WELL it’s that time of year again, when all I can see and hear about is the lucky flock of golden nutted pilgrims, packing their bags and jumping onto Virgin Atlantic flights to Las Vegas. Yep it’s World Series Of Poker time and unfortunately this is one envious dude who will be sitting back, reading about all my mates, my heroes and the new champions who are giving it large in what is as you know for me, the last stop before heaven, Las Vegas.
After running so bad last year, doing my absolute conkers over and over again at Cheltenham, Aintree, Ascot and of course laying Spain-till the cows come home-to win the World Cup, the working bankroll is not as it used to be. I ran about as good as a three legged donkey in a 5 furlong sprint at Royal Ascot.
I played some really good poker too but lost out in all the big tournaments here, to the proverbial kick up the cream crackers, the one and two outers, you know when only a miracle card helps your opponent and bang, on the river, in it goes like a dagger in the old jam tart. Yep, lady luck cocked a deaf-un to all my pleas, my prayers and my constant bleating war-cry, WHY-WHY-WHY.
Indeed she not only cocked a deaf-un, she completely blanked me, looked the other way and made me as welcome as a pork dinner at a Jewish wedding. But the more we play the more we realise that poker as a career option will serve up many highs and many lows. So as long as you reflect on the way you play, adapt and learn, form is temporary and class is permanent.
The cream will always rise to the top.