Is it baseball season yet?

Maybe it's because I watch Sportscenter approximately 8 times a day, but I am so sick of basketball right now. The NASCAR season is here... And I'm over it. I try to enjoy hockey and I do, but coverage of hockey games is so crappy on this area, it's tough to follow hockey closely. Add in the fact that Sidney Crosby is in no hurry to make his way back on to the ice. I'm pretty much a hockey fan without a team!

Now baseball. That's a sport I can get in to. I played as a kid. I still collect baseball cards. I'm in a sick fantasy league too. Most people give me shot for loving baseball but I just tell the to eat a dick. It's a great sport. I just hate the off season.

We have our annual fantasy draft this weekend. 8 guys spread across the USA have been doing this league for several years now. It's not your typical league either. We have keepers, a farm system, and 2 amateur drafts. I have won the league once. Came in 2nd twice.

To kick off the fantasy baseball draft weekend, we are doing a group break live on blogtv tonight. My buddy, Jim has a fresh 6 box case of Topps Tier One. I will be heading over to his house after work to kick off the festivities. The break will be $34/spot for 2 teams. There are 13 spots left. PayPal only please. It will be a blast! And a perfect way to kick off the baseball season.

Is this thing on?

I pretty much forgot I had a blog. It's been a few months since my last post. Not a whole lot of new or exciting stuff in my world right now. I haven't played poker in months. I've pretty much devoted all my spare time and money to collecting/trading/buying/selling baseball cards. The rest of my time I spend working. I'm still looking for a new job, but times are tough in this area right now.

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My family had a tough loss a few weeks ago. My nephew, Alex, died in a car crash. He was such a good kid and way too young. He was only 18 years old. I thought of him more as little brother rather than a nephew. The whole family has had a difficult time dealing with his death. Even now, a month after his accident, I can't type this paragraph without tears coming to my eyes.

But I'm not here to talk about the sadness of Alex's death. I just wanted to mention what a good kid he really was. Most 18 year old kids I know are pretty much jerks. I was 18 once and I remember how much of an ass I was. It's just human nature. Alex was a little different. Sure he had all the same things going on that any normal 18 year old did. However, he was also a family oriented person. He took time out to help his family rather than being embarrassed to be around them like most teenagers. He was constantly helping me with repairs and maintenance on my house. I felt like an idiot when it came to handy-man type stuff and he was just a natural at it.

Alex was just born mechanically inclined. His first fascination in life was vacuum cleaners. He was obsessed with them and how they worked. That obsession quickly turned to cars, trucks, tractors, go-carts, ATVs, motorcycles, or any other vehicle you could drive. He was pretty much always driving or riding something from the age of 3. I remember he used to love to come over to my house and play Grand Theft Auto 3. He would spend HOURS playing that game. My mother would get concerned about letting him play that game because it was so violent. But I had her watch him play for a bit. All he did in the game was acquire vehicles and drive them around. He would get a big truck and parallel park it in front of the house, or back all his cars up in a line across the screen. It was pretty funny. He just wanted to drive and play with cars.

I'm not a religious person. I don't believe any just God would have taken Alex from this earth. I believe life just sucks sometimes and you have to move on. I really miss Alex. If there's one thing I've learned (or have been re-taught) from his death, it is that life is too short and can be cut even shorter. I'm trying to better myself. Sometimes I go into a "funk" where I actually sabotage my self improvement. I'm 16 years older than Alex and he was more of a grown-up than me. Not that I have or want to be a model grown-up. However, I do need to be more mature about some decisions I make in life. And hopefully I can use Alex's death as a means to be more mature about such decisions.

So I met this chick...

Went out with some friends bar hopping the other night. I actually met this girl before, but this was my first time actually having a conversation with her. I knew she was a computer geek like myself. However after a couple hours of chit chat I realized this chick has her shit together.

She has graduated from Berklee College of Music, has worked for MTV, knows way too much about artificial intelligence, has lived in Boston, New York, and now San Francisco. Hands down one of the most interesting people I've met in a long time.

Anyway after a fun time the other night I realized this chick is basically the person I'd love to be. She's a free spirit and loves life. She doesn't just talk about things she wants to do. She just does them. I need to be more like her. I have all these things I'd like to do in life but usually I get in my comfort zone and just plant my ass there. It's really a handicap.

I'm going to use my new friend as a model for my own self improvement. I even let her know that. She was flattered and even offered to help me out any way she could. Including putting me up in San Francisco if I ever got the balls to move out there.

A couple other friends told me they felt dumb after talking to her. I told them I'm in love :). Not really though (even though I'd tap that without thinking twice). I just felt intrigued and motivated to continue my self improvement.

Easy game

$1400 and some change in that stack (front left stack which you can't see is a stack of $25 green chips). I went on a rampage at the $1/2 tables yesterday. I also hit quad jacks which won me a high hand bonus for the room. This was a free entry into the $20K tournament next weekend ($235 entry). I sold the entry for $200.

The live-game bankroll is getting pretty flush these days. It won't be long before I'm ripping up the $2/5 games.

Do what you love.

Mark Cuban is pretty much a nut, but he's a rich nut. So I read his blog. The other day he reposted this article. Being unemployed and a lot less wealthy than I used to be, I took it to heart. I want to do what I love. But what is it that I love to do? Well, I like to gamble. So why not look for something in the gambling industry...even if it was a piss poor job on the ground floor.

So I just landed a job in the gambling industry...not quite on the ground floor, but I'll be making about 1/2 what I made at my old job. I'll be managing a video slot machine parlor. I'll have 4 employees under me. I get to make my own schedule, but I can be called out at times to pay big winners when there isn't enough money in the safe to cover the hit. Basically these machines are multi-game slot machines that are hooked up through the WV Lottery. On my days off, I still have to show up at some point and empty the machines and make the safe drops, depending on how much money is in the safe.

My main objective in looking for a job such as this is to gain as much knowledge as possible to open my own establishment. It's the perfect opportunity to get an idea of what all needs to be done to make one of these things successful. This one handles about $700K/month in bets and probably nets $50-60K a month after payouts. The state gets 52% of that money and some of the machines belong to a vending company that gets 24%. The store gets the remaining 24%, but there are 2 machines where they get 48% because they own those machines. Despite everyone seeming to have a hand on the profit, there's still decent money in the businesses because of the low overhead to run them. Multiply that by 5 locations and the owners are doing well. I want to be an owner one day soon and this is my ticket to learn the business.

Given that I'm the manager, I get to make my own schedule. I'm supposed to schedule myself for about 36 hours and then with being called in to pay big winners, I will end up with about 40 hours a week. I plan to work this job and still play poker a couple days a week to supplement my income. I can work around my poker schedule as needed. Or play poker around my work schedule.

I'm excited about the job even though it doesn't pay all that much. I'll be doing something new and being around gambling gets my blood pumping (even though I avoid slots like the plague). The job is easy, so much of my "work" time will be just keeping the place clean, keeping the gamblers happy (hopefully happy enough to tip me when they win), and keeping my Kindle charged to help pass the slow times. With my expenses being at an all-time low right now, I can save some money and get set to move up in the industry. The next step is to open my own location, then another, and another, etc. The more I learn, the easier it will be for that to happen.

I get started on Sunday.. depending on how the schedule is set for next week, I might not begin my full-time shifts until the next week. We'll figure that out on Sunday. I'll probably sneak a trip to the casino tomorrow and maybe even spend the night and play some Saturday as well to get some extra hours in.

Revenge Poker!

After a week and a half off for a fishing vacation, I was back in action at the Mardi Gras Casino yesterday. After about 20 minutes on the waiting list, I get called for a new table. Seat #8...let's do work!

After a couple hours of folding and winning like zero pots, it was time for a piss. Enough of the urinals were being used that I couldn't abide by the "one urinal space between you and the man pissing next to you" rule, so I opted for the big handicap stall. After releasing a nice stream and feeling relieved, I exit the stall to see several people still in the bathroom. I felt awkward for using the handicap stall, so I faked a limp and exited the restroom.

When I came back to my seat, I saw him. That bright red hair with a big shiny bald spot on top can't be missed. Immediately I had flashbacks to elementary school, then my run-ins with this prick during junior high, and then, worst of all, high school.

Let's flashback 18 years (FFS I'm old!). I was actually a good baseball player when I was a kid. I made the all-star teams every single year from the time I was 6 until I was 15. I was a very good hitter. Not a big power guy, although I did have a few home runs (including 2 grand slams). When I was 15, I faced 2 different guys that could touch 90mph on the radar gun. One was a coach and another was a guy playing college ball. Neither were able to strike me out in the few at bats I got with those guys. Add an above average glove in the field, a love for the game, and a thirst to improve and learn about the game, and you had a hell of a ball player... not to brag or anything ;P

Now it's time for high school and I'm so stoked. I'm getting up at 5 a.m. every morning to hit the gym before school... even going to aerobics classes. I'm doing all this months prior to the baseball season. When it's time for practices to start, I'm ready to do whatever it takes to get a starting position. Even more exciting, 90% of this team was on my all-star team the prior season and we finished 2nd in the state 13-16 year old division. And we should have won the state too. The team that beat us, we had just blown out the day before. We just blew up mentally, thinking we were going to cruise to a state title. Anyway this was going to be a great season!

Then practices started. We ran and ran and ran some more. Miles each day. Through the school, up the stairs, past the lockers, down the stairs, through the cafeteria, past the lockers and vending machines, back up the stairs. Rinse. Repeat. This went on for weeks. Our gloves gathered dust in our lockers. Nobody had even seen a glimpse of a bat. As a matter of fact, we hadn't even stepped foot outdoors. Every day, running up and down those fucking steps. Then into the gym for suicides, with mandatory push-ups for the guy that finished last.

So yea, now we have a game in a couple days and have yet to even pick up a baseball. We don't even know who's on the varsity team. I never got to prove myself and try to win a starting spot on the team. The day before the game, we got our uniforms and a list was posted. It was who made varsity and who made junior varsity. I was worried at this point. He hadn't even seen me play. I could outplay most of the guys on this team and he might not even know it. And my worries became reality when I saw my name on the junior varsity list. I was pretty crushed.

I went to speak with him and plead my case. When I first entered his office the next day, I had envisioned an epic fight breaking out where I try to drag him across his desk. In reality, I told him I think he made a mistake putting me on the JV squad when I was one of the best players on his team. I was speaking on deaf ears. After another day of consideration, game day... a game which I wasn't even going to be dressed for, I told him I quit. I had one more season of eligibility on 13-16 little league team and was guaranteed to play there. He asked me to return my spikes, so I sit them on the hood of his car as I was leaving school that day. I wanted to cry.

I ended up playing my last season of baseball that year. My head wasn't really into the game anymore. That prick had spoiled my love for the game. What's worse, he took that awesome team, full of talent and managed to win exactly 1 single game. Yes he not only fucked up a wet dream, but he shit the bed in the process. I've hated him ever since.

We still run into each other from time to time. Usually on the golf course... he's a member of the local Elks club where I frequently golf. The cocksucker hit into us one time and I've been driving golf balls at his head ever since. He once was playing solo (nobody likes this prick) and caught up to us on the final hole. My buddy and I had a cart. He was walking. The last hole is a pretty steep incline and about 400 yards long. He asked if he could go ahead and tee off and catch a lift up the hill on our cart. "It won't hurt you to wait a couple minutes." I calmly stated as I pressed the accelerator and sent the cart up the mountain.

Back to yesterday. I sit down with the intention of making this dude's life a living hell. He was sitting directly to my right. "How are you Wes?" he asked as I sit down.

"Same as always" I said.

On my first hand back to the table, he limped, I raised without even seeing my cards . 110 callers later, I whiff the flop and fold to a bet.

Next hand, I'm dealt QQ. He makes it $5 straight, I 3 bet to $20. 4 callers! Flop is KQx with 2 clubs. He checks, I bet $100, just under pot size. Both the other guys hem and haw for a long time before folding. Dick Coach, insta shoves for $59 more. I call. The board ran out, but a 9 came on the river, scaring me a little. I turn over my flopped set and he mucked. Later he claimed to have KQ. I did a mental fist pump. $179 worth of revenge...better than nothing.

Whenever I was in middle position or late position, if he limped, I raised. My goal was to make him rage quit before the day was over. Unfortunately he was called for his tournament before that happened.

He left a loser.... he's always been a loser and I got $179 worth of revenge from that fuck.

It rubs the lotion on it's skin...

I'm back into playing poker these days. Live poker #FML. The good thing about live poker is that it's easy. I've been taking the 2 hour drive to Mardi Gras Casino & Resort in Crosslanes, WV a couple times a week and playing for about 8 hours at a time. After booking a solid win yesterday, I'm getting dangerously close to a comfortable live bankroll where I can fling around chips like I'm used to doing and play my usual more aggressive style. So far, I've been doing a lot of nut peddling to build my bankroll. It's been working, but I've also been pushed around a bit by some of the LAGgier guys on the tables. However, as my bankroll grows, so do my balls and I am starting to push back. Yesterday was a day that I stood my ground, pushed back, and just flat-out conquered.

I've been to the casino twice this week. Both times I've been seated next to the same transsexual woman*. Now this is West Virginia mind you. I think we just got our first gay less than 5 years ago. So this entire transgender ordeal is new to us mountain folk. This dude-looks-like a lady has some gamble to her too. But she also has the tenancy to go to the felt light and bluff in bad spots. The first day, I was a little confused by the woman*. I knew she was a man...not a lot of guess work involved to figure that out. However, she has a striking resemblance to the dude from Silence of the Lambs that tucked his junk between his legs and wanted the fat chick to rub lotion on herself. Even their voices were similar.

Yesterday, I was in the mood to play, but the day was soured for me early. I was able to get a fairly juicy table early. It was a $1/2 game, but played more like a $2/5 game with some of the stacks and a little extra aggression coming from the 2 drunk dudes at the end of the table. In seat 1 was wheelchair guy. He's always at my table, always in seat 1...this guy would rise from his wheelchair and run to chase down a flush. Seat 2 was a "business man" I see there all the time. He never seems to be doing business, just drinking beer and playing cards (my kind of business) Seat 3 was a LAGgy, semi-tilted/semi-drunk dude about 50 years old. He showed shades of brilliance in his play, but then followed that up with a few WTF moments. Seat 4 was someone whom I can't remember and then later changed to an older guy who never raises preflop and will play any 2 cards for cheap. Seat 5 stayed vacant most of the time, although one chick sit down and busted out in 3 hands. Seat 6 was the FISH. Really this guy had no clue. He was also downing Jim Beam and Diet Cokes like it was his job. Seat 7 was Captain Ohio. He had some pre-flop knowledge, but then just got completely lost in the hand once the flop came. Seat 8 was your hero, ME. Seat 9 was Marla..the transsexual woman*. The table lineup stayed consistent throughout the day

As I mentioned, my desire to play was soured early on. On my first significant hand, I look down to find QQ from UTG. I raise to $8. It seems like the entire table called the raise (and it seemed a few guys from the next table threw their $8 into the pot for good measure), then I get 3 bet to $35 from the BB. I hemmed and hawed about the 3 bet. Normally a 3 bet in these games screams AA or KK. However, this table was a little more loose and aggressive than I was used to seeing during the daytime hours. I stacked up chips for a 4 bet shove... then I took a 2nd look at my cards and my muscles twitched as I started to muck the cards, but I never let go. I put the cards back on the table and flat called the 3 bet since I had position on the guy and knew I had a better idea of what was going on post-flop than he would. Semi-tilted/semi-drunk dude decided to come along and play with us. The flop came 8,4,4 with 2 spades. Now I've been paying dead attention to the BB the entire time. I pretty much stared him down the entire time. He seemed pretty uncomfortable with getting 2 callers. I pretty much had a dead on read of his hand by the time he put in a weak $25 flop bet. I gladly shipped my remaining chips into the middle. However, I felt sick when the button insta-called. I knew I was dead when the BB also called. I told the BB "You have tens or jacks right?". He sheepishly turned over his 2 red jacks. By this time the dealer had dealt the turn and river and the button proudly displayed his 94s for the flopped trips and $600+ pot. REBUY!

That hand stirred an annoying conversation that began with bad beat stories. The FISH in seat 6 even threw in a couple Acey Duecey bad beats for good measure (wtf?), then transformed into a contest about who could tell the worst joke.

"Why is 77 better than 69?" asked the tranny to my left.

"?"

"Because you get eight (ate) more! HAH HAH HA" she* belted out in her creepy baritone voice.

I felt dirty and wanted to go home. But I put the entire Foo Fighters discography on shuffle on my iPod and drowned out the fool talk around me.

I bought in short for $100 after that.. a little on tilt..not because monkey on the button cold called a 3 bet with 94s, but because I didn't have the nads to ship it pre-flop and go with my read. If I was going to play like a vagina, I might as well buy in short so it won't cost so much. My $100 dwindled to $51 after a AK, AQ type hands that completely whiffed in multi-way pots. Then the floor guy came by and told it was time to "Splash the Pot". This is where they randomly splash and extra $50-300 into the pot before the hand even starts. He placed 4 green chips in the middle ... $100. There was a live straddle and every called until it came to me. I looked down to see an ace. I didn't even look at my 2nd card. I just shipped my remaining $51 into the middle as I fiddled around for another buyin in my pocket. A couple guys cold called. I think there were 5 of us going to the flop. The flop came rag rag 10. One of the temporary fixtures in seat 5 shoved for a little over $100 and much to my surprise only got 1 caller. They flipped over their cards. I kept mine concealed and clutched the bills in my pocket I had set aside for my rebuy. I saw a pair of tens was winning. Then I saw the sexiest ace ever hit the turn. I faded any disaster on the river and raked in a $400ish pot with only a $51 investment. Well played sir :P

2 hands later, I flopped a set of 8's and let out $10 into a $12 pot. There were 2 diamonds on the board. Seat 1 min raised me to $20. Someone else called. I 3 bet to $95 when the action returned to me and the wheelchair guy called as did the 3rd guy, but it put him all in. I knew exactly what wheelchair guy had when he called the extra $75 with little thought. I've seen him do the min raise on his flush draws before ... it's almost automatic....as is the inevitable 3rd diamond that hit the turn. I cursed to the poker gods under my breath and checked to the cripple in seat 1. I then wondered if that's how he lost the use of his legs...in some back room poker game, chasing flush draws and hitting them with ease until one day, some tilted drunk had enough and bashed his fucking kneecaps into oblivion. That's what I felt like doing anyway when he bet out a measley $50. He pretty much priced me into seeing a river card. "Pair the fucking board for me one time!" I thought to myself. It always seems to pair when I'm the one holding the flush. Obviously it didn't. I checked and had visions of showing my flopped set as I folded to wheel chair guys bet. However, he checked behind for some fucking reason and then showed me the king high flush. Weak. It was starting to look that this was not going to be my day despite my fortunate turn card in the splashed pot.

Then something happened. I started to run over the table and accumulate chips. The losing pots are so much easier to remember than the winning hands, but here are a couple I remember. The first I had just come back from the shitter when I looked down my first hand and saw 2 beautiful black aces. It was my big blind, so the tranny on my left started the action with a raise. A few callers later, it was up to me. I bumped it to $35 and weeded it out to just her* and me. The flop came K,7,7. I bet about 1/2 the pot and she* called. A 3 fell on the turn. I had put her* on a weak king at this point, but hadn't ruled out the possibility of a flush draw (2 spades on the board). At this point I was willing to go to the felt with my aces assuming a safe river. I examined her* stack. I forget the details , but I bet enough on the turn to allow me to be able to shove a safe river and expect a call. I was really happy when the 3rd 7 fell. I knew I would have the he/she's entire stack (I may have had her covered by $40-50) if she had the king. I thought about shoving the river, but I wanted to make sure I got full value. I knew she* was aggressive enough to bet a busted flush draw on that river, however she wouldn't call my shove if she missed. I also knew she would call my shove if she had the king, but she would also bet the king if I checked to her. Either way, I felt there was more value in check-raising than just shoving. I checked and she casually bet $150. I thought for a minute and then just put my remaining $300 or so in the middle as I talked to myself aloud and mentioned the word "chopped pot" to maybe make her think I had the king. She* insta-folded face up and showed her* 2 spades. I got an extra $150 out of her* just by pausing and thinking about the hand and whom I was up against.

This is getting way too long, so I'll stop now. Long story short, I continued to win pots. I varied my style of play as I grew more comfortable with the mountain of chips in front of me. At one point some dude said I was playing very tight aloud to the entire table. 30 minutes later, I raised 7 of 10 hands pre-flop and my image changed along with those plays.

I'll probably go back 2-3 days next week before I go on vacation for a week in Front Royal VA with most of my close friends. I'm going to try to post a little more too. I've noticed most of the poker blogs in my google reader are dead these days, so I'm going to search for some new ones to read and hopefully add my name to the list of blogs that update semi-regularly.

In the meantime while you're eagerly awaiting my next post, give my good friend Rob Bishop's new book a read. It is called The Underlings. It's sort of a Back to the Future meets Goodfellas type novel and a fun read. In the past few weeks I've read The Underlings, Jack Tripper Stole my Dog, A Game of Thrones, and I'm about 20% through A Clash of Kings.