Last night, I played some micro-limit (.10/.25) hold'em on PokerStars. Right after I donkeyed into a gutshot on the turn with JTo to suckout on this poor guy who made middle pair with KQ on a board of A-Q-9 I realized that I'd forgotten to set up today's WWdN Invitational. While that guy filled the chat box with things like "****ing moron," and "nice call with a gutshot there, you stupid ****ing donkey mother******," I got everything set up but the name. I thought of something like WWdN #10: The Wil Didn't Play Last Week Invitational, but let's face it, that sucks.
Luckily for me, my stepson Nolan walked into my office at that moment, so I said to him, "Do you want to name my tournament?"
"What do you mean?" He said.
I explained how I name the tourney after the
donkey extremely skillful player who knocks me out each week, but since I was /away, I didn't know
what to name it.
He thought for about a nanosecond, and said, "Yeah! Name it Nolan Rules!" He cracked up, and was shocked when I typed it in and hit enter.
"Okay," I said, "you've just named the tourney."
"Uhh . . . how many people will get to see that?"
"Thousands," I said. "Maybe tens of thousands, and they will all know that you rule. In fact, it could be hundreds of millions. I hope you're prepared for the responsibility that comes with ruling that many people."
He gave me the you're so lame/you're insane/oh-my-god-I-am-mortified-that-you-did-that look, which is pretty common since he became A Teenager.
"Are you serious?" He said.
I laughed. "No. It will only be seen by fives of people in the tourney, and maybe thirties of people online. And I think most people will get the joke."
"Okay . . ." He said.
"And even if they don't, what do you care? You're their ruler."
Now he smiled. "Whatever, Wil. Are you going to come play charades with me and mom now?"
"Right after I finish this orbit," I said. He glanced at the screen and said, "uh, that guy is cussing a lot."
"Yeah, I put a really bad beat on him," I said.
"Oh, so you mean he's saying in the chat box what you say in real life when you're
in here alone?" He smirked.
Busted.
"Something like that," I said. "Tell your mom I'll be right there."
I returned to my game. "Sorry man," I typed in the
chat box. "You're right. I am a complete donkey, and I totally suck at poker." On the very next hand, I
was dealt A5c in the SB. Everyone limped in ahead of me, so I completed and saw a flop of 2-3-6 with no clubs. I
checked, the BB raised, and it was folded to KQ guy, who bet the pot. It was folded back to me.
Do I try
for the gutshot again? I thought. Because the Implied Tilt Odds are infinite.
I actually went into the tank for a bit, until deciding that it was probably stupid to call. I folded, and a 4 hit the turn.
So this is what it's like to be CJ, I thought, as I picked up my virtual chips, and headed out to the living room to play with my family.
