Ain't Wasting No More Time

OK... that's a big fat lie, and I'd like to apologize to the Allman Brothers. In fact, all I'm doing right now is wasting time.

It's a Friday afternoon on the start of a long holiday (St. Paddy's Day) weekend here in Dublin and things are quiet. My team is working on the stuff they need to be working on, and I've cleaned most of the day's minutia off my desk. Sure, there are things I should probably be focusing on at the moment, but I'm putting them aside for a few minutes of "me" time. (Wow... that sounded much more new-agey than I expected. At least no one reads this drivel, so it doesn't matter.)

Anyway... the weather is typical Ireland. Gray, overcast with a chance of yet more crappiness to come. If I was a cynic (ahem) I'd say I know why the Irish like to drink. Still, I can still see the ocean from my office and I guess that's not all bad.

It's been awhile, and there are things I should probably talk about in this blog but... it's been awhile and none of those things probably means all that much anymore. I should probably make another promise to be more diligent in my posting, but we all know that's not going to happen either so... maybe I'll just log on once in awhile to ramble for my own amusement. Or not. It doesn't really matter.

That said... and if anyone is actually reading this, there are few people on the web who are worth reading like the degenerates at Poker From the Rail. I could probably post more links to more folks... and I will... but I have to give you people a reason to possibly come back here sometime.

Now back to that work thing.

It's Been Awhile

Yes, there's stuff I should post about. No, I'm not going to do it now. That's just how I'm rolling.

Still, this is coming soon:

Like Poker?

Then check this out.

Dream?

OK... so I just recently woke up after a long night (early morning) of watching the Super Bowl. I'm not sure if the following actually happened or if it's a trick of the alcohol I consumed throughout the festivities, so please correct me if I'm wrong...

• The Giants take a 10-7 lead with about 11 minutes remaining in the game
• The Patriots march right back down the field and post their own score, taking the lead back with just a little bit more than 2 minutes on the clock
• Eli Manning marches the G-Men back down the other way and David Tyree makes a circus-catch to help keep the game alive
• Eli connects with Plaxico Burress and takes the lead back with just 29 seconds left
• Remarkably, the Giants don't screw up the ensuing kickoff
• The Giants win the Super Bowl and end New England's perfect season

Please, please don't let this be just a dream.

D-Day + 5

I'm not big on anniversaries. Hell, I'm lucky if I remember my immediate family members' birthdays, let alone any other important days throughout the year. It's just not a strong suit.

That said, there are a few dates that manage to capture my attention throughout the year. The first is October 17th. Nearly 20 years ago on that date, my father passed away after a prolonged illness. While there are parts of that day and week that are lost to the haze of time (and alcohol), there are other aspects that stand out oh-so clearly, like receiving the phone call from my sister Paula telling me to come home.

The phone rang in my Boston apartment at about 3 in the afternoon, shortly after I returned home from my last class of the day. I was supposed to head out for an afternoon at the paper when Paula's call came in. It was short and sweet - Dad wasn't doing well and it would be good for me to head for the hospital as soon as possible. Within 20 minutes I'd thrown some clothes in a bag, gotten my roommate to watch my dog and told the paper I'd see them whenever I got back.

Three hours later my Subaru rolled into the parking lot of the Westchester County Medical Center for last time, as my father died about three hours after my arrival.

The other day that always stands out for me is today - January 8th because it was five years ago on this date that I heard those dreadful words: You've got testicular cancer.

To be honest, the diagnosis didn't really shock me as I knew for awhile that something wasn't right. Let's face it, when you left nut begins to feel like a rock, something is probably wrong. But, even though I knew all wasn't right, my complete hatred of all things medical (due partly to living with my father's illness and due partly to the fact that my mother is a pediatrician and well, you know how doctor's kids are) I tried to ignore the signs for as long as possible. In fact, it wasn't until my girlfriend at the time reached for me in bed one night and said "What's that?" while grabbing my package that I decided to get a professional opinion.

If you haven't had the pleasure of visiting a urologist, well let me tell you, it's a barrel of laughs. There's nothing like having someone you don't know from Adam literally performing a clinical examination of your twigs and berries while your pants pool around your legs in a cold, sterile medical office. Even more fun is when you're told you need an ultrasound to confirm his suspicions, so you're trundled to another office where a technician lathers some very cold gel on your privates and waves the wand around your wand.

Twenty minutes later, those fateful words were uttered for the first time. "You've got testicular cancer. We need to operate as soon as possible." Yikes. For me, that meant I'd be back at Cedar's Sinai six days later for the removal of my left nut.

Having read a little bit about TC before going to the doctor - and being familiar with Lance Armstrong's inspirational story - I knew that as cancer goes, this is one of the "best" types you can have. The disease is highly treatable if caught early enough and, unlike many other cancers, patients who remain cancer free for just two years are considered cured, as opposed to the standard five years that doctors wait for most other forms of the disease.

Still, armed with all of that knowledge, there's nothing that really prepares you for hearing the news. Even worse, there's nothing that prepares you for how you tell other people that you're sick. In my case, I took the direct approach and began calling family and friends as soon as I got home and finished my first drink of the day.

To their credit, most everyone took the news pretty well, though I think my sister Paula was in a state of shock for at least a day. (To be fair, I got her at work just as she was heading into an important meeting, and I certainly threw her off her game for awhile.) As for my friends, well, let's just say I couldn't ask for better. To a man (and woman) they offered to jump on planes and meet me in Los Angeles. After I told them that no, there was nothing they could do, they focused in on the really important stuff like would the operation affect my golf game as I'd now have trouble shifting my weight on my follow through. Bad jokes aside, they offered all the support I could ever want, and I owe them all to this day.

So today its five years later. I'm healthy, employed, and sitting in a shitty apartment in Dublin a world away from my friends and family. I may not love it here, but it certainly beats the alternative, and I'll take that any day.

Update

So, I'm a week into my new plan to track my bankroll, and the results are about what I've expected so far. That is:

• I'm down through the first three online sessions I've played in '08
• I've more than doubled my starting bankroll in one session of live play

Overall, I'm up on the year, but really have to figure out where the leaks are in my online game.

A New Year - A New Plan

2008 is about 18 hours old here in Ireland and, to tell the truth, it's not much different than 2007. Of course, I really wasn't expecting any major changes so this doesn't really come as a surprise, but hey, I need something to write here.

If you know me, you know I'm not much on the whole resolution thing. Sure, there are things I know I should try to improve over the course of the new year - eating better, working out more, writing more, etc. And yes, I'll try to accomplish at least some of these things, but will I actually resolve to do any of this? Not on your life.

Another non-resolution I'm working on this year is keeping better track of my bankrolls. I've always had a pretty good sense of where I'm at both online and live, but can't tell you exactly how much I'm up or down over the past year. For the record, I'm certainly down online, and certainly up live. I'm about break-even on the year and maybe, even a little in the black, but my record keeping has been shoddy, to say the least.

So, starting today, I've created a new bankroll management document that I'll try to keep updated. To make things easier, I've also started the year with fresh bankrolls that are both on the small side. Ideally, trying to build these up over the next year will encourage me to keep better track. For those curious folk out there, I've got $500 online at FTP and may deposit another $500 on a couple of other sites for special events, etc. I'm starting 2008 with 1,000 euro, which again, I'll try to build up over the course of the year.

I may even endeavor to post regular updates about my progress here on this little blog, so come back every once in awhile if you're curious.

A Wild 30 Minutes

I've been playing a lot of live poker lately, and have seen my fair share of odd happenings at the table. I've even been involved in a couple of interesting hands that I probably should have written about. Still, I've never seen - or experienced - anything like the swing I went through last night. And it all happened in just 30 minutes.

I was playing in my usual 1-2-5 NL game with many of the usual suspects, and a few newbies who were helping keep the game interesting. That said, I really couldn't capitalize on very much because I was as card dead as I've been for the first four hours of the night. I played maybe three pots and felted the table's big fish once. Somehow though, I had turned my starting stack of 650 (my 500 buy-in plus 150 I won on blackjack earlier in the evening) into about 1,150 when the hand happened.

I picked up A-J suited, which was probably the third or fourth best hand I'd seen all night, and called the standard 15 euro raise. The flop came A-10-8 rainbow and I found myself in a three-way pot with fish-boy and the gambler to my right. Fish bet the flop and the gambler and I both called.

The turn brought a 7 and gambler led out for 200. I really thought he was stealing here and raised him another 300. He thought for a while and then reluctantly called. I wasn't happy. When the river brought a 6 and he checked, I immediately shoved for about 550 more hoping my tight image would drive him off the hand.

It almost worked.

I spent a very nervous 5 minutes watching the Giants find new ways to lose to the dreaded Patriots while he pondered his decision. I never looked his direction, even when he said to himself "You fool, why'd you call the raise if you weren't going to call the river." I kept my eyes glued to the TV while I silently wished him to drop his hand and let me take down the pot.

He didn't and I may have almost weeped when he shoved his chips into the middle. I turned back to the felt and tabled my A-J. He looked at the cards for a second before sheepishly turning up A-Q for the notch and the win. "I figured, what the hell, let's have a gamble," he said as he raked in my chips. "Good call," I said, somehow resisting the urge to strangle him.

My once lovely tower of chips was reduced to a measly 64 euros worth. I somehow consoled myself with the fact that most of what I lost in the hand was profit and figured I'd play out my stack before deciding to reload or not. As it turns out, it was a decision I never had to make, as I then began one of the most remarkable comebacks I've ever seen. And it all started with the mighty Hammer.

Yes, 7-2 off-suit sparked my resurrection. A couple of hands after my big loss, I picked up the Hammer and decided I may as well go out of the game in a true blaze of glory. So, when three players in front of me entered the pot for 15 euro each, I shoved all-in for my last 65. Fish boy called and everybody else dropped out.

The flop couldn't have been prettier. 9-8-6 rainbow. When the turn brought a 4 I almost laughed, and happily flipped my cards up after the brick on the river. I got ready to scoop the pot when fish boy revealed his hand - 7-3 off-suit - for the chop. "What the..." Oh well, I still made a little money on the deal. My stack was now up to about 110.

On the next hand, I picked up A-Q of spades, and again shoved all-in when the action came my way. Four callers later I smiled to myself on the Q-high flop. I smiled even more when the third Queen landed on the river, and I tabled my trips.

I won another small pot a couple of hands later and, in less than 20 minutes, I'd gone from being nearly felted to being almost 100 euro in the black. It was a pretty amazing turn-around, if I do say so myself, but the best was yet to come.

A couple of more uneventful hands passed by before I picked up pocket Jacks, which let's be honest, aren't really my favorite hand. When the UTG player raised to 25 and got called by the player to his left, I decided to channel my inner donkey, raising the action to 125. The rest of table folded, an both UTG and UTG + 1 called. Uh-oh.

I put UTG on a pair - possibly better than my Jacks - and UTG + 1 on A-K. When both players checked the 8-high flop, I figured I'd try and take the pot down right there, so I shoved. 445 euro into a pot of about 450. Bring it on.

And they did. Both of them.

UTG took about a minute before he threw his chips into the middle, and UTG + 1 took even less time. Now I was really worried. Someone had to be ahead of me. The turn brought a brick and the river made me smile when Jack number 3 hit the felt.

I turned up my hand and both of my opponents just shook their heads. UTG turned up pocket 10s and UTG + 1 threw his A-Q into the muck as 1,785 euro made their way from the center of the table into my hands.

I was back and better than ever - all in about 30 minutes of truly donkeyish play. Hee haw!

Happy New Year everyone, and may you too channel the power of the donkey in 2008.

A Touching Family Moment

The scene: A BestBuy in Salem, New Hampshire the day before Thanksgiving. A father and son walk to the cashier holding a Guitar Hero set-up.

Father: "I never wanted kids. You were an accident and now you're nothing more than a financial burden."

Son: "Uh... thanks Dad."

Stateside

It's about 11:30 AM here in Newburyport, MA and I'm enjoying my last few hours of "home" for awhile. It's been good to be back. It's been refreshing.

And I don't want to leave.

Soon enough, I'll be heading down to Boston and the fun of an international flight out of lovely Logan. Back to Europe. Back to the rain, the cold, and the boredom of Ireland.

No, I really don't want to leave.

In some ways, it's kind of strange, really. I never knew how much I enjoyed living in the states until I didn't live here anymore. I guess that's always the case, but still, it's always interesting to have that hammered home.

I spent a good portion of the week with family and friends I haven't seen in months. It was great to catch up and to feel like I was part of their lives again. To see how their kids have grown. The changes they've made to their homes. Their physiques. Everything.

Of course, each conversation turned back to me at some point. More specifically, the conversations turned back to my future. "How long are you staying in Dublin?" "What are you going to do?" "What do you want to do?" "Where do you want to live?" Good questions all. Now, if I just had the answers.

In truth, about the only question I can answer with any sort of certainty is the first one. At this point, I'm figuring my expat days are winding down. Not soon, but probably within the year. My current contract still has some life left in it and we'll see what kind of offer I get - if I get any at all - to extend. My guess is that I'll be offered an opportunity to stay on, but honestly, I don't know that I'd accept. It's not that I don't like my job or the people I work with. I do. It's just that I really don't like Dublin.

When all is said and done, my guess is that my desire to return home will trump my desire to keep doing what I'm doing. It's sad, in some respects, but that's the hard truth of the matter.

I'm not necessarily one to do a lot of soul searching or planning about my future. I know what I like to do. I generally know what I want to do, and I sort of let things lead me where they will. After grad school, I ended up with an amazing gig at CBS News in New York at the ripe old age of 24. Nearly six years later, the call of the West led me to walk away from the news room for the last time with nothing more than some savings and a plan to pursue a career in the entertainment industry.

That didn't work out, but somewhere along the way, I made my way to Silicon Valley and fell into the high-tech world. After some time in the consulting world and at a few failed start-ups, I landed in the comforting arms of Intuit where I put my varied background to work on Quicken.com until the Internet bubble burst and my job vanished into the ether. So it goes.

After making my way back to LA and losing a year to illness, I found myself selling Mini Coopers to make ends meet. Sure, it's not the gig I planned on or hoped for, but I love cars and it was paying the bills until something better came along. Which it did. Out of the blue.

A phone call and a few interviews later, I found myself writing again. About poker, which is something I love. With a group of really bright and dedicated people who want nothing more than to create the best online poker site anywhere.

Now, I'm planning on returning to Ireland, which is somewhere I never expected to live. Sure, I'm not thrilled about the trip, but the fact that I'm heading back to the Emerald Isle is sort of amusing to me since I never had any thoughts of living there in the first place. Like I said, I don't really plan. I just let life take me where it will.

Where will it take me next? Aside from back to the United States, I have no idea. Check this space over the next few months and maybe we'll figure that out together.

Ms. Duke Goes to Washington

In case you weren't geeky enough to tune into CSPAN yesterday, here's a cool NPR story on Annie Duke's Capitol Hill appearance in support of online poker.

It's Always Nice to Catch Up with Old Friends

Turns out, my friend Steve has been doing some blogging. Check out Reality Bites Back if you're looking for some interesting media-related content.

When Writer's Get Bored

It's not pretty.

Writer's Write

See that banner on the right? Somebody wrote that. And they got paid to do it. Sure, chances are they didn't earn as much as the writers who are currently walking picket lines in LA and in New York, but that's not the point. Or at least, that's not the whole point.

As I'm sitting here typing this - and as I sit in my office here in Dublin writing and editing all of the various material that passes across my desk - I think of my friends who are currently walking around in circles on the sidewalks and chanting to random passersby. As a WGA member (on hiatus because I'm not working in a guild-related job), I even feel a little guilty because I'm not there with them. (I am, however, in Dublin which I believe gives me the short end of the stick.)

Sure, their marching may not amount to much and most people will probably do their best to ignore them, but the fact is, people will notice what's going on as soon new episodes of their favorite TV shows fail to appear on the flickering screen in their living rooms. And as soon as those big December blockbuster movies fail to hit a theater near you. Or, in the case of most of my friends, when the evening news is brought to you by a 17-year old intern reading off the front page of the New York Times because all the writers, producers, and on-air personalities have joined the picket lines in search of better pay.

So, this is all about money, you may ask. Well... no, it's not. I'm not saying that money isn't a factor in this strike, and that the writer's don't want more of it. It is and they do. And, in my opinion, they deserve it.

My friends working in news rooms at places like CBS have all been doing so without a contract for the past three years. Sure, they've been getting paid, but they haven't seen a cost of living increase in more than 36 months, and until they hit the sidewalks, didn't expect to see one for the foreseeable future.

While the money is nice and will surely be put to good use, it's only a symptom of what these people are really striking for, which is respect. You hear it all the time at award shows and in production meetings on both coasts - actors, producers, directors, and executives talking about how everything they do begins with the written word. The script. And yet, when their TV shows, movies, and other productions begin to make money through reruns, DVDs, and online forms of distribution, they don't want to share the wealth with the people whom they consider indispensible in helping them create these hits and blockbusters.

Am I ranting? A little. But as I said at the top of this piece, writer's write. So, support the WGA in this strike so they can get back to work and do what they do best.

You Decide

More frustrating?

• The New York Giants losing to the dreaded Dallas Cowboys?
• Getting a bill that says I owe the State of California $7.43 in additional taxes?

It's a toss up, I tell ya.

Frankfurtly Speaking

Just got home from a weekend away from Dublin. I can't tell you how good it feels to type that.

I blew out of town on Friday with some friends from work. Destination: Frankfurt, Germany.

Now, I spent a weekend in Germany not too long ago, but really didn't get to see much beyond the insides of a couple of very nice hotels and conference centers, along with a cool double-decker bus and some fun bars. It was a working weekend, but from the little I got to see of the country, I wanted to go back. Hence, Frankfurt.

I can't say this city was our first-choice destination, but the flights were cheap - as was the hotel - and getting in and out of the Rhineland couldn't really have been easier. We spent a good portion of Saturday afternoon walking around in the cold and taking in the sights. Honestly, it's not the most attractive city I've been in, but it's got an interesting mix of old and new architecture, and certainly more vibrancy than Dublin has. I'll put up a couple of pictures soon.

At night, we sampled the requisite nightlife and I believe I can safely say, a good time was had by all. That's all that really needs to be said about that - at least in a public forum.

On Sunday, we all slept in after a late night/early morning out and woke up to some pretty serious rain. After getting our shit together, we headed out for lunch and the continuation of our weekend-long Chinese poker game. We had started playing at the airport on Friday, and picked the game up again at lunch on Saturday before diving into a day-long festival of cards on Sunday.

We played at lunch. We played at the bar after lunch. We played at the airport. We played on the plane on the way home. We played at E's apartment after we got back into town. We played for the better part of 11 hours in total on Sunday. Again, a good time was had by all, even if I did end up losing a total of 80 Euro when all was said and done.

Speaking of winning and losing, I decided to play some real poker last Thursday night since I knew I wasn't heading into the office on Friday. I headed to my local casino for what I thought was the weekly 50 Euro game, only to find out it was the monthly 100 Euro tournament. Oh well, I came to play and didn't have to worry about waking up too early, so I bought in. Nearly 8 hours later, I left the table with an additional 850 in my pocket after busting out third. I probably could have won the event, but made a bad call for most of my chips and ended up on the short stack when my K-J ran into A-J. After that, I was forced to play push and pray poker, and got knocked off the table when my 10-J ran into Q-J. Oh well.

Combined with my cash game winnings from the previous weekend, I was up the better part of two grand for the week, so I'm not complaining.

Of course, it's nearly 2AM here as I type this, and I need to be up around 8 so, if I don't pack it in now, complaining is about the only thing I'll be doing tomorrow (or, more accurately, later today).

Just eight days left before I head back to the States, by the way, but who's counting?

A Little Love for Y'All

If you all haven't seen this, be sure to check it out. There's lot's of cool stuff up for grabs, including one of our amazing Aussie Millions prize packages.

Aah...

It's a lazy Sunday here in Dublin town in the middle of a three-day weekend. It's a much needed and much appreciated break. It's also the weekend where the clocks go back, which means it got dark at about 5Pm. Not so fun. But still, I have another day off from work, and that's not all bad at the moment.

Making today even better is that I actually got to watch good 'ol American football at a reasonable hour. And it was my team, Big Blue - the New York Giants - who did their best to give the lowly Dolphins a chance to win their first game of the season by giving up a touchdown in the last two minutes. Alas, the Dolphins suck even more than my G-Men, and couldn't figure out a way to come over the top and take their victory. Go Giants!

As for other things... there's not much to say. I was actually social this weekend and went to a friend's house party for a few hours. Of course, a house party here is just an excuse to hang out with all of the people I spend my time with at work during the week, but at least there's free-flowing booze and opportunity for mayhem. In all, it was a worthwhile excursion to the 'burbs.

On the poker front, I'm continuing my up and down ways. I had a good live night on Friday, and have have a some nice sessions at the $5-$10 tables on FTP over the past couple of days. My luck on Paddy has gone south, however, and I'm currently in the hole over there. I'm not too worried though, as the games are soft and I should be able to recoup.

With that in mind, I'm just counting down the weeks until Thanksgiving and a return trip to the States. It's hard to believe it's been more than six months since my last trip back. I'm missing the "normalcy" of home, and can certainly use a dose of the U.S. to keep me going. I'm also looking at some other trips, including possible excursions back to Germany and London in the coming weeks. Anything to get away from here for awhile.

So, that's the ramble for the day. Maybe I'll do it again soon.

Chop, Chop

After one of the most frustrating week's of poker I've had in a long, long time, I managed to turn things around last night in a live 50 + 5 buy-in (that's in Euro) tournament at my local card room.

After showing up a little buzzed at the start of the 9PM event, I managed to limp my way through the first three levels to hit the break with about 20 BB. Not great shape, but not horrible either. I pretty much maintained this level through the next two hours and then, finally, got things going when I cracked Aces after flopping a set of 3s. Sweet.

That double up gave me enough cushion to cruise to the final table where, suddenly, I started getting hit by the deck. Aces, twice (and cracked once). Kings, twice. A-K vs. A-Q, and it holds, etc. By 3AM, we were three handed and I was solidly in second place. We talked about ending the tourney there, but couldn't reach a deal, so we played on until the short stack busted after trying to steal the blinds with Q-6 off-suit.

Once we reached heads-up play, we didn't even bother dealing. We worked a deal and called it a night. All in all, I can't complain. I played tight (for me) and managed to survive through a long stretch of dead cards without losing too many chips. More importantly, I somehow managed to get paid on most of my big hands throughout the night.

I won't say the night redeemed my awful week, but it certainly helped to lessen the pain of all those bad beats I've been taking.

Give a Beat, Get Two in Return

Last week, I told you about this sick hand. Now, I've got two more for you and neither of them are as pretty.

Hand #1 takes place in a $1-$2 game with a live $5. UTG raises to $20 and gets four callers. I pick up Aces on the button and pop it $100 more. Early position calls. So far, so good.

On a flop of A-K-J rainbow, EP - who has me covered - pushes all in. I insta-call and show top set. He tables A-Q and says "I've got outs."

Son of a bitch if the damn bastard didn't, hitting his 10 on the turn for Broadway. When the board failed to pair, I called it a night and went home where even more fun ensued.

Later in the evening I'm playing $20-$40 Limit online when I pick up Q-10c on the button. I raise and get one caller. The flop brings a Q and the turn brings another one, giving me trips. The betting caps on the turn, and the river brings an A. My opponent bets, I raise, he flat calls and tables pocket rockets for the house.

Call it unlucky or call it Karma, but right now I'm just calling it painful. And expensive.