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.