Sweet. Sweet. Poker.

It’s Friday night. Just home from work.

I was gonna go for a drink with Rod and Rob from the office. But Rod said he was meeting someone at the gym. And Rob said he had an appointment with a client and then it was straight off home. Something about his wife’s family were coming round for dinner, or something. We always used to go down to the Prince for a few after work on a Friday. Pussies!

Well. That’s their loss. It’s been a hell of a week and I’m in the mood to rock!

And getting me in the mood – some icy-cold San Miguel (which I have recently become rather partial to) and John Dawson Winter III, which Richard at the club kindly burnt for me. I said to Richard. Do yourself a favour and burn a copy for yourself. Some of the best grooves ever cut, I tell him.

And whenever I hear this track, I can’t help singing along. Always gets me in a mood to bogey.

Take me back to those good old days again
When guitars were guitars
And men were men
We were heart to heart
Soul to soul
In those golden olden days of rock and roll

Quality. Get down!

Right. Quick shower. Must remember to get into Boots and pick up some shampoo and shower gel. Still, there’s nearly half a bottle of conditioner left (something she must have bought). As it turns out, the conditioner does the trick, nicley. It’s all the same stuff anyway. They just stick it in different coloured bottles and give’m fancy names.

I’m looking for a shirt to wear. But the lot I took to the launderatte still need ironing. The women who’s been doing them for me didn’t come Monday. Funny, I thought she sounded a bit off when I spoke to her on the phone. Said something about the clothes being… next time. And that she didn’t expect to have to... everytime she came. I didn’catch all of it. The reception’s terrible in the flats. Been thinking of switching provider for some time. Just haven’t got round to it yet, what with everything else. Anyway. Then she drops-out. And I haven’t heard from her since.

There’s nothing hanging in the wardrobe. So, I pull a few shirts out of the wash basket – a couple of them don’t look too bad, actually. Pick out the best one. Bit smokey, but I can soon cure that with a generous application of Lynx.

Right. Tie. Jacket. Hair. Sorted.

Quick check in the mirror. Looking foxy tonight, Phil. Sorry girls. I know it don’t seem fair. There just being the one of me an’ all. Funny. When I’m in a good mood like this, I often find myself thinking in an American accent.

Think I’ll to drive down to the Big Slick club. Take a night-ride with lady fortune. I’m feeling lucky. I’m feeling good. I feeling all… all…all…all…ri…right!

Take the disk with me. Play it in the car. Good job the suspension’s tight on this baby. I’ve got it on full blast.

My father was a mother
My mother was a son
Don’t play the Mona-Lisa
We’ve all been twenty-one

Rock and roll people
Born to sing the blues
Rock and roll people
Just couldn’t change it – if I choose.

On the way. Stop at the atm to get some cash. It’s right by The Toby Carvery. Haven’t been in there for a while. Decide to pop in for a quick livener, before going on the club. Never know. Might even bump into some old pals. We used to go in here a lot in the old days. But that sort of died-off, after my bust-up with Kylie.

Get inside and who do you suppose I bump into at the bar. Rod. Rob. What are you two doing here? Oh. Hi Phil. The client cancelled on me. Says Rod. Turned my ankle. Says Rob. And pulls a face. Like he’s in a lot of pain. What are you having? Says Rod. San Miguel, if they do them. I say. Cool.

Get to the club late. The tourney’s already started. I get card for seat 6 Caesar’s Palace. I’ve got about a 700 chips left out of my 1000 by the time I sit down.

On my right is Lee. On my left is a guy I don’t know. Young-ish. Ozzie, I think. Sounds like one. In seat 3 is Big-Bad-Dave. Oh no. Not you. I quip. He buys me a drink. Try one of these. He says. Edina brings us two bottles of Corona with bits of lime sticking out the top. Not bad. I Grab Edina, before she goes. Ask her to bring two more.

Not you as well, Dave. I say, when I notice he’s got a little mascot standing in front of his chips. Well, it’s not so little really. It’s a six inch high penguin. I don’t know why, but from the moment I first laid eyes on Pengo, I thought that there was something sinister about him.

Big-Bad-Dave grins. Picks up Pengo and throws it at me. What the …! I try to duck out of the way. The penguin hits me on the side of the head. Bounces back across the felt. Ends up in the dealer tray. It’s made of foam rubber. I knock the drinks table over. Big-Bad-Dave laughs.

Right. I say. You even think of betting. And I’ll be all over you. Right. Says Big-Bad-Dave gleefully. But Pengo doesn’t smile. Just stares at me menacingly. Later in the evening. Much, much later. I’m standing at the bar. When I see Pengo’s disembodied head flying across the card room in the direction of the Luxor. Bit surreal. Don’t you think? Still. He had it coming, I’m thinking. Next second the head is flying across the room at me. Instinctively, I duck. Spill some of my drink down my best suit. I look over to the cash game. See Big-Bad-Dave’s face grinning back at me.

The cards are coming round. Usual action. Every raise gets a minimum of three callers. I put in a raise with AKsuited. Only to get raised and then re-re-raised before it gets back round to me. Figuring there must at least one genuine hand out there. QQ? KK? I lay the Big Slick down, only to find out after they’re all-in that I’ve folded to Q10off, KJsuited and A6suited. Big-Bad-Dave is in there too, with 74suited.

The old boy (dunno his name) with the Q10off turns out to be a regular calling machine. He hits a couple of times. But mostly he’s re-buying. It doesn’t take long to figure him out. If he’s got a picture he’ll call anything pre-flop. If there’s a picture on the flop and he bets – he’s got it. If the flop come rags and he bets – he’s got an ace with a big kicker. AJ or AQ most likely.

Anyway. The guy piling-up the chips is the Ozzie. Everyone misses and his KJsuited holds-up. (My AK would have taken the lot! B’ggar!)Then he wins another monster 4-way all-in pot when his 10-2 suited, (which has made trips 10s on the flop), looks like losing to a flush on the turn, only to be rescued by a 2 on the river to give him a full-house and about 16,000 chips.

The ozzie chuckles every time the ‘calling machine’ makes a bet. It’s his first time at the Big Slick. I try to explain to him that this is a £10 Rebuy. You’re gonna get a lot of callers. I tell him. He doesn’t really listen though. Keeps making raises and re-raises. Expecting everyone to show him respect and lay down. From 16,000 chips he ends up going broke before the end of the 75mins. Rebuys twice. Busts-out twice. Doesn’t come back after the break.

The play is fast and curious. Typical Friday. There are plenty of rich pots, but I’m finding it hard to get into them. Every time I get a playable hand. Lee to my right makes one of his massive pre-flop raises and I have to quit. Also. I’ve got Big-Bad-Dave to contend with. I just know he’s waiting to pounce on me.

These Coronas are nice, though. Had them once before. Long time ago. When I was in Texas. Big-Bad-Dave orders two more. I tell Edina. Make it two each. Save her keep coming back.

Chips are getting low. I’m close to a rebuy. In fact I decide to rebuy now. That way, I’ve got a bit more clout. And if I do manage to double-up, it’ll put me on a useful 3000 chips.

As luck would have. Very next hand. Get 88. Wondering how to play them.

If I limp, everybody gets to see the flop and the chances are I’ll miss and there’ll be over-cards out there. Or, more likely, someone’s going to raise it up anyway.

If I make a modest raise, I’m bound to get callers. Especially Big-Bad-Dave. He’ll probably raise me up, just for the hell of it.

If I bet half my chips, it’s a bit of a give-away. Might as well tell them that I’ve got a modest pocket pair and I don’t want any callers.

So. I decide the best play is to shove it all in. Ok. I know that still might be telling them I’m on a pair. But it’s gonna cost them a lot to find out. And with my reputation, they are probably putting me on JJ minimum.

Plan works fine. Everyone folds round to the big blind. The big blind is Little Joe. Old guy. Very nice chap, actually. He’s got slightly fewer chips than me. He dwells for a bit. Then calls. Turns over K5.

I must be favourite. Right?

Anyway flop comes 3 blanks. Turn. Blank. River? You got it. King.

Second rebuy.

Play continues. Still can’t get into it. Lee keeps shoving it in. Big-Bad-Dave is calling everything and hitting. Finally I get a hand. QQ. Slow play to the flop. Wait for a bet. Shove it in. I know it’s risky. But I need chips. All-in. My Queens hold-up. Suddenly I’m on 5000 chips. And it’s the break. Great timing. Go for a much-needed smoke and another one of those nice Coronas with the piece lime in it.

Back from the break. The cards keep coming round. I’m getting nothing. And to be honest. I’m not concentrating properly. I can’t decide whether to have another Corona. Or try something different. They’re beginning to make me feel a little queasy. End up having another. Big-Bad-Dave’s already got them in.

Anyway. Next thing is. Dealer’s saying to me. 400 to play. I put the chips in. Then notice that button is with the player on my left. New bloke. Joined our table just after the break. So, I say. How come it’s my big blind, if the button’s over there. You’re not in the big blind. Says the dealer. I said it’s 400 to play. Oh. I say. In that case I don’t want to call. Can I have my 400 chips back. No. He says. The bet must stand. Which is a nuisance. I’m holding K3off.

I know it’s not the dealer’s fault. But I’ve suddenly got ‘ump with it all. I haven’t seen a hand for an hour. Big-Bad-Dave’s laughing his socks off. Pengo gloats.

S-blind calls. The calling machine in the bi-blind checks. Flop comes Ace and two rags. I’m first to act. But don’t like to act with that Ace on the board. I check. S-blind checks. B-blind checks – again. They’ve got nothing. I’m pretty sure of it. But. Still I’m reluctant to bet. Turn comes a blank. Still no one bets.

Last card is another blank. I decide to make a bluff. Shove it all in.

S-blind folds immediately. Excellent. But the b-blind hesitates. I watch his fingers. Playing with his chips. Then he’s counting them out. That’s it then. I’m a gonna. He puts his chips into the middle. I’m already out of there. If he’s calling. He must have hit something. Right?

I’m on my way to the bar. Dump this Corona. Get a San Miguel. When all of a sudden. Phil! Phil! They’re calling me. You won! They shout. I won? I say. With King high. Yes. It turns out that the guy has called my all-in with Jack high. Can you believe that? He’s called an all-in for 5000 chips with Jack high.

Well that has set me up. Out for the count one minute. Over 10,000 chips the next. And I’m on my way. I just don’t look back, after that. Though, I can’t tell you too much about the hands I played. The evening’s starting to get pretty hazy. Know what I mean? Though, I do remember one thing. All the time Johnny Winter and the rhythm of the Rock-and-Roll People is pulsing through my veins. Just won’t let go of me. Ever had that feeling?

Don’t tell me where you head is man
You know it won’t be missed
Don’t play the Virgin Mary
We all know you’ve been kissed

Boy. It’s late. 3 – 4.00am? I’m on the final table. I’m very tired. It’s mostly a blur. So, I figure my best chance is to do nothing. Let the blinds go. Let the small stacks knock themselves out. Wait for a monster. And then.

And then. There they are. Bullets! It’s all I can do not to fall off my chair.

Sweet. Sweet. Rock and Roll.

I’m under the gun. I raise it up. There’s no plan. No explanation. I just raise it up by 10,000. Fold. Fold. S-blind calls. B-blind is all in. Well. It’s a no-brainer. Which is just as well, considering the state I’m in. I call like a shot. But so does the other guy. Two callers. That’s a bit more dangerous. Still. If I win this. I’m chip leader! Big money beckons.

On their backs. S-blind shows A6. I’m thinking. Lovely. B-blind shows 88. Ok. I’m favourite.

Flop comes blank, blank, blank.

Funny. This part of the evening I can remember with perfect clarity.

Turn. Blank.

River. 8.

Nooooo!

I’m pretty sure I did cry out. When the 8 hit. In slow motion. Just like clock hitting 6.00am in Ground Hog Day. I remember Scotty Boyle smiling. He’s saying to me. You must let me tell you how to play aces during the end game sometime. Love him.

Sweet. Sweet. Poker.