DUBLIN BELLYBUSTERS

Is this a pot which I see before me,
The chips move toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, profitable session, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A feast of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the tilt-oppressed brain?

                                        - LAPPIN (after Shakespeare)

A hand holding. A winning session. An upswing. None of these things seem real to the paranoid 'tilt-oppressed' brain. After a $23,000 downswing, I am finally on the uptick but it just doesn't seem real. The last fortnight has seen me take my longest ever break away from the tables and I can honestly say that I haven't missed poker one little bit. I finished with some positive sessions two weeks ago and I have just put in two positive sessions in a row. This should make me happy but in all honesty I am numb. The break has given me perspective. It has made different things seem important. At the risk of sounding like Jean Baudrillard, Jacques Lacan or Slavoj Zizek, I have rediscovered 'The Real'.

The primary reason for this sabatical was that Michelle crossed the pond for some fun days in Dublin mixed in with some truly magical nights in London. Staying at Chez-Antonia and joined by the always hilarious (though definitely dark-hearted) Ray, we indulged in two consecutive nights of our new favourite band 'Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros'. Concealed in the Underworld of the Old Vic Tunnels, we were treated to art installations, experimental music, existential cinema, a burlesque show, a puppet show and of course Alex Ebert, Jade Castrinos and their talented posse who played an amazing set and then defied expectations with an impromptu encore sing-along on the streets outside the venue.

The second concert was directly preceded by a very special moment for all of us. Making our way through the labyrinth of tunnels beneath Waterloo Station, we caught a glimpse of an unkempt, impoverished-looking busker, tunefully strumming her guitar in one of the narrow passageways. Walking passed her, we all simultaneously checked our step and looked at one another. Breaking the silence, I spoke up: "Was that...?" Ray finished my sentence: "Jade". We quickly retraced our most recent steps and sure enough there in the darkened tunnel sat Jade Castrinos, her face half covered by a red tea-cosy hat, her hands blackened by what we would later find out was an afternoon of finger-painting. "Hey!", came the cutest of voices from out of the darkness. "Hey", we replied and we sheepishly made our introductions. Her beaming smile oozed friendliness and as we sat down beside her in the dirt, she asked if she could play us a song.

I played well last night. After a great conversation with Nick 'Rounder63' Carrillo, during which we discussed downswings, psychology, game selection and strategy, I hit the tables rejuvenated, sharp and optimistic. "Play the $69 45mans again", he said, "They have softened back up" and while it is a little early to confirm whether that is true, the 'old LAPPIN/Rounder63 goldmine' (Nick's words) was kind to me over a small sample as I took 2 3rds, 2 2nds and a 1st during an eleven game set. I was tighter in the early stages, I picked my spots well with a short stack, I made some good disciplined folds and late on, I ramped up the aggression with some high-wire 3-bets and squeeze-plays.

I also brewed in some MTTs, finishing 27th out of 2300 in the $15K Rush Super Turbo (my 5th top 2% of the field finish in that tourney this past fortnight) and 8th in the $28K Guarantee. In the latter, I was incredibly unlucky late on, when, at the final table, I had the following pair of hands conspire against me in quick succession.

Both were all-in pre-flop and both would have put me top three in chips and given me a great at 11K for 1st place. $800 seemed like a kick in the ass having grinded and grafted my way through a 2200 player field but all in all, $2800 for the night is a significant step in the right direction.

Nero fiddled while Rome burned. Fine Gael politicians get the bumps while Ireland dangles over the precipice of bankruptcy.

Enda Kenny can celebrate. Just like Tom Hooper and the makers of 'The King's Speech' will be celebrating tonight. But much like King George VI, Enda Kenny has come to power in the middle of a crisis. He has inherited a steaming turd. He has the support of the people now but that won't last long, especially when, unlike George, he lets the Germans get the better of him.

I watched the General Election leader's debate last night and drew the following worrying conclusions.

1. The person who will be Taioseach is a Palinesque public relations fiasco waiting to happen and his party is all slogans and no substance.
2. The person who clearly had the most to gain and lose was a toned-down, insipid reflection of himself.
3. The person who impressed me most is the leader of a party I abhor and served for 14 years in the governments that helped to bring about Ireland's economic collapse.
4. The public are incapable of judging a debate.

Enda Kenny was the tight passive amateur - he tried to convey a strong image by staying silent, not playing too many hands, sticking to script and simplifying the game by raising only his premium holdings but, in actuality, he had no idea how to play and limped weakly into hands only to get himself lost in the minefield of post-flop play.

Eamon Gilmore was the tight aggressive semi-pro - he understands the game pretty well and at lower stakes, he maintains a strong image, sees his opponents weaknesses and times his aggression well. However, he found himself in a big boy's game and, under pressure, he tightened up, allowing himself to be exploited by the laggy maniac while at the same time not exploiting the weak player on his right.

Micheal Martin was the fearless, tenacious loose aggressive pro who adopted the tactic of short-stack attack. He knows he has played poorly of late but he has experience on his side and a much greater grasp of the fundamentals. Responding to a recent downswing and feeling like he has nothing to lose, he came out all guns blazing, raising and re-raising his opponents into a state of paralysis, exposing their fundamental impotence when asked tough questions and put under real pressure.

The average Joe is results-oriented and thus, misinterprets and misapprehends what they are watching. They think the amateur knows what he is doing because they mistake his silence for composure, his suit for substance, his chiplead for skill. And much like Chris Moneymaker, Enda Kenny is going to donk his way to victory. The amateur is going to win this one but not because he is good but because he is lucky and those around him either don't have enough chips or are very bad.

And like Chris Moneymaker, it won't be long before he gives back his winnings and is exposed for the donkey that he really is.

A frustrating few days of deep runs and nothing to show for it means I am back to where I was prior to the good days of last week. A 20K downswing sucks in a fairly big way but when I reflect on my graph, 13K+ of it came due to a brutal run in the hyperturbo 6mans. That's actually not an unusual swing in them but I don't have the stomach to keep grinding them (at least, not at the moment) and have reverted back to MTTS.

I believe I am playing well, not my very best admittedly, but still profitably. I am going to focus hard over the next few days on two things; game selection and not forcing the issue mid to late in MTTs. At the risk of becoming a vampire, I am going to play the late session between 2am and 8am Ireland time to sync up with what I believe are the softest hours of the day. Also, I have found myself hero-calling a little too often in spots where I feel I am ahead of the villain's range but with hands so marginally +EV that the preservation of my stack and the weapons its size affords me are more valuable than taking the small edge for a large % of my stack.

Ok, ok... just because I finally got a reprieve from my $18K downswing doesn't mean I'm gonna break my promise to myself to start posting again. I admit, it was hard to not play but not for the reasons some might expect. I don't regard myself as a gambler, more an actuarial gamesmith who grinds out a living, putting in much the same hours as a normal working person. I am not hooked on poker. In fact, I love time away from the game. But hand on heart, when faced with the reality of a break last week, it killed me. The reason? It wasn't on my own terms. When I take a holiday, it is me deciding that I am going to enjoy myself for a while. This, on the contrary, felt like an imposed suspension, like I had been told by my boss to take a few days off and I hate being told what to do by someone else, even if that person is myself.

So, this day last week, after a few games of Facebook Lexulous (Scrabble) with Michelle, I got back on my horse and feasted to the tune of over $7K, thanks for the most part to my victory in the 2000+ player $12K Rush Super Turbo KO for over $5500. It was a much needed win and it was followed up quickly by a 4th place finish in another MTT. I could breathe again. I stopped the bleeding. And despite being perilously close, I didn't have to reload my accounts.

Since then, I have had mostly good days, making money 5 of the last 7 but thankfully no really bad days. I final tabled the $12K Rush Super Turbo KO the very next day, AK<AA ruining my dreams of a back-to-back but the highlight has been the winning of an Espana Series satellite to Madrid which Full Tilt have kindly let me defer until the full series schedule is up and I can see if the Barcelona event suits my timetable better. I won the seat along with my friend Vegard 'Vestvik7" Vestvik (There will be many posts about him in the coming weeks as I attempt to catch up on the year's points of interest), a break-out star of 2010 who I hope to meet and outlast in Barcelona.

Viva Espana Redux!

It has been two weeks shy of one year since I last posted a written blog entry. The reason? Greed. I have had a fantastic year on the tables and I guess I viewed time spent writing as time not spent playing. A recent grotesque spell, almost triple my previous worst ever downswing has prompted me to sit out, take stock and regain some perspective. As my friend Blockey correctly put it the other day..."I don't feel a bit sorry for you, it's part of what you do", an especially sharp insight for someone who doesn't play poker for a living. Nobody should feel sorry for me. I shouldn't even feel sorry for myself (although I do a bit). What has taken place is merely course-correction for a prolonged period of positive results. And now it is up to me to take the advice I have dispensed so many times to others.