nothumb
04-07-2005, 09:58 AM
Super-long, and be warned, some poker content.
The day started at 7 AM, when my partner in crime for the day, Ben, picked me up and we headed down to Wassaic, last stop on the Harlem line, and caught a train down to NYC. Both of us were wearing authentic Red Sox jerseys and hats, so we got a lot of funny looks and catcalls. We went downtown to eat. A cop threatened to write us a ticket. We laughed. He didn't.
It was a beautiful day and we got up to Yankee Stadium around 11:30. It was a madhouse of course, though I was surprised at how many Boston fans there were. Certainly far, far more than you will see Yankee fans at Fenway, for multiple reasons. The foremost of which being that most of the twenty-something sweat-thugs in wrap-around shades and oversized Jeter jerseys wouldn't get past Worcester alive.
Seriously, if you were to judge Yankee fans by the quality of people we met and sat near that day, they might actually be worse than all the ridiculous stereotypes you hear from Boston fans on these boards. One guy sitting behind us was cheering on Mike Mussina until they pulled Pavano in the 5th or 6th. Even better, I guess, was that none of his so-called comrades informed him of his error. Though, to be fair, I guess it's usually the stupidest ones that are loudest.
Anyway, prior to the game we met up with our friends Matt, Rachel and Brinn, and Rachel's mom, whose name sounds like "See ya," but I'm sure that's not how you spell it. We went to one of those bars across the street and it was packed. We sent Matt up to the bar in his Cubs hat (he's a diehard Cubs fan, poor bastard) and he got instant service every time. I guess they felt bad for him, too. So I got a good buzz on before the game, and in retrospect, five bucks for a Budweiser feels like a bargain.
Next stop was our seats. I have to say, I like the inside of Yankee Stadium. It's huge, but because it's old, it doesn't feel as awful and oversized as some other arenas I've been to. Aside from the smell of stale beer and urine it's a nice house. We were sitting on the complete opposite of the field from everybody else, just myself and Ben, up in section 668. Upper deck but towards the bottom, so not a terrible view. I thought these seats would be better, but they weren't bad.
Game itself was a good one as you guys know. Around the 4th or 5th inning it starts to get a little ugly in the upper deck of Yankee Stadium. The sweat thugs were getting pretty loaded and starting to really hassle Sox fans in the crowd. In case any of you are planning on wearing a Sox hat into Yankee Stadium, just keep in mind, you might get punched in the back in the urinal, have your hat slapped off (possibly into a urinal as well), find out things you never knew about your mother, specifically the cavernous nature of her nether-regions and its many viral occupants, etc.
One guy, however, was really bringing it on himself. Standing up and giving the entire section the finger, yelling drunkenly, etc. The sweat-thugs said their only funny line of the night, getting on a rousing chant of "DIE - A - VIR- GIN!" (hear this with the same emphasis as "nine-teen eight-teen," which had to be retired). Then the guy got thrown out. Later I saw a few Yankee fans get thrown out too, I think they poured beer or spit on somebody in the stands.
Anyway, Clement looked okay, a little shaky, but proved himself a true Sox man when he beaned Jeter to start the third and proceeded to brush back everybody else he faced. Unfortunately he also gave up 3 runs, so it goes. By the way, WTF is up with Giambi leaning into every pitch off the inside of the plate? Does he just realize he's not going to be a 30 HR guy ever again and settle for the free pass whenever he can? I hate that cheating bastard.
I was wearing a Varitek jersey so we obviously went nuts when he knocked one out off Rivera. Beautiful. Then Jeter came in and spoiled the party. Right after the home run some drunken Yanks fan, who I hadn't spoken to all day, turned around from two rows in front of me and was celebrating in the aisle. He slugged me in the chest and started yelling, "Yeah motherfucker! Wooo hooo!" etc etc.
I looked around at him, and his many friends and acquaintances, and the celebrating Yankees fans everywhere, and even through the beer-an-inning stupor I was in, I was immediately aware that if I clocked this chump it would be I, not he who went to jail, but not before ten or twenty of these pinstriped knuckleheads came after me en masse. So I decided to let it slide.
We hustled out of there and got down to The Club That Shall Not be Named, where Brad (bdk3clash) was waiting. He got us in and we got acquainted (Ben and Rachel came along, they are both recreational players from my home game). Brad's a pretty nice guy, even after finding out that I was born and raised in Chapel Hill and therefore hated his beloved Blue Devils even more than I despised the Yanks. I was on the wrong side of every sports rivalry in this joint. We quickly got into a new 4/8 game and also met Jeremy (forgot your handle bro) who is moving up from the DC area and was in town looking for a place to live.
We sat at the must move 4/8 for a little while, wasn't a great game. My friends were playing tighter than usual and nobody else at the table wanted to give much action. I wasn't feeling too aggressive (and I still had a pretty heavy buzz on in case you guys couldn't tell, along with that sunburn) so I was treading water. Then someone came in who was very clearly Evan, he introduced himself and sat on my immediate right, proceeding to relieve me of my inclination to start firing out chips by raising me out of most pots pre-flop. Thanks bro. Evan was playing good, or at the very least g00t, but I got called to the main game before we had a chance to tangle. I had a nice time chatting with him though, got to hear a bit about the West Coast invasion and various hijinks.
Main game was fun, Jeremy was on my right with Brad on his right, lineup was more aggressive and just a hair tighter than the average Foxwoods 4/8, but still a good game. I ran bad for a while but my relative position was good and I reloaded and made a comeback. Tricky, decent Asian guy two to my left kept trying to float on me (I guess he saw me running bad) but I kept having big pairs when he did. I get AA UTG+1, raise, he calls, LAG in LP calls, old retired lady calls from the SB and we see a flop of 449. Bet, call, call, old lady either called or died, I forget. Turn is a 3, I bet, Asian floater raises, fold fold, I insta-3-bet and he calls, then mucks when I bet a blank river. I wished I woulda called and check-raised the river, not because he would have paid off, but because I would have enjoyed making him my bitch. Pretty sure he would have bet, too, oh well.
Before that, I announced that I was limping UTG (I had KQo) and Brad and Jeremy watch me play it weak-tight against a LAG, pay off a junky two pair that might not have played against a raise, and then politely pretend I hadn't made a clear, undeniable error by failing to raise pre-flop. Thanks guys.
One interesting situation, we get a five-way flop with me on the button with AT. Dealer said "Four players," I said, "I think we have five, right?" Just as I said 'right?' it was checked to me, I bet as he was turning the next card. He thought I said 'Go ahead.' Floor comes over, asks a few players what they heard, one guy doesn't know, Jeremy didn't hear, Brad sticks up and says I definitely didn't say 'Go ahead,' bet stands. Everyone mucks. Floor guy looks at my hand as the pot is pushed to me, then shows it to the table! Says, "Folks, he definitely didn't say 'go ahead.' " I was surprised by this, decided not to make a stink about it. When in Rome, etc. I didn't really care, I had shown a few hands prior to this anyway, wasn't even fighting the information war very well. But, you know... the principle, man. I guess he felt it would smooth things out (although I was really polite about the whole thing, and offered to take the bet back) and it seemed that people were cool with it. Does this happen often there? I'm guessing it was an exception.
Dave (sfer) also stopped by but didn't sit with us. Sadly this was not a Magoo kind of night, I was drunk and tired and didn't have the roll to put a grand in whites on the table anyway (actually I doubt they had anywhere near enough whites for me to do this). It was sort of a no-nonsense crowd. Another time.
We left at 9:00, Ben and Rachel donated some money to the 4/8 all-stars, I ended up +10 BB. I enjoyed the club and the games. I liked that there was a time charge instead of rake and that the games moved faster than any casino I've been in. Dealers were friendly and competent, players were definitely friendlier on the whole as well, or those that weren't were at least less grumpy. I'll be back in NYC in a week or two and would love to see you guys again, and any others, and maybe get out and grab a bite or something non-poker as well.
We got on the train and stopped at the Round Tuit diner outside Millerton at 12:30 AM. I already had a hangover after a short nap on the train, I was fried and feeling lousy. Got some Tylenol and some hand-cut cheese fries and felt a LOT better. Went home, went to bed, end of story. Thanks to everybody who came out, especially Brad who got us in (in full Boston gear no less), and I will definitely look you guys up again soon.
Peace
NT
The day started at 7 AM, when my partner in crime for the day, Ben, picked me up and we headed down to Wassaic, last stop on the Harlem line, and caught a train down to NYC. Both of us were wearing authentic Red Sox jerseys and hats, so we got a lot of funny looks and catcalls. We went downtown to eat. A cop threatened to write us a ticket. We laughed. He didn't.
It was a beautiful day and we got up to Yankee Stadium around 11:30. It was a madhouse of course, though I was surprised at how many Boston fans there were. Certainly far, far more than you will see Yankee fans at Fenway, for multiple reasons. The foremost of which being that most of the twenty-something sweat-thugs in wrap-around shades and oversized Jeter jerseys wouldn't get past Worcester alive.
Seriously, if you were to judge Yankee fans by the quality of people we met and sat near that day, they might actually be worse than all the ridiculous stereotypes you hear from Boston fans on these boards. One guy sitting behind us was cheering on Mike Mussina until they pulled Pavano in the 5th or 6th. Even better, I guess, was that none of his so-called comrades informed him of his error. Though, to be fair, I guess it's usually the stupidest ones that are loudest.
Anyway, prior to the game we met up with our friends Matt, Rachel and Brinn, and Rachel's mom, whose name sounds like "See ya," but I'm sure that's not how you spell it. We went to one of those bars across the street and it was packed. We sent Matt up to the bar in his Cubs hat (he's a diehard Cubs fan, poor bastard) and he got instant service every time. I guess they felt bad for him, too. So I got a good buzz on before the game, and in retrospect, five bucks for a Budweiser feels like a bargain.
Next stop was our seats. I have to say, I like the inside of Yankee Stadium. It's huge, but because it's old, it doesn't feel as awful and oversized as some other arenas I've been to. Aside from the smell of stale beer and urine it's a nice house. We were sitting on the complete opposite of the field from everybody else, just myself and Ben, up in section 668. Upper deck but towards the bottom, so not a terrible view. I thought these seats would be better, but they weren't bad.
Game itself was a good one as you guys know. Around the 4th or 5th inning it starts to get a little ugly in the upper deck of Yankee Stadium. The sweat thugs were getting pretty loaded and starting to really hassle Sox fans in the crowd. In case any of you are planning on wearing a Sox hat into Yankee Stadium, just keep in mind, you might get punched in the back in the urinal, have your hat slapped off (possibly into a urinal as well), find out things you never knew about your mother, specifically the cavernous nature of her nether-regions and its many viral occupants, etc.
One guy, however, was really bringing it on himself. Standing up and giving the entire section the finger, yelling drunkenly, etc. The sweat-thugs said their only funny line of the night, getting on a rousing chant of "DIE - A - VIR- GIN!" (hear this with the same emphasis as "nine-teen eight-teen," which had to be retired). Then the guy got thrown out. Later I saw a few Yankee fans get thrown out too, I think they poured beer or spit on somebody in the stands.
Anyway, Clement looked okay, a little shaky, but proved himself a true Sox man when he beaned Jeter to start the third and proceeded to brush back everybody else he faced. Unfortunately he also gave up 3 runs, so it goes. By the way, WTF is up with Giambi leaning into every pitch off the inside of the plate? Does he just realize he's not going to be a 30 HR guy ever again and settle for the free pass whenever he can? I hate that cheating bastard.
I was wearing a Varitek jersey so we obviously went nuts when he knocked one out off Rivera. Beautiful. Then Jeter came in and spoiled the party. Right after the home run some drunken Yanks fan, who I hadn't spoken to all day, turned around from two rows in front of me and was celebrating in the aisle. He slugged me in the chest and started yelling, "Yeah motherfucker! Wooo hooo!" etc etc.
I looked around at him, and his many friends and acquaintances, and the celebrating Yankees fans everywhere, and even through the beer-an-inning stupor I was in, I was immediately aware that if I clocked this chump it would be I, not he who went to jail, but not before ten or twenty of these pinstriped knuckleheads came after me en masse. So I decided to let it slide.
We hustled out of there and got down to The Club That Shall Not be Named, where Brad (bdk3clash) was waiting. He got us in and we got acquainted (Ben and Rachel came along, they are both recreational players from my home game). Brad's a pretty nice guy, even after finding out that I was born and raised in Chapel Hill and therefore hated his beloved Blue Devils even more than I despised the Yanks. I was on the wrong side of every sports rivalry in this joint. We quickly got into a new 4/8 game and also met Jeremy (forgot your handle bro) who is moving up from the DC area and was in town looking for a place to live.
We sat at the must move 4/8 for a little while, wasn't a great game. My friends were playing tighter than usual and nobody else at the table wanted to give much action. I wasn't feeling too aggressive (and I still had a pretty heavy buzz on in case you guys couldn't tell, along with that sunburn) so I was treading water. Then someone came in who was very clearly Evan, he introduced himself and sat on my immediate right, proceeding to relieve me of my inclination to start firing out chips by raising me out of most pots pre-flop. Thanks bro. Evan was playing good, or at the very least g00t, but I got called to the main game before we had a chance to tangle. I had a nice time chatting with him though, got to hear a bit about the West Coast invasion and various hijinks.
Main game was fun, Jeremy was on my right with Brad on his right, lineup was more aggressive and just a hair tighter than the average Foxwoods 4/8, but still a good game. I ran bad for a while but my relative position was good and I reloaded and made a comeback. Tricky, decent Asian guy two to my left kept trying to float on me (I guess he saw me running bad) but I kept having big pairs when he did. I get AA UTG+1, raise, he calls, LAG in LP calls, old retired lady calls from the SB and we see a flop of 449. Bet, call, call, old lady either called or died, I forget. Turn is a 3, I bet, Asian floater raises, fold fold, I insta-3-bet and he calls, then mucks when I bet a blank river. I wished I woulda called and check-raised the river, not because he would have paid off, but because I would have enjoyed making him my bitch. Pretty sure he would have bet, too, oh well.
Before that, I announced that I was limping UTG (I had KQo) and Brad and Jeremy watch me play it weak-tight against a LAG, pay off a junky two pair that might not have played against a raise, and then politely pretend I hadn't made a clear, undeniable error by failing to raise pre-flop. Thanks guys.
One interesting situation, we get a five-way flop with me on the button with AT. Dealer said "Four players," I said, "I think we have five, right?" Just as I said 'right?' it was checked to me, I bet as he was turning the next card. He thought I said 'Go ahead.' Floor comes over, asks a few players what they heard, one guy doesn't know, Jeremy didn't hear, Brad sticks up and says I definitely didn't say 'Go ahead,' bet stands. Everyone mucks. Floor guy looks at my hand as the pot is pushed to me, then shows it to the table! Says, "Folks, he definitely didn't say 'go ahead.' " I was surprised by this, decided not to make a stink about it. When in Rome, etc. I didn't really care, I had shown a few hands prior to this anyway, wasn't even fighting the information war very well. But, you know... the principle, man. I guess he felt it would smooth things out (although I was really polite about the whole thing, and offered to take the bet back) and it seemed that people were cool with it. Does this happen often there? I'm guessing it was an exception.
Dave (sfer) also stopped by but didn't sit with us. Sadly this was not a Magoo kind of night, I was drunk and tired and didn't have the roll to put a grand in whites on the table anyway (actually I doubt they had anywhere near enough whites for me to do this). It was sort of a no-nonsense crowd. Another time.
We left at 9:00, Ben and Rachel donated some money to the 4/8 all-stars, I ended up +10 BB. I enjoyed the club and the games. I liked that there was a time charge instead of rake and that the games moved faster than any casino I've been in. Dealers were friendly and competent, players were definitely friendlier on the whole as well, or those that weren't were at least less grumpy. I'll be back in NYC in a week or two and would love to see you guys again, and any others, and maybe get out and grab a bite or something non-poker as well.
We got on the train and stopped at the Round Tuit diner outside Millerton at 12:30 AM. I already had a hangover after a short nap on the train, I was fried and feeling lousy. Got some Tylenol and some hand-cut cheese fries and felt a LOT better. Went home, went to bed, end of story. Thanks to everybody who came out, especially Brad who got us in (in full Boston gear no less), and I will definitely look you guys up again soon.
Peace
NT