Illiterate, I am…

In all my excitement regarding the Aussie Millions qualifier, I somehow forgot how to read. The Main Event Qualifier is not this weekend, but instead NEXT weekend. That gives me another week to “Say my prayers and take my vitamins.” I will use this time to discuss what kind of stuff I will be talking about in the realm of my Poker Blog…

Obviously, you can expect to read about my daily experiences playing poker. I will try not to bore with play-by-play account of my entire day’s session. Instead, I will “holla” about the high spots, keeping it compelling for my readers. Sometimes, the stories will have the victory cry playing in the background. Other times, idiotic plays of mine. Yet others will focus on bad beats.

Which, the bad beat is something held near and dear to my heart. Not only do I love talking about bad beats I have received or observed. I also LOVE hearing other bad beat stories. In fact, making a regular appearance in this column will be a little piece I like to call “Little Brother’s Bad Beat of the Night.”

To give background to this piece, typically speaking when I wake up, I grab my morning coffee and do my morning reading. This reading consists of getting caught up on the news, checking sports scores, and reviewing the message my little brother sent me about the bad beat he took the previous night. These anecdotes usually consist of the main character known as “That Guy.” That guy historically will play any two cards, no matter the price, as he believes if he has been dealt two cards, he is immediately pot committed and must see the hand through to conclusion. Sometimes, on special occasions, “That Guy” is referred to affectionately as “Some Idiot,” “This Moron,” “The Douche Bag to my Right,” “This Lucky B*$t*rd,” etc… You get the idea. All the pet names are the same “That Guy.”

Most people hate “That Guy.” Almost all home games have at least one of “Those Guys.” The fact is, I love being on the table with “That Guy.” “That Guy” makes the solid player’s session far more profitable over the long haul. Now, on your average six-seater, I prefer to not have more than one or two (at most) on your table at a time. Otherwise, the fish will collectively nibble away at the shark. I would prefer to have no more than three at a standard ten-person table. Their careless, reckless and sometimes perhaps clueless play will reward the solid player over the long haul. Consequently, I absolutely forbid anyone to cause these idiots to realize their idiots verbally. I will always stick up for “That Guy” and deter any attempts at education or besmirching him. After all, when I am on the table, I am fishing. What good is it to fish if the pond is not properly stocked, right?