 On the verge of a trip home for the holidays, it looked like my losing streak was ready to come to an end. I lucked my way into a fifty dollar gain from Indianapolis trouncing the bengals because I refused to back down from some shit talking Id done earlier regarding the game and commited to a bigger figure than I had available to lose at such pursuits. Slick Willy was on the wrong end of the exchange, and was routinely mocked upon his arrival at the weekly poker game. We reconvened at the mansion for the last action thursday of 2006, with Crofton, Will, and myself having a full hour to kill before the remaining three players could arrive. In that time, Crofton changed out of a suit and tie at the same time as getting hammered alone and went from corporate stooge to drinking red wine straight from the bottle in a matter of thirty minutes. We took to watching last weeks saturday night live "dick in a box" sketch which if you havent youtubed yet you are missing out on, and for the remainder of the night the uniform symbol of dominance was raising your arms condescendingly as if your victim had just opened a package to reveal your penis.
When our full compliment had arrived, we watched the sketch an additional three times then started the game. I made it a point to tighten up my hand selection signifigantly, and didnt play the first round of hands I was dealt except for a stray limp on the button. In the meantime, a drunken crofton spooned chocolate ice cream from an oversized tub while wildly raising and stealing about half the pots without showing. I found the five six of clubs in the little blind the second time through, and called a small raise from crofton with another person having called behind. The flop came 2,4,5 with one club, and I checked hoping to check raise and take it down. Unfortunately, two checks came behind me and we were left to see a turn card. An eight came down leaving no flush draws open and I bet out two hundred chips which was the amount in the pot. Crofton made it three hundred more when he remembered it was his turn, and after the interceding fold, I decided to push all in with my middle pair double belly buster and hope that he was stealing as he had been. Son of a bitch takes another huge spoonful of ice cream, then calls and flips up A-3 while raising his arms to imply Id just been given a lewd gift. Two rounds in and he has me outchipped with no outs coming on the river, so I have to rebuy like a fucking chump. Not good times for Eddie Rebuy.
Going back to a cautious approach, I watched crofton steal time and time again while building on his already vast chip lead. Dude bet preflop at least seventy five percent of the time and often took it on the flop with another bet if he hadnt just gotten the blinds. During his uncanny streak of dominance that lasted well over half an hour he only got called on an all in once, when he was holding JJ against 99. In one of the few hands that crofton ducked out on, I was able to swipe seven hundred chips from young fox by slowplaying a full house. That said, crofton was sitting on about half the chips at the table while drinking a beer with one hand and spooning that damned ice cream with the other. He even had a hand holding Q9 where the flop came 4,6,K and he put out a huge bet that got called by the short stack looking for a straight draw that never came. Fucking Queen high took it when turn river were both aces. That bastard was due for a fall.
His decline began when he put away the ice cream that had served as his rallying cry, and found himself without the aid of his dairy based gods. It started when he had resistance to a substantial preflop raise he'd made in the form of old fox's triple reraise. Acting like the hot shot he thought he was, crofton threw a stack of five hundred dollar chips in the pot all non chalant like and dared on a call. There was an unreasonable deliberation before the A-J of old fox did just that and exposed his 10-10 for the weak hand that it was. Im not sayin he deserved to lose on the merit of the play from a poker perspective, but rather on the merit of his character and the impertinance of knocking my shit to rebuy island earlier in the evening.
Having thus excised a good chunk of his chips, Crofton further hit the skids when he ran into a Murph who was sick of being bullied. With a flop of A, 9, 4, and crofton betting out as usual, Murph reraised him all in on a bluff holding only 9-10, thus being called by crofton's A-10. Being the only one drunker than crofton at the table, Murph started to celebrate when the turn came ten, only to be reminded that his two pair was still behind top two by a cackling crofton. He was heard to exclaim "That was the best card ever", already wrapping up his present so that he could make Murph open that box until the river brought the unthinkable. Nine in his eye dude, nine in his fucking eye. Shit was dominant, and crofton was crushed. A two outer was enough to make his previous run both metaphorically and practically worthless.
I was still playing the waiting game, but when I got A-10 in the big blind, I called a standard preflop bet from old fox and was delighted to find both the ace and the ten on the flop along with a four. No flush draws to speak of allowed me the luxury of checking and letting him follow his preflop bet with an oversized 500 into a pot of about four, I decided just to call and give him a little more rope to hang himself. Unfortunately, the turn brought a jack which also gave the board two to the flush, and I decided I couldnt risk him checking behind me on a draw. I bet out 500 of my remaining fifteen hundred chips, which led to an all in by the elder fox brother. With over two grand in the pot, and only another thousand to throw, it was a nondecsion, and I was horrified to see the KQ I had allowed to catch up by not reraising the flop. Motherfucker. This time I was too upset to allow for another rebuy, and I exited the game to stew angrily on the couch.
First player busted out for the second week straight, and I had to watch the field get whittled down to a tale of two fox brothers. The younger turned from student to teacher, showing a thing or two about poker to his more seasoned competition. While we waited for the conclusion of the tourney, the Real World/Road Rules challenge came to its conclusion on our television and the duel portion had the ever wily kina going against an overmatched russian immigrant. By offering three to one odds on a sure thing, I got that fool Will to chase his bengals loses backing a frail pony against a warhorse. Damn if kina didnt inexplicably hurt her hoof during a veiled tug of war competition, and I had to pay off the very man who had built my bankroll for that week. When all was said and done, I had lost in every competition I had entered and so depleted were my gift giving funds that I may have to start cutting holes in boxes and putting my junk in that box not out of humor but rather for cost effectiveness. Fuck it dude, Im still gonna go to foxwoods on my way home tommorrow and Ill make it all back, losing streak be damned.
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