I’m not really sure what slot hoki happened after that.


Okay, yes, I am, but I’ll get to that in a little while.

After about a hour or so of play, a new player walked in wearing a Cardinals hat and University of Missouri shirt.

“You from Missouri?” I asked, sizing him up. He slot hoki a little younger than me and initially bore the tells of a player new to the game (boy, I can form misimpressions really, really fast).

We chatted for a few minutes before discovering that not only had we gone to the same college, we grew up in the same city, and our high schools were in the same athletic conference. In fact, our high schools were arch rivals that shared the same mascot.

Missouri Josh, as I would take to thinking of him, should be my nemesis, I thought.

You wanna be a Tiger, buddy? Let’s get to growlin’.

I’m so fucking stupid.


See, after a couple of days, I’ve discovered what happened.

After months of promoting the tight-aggressive style to burgeoning poker player, G-Rob, I found myself unwilling to play in that fashion. The table was as loose as the fabled mother-fucker. What’s more, it was loose-aggressive. At first, $3 raises would be enough to scare almost any player off a pot. Within a few hours, $3 raises seemed like Post Oak bluffs. Any bet less than $10 was seen as weakness. Big, red-bird filled pots became the norm.

I thought I could portray myself as a loose player as well. I flopped a king-high flush draw and called for all my chips with two cards to come. No clubs, no money.

“Well, hell,” I said, “I was on a freeroll anyway. Now it’s time to play.”


Two buy-ins later, I was on my heels, twice laying down the best …