Worst. Fantasy. Picks. Ever.
I managed to pick a whopping four picks right in Pauly's pool and five in another pool with some softball buddies.
Nine. Out of 32.
Decent hitting percentage for a journeyman light-hitting baseball player who's a defensive specialist, not so great for someone who actually pulled some cash that same pool last year and would have won the other pool if he wasn't getting shit-faced at a Pai Gow table with a bunch of poker writing donkeys while listening to the Freddy Mercury deal-a-tainer at the IP and forgot to make his picks.
Repeat performance, not happening. Throw in starting 0-4 in two fantasy football leagues (one which I won last year) and all those hours reading up on ESPN/ProFootballTalk.com/KSK etc. were all for not. All except KSK which is simply awesomeness sqaured wrapped in pigskin (if you don't make it a daily page to read, check out the weekly Sex Mailbag and Monday Morning Quarterback with Peter King posts if you enjoy NFL humor and the sex mailbag since everyone likes sex, well at least I do, I'm not sure about you).
The Midwest Poker Classic at Running Aces kicked off this week and after scanning the promo flyer from the racetrack (NOT CASINO!) there was exactly one Omaha tourney on the schedule.
Before checking out the date I was mentally making plans to hit up the tourney if time off of work was needed since the WCOOP coverage actually saved vacation time. Instead of lucking out with a Friday or Saturday tourney start, its on the end-of-month Sunday which other responsiblities are more important than chasing a final table appearance at Binions and the fleeting thinking that I can play this game live for profit.
Maybe I can, maybe I can't but as it always has been, poker is a hobby something to do after all else is done. Lately, all else takes up the time space allotted for a rotation of the earth thus the poker (playing) takes a back seat to soccer practice, getting buff at the gym, and mopping up piss on a hardwood floor because your daughter mistook the kitchen for the bathroom.
Since I'm ok with the above, its nothing to miss out on another 15 hours of listening to how great Mark from California can throw clay chips and flip over pieces of plastic on a green felt. People wonder why I get drunk and purchase 200 big blinds while playing live poker? So all the brags and bad beat stories become funny rather than tiresome and annoying.
Live poker is supposed to be an enjoyable time away from everything and the Captain allows me to focus on the task at hand versus worrying about the broken database at work (DAMN YOU MICROSOFT!!!1111) or my kids' next week schedule. There's nothing but cards in front of me and people chattering to the drunk so I can learn how likely they are to play back at me or meekly give up if the board is scary because the idiot double fisting rum and cokes can't possibly be paying attention.
Of course not.
Now a blogger table, that's different. Those are friends, and frankly I'm there to chat about what's been going on since the last time we've met. Otherwise, you better believe I know the fact you folded your blinds for the last five orbits and raised twice showing down suited aces while taking fully liberty in checking out the massive exposed side boob of Lynda from California serving you hot coffee with two creamers.