SpeakEasy
03-11-2005, 06:57 PM
So last Friday, I’m driving to work, eating a bagel, and thinking about poker. I was thinking about poker in the way that we all do, musing about good and bad hands played, and other random poker thoughts. I was looking forward to playing some no-limit that very evening.
As I’m driving and eating, I had one of those moments that we all have, from time to time, where I bit my tongue. Actually, I didn’t just bite my tongue, I absolutely crunched the left side. It was just one of those freak things that I have absolutely no explanation for, except that I really bit the hell out of my tongue. I could hear and feel the crunch. It was immediately followed by a mouthful of blood and searing pain, the likes of which I have not felt since I dislocated a finger joint about 18 months ago while playing football (the finger that is now permanently bent, and which my daughter keeps trying to straighten for me). My tongue bled non-stop for about 90 minutes. Its still swollen and still hurts when I eat, now a full week later. It was bad. Real bad.
During the initial recovery period that morning, my mind kept telling me that I bit my tongue at that particular moment for a reason. My mind kept linking two events -- thinking about poker ... injured myself. Thinking about poker ... injured myself. I came to the conclusion that it was a sign to be very, very careful. It was as if my subconscious brain actually caused the injury, while thinking about poker, to provide a lasting reminder to be careful that evening. I decided that I would start my play that evening very tight, ever-so-gently stepping into the game.
This $500 max buy-in no-limit game on Friday night is the “feature table” at the Kansas City casino of choice for no-limit play. It started at 7pm. The table was filled with loose play, and by about 9:30 one guy had run his stack up to something north of $4000. Several players had dumped multiple $500 buy-ins to the Table Captain, who was absolutely dominating the table. He got good starting hands, and they finished. He got drawing hands, and they came though. He went all in, and got two or three callers. He raised with impunity, and players kept calling. He would flick bets that were mere foot-soldiers from his stack, yet represented 75% of other players stack sizes. In short, he had a night about which we all dream.
Keeping in line with my crunched-tongue omen, I played so tight that I was squeaking. I was the boulder that would not budge. I was not proud or embarrassed by my unusually tight play, because I was following the sign. I managed to cash in with about $75 profit for the night, which I felt was a huge accomplishment given the nature of the table, and because I may have been the only other person to post a winning session except for Table Captain.
I am not, by nature, superstitious. I’m not a big believer in omens, signs, or whatever name precognitive activity might take. The cards will fall as they will fall, and we have no control over the cards we receive. Each hand is independent of every other hand, and the cards have no memory. However, on this occasion, I believe that my self-inflicted injury was a warning to be careful for that particular poker session, and I think it was right.
I do believe in card rushes, and that winning hands can come in bunches, both for me and other players. I was not on the receiving end of cards that finished well in this particular session, and I believe, somehow, that I knew this going into the session. I kept my losses to the minimum, and consider my meager positive outcome a huge victory. Kinda weird.
Do other players feel signs or omens like this? I’m not talking about the “I’ve been playing like crap, and I’ll probably play like crap again tonight” feeling. I mean a real sign that tells you what’s about to happen, what to watch for, or how to play?
As I’m driving and eating, I had one of those moments that we all have, from time to time, where I bit my tongue. Actually, I didn’t just bite my tongue, I absolutely crunched the left side. It was just one of those freak things that I have absolutely no explanation for, except that I really bit the hell out of my tongue. I could hear and feel the crunch. It was immediately followed by a mouthful of blood and searing pain, the likes of which I have not felt since I dislocated a finger joint about 18 months ago while playing football (the finger that is now permanently bent, and which my daughter keeps trying to straighten for me). My tongue bled non-stop for about 90 minutes. Its still swollen and still hurts when I eat, now a full week later. It was bad. Real bad.
During the initial recovery period that morning, my mind kept telling me that I bit my tongue at that particular moment for a reason. My mind kept linking two events -- thinking about poker ... injured myself. Thinking about poker ... injured myself. I came to the conclusion that it was a sign to be very, very careful. It was as if my subconscious brain actually caused the injury, while thinking about poker, to provide a lasting reminder to be careful that evening. I decided that I would start my play that evening very tight, ever-so-gently stepping into the game.
This $500 max buy-in no-limit game on Friday night is the “feature table” at the Kansas City casino of choice for no-limit play. It started at 7pm. The table was filled with loose play, and by about 9:30 one guy had run his stack up to something north of $4000. Several players had dumped multiple $500 buy-ins to the Table Captain, who was absolutely dominating the table. He got good starting hands, and they finished. He got drawing hands, and they came though. He went all in, and got two or three callers. He raised with impunity, and players kept calling. He would flick bets that were mere foot-soldiers from his stack, yet represented 75% of other players stack sizes. In short, he had a night about which we all dream.
Keeping in line with my crunched-tongue omen, I played so tight that I was squeaking. I was the boulder that would not budge. I was not proud or embarrassed by my unusually tight play, because I was following the sign. I managed to cash in with about $75 profit for the night, which I felt was a huge accomplishment given the nature of the table, and because I may have been the only other person to post a winning session except for Table Captain.
I am not, by nature, superstitious. I’m not a big believer in omens, signs, or whatever name precognitive activity might take. The cards will fall as they will fall, and we have no control over the cards we receive. Each hand is independent of every other hand, and the cards have no memory. However, on this occasion, I believe that my self-inflicted injury was a warning to be careful for that particular poker session, and I think it was right.
I do believe in card rushes, and that winning hands can come in bunches, both for me and other players. I was not on the receiving end of cards that finished well in this particular session, and I believe, somehow, that I knew this going into the session. I kept my losses to the minimum, and consider my meager positive outcome a huge victory. Kinda weird.
Do other players feel signs or omens like this? I’m not talking about the “I’ve been playing like crap, and I’ll probably play like crap again tonight” feeling. I mean a real sign that tells you what’s about to happen, what to watch for, or how to play?