Two weeks ago I found myself unexpectedly at the Reading Grosvenor. A friend had given me a last minute text that he was changing trains in Reading and wondered if I could meet up. At the time I was playing the PKR Open and about to fire up a load more tournaments but decided to abandon that idea. I got the chips in at the Open table fast, a number of times, looking to chip up to a stack that might make it to the cash or otherwise be smashed out. Usually this strategy leads to donking yourself out. Somehow I kept getting it in with trash and winning. Out of a 450 runner tournament I found myself abandoning it as Chip Leader with 153 left. I had made the money when I checked the next day but it was painful that the first time all month I find myself with a workable stack I then sat out and min cashed with it.
Anyway, after a couple of drinks my friend got his next train and I found myself heading to the casino. As I hadn't played live since before Christmas it would be a nice warm up for Leeds. Sometimes evenings at a poker table just go weird. You find yourself sat with odd people who you wonder how they can possibly function as human beings on a dayto day basis. Both tables were full when I got there so I didn't get on a table until 11pm. There were a few useful regs I had seen before. There were a couple of standard fish and then there was a very drunk Scotsman. Most Scottish accents are clear and easy to follow. The odd one is quiet, fast and full of words that don't make a lot of sense south of the border. He was talking constantly but only every fourth word or so made any sense. Every time the action was on him we had to wait 15 seconds of Hollywooding before he asked 'Cann'a fold?' before folding, or putting chips into the pot for the next spectacular piece of donking he was about to perform. He was winding people up long before the first explosive moment of the evening.
He was sat next to an okay reg known as 'Pedro'. Pedro is a youngish black local, currently on crutches after breaking his foot. After raking in a decent pot The Scotsman had missed a £1 chip. It was in front of Pedro who flicked it back over towards him. Pedro was wearing a very expensive watch as many casino gamblers have a tendency to own. The Scotsman picked up the chip and proceeded to rub the flat side of it over the face of Pedro's watch. Pedro went for him in a flash with much shoving and swearing following. Security was there about ten seconds later dragging away the man on crutches as he seemed to be the aggressor. After ten minutes reviewing the video he was returned and our drunk friend was ejected. Gutting as one of the two value players was now gone.
It was okay though as about thirty minutes prior to that an older guy with short, spiky and gelled, grey hair and a diamond stud earring had sat down at the table. To buy in he brought out a giant wodge of £50 notes and threw a couple of the table. He was drinking from the biggest glass of baileys I have ever seen in my life. He then bluffed every other pot all in by the time it got to the river. The dealer changed just before the previous incident happened and the new one clearly knew several of the regs very well. You really have to watch out in small regional cash tables as there is often a lot of behaviour that would not be tolerated in any decent cardroom. The dealer was talking to the reg in the 9 seat and commenting about the hands after they had finished, or on several occasions when the hand was still in progress at the other end of the table. This is pretty unwelcome at the best of times though wasn't impacting on any of the play.
The new fish had bluffed off about £300 when he decided to ship King high into the second nut flush on a paired board. The dealer had made a comment to the other player before he called, it sounded something like 'Your go.' After the other guy called the bluff (which no one was ever folding against this guy) Baileys Man decided the dealer had told him what to do and worked himself up into a bizarre state. He got what I can only describe as passive aggressive with the dealer before standing up and demanding to see the Floorman. He kept wandering back over telling the dealer that he 'was done'. The guy was clearly an idiot but the dealer had very much blurred the lines of acceptability already already and whilst there was no cheating or collusion the lines of good practise had very much been blurred. The dealer's actions likely cost the table a lot of free money and left the Floor Manager probably wondering who he had upset in a previous life to be stuck dealing with this nonsense. As the cameras didn't have good sound pick up the Floor Manager could do nothing and Baileys Man huffed off convinced he had been cheated.
I had got about £120 up then drifted back to about even by the time Baileys Man had properly left, abandoning about £60 on the table with no intention of coming back. Weird incidents had left the table short of both the value players. It was quite early for me to consider finishing a session at 2 a.m. but I hadn't won a pot in over an hour, neither of the fish had spewed my way and the table was turning into a solid nit-fest. I quit it £1.50 to the good. Not a good nights work but easily the most entertaining £1.50 I had earned in a long time.
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