I recently decded to take a little sabbatical from all things gambling. Nice few days at home, nice food, catch up on sleep and go for long coastal bike rides with a crisp fresh breeze cooling me down as excess lets fly out of every pore. Great idea. Lets go for that…

So I packed the bags and trained it down home. Arrived at Heuston, and stumbled across the biggest queue I’ve seen in that place for ANY train. It resembled a big snake. Which is what I resembled as I schmoozed my way to the head of it, protesting that “I’ve been here for three hours and only went for a tea”. Technically, what I did WAS a gamble but no money changed hands so it didn’t count, in my eyes. I got on the train and obtained a very favourable seat considering the Mumbai like conditions of this train (there was NO WAY I was missing this quiet weekend of mine).

Train pulls in, and I get off, get in a taxi and bolt home. I’m in the scratcher and out like a light, ready to attack the winding coastal hills on the mountain bike in the morning.

Up early, look out the window and its p*ssing it down. My long lost bike is now redundant. But I’m sticking to my guns here. NO GAMBLING. A nice lunch and a small stroll PAST a bookies. Result! The magnet of the local pub drags me in.

Things start to go funny now…

I take my seat at the bar, ready to settle in for the Man Utd v Arsenal Cup match and within two minutes a very good mate of mine, who prides himself on not being a gambler - no poker - no horses - no mad prop bets - sits down beside me. He says “whats the story…what price are” Whoahhh….wait a minute I’m thinking. This is going to ruin my weekend! And its going to be kicked off by the last person I expected. “What price are the two teams to finish up with 10 men?” Now, that was a bet to me…weekend plan over. All manner of bookies were called. No price available anywhere. I then volunteered to venture to the local bookies to get a pricesheet for the game. Its getting close to kick off so my mate gives me his gambling wedge for the year. The reason for this being that I will hand our wedge in to the girls behind the counter, bring the pricesheet back down to the pub and after agreeing on what our bet will be, ring up with the punt. On arriving I see United are 11/10 to win in 90 mins. “I’m going to lump the wedge on that”…I’m thinking. But that wouldn’t be fair, we needed to agree before anything happens so I keep the powder dry and get back down to study the prices.

The thinking is that United will be like dogs after City turned them over last week. Therefore, will win. My mate agrees. But he says it will be 3-2 and its 40/1 so that what we should do. Now I see why he doesn’t bother with all this gambling lark!

We scan through the prices and I come up with a beauty, with reasoning. There will be lots of corners. Vidic is 8/1 to score at any time. Gallas is 9/1 to score at anytime. Half the wedge on each. Great value bla blah blah. Deal done. United proceed to go 2-0 up and not a corner in sight. Gallas is kicking people. Vidic is missing the every corner he jumps for except his own. Then they replay one of Uniteds goals and it shows that its been deflected off Gallas’ head. We ring the bookies. OG’s are refunded! Woo hoo! It feels like we’ve won.

Phone rings

“I’ll be picking you up in 20 mins”…its my brother and its my lift to Blazin Aces for a tourney which I have agreed to play whilst taking a phone call at halftime in the match which ruined my good intentions for the weekend.

This relaxing few days off is quickly spiralling out of my control.

I enter the card room and reg for the tourney. The bottles have been flowing all afternoon so I order a coffee to save face and sit down and be quiet. Tap on the shoulder - its The Fox, enquiring about a local football match that I wasn’t at but he wants to know what the score is. “No score, but there’s been a man sent off and there is murder” I say without flinching. “How do you know you’re not even there?”…..”I know everything, Fox” I say without moving a muscle. Holding it together brilliantly after the earlier scoops.

Start the tourney and on looking at the table I’m thinking that we’ve got a pretty mad mix here. Its one lunatic, one rock, one lunatic, one rock. So I decide to not to play at all until its time to play like a lunatic. Its the chat I’m here for. In walks my brother (he jointly owns the club) with my nephew Connor. Fox pipes up “Ah Jaysus, Richie what are you doin’ bringing the youngfella into a place like this, eh?”…”I’m only into say hello to my Uncle Evan!” says the Connboy.

“Ah hey thats worth at least 50, Ev!” says the Fox and I’m stung for the 50 quid to the nephew. He took a good angle, I’ll give him that.

Very soon after I get my own back on him. We’re at seperate ends of the table and and with blinds at 4k 8k, I raise to 30k with 80k behind. He ships with circa 60k and I call. He tables . I double check my hand. Yes it is the . I flash a smile as I turn them over. Fox says, “How can you call an all-in wi…” and he stops in his tracks before I stop him. He could never accuse in this case. The flop throws me a . “I f*ckin hate those 9’s” he says, I’m laughin away. He is disgusted and I wouldn’t blame him. It was a fishy call but I was now GAMBLING all out. And I knew if I sucked out on him with those 9’s he couldn’t say much. After that I was raising with air, in full gambling mode. An hour or so later at the Final Table I raise UTG with blinds at 6k 12k to 36K. Now this is air… . I get one caller beside me. Everyone else folds. Flop is . I fire another cartridge. 50k. Called. At this point I decide whatever happens I’m shipping and going for the flush. The turn I think was another Ace and I push. Called. The guy tables . I shout “Jesus!”..he says “I knew you were at it!” I get the flush on the river. ”You sucked out.” I’m lost for words as are the rest of the table for different reasons. 1 - I am a madman (I was that night, in fairness) and 2 - so is this other lad. I merely point out that this guy called my UTG raise with 8-5 os, so I’m covered!

After that, I get beat heads up in the tourney and collect my cash. Its the shortest heads up in the history of the western civilised world. I decided to play a bit of cash but drop a ton pretty sharpish and made my exit out the door just as sharpish.

Needless to say I bought some waterproofs and bicycle chain lubrication for my next visit home. Those rolling coast roads are calling me.

This entry was posted on Friday, February 22nd, 2008 at 9:15 pm and is filed under EvFris. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.