The Credit Crunch Bunch

In this time of economic uncertainty you can rest assured on the immutability of this fact: people will gamble their way through the gloom.

Yes, it was another night at the Punch Tavern. This time I cajoled three of my colleagues and a friend into playing. Bad idea when you think about it – a gambler with any nous wouldn’t invite his mates. But I did and before the tournament commenced we set aside a small pot for the last man/woman standing. And by standing I mean sitting, since only losers stand in poker.

The dynamic of the tournament was slightly different from last time as we were in the main part of the pub, underneath some speakers playing the same five songs (‘Me Gustas Tu’: if you know it, you’ve probably spent too much time in dodgy Continental-style clubs). The two tables were nicely balanced between men and women. There were seventeen of us starting on 3,000 chips each.

Iain, Sarah’s boyfriend, won the first hand at Table One. He collected a swathe of green chips, as did Anna a few hands later. I was lagging behind, impatiently playing too many flops to see if I could catch something. On Table Two a woman who claimed to have never played poker flat-called with 8-2 of hearts, revealing her cards at the end to find out she had a flush. A few hands later she got quad sevens. Anniina was on the lucky woman’s table and sitting directly behind me. She would turn and talk to me in-between hands. I’d like to think that she was looking at me and not the chip stacks of the other players. The pressure was beginning to mount. She was well ahead of all of us.

My moment came with pocket jacks. I went all in, one of the regular players called, as did Anna. I was the shortstack so the other two played on until the river. When you have three or more people, you play this strange mind game when it comes to revealing your cards, as in essence it is the revealing of yourself. The man showed pocket jacks, Anna had pocket tens, I was still in the game, splitting the pot. Anna’s stack took a hit. I tried not to look too happy.

After ninety minutes or so Sarah went all in, everyone else folded. I sat and pondered for a minute. I had King-10, an OK hand but not a great hand. I pondered some more and decided to call. On their backs: Sarah had Queen-10. Quite gutting to take the scalp of the person you sit next to for eight hours a day. Well, sort of. I lost her chips in the next hand. That’s poker. I was busted out soon after by my new arch nemesis – a grey-haired guy with gnome-like features. I went all in on the turn, all I had was a pair of fours. He stroked his chin for a few seconds and squinted at me, then called. He had paired his queen. Endgame. After that it was a bit of a blur. Iain and Anniina made the final table. Iain lost to her with pocket sixes – a tough hand to pass. She went on to the heads-up – with the woman who had never played before. The barman looked over and said in his French accent, ‘I’ve never seen a girl on girl final.’ The beginner won. If it was any consolation, Anniina did win the side bet.

I chatted with some of the other losers. One of them marvelled at the popularity of poker. He told me that within a two-minute radius there were three cash games going on right then. And by cash games I mean illegal gambling held in pubs and restaurants. It’s hard to fathom that people in the City would be gambling their money away at every street corner...
 

Posted 06/05/2008 12:57:55 by Women's fiction team with 0 comments.