You stare at the board while the dealer raps the
table, burns a card into the muck, and prepares to reveal the river card. Maybe you need to dodge all the spades, or
only an ace. Maybe you need to catch a miracle, and pick up the case seven so your hammer bluff makes quads, beeetches,
to beat your opponent's turned flush. (Who the fuck does he think he is, calling your huge pre-flop raise with T6c
anyway and with two sevens on the board? What did he think you had?!)The card comes off . . . and you lose. Maybe you stare at the board for a second, maybe you're already standing up, maybe you're so steamed, you even take a few steps away from the table before you remember to go back and shake the hand of your worthy opponent who outplayed or outdrew you.
What do you do next? If you're me, you congratulate your opponent, wish everyone good luck, and on your way to the bar, you pick up your cell phone, and call someone who won't charge you a dollar to hear your bad beat story, or who understands you (and the game) enough to listen, and say the magical words that somehow soothe your wounds.
There are a few people I call: PokerGeek, Lee Jones, Nickerson, Dr. Pauly. They fit all the above criteria (though Lee still charges me for my bad beat stories. Thank god for PayPal.)
Yesterday afternoon, my phone rang just before dinner, and I was pleased to see Dr. Pauly on the little display.
"Hey Doc," I said, "What's up?"
"Wil, man," I could hear him draw on a cigarette, "I just finished third in the media tourney at the LAPC." He exhaled.
"Third? Holy shit, man!" I said, "that fucking rules!"
"Well, not really. First place was an entry into the Invitational," he said.
"What'd you get for third?" I said.
"A T-shirt."
I tried not to laugh.
"Did you go out good, or did you go out hating yourself?"
"Man, I fucking got bad beated by Barbara Enright three times." Pauly laughed, "I am so fuckin' steaming right now!"
"Why don't you tell me about it," I said, "and we can zero out our bad beat account."
"I'm pretty sure you'll still owe me money, Wil." He said.
This time, he tried not to laugh, before he told me his sad tale, which you can read in Pauly's own voice at Tao of Poker.
