Poker News / Editor / 21 February 2011 / Leave a Comment

I walked into the Fox Poker Club with a strange feeling in my stomach. It was mostly caused by too much rum the night before, but there was definitely some nervous excitement in there too. I had a slight suspicion that I was going to win the tournament, even though I'd never played in one before. After all, I was always taught in school that poker is 35% luck, 15% skill and 50% praying to the correct God. My school wasn't very subtle when it came to religion.

The first thing I noticed when I got in there was the free brand name cola. I love brand name cola so much that I usually pay for it with money. I felt like I'd already won.

The second thing I noticed was the smell. There wasn't one. I'd been mentally training myself to play in a room full of smells. I was prepared for cigars, whiskey, leather boots and freshly dry cleaned tuxedos, but in this odour vacuum I was disorientated. Maybe this wouldn't be my day.

The tournament began and I felt incredibly intimidated. The dealer kept shouting at me for doing things wrong. To give you some idea of what it was like, here is some recurring dialogue:

Dealer: You can't do that.

Me: Do what?

There were all these rules about chips and moving your hands that I'd never heard off. At one point I think I managed to insult the heritage of the dealer's mother by touching a chip and scratching my left ear.

Everyone was talking in words that I didn't understand. "Why didn't you push?" they'd ask me. "You should have shoved!" they'd yell. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I gave no answers. I did the only thing I could think of - I smiled and I shrugged my shoulders. Luckily poker is the one place where a blank expression and ignorant silence doesn't come across as idiocy or rudeness, but as a clever tight-lipped strategy.

My poker experience was limited to small stake cash games. I played for a couple of months back in 2005, but rarely since. My plan was to play the same way in this tournament - cautious, patient and cowardly. I thought if I just kept calm I could maybe hold on long enough to make the prize money. This didn't work.

Massive pots were being dished out to everyone except me, but I at least found it exciting to watch. Nobody else seemed to share my excitement. I soon learned that the secondary aim of poker, after winning your opponent's chips, is to look as bored and disinterested as possible. In everyday life I'm the world champion of this, but on Table Two I must have looked like I was having a happy stroke compared to the rest of the players. There was showdown after showdown and not a hint of emotion out of anyone. I'm pretty sure at one point I raised my eyebrows so high that I dislocated one.

After seven hours of play I was leaking chips like a poorly designed deep fat fryer. If I didn't do something soon there'd be hot greasy oil all over my face and I'd be out of the game with nothing to show for it except an aching neck. What I needed was some balls. Not in the biological sense, but mind-balls of courage.

The woman to my right seemed to have mind-balls the size of coconuts, made from 100% bravery. I kept folding amazing hands for fear of what she might do next. At one point I think she went all-in five hands in a row. People were terrified of her. This is how you succeed at tournament poker, I realised, but by now it was too late.

I went all-in before the flop with AJ, only to be called by someone with a similar stack and 9 10. Of course he hit a full house on the flop, my punishment for not growing some balls sooner. I was out, finishing around 50th out of 171. It had been kind of fun, but the atmosphere was too tense and serious to be completely enjoyable. I went home exhausted to plan for the Turbo Bounty event the next day. First of all I needed to find out what the words Turbo and Bounty meant.

I strolled back into the Fox Poker Club on Sunday with a calm and confident stomach. Sadly there was no longer any free brand name cola. I'd have to win the tournament to cover my inevitable cola costs, a cruel cycle. I took my seat at Table Five and played without my trademark cowardice. Although, compared to everyone else, I still came across as the tightest player in the world, but in my heart I'd become an aggressive poker lion ready to bet big at the first sniff of blood.

The atmosphere was much more fun this time round. With less at stake (£30 entry fee compared to £250 the day before) people were a lot less serious and workmanlike. There was talking, there was laughter, there were verbal attacks flying across the table. Most importantly, not everyone seemed to be a pro. I liked it.

The cards fell well for me, three times I got pocket Aces, which helped me build up my stack significantly. And I almost managed to claim a bounty after going all-in with Jacks, but having slightly less chips than the bounty carrier. My mind-balls had swollen to the size of a baby's head. I feared no man, woman or child.

After five hours of playing I found myself at the final table with around 65,000 chips (10,000 above the average). The panic quickly set in and my mind-balls became severely deflated. I went back to my old cowardly ways, desperate to avoid the bubble. I'd only learned of the bubble the day before, but already I felt like I'd had a lifelong fear of it.

Fortunately for me two players went out in quick succession. I'd made the money and could relax. Unfortunately I relaxed for too long and the blinds and ante were tearing me apart. There was no way I was going to win, because there was a man who seemed to have one hundred billion chips. I don't want to make any wild accusations, but he was almost certainly producing those chips biologically through some kind of mutant bellybutton chip dispenser.

Anyway, against all my better judgement I went all in with A2 off, only to be called by the two guys to my left who had AQ and JJ. The Queen's arrival on the flop announced my departure in 7th place.

All in all it was a great weekend. I'll definitely be entering another non-expensive tournament in the future, if only to test my theory that I only need to play one or two more times to become the best player in the world. My only regret is swapping one of my drink vouchers for an extra massage voucher and then not getting a single massage for fear of looking like a pervert.

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