If you break down my career poker stats by location, there is a clear outlier in an otherwise pleasing, standard looking distribution:  the Borgata. 

I keep meticulous stats on my play, so I can confirm this fact easily.  Looking at a breakdown of my stats by location reminds me of one of my old favorite childhood pastimes:  studying the backs of baseball cards.  That is where, of course, the career statistics of each player were located, in a series of rows that each represented one season.  I remember being puzzled by some of the good players’ statistics:  often there would be a lenghty list of productive years surrounding one unsightly, disgusting year wherein that player simply sucked.  Maybe that year the player fought through an injury or a divorce or a drug problem or god knows what.  But for whatever reason, he plain old sucked for a full season during what otherwise would have been the height of his career, thereby irrevocably marring his baseball card.  On my poker card, I have one of those rows.  It’s labeled “Borgata.”

Virtually everywhere else I have ever played, I have either enjoyed a lot of success or at worst been about a break even player.  But not at the Borgata.  I have played there for a combined 98 hours since I turned pro.  I’d prefer not to disclose the exact amount I’ve lost there, but suffice to say it would have been easier, less painful and less time consuming to have walked to the end of the steel pier with a duffel bag full of $100 bills and dumped it into the ocean.

It’s a shame because the Borgata is easily the nicest casino/hotel in Atlantic City, and a terrific place to play poker.  I just get destroyed there.  Imagine the movie Groundhog Day, but with a new plot.  Instead of walking around Punxsutawney every morning, Bill Murray wakes up and gets punched in the balls.  That’s me at Borgata.

Back to the online grind… 

A couple of days ago I had an encounter with a tournament pro that really made me resent my near miss for the WSOP bracelet back in June.

This tournament pro is a loud abrasive guy with a serious chip on his shoulder.  He has had a lot of success in the past year or so, but the success has only served to increase his general irritability rather than mellowing him out.  I entered a $500 sit n’ go and found myself seated two seats to this jackasses’ left.  Then the following scene unfolded.

Jackass spends the first 30 mins of the sit n’ go talking nonstop shit.  He’s in a good mood and convinces the entire table to post a $100 last longer along with a $100 bounty.  I reluctantly agree to both.  Most of the table is very familiar with him.  The table is general is tough.  It consists almost entirely of east coast pros who all know one another.  I’m a quiet outsider in this group.

Eventually I am dealt KQs in the small blind, and with the blinds at 50 and 100, jackass openraises to 325 from the cutoff and is called by the button.  I consider squeezing but decide to just call, and the big blind calls as well.  The flop comes Q-Q-7.  I check, and so does the big blind.  Jackass bets 900 of his remaining 3000 chips, the button folds and I raise all in for around 2800.  The big blind folds.  Jackass is no longer in a good mood.

Jackass:   Well I guess my fucking kings are no good (fires cards into the muck).  Motherfucking donkey idiot calls me with Q-10 or some shit.  You guys believe this shit?

I had not uttered a word at the table until this point.

Me:  You had two kings there?

Jackass:  Yeah, and you cracked them with your bullshit Q-10.  Nice play.

Me:  I didn’t have a queen.

Jackass:  Give me a fucking break.  Do you know who I am?!  I play this game a lot better than you ever will.  You’re not raising in a four way pot there without a queen.

Me:  I didn’t have a queen.

Now he’s really pissed.  He turns sideways, stares right at me with wild eyes, and:

Jackass:  I will suck a big hairy nigger moose cock if you didn’t have a queen in your hand!  What the fuck do you think this is?  I’m ranked nineteenth in the world!  What are you ranked?  How much have YOU cashed for this year?

At this exact point in time, I wished more than ever that I had won that WSOP bracelet back in June.  For if I had, I would have responded by silently sliding my sweatshirt sleeve up to my forearm, smirking and showing Jackass the hardware.  But since that wasn’t an option:

Me:  I don’t care what your ranking is.  But if you’re gonna insist that we pull out our dicks and meaure them, I got two-outed on the river for a WSOP bracelet in June.

This answer did the trick.  Jackass stopped haranguing me and even asked a few earnest questions about the circumstances of my WSOP final table.  He busted a little while later, and I ended up chopping the sit ‘n go.

Next time I won’t bother lying about my hand.

I haven’t posted anything to this blog in over two weeks for a simple reason:  this is supposed to be a blog about poker, and I just finished a long poker hiatus. 

During my layoff I was completely obsessed with the start of the NFL football season.  Over the last two weeks, I spent an unnatural percentage of my waking hours studying team and player projections for 2007.  I then made a series of proposition bets based on those projections.  I can’t help but view the football season as a big challenge.  I love the game and know that I will spend much of the next five months watching it, and my instinct is to try to turn it into a moneymaking venture.

I am now in Atlantic City to play in the Borgata Open.  As I’ve mentioned before, I never ever win jack shit at Borgata, so I’m hopeful but not exactly happy to be here.  This trip is off to a predictable start:  true to form, I didn’t last two levels in today’s $500 event.

I’ll get you yet, Borgata!