment?
I found a little excitement this weekend despite my ledger running red on the poker side. My dad’s side of the family gets together for Christmas each year at an undisclosed location. Yes, I said Christmas not “the holidays” or any other goddamn stupid ass PC-ish crap. Ho ho ho and a bottle of Captain Morgan rum. This year was a little different as the clan decided to head up north near Brainerd to my uncle’s home on a lake. Despite the extremely warm temperatures lately, we were able to partake in a little skating and boot hockey action. Since my work accident I really have not played hockey (almost six years) and even while goofing off on a secluded lake with a hockey stick half the size it should be for someone of my height, it felt like biting into a perfectly made chicken wing or melting into your couch with no agenda other then dreams about hitting the $5,000 spot on the Wheel of Fortune and asking Vanna to turn over all of the P’s in the phrase “Peter Piper Picked A Pack of Pickled Peppers” while holding a trip to Maui for solving the puzzle.
The rush of cold air while skating fast outdoors is in infusion of oxygen that you won’t find through the tubes at your local mall oxygen bar for $15. Laughter coming from my son as he begs me do spin him across the ice while donning a bright yellow Cooper hockey helmet with a bulldog sticker on the back, gives me hope that the future looks to be better then the past. Another layer of warmth added to shield off any anger that arises after he gets up for fourth time during the night with a new excuse as to why he won’t go to sleep. Bathroom, thirsty, “my show is on”, and cold feet were the reasons if you’d like to know. All said with the same soft innocent voice that you couldn’t possibly irked at even if you didn’t notice flushing a buy-in down the tubes because those baby-blue eyes needed more attention.
Maybe someday I’ll have grown a thick enough layer of immunity to tilt to do nothing more then sigh at a board and reload the way Wyatt looks after grabbing for a cookie in the cookie jar but coming up with air.
Thanks for dropping by, now here is natural selection at its finest. Nice job Ted, you just may win the Darwin award this year.