Bitter Taste In My Mouth

I just got back from my father-in-law's house from perhaps the worst night of cards I have ever had.

Sure, sounds like the beginning story of any sore loser.

Let me say this, however: I have never left his house in the hole and have left ahead several times.

But tonight, I lost four hands on an ace-kicker. Once, I lost with pocket bullets to a flush on the river. Un-be-lievable.

What made it worse, I was one of the blinds at least three of those times. I had already paid to see the flop and getting out would be just dumb in that situation.

There was only one hand I folded where I should have stayed in. After having lost a hand I honestly felt I should have won, I got out with a king/duck. Yeah, I know - pay to see the flop and try to pair up the cowboy; I know that - but the two scared me. I was still shell-shocked and I got out too early. Of course, the king showed up on the turn. That was the only hand I misplayed.

I don't mind losing to Larry - he's a good player and our money changes hands quite often. He's either very up or very down. I've only seen Burger down once; he doesn't slow play too often (unlike me), but he bets wisely. I've only played against Mike once; the only good thing is that his read is now obvious - if he's in after the first raise, he's got something. Charles, our decorator's husband, is fun, as well. He can play some cards but he's not unbeatable.

Still, I can't complain too much. I like boys night out; with Melissa out of town for the weekend, it was fun to get out and to speak as men speak.

But tonight I've never heard truer words than those from Jack King - "Few players recall big pots they have won, strange as it seems, but every player can remember with remarkable accuracy the outstanding tough beats of his career."