Saturdays with Dr. Pauly

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

Just a reminder that tomorrow afternoon is Saturdays with Dr. Pauly. It's PLO (high). Hope to see everyone there.




Original content written and provided by Pauly from Tao of Poker at www.taopoker.com. All rights reserved. RSS feeds are for non-commercial use only.

Being James Madison

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

I have been in Las Vegas for less than 19 hours. I have yet to have a sip of alcohol, I played poker in three casinos, had two meetings about the WSOP, and I have lurking around the sportsbooks betting on NCAA hoops and the NBA.

Oh, and it's 9am and I have not slept yet. Been up for almost 27 hours and I'm on the verge of crashing as we speak.

Sports betting brings out your inner philosopher. If you let me listen to your internal conversation while making a sports wager and during the actual contest, I could quickly understand your complicated perspective into gambling (the fundamental base to the more sincere question - why?). For example, how you act during the game that you bet on can determine if you were an existentialist like Jean-Paul Sartre, or a rationalist like Descartes, or an empiricist such as John Locke, or a Taoist like Chuang Tzu, or a post-structuralist like Michel Foucault.

Sometimes I embrace my Catholicism and believe in God. Of course, it's not faith but pure greed. I need God's help so I acknowledge his existence. I don't even whisper his name during the binges of immorality, but I quickly put the feelers out there when I need a last second three-pointer or for God to hook me up with a missed field goal.

I don't actually believe he controlled the outcome of the game. No one does. That's when those existentialist thoughts seep into my brain. Chaos. The world is a godless and chaotic universe. Some times you kick the dog, and other times the dog pisses on your leg.

All eyes in the sports book were focused on #2 ranked Duked playing at #3 North Carolina. The Duke-UNC game is one of the most historic rivalry in all of sports. And it was being hyped up especially since they were two of the top three ranked teams in the country. I'm a big UNC fan and loathe Duke almost as much as the Red Sox. But even the Duke-hater in me saw the value in betting on that game. UNC was without their injured point guard in Ty Lawson and Duke was +4.5. I don't like betting on games of passion, so I didn't pull the trigger and bet Duke while rooting for UNC.

I had a more important game on the agenda. James Madison versus Townson State.

I know what you are thinking. James Madison. What the fuck do you know about them?

Nothing.

That's why I wanted to bet on them. I took them -4.5. Because I can and because I wanted to bet on a game that ended before the UNC/Duke game. I was only in town for less than a hour and the 7pm games on the east coast were set to tip off. That's when I took James Madison.

It's basically a throw away game with an unknown school playing against another unknown. Townson State is most known for their outstanding lacrosse teams, but not much of a hoops powerhouse. I mean, who really cares about the a 10-11 team playing against a 9-12 team in the CAA conference, a glorified second-rate conference of "safety schools"", or rather the schools that those snotty uber-wealthy prep school kids enrolled after they got kicked out of their ivy league schools.

The James Madison game was not on any of the screens in the sports book. Shocker. Chances were that it was not even being televised. I had to follow along by watching gamecast on ESPN.com and rushed back to the room and kept refreshing the page and pacing around my room and kept refreshing the page.

When James Madison was down 16 at halftime, I knew I needed a lot of help in the second half. I had a brief conversation with God, then Buddha. I stopped watching it for a bit because the anxiety was drowning every once of my energy.

Then, I succumbed to the weak side of humanity. I could not resist the urge to check the score. I'm a sadist. If I'm losing, I want to know about it and taste the pain in my fingertips. I want to feel the knife slicing apart my intestines. If I caught a miracle and somehow got back into the game and had a legitimate shot to win... then I wanted to soak up every bit of that adrenaline, as I'd be bouncin' off the fuckin' ceiling on one of the most natural highs known to man.

James Madison went on a tear. They erased the halftime deficit and and opened up a 15 point lead. I turned it off and went back ten minutes later.

James Madison blew the lead with two minutes to go. I paced some more.

They were up by three with 25 seconds left...

Then up by four with 17 seconds left...

The spread was four and a half. I needed another point. A simple free throw. Any sort of bucket from James Madison. I refreshed and nothing happened.

Nothing.

My internet connection crapped out and I had to log back on again. Fuck. Me.

I endured ninety-eight seconds of agony with Dick Vitale's voice on in the background hyping up the UNC-Duke game.

ESPN's college hoops scoreboard finally popped up. Of course, the game wasn't on the first page and I had to dig through a few links to find it. Reckoning. I finally discovered the score.

73-68.

James Madison won by five and I won a bet on a ticket I almost tore up at halftime. Miracles do happen. A game of somewhat ill significance meant something. It meant everything.

I logged off the laptop and wandered over to the sports book at Caesar's Palace to watch the rest of the North Carolina and Duke game. I walked at a brisk pace, past all of the shuffling zombies pissing their lives away at the slots.

UNC couldn't stop Duke. They hit too many threes and UNC really missed Lawson. I knew I should have bet on the game. Instead I bet on the Lakers (with new addition Pau Gasol), which was a dud of a bet. I also liked Boston and San Antonio, both of whom won, but I didn't bet. I slipped to 2-2 in NBA picks this week and the James Madison game put me at 1-0 for college hoops. FYI... I like UCLA tonight -2 against Wazzu.

* * * * *
I had dinner at Palm with Poker Prof and Flipchip. After dinner, I walked back to the sports book to get a final on the UNC-Duke game and to check out the NBA scores. Since the poker room was right next to the sports book, I wandered inside. There was open seating for that juicy 1-3 NL game I heard about. I took a seat.

I tried to be invisible. Didn't say much. Barely moved. Just sat there. I played one orbit when I was in the cutoff and found two black Jacks. With three limpers in front of me, I popped it good. One player called. The flop was 10-3-2. My opponent bet about half the pot. I raised and he called. The turn was the Jack of diamonds. He checked. I bet about 2/3 of the pot and he check raised me all in. I called. He showed 9-9. The river was a blank. My set held up and I almost doubled up.

I was in seat 2. There was an open seat to my right and and open seat to my left. I almost switched seats to #3, but the seats were filled before I could request a seat change. Two foreign guys, drenched in cologne and wearing fake Rolexes, sat down on either side of me. I think they were Eastern European. Maybe Albanian? I was in the middle of a Borat sandwich and my powers of invisibility must have been working because for the next orbit, they were practically screaming at each other. One older guy at the other end of the table kept complaining to the dealer that they were not adhering to the "English only at the tables" rule.

Except they were arguing after they folded the hands. They weren't involved in any pots, so the dealer said there was nothing to be done. I didn't feel comfortable sitting there and decided to quit. I won about 90% of a full buy-in and cashed out. I walked down the Strip. It was chilly, but nice. There wasn't too much pedestrian traffic on the Strip once I passed the Bellagio fountains. I walked by the soon to be City Center and passed Monte Carlo's damaged facade courtesy of a fire last week. When I finally made my way to New York, New York, I decided to play at the MGM and walked across the bridge. I really wanted to line shop some of the college hoops games for Thursday, but decided to play some poker while I was there.

I lost all the money I won at Caesar's Palace playing 2-5 NL at MGM. I had Ad-9d. I limped. Five others limped. The big blind, who had been raising a lot of hands with junk, had raised. Nice squeeze, I thought. Two players in front of me called, so I called. Four players total. The flop was Qd-10d-8s. Big blind checked. Hipster next to me bet the pot. I called with my nut flush draw and a gutshot. The button called. The big blind called. The turn was the Jd. I made my flush, but picked up a nice redraw to a straight flush and a gutshot royal flush. The big blind bet the pot. The hipster called and was all in. I re-raised all in. Button folded. The big blind had me covered and called.

"You have a flush," he said. "But I can't lay down top set."

He tabled two Queens. I was ahead. Hipster never flipped over his cards. He threw them into the muck and muttered something about a straight.

I knew it was coming. The 10c spiked on the river. I didn't blink.

Motherfuckincocksmoker. Nice catch, cumstain.

I actually said, "Nice hand."

I got up and walked back to the Excalibur. Insomnia struck and I couldn't sleep. I headed down to Mandalay Bay to play at 2am. There was one 1-2 NL table running. I sat down next to a hot thirty-something chick from Southern California that was hammered. She slurped a frozen daiquiri from Ruby Tuesdays and kept asking the dealer, "Is this my big blind?"

She didn't have too many chips. But she was bleeding off $100 at a time. She'd rebuy. Piss it away and dig back into her Gucci purse and rebuy again. The accent told me she was from the East Coast originally. She had mentioned that she played at the Bike on occasion and had lived in Los Angeles. She had a rock on her finger the size of a Titleist and she had a fake tan. I could sense the inner emotional turmoil that drove her to drink. She was the your typical Las Vegas drunk girl, and the perfect example of someone you want at your poker table. Rich. Reckless. Drunk.

Drunk Girl was the mark, but we only got involved in a couple of pots together. She kept trying to buy me a drink. I was only drank gingerale, and she questioned my manhood. I told her that I was higher than Snoop Dog at 4:20. She let out a wicked laugh and asked me where she could score any pot. Our dealer was a grumpy old white guy, and yet that made him crack a smile.

Then I got to tango with Drunk Girl.

Four of us limped. I had As-3s from the small blind. The fop was A-A-8. I checked. Drunk Girl bet. I check-raised her for half of her stack.

"I don't like you!" Drunk Girl screamed. "I thought we were friends."

"You're from L.A.," I explained. "You're used to having fake friends who always stab you in the back or fuck you in the ass."

Drunk Girl thought that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She repeated the line three times. I got a warning from the dealer for dropping the f-bomb.

"What? Why he can't say fuck?" Drunk Girl inquired.

That slowed up the hand for about five minutes as she got into a drunken debate with the dealer over what exactly is bad and what is acceptable.

"That's a stupid fuckin' rule," Drunk Girl said.

She also got a warning. We still had a hand to play. We had to verbally reconstruct the hand for her to get her up to speed. Drunk Girl eventually called my bet. The turn was a 6. I bet a stack of red chips. She sighed and picked up her cards. She showed me an 8. I didn't see the other card. She called for her last $20. I tabled my trip Aces which held up. Rebuy!

I won another decent sized pot with Kh-Qh. One player from UTG raised. The button called. I had re-raised from the big blind. They both called. I decided to check-raise the Ace high flop with two hearts. I checked. UTG bet the pot. The button folded. I check-raised for his entire stack. He tanked before he folded his hand face up. I just showed him the Qh and I raked in the pot.

I was running good until I lost a $400 pot when I got rivered by a two outer. My kings got snapped off by threes. That sucked. I decided to cash out. The table was not fun anymore. Drunk Girl had left the table an hour earlier and was probably passed out somewhere.

Overall, I ended up +80 from playing at Caesar's, MGM, and the Mandalay Bay. I couldn't sleep so I stayed up and wrote. Around 8am, I took a walk up the Strip and let my mind wander, as I blended in with the early crop of slow walking tourists. I couldn't recall the last time I was in Las Vegas by myself. Raging solo. It's been a while.


Original content written and provided by Pauly from Tao of Poker at www.taopoker.com. All rights reserved. RSS feeds are for non-commercial use only.

Truckin' - February 2008, Vol. 7, Issue 2

By Pauly
Las Vegas, NV

And we're back with another issue of your favorite literary blogzine. This one has a special addition... Mini Waffles. He makes his debut as the youngest every Truckin' author. He's nine and one of the several contributors this month, which includes veteran writers Johnny Hughes, Betty Underground, and Clay CHamplin.

Truckin' - February 2008, Vol. 7, Issue 2

1. Benson and Hedges by Paul McGuire
I looked at her arms and wrists. She didn't appear to be a cutter, but she listened to a lot of angry indie chick rock and idolized Ani DiFranco. Her sullenness always bothered me. I wanted to try to talk to her, but it was not easy. She used to sit in her room and drink alone... More

2. Declaration of Independence and Love by Betty Underground
It felt like I had stopped breathing for minutes as he brushed his lips across mine, without touching them. Dusting them like feathers. My head grew light as he teased me. I was frozen. Suffocated by desire... More

3. The Big Empty by Johnny Hughes
Ever time I see Dowd, he gets shorter. Used to be taller than me. They say he puts a drop of honey on everything he eats, and he gets Chinese herbs from a chiropractor... More

4. Squirrel Hunting with Pudddin' Tooth by Clay Champlin
I was merely a hunter trying to kill him before he made it home. Without a word I pointed at the little grey dot bounding across the forest floor. Puddin' Tooth sprung to his feet, and we were off tracking the beast... More

5. Dragon Slayers and the Angry Villagers by Mini Waffles
J and A heard about a war and it was about the angry villagers and the Charlyaters but the angry villagers had to fight to keep their lands. Then they signed up... More

Please tell your friends and family about your favorite stories. It takes only a few seconds to pass along Truckin'. The writers certainly appreciate your support. Thanks again to everyone for wasting your precious time month after month with Truckin'.


Original content written and provided by Pauly from Tao of Poker at www.taopoker.com. All rights reserved. RSS feeds are for non-commercial use only.

The Crumbs of One Man's Day

By Pauly
Hollyweird, CA

This is nothing more than a link dump. I'll have some mindless drivel to post tomorrow. Suffice to say, I'm heading to Las Vegas for some meetings about where I'm going to work for the 2008 WSOP. I'm also there conducting research for a screenplay, but might sneak off to play a few hands. I'll write more shortly.

I completed two photo galleries: Australia III (192 photos) and New Zealand (150 photos). Take a peek of my recent travels.

Speaking of pictures, Flipchip published a leftover gallery of AVN Photos from the Adult Entertainment Expo.

Derek rarely posts. But when he does it's hilarious. Check out his latest gem called Poker Tales... from the Darkside.

Thanks to Snoopy for awarding me a 2007 Beagle Award for Blog of the Year. He's British and it's an honor to be recognized across the pond from the same country that birthed Shakespeare, Benny Hill, Keira Knightley, and the Beatles.

Congrats to AlCantHang for his 1,000th post. AlCantHang has been a fan of not just this blog, but all of my blogs. Before we even met, he sent me an email and asked to read Jack Tripper Stole My Dog, my first novel that was (and still is) unpublished. He loved it so much he asked to read my other ones. We've since become good friends and I've been fortunate enough to have him in my life. Congrats on 1K and let's hope has has several thousand more.

Also, I have to give Ryan from Absinthetics a huge congrats. He made a final table at one of the L.A. Poker Classic events at Commerce. He took 7th place in one even and cashed in 24th in another. Ryan is the only player that I routinely stake and he's always a worthy investment. I religiously followed his updates via Twitter when I was in New Zealand.

Congrats to CJ for his recent nuptials. BG has vintage videos of some of your favorite bloggers dancing.

Karol tipped me off to this video of Charles Nesson from the Global Poker Strategic Thinking Society on The Colbert Report.

Don't forget about Fantasy Sports Live. They are running super soft NBA contests as we speak.


Original content written and provided by Pauly from Tao of Poker at www.taopoker.com. All rights reserved. RSS feeds are for non-commercial use only.

Inside Jokes About Wanting to Be Famous - The Video

By Pauly
Hollyweird, CA

I have the pleasure of working with PokerNews on and off for the last 13 months. Poker News has employees from all over the globe and I got to work with some cool folks from Holland, the UK, Portugal, and New Zealand. Since Poker News is based out of Melbourne, Australia, most of the staff are Aussies. They are one of my favorite groups of people I have met on my travels over the last decade, with a laid back demeanor and wicked sense of humor. The video that appears below demonstrates that.

During assignments to cover tournaments with Poker News, I sometimes get to work with the multimedia guys (Shronk and Tom). During breaks, the on air talent (Schecky, Tiffany, or Amanda) interviewed pros on the sidelines. One day, some nimrod walked through the back of the shot while yapping on his cellphone. That was the birth of an inside joke that has been taken to a new level.

PokerNews employees would attempt the same feat and randomly walk through the background of an interview - without getting caught by the cameraman or interviewer. The inside joke caught on and we really had fun with it during the Aussie Millions.

Tom compiled our hijinks in short flick called PokerNews Team Wants to Be Famous. Check it out...


You have to click through to the Tao of Poker to view the video vis RSS or Bloglines...
I make a cameo a couple of times. Funny stuff for me for sure. Thanks Tom!


Original content written and provided by Pauly from Tao of Poker at www.taopoker.com. All rights reserved. RSS feeds are for non-commercial use only.

I Hope Eli Got Laid Last Night

By Pauly
Hollyweird, CA

"How much do you have on the game?" Change100 asked me. "A dime? Two times? You can tell me."

She knows about my vexing issues with sports betting. It got kinda ugly last year without really getting ugly. It's true. I was betting up to three dimes on the NBA playoffs and during March Madness. At one point last March, MiamiDon turned to me while sitting at the sportsbook at Red Rock and said, "You got balls, man."

And that's coming from a guy who only has one testicle.

When I accepted a job with PokerNews to cover the 2007 WSOP, I had just gotten unstuck betting on the NBA playoffs. I was in the hole two and a half dimes and I won a big bet to more than break even. I was a blithering zombie all week, on mega-sportsbetting-tilt (MSBT) after a brutal series of losing game after game after game. I went something like 2-10 that stretch. I was the mush. Everyone should have been fading my picks. But it was the last game that mattered the most. I glimpsed into the abyss and saw my fate. I told myself that I was either leaving Vegas down six grand or even.

That's when the gambling Gods hath shined goodwill upon my battered soul. Call it luck. Or fate. Karmic balance? Perhaps, good will towards men? It didn't matter. I won that decisive bet and got unstuck. When an atheist in the middle of a losing streak all of a sudden gets unstuck, he believes in God for that brief second before he cashes the ticket.

"Thank God."

After that miraculous victory, I was floating about two feet above the ground. Schecky pulled me aside and seriously asked me if I bet on baseball. He was worried that I was going to blow my entire Poker News salary betting on the boys of summer.

"Baseball? Only a degenerate would bet on baseball," I told him as the green and red lights of the Caesar's Palace sports book flickered in the background like fool's gold.

I rarely make promises anymore, mainly because I try to be a man of my word. Promises get me in trouble. But I made one that day in front of Schecky and Change100. I really made it for myself, but I also knew it would get my boss and my girlfriend off my back.

"I promise that I won't bet on any sports until the NFL season starts in September."

That was the beginning of May 2007. I cut out sports betting cold turkey, which was easy to do during the summer. Seriously, only total degenerates bet on WNBA and on baseball. I stayed clean, even when I got several tips from Nolan Dalla and other professional sports bettors. The only big bet I made all summer was whether or not Erick Lindgren could do his infamous golf prop bet. I've finally collected the last batch of payments on that sensational win. But that was prop betting, much like lime tossing with Otis, where I emerged the victor in that late night activity.

I found myself in London at the start of the NFL season, covering the WSOP-Europe. The Empire Casino showed the NY Jets and New England Patriots game on the big screen. The Jets got whooped that game and afterwards, the whole cheating scandal emerged, which did not deter the Pats since they ran off 18 straight wins and secured another berth in the Super Bowl.

The opening day of the 2007 NFL season also marked my return to sports betting - but with a milder and more subdued approach. I made another promise, again this one for myself, that I would cap every sports bet that I make. I came up with $200. I figured if I lost two $200 bets a week for 17 weeks, the most I could lose was seven dimes. Although it's possible to lose 34 straight bets, I knew that was nearly impossible.

London had betting parlors or betting shops all over town like William Hill or Ladbrokes. There was one on the corner where my hotel was located. I passed two more on my five minute walk pass Trafalgar Square and Leicester Square. There was also a betting shop around the corner from the casino. I spent a lot of time in there during my two-week assignment in London. I was betting on four or five football games a weekend, but making much smaller bets, usually under $100. That was just to get a taste.

After that initial rush of gambling on sports again, the morbid addiction which had been festering underneath my skin was finally released. It's fascinating how you obsess over things you cannot have. But once I made that first bet and filled out a betting slip at Ladbrokes, I was no longer jonesin' for big action. For the first time in a while, I felt as though I had a firm grasp on my gambling demons. The insatiable desire, the need, the want, the longing for action had been quelled... for the moment.

But then I started betting on Swedish hockey because a friend of mine in Stockholm (who used to play pro hockey in Sweden) was doing nothing but following along with the Allsvenskan Swedish hockey league while playing online poker. He did the research and I made the bets. I went on a rush betting on something I had no knowledge about and at the end of a two week stretch, I turned 200 Euros into over 2K. I decided to hit and run. I have not bet on Swedish hockey since then. I bet on a couple of NBL games (Australian hoops) when I was in Melbourne and Sydney in October, but that was just small bets to keep things interesting. Of course, I took my winnings betting on Swedish hockey and pissed all of that away betting on the stock market.

Life is funny like that. I used to work on Wall Street and did my homework. I bought a stock which I thought would be a winner. It was a loser, another "dog with fleas" in the vernacular of those slicked back hair and suspenders-wearing Gordon Gekko types. I can't pick a winning stock no matter how much research I do, yet I can get lucky betting on Swedish hockey.

Jimmy Carter said it best, "Life's not fair."

My return to NFL betting coincided with the blogger gathering in Las Vegas in December. That was the weekend when my brother and I had been going to Vegas for almost a decade, so we could bet on football. I had most of my other gambling addictions in check for the trip. I avoided losing large sums at Pai Gow. I ignored the craps tables, like an abusive ex-lover who tormented me by her mere physical presence in the casino.

I stuck with poker and sports betting. One I think I'm good at, and the other I think I'm pre-destined to have good luck in. I'm still trying to figure out which is which.

MiamiDon and I faded the majority of Waffles picks and for the first time I tested the elasticity of my $200 cap on any single game. For one game in particular, the infamous Slump Buster, I wagered multiple $200 bets on that game at the IP Sports Book. I knew that I was pulling a squeamish move but there was so much value there.

I couldn't ignore what the gambling demons were whispering into my ear. Yes, those foul temptresses were egging me on as I was thrown in the middle of a moralistic crossroads. Do I ignore my own word? Or do I stay strong and be a man of self-discipline and integrity?

I punked out because I'm a sleazy coward enticed by greed and the Dionysian lifestyle than taking the safe path of moral rectitude. I won the bet(s) and my rush continued for the rest of the season, despite my obvious exposed character flaws. I know that the NFL is rigged, yet I was still betting on it, like those total fools still playing on Absolute poker.

That's when I found myself in Australia again for the NFL playoffs at the beginning of January. Australia is a country where almost anything goes. You can bet with the local bookies, which I did and I also used the rest of the funds in my BoDog account. Johnny Mushrooms also offered to let me use his BetFair account. I went 6-3 in the games leading up to the Super Bowl and I lost one game by a half a point (damn Jaguars). I hit a big bet when I took the Giants... with the points and $200 on the money line against the Jessica Simpson-jixed Dallas Cowboys. Everything I had won up until that point covered my entire week in New Zealand including airfare and accommodations for both Change100 and myself.

And then there was the Super Bowl. I was ambivalent. I'm a Jets fan (but also root for the Giants) and I can't bring myself to root for anything having to do with a New England team. The only exception was the Hartford Whalers who are no longer in Connecticut. I knew that the Pats dominated mostly every team in the league, but the Giants were hot. Hot teams are tough to ignore in the playoffs. But I also knew that Eli Manning had moments of goofballness in the pocket and threw too many interceptions. Heck, less than seven games into the season, I walked into my local diner in New York City and a cabal of old Jewish guys sat in the back booth lamenting Eli's play from the previous game. They were ready to string him up right there and run him out of town... but Eli got his shit together and turned the season around.

* * * * *
My cell phone rang five minutes after the Super Bowl after ended. It was Professional Keno Player Neil Fontenot calling from a party in Breckenridge, CO. He spent the day skiing and watched the game with some friends.

"How much did you win?" he said as soon as I answered the phone.

"Almost $800," I said. "I won the coin toss and the over/under of how long it will take Jordin Sparks to sing the National Anthem."

Senor told me he knew I had it locked up when she dragged out the end. Senor is a dieheard Boston sports fan living in Rhode Island. He was also shocked that his Pats blew a perfect season by losing to Eli Manning of all people and the NY football Giants. If the Pats were going to get knocked off by a Manning, everyone thought it would be Peyton Manning and the Colts, and not Eli the Cracker and the Giants. Of course, the rematch between the Pats and Colts never happened. But the Giants got a second crack at the Pats, and by now, you know the result.

I bet the Giants +6 for the first half, and I locked them in at +13 overall. Both hit. I also won the coinflip and the O/U for the national anthem. I took Jordin Sparks and the over at 1m42s. It had gotten moved up to 1m48s by game time. She was well over two minutes. I've been lucky for the duration of the NFL playoffs and literally won two coinflips before the game even started.

"How much did you bet on the national anthem?" asked a curious Change100.

"$200," I said. "Do you wanna bet me that Tom Petty will open the halftime show with American Girl?"

I wish she took that bet, because he did.

So I've been on a rush betting on sports. Of course, I'm only betting small amounts of $200 max. That's my limit and I'm sure if I was betting higher, I'd end up losing most of the bets. You play for the rush, but over the long term, booking small wins is far more profitable than taking the huge swings with bigger bets. That's where greed comes into play and blinds you. It's those moments where you have zero visibility and lack clarity where you often make those poor decisions that cost you your bankroll and your dignity.

"If I just bet a little more..."

That's what greedy motherfuckers do. They focus on what they didn't win, what they could have won, what they should have won... instead of what they did win.

That's the struggle I woke up with this morning. Sure, I paced around endlessly around Change100's apartment during the game, wishing that I didn't impose restrictions on my betting limits. But those rules are in place for a reason. It's my safety net. It's my methadone. I'm betting enough that it gives me a little rush, but not enough where I pissing away my paychecks at the sports book. Lucky for me that has never happened, and I'm making sure that doesn't happen by sticking with the betting limits.

Weak minded individuals need that rigid discipline because during the depths of a depraved gambling bender, you lose all cognitive function and rationalization. You become a fiend for the rush, the worst kind of action junkie on the planet. I've had moments where all I could think about was the next game and how the hell I was going to get unstuck, temporarily borrowing money from my poker bankroll or my savings account to place a bet. And it's never a small bet. The notion of small ball is ridiculous when you're in a hole. You're focusing on one big bet. The Big Fuckin' Lebowski. The one shining moment where you rise up and wipe out all of your loses by winning a monster bet. Of course, more often than not, you lose than bet, and you're fucked twiced as harder as you were before tipoff, or kickoff, or the first pitch.

I could have walked away with a few grand, instead of $800. But then again, I think about the travel value of $800 and and how I could use that money to buy a ticket to Europe right now for a week long trip at the end of the month to Amsterdam and Copenhagen.

"You make more money betting on sports than writing," joked Change100. "Maybe you should keep at it."

But the NFL is over so it's onto the NBA and college basketball. I really like the Jazz and the Magic tonight.

Alas, the Giants are the Super Bowl champions and Gisele is the latest jinx. First it was Jessica Simpson aka Yoko Romo and now Gisele becomes the scapegoat for all of New England. Giselle has better tits than Bill Buckner, but she'll become the center of seething anger from callers to sports talk radio shows all over New England this morning. I'm sure by now, Gisele has dumped Tom Brady (if he hasn't impregnated her first with his potent sperm) and she has given that cracker Eli Manning no less than three rim jobs. He deserves it.


Original content written and provided by Pauly from Tao of Poker at www.taopoker.com. All rights reserved. RSS feeds are for non-commercial use only.

Grouse14 Wins the Return of Saturdays with Dr. Pauly

By Pauly
Hollyweird, CA

48 players showed up for the return of Saturdays with Dr. Pauly. Definitely impressed with the turnout, especially since the format was Pot-Limit Omaha and on a Saturday when a lot of you have the day off. I only expected two or three tables at the most. Thanks for wasting your time. And thanks to everyone who pimped it.

For those PLO newbies with was an opportunity to learn how to play at a very low investment. For me, I was excited to play something other than Hold'em. The game was PLO high, not PLO8 like a few of you thought.

Congrats to Grouse14 for taking it down.

Fuell55 was Gigli. Jeciimd busted him two and a half minutes into the tournament. Fuel flopped a baby flush and a set, but Jeciimd flopped the nut flush. Fuel could not boat up and he was done.

Derek was the big stack early on. They he got moved to my table. I doubled up in the second level when I won a pot with set over set; my set of Kings vs. Bettercheck4's set of tens.

At the first break, The Mark was the chipleader with 24 players remaining. Gracie jumped into first with 22 players left. She doubled through Mean Gene with a set over set. It was Kings versus tens once again. Gracie was the first player to pass the 10K mark. Her romp with Matt Damon at the break must have helped.

I was going nowhere until I flopped trips against BiskoKid. We got it all in on the flop and he had a decent draw, but my hand held up and I got up to 4.4K. With 14 to go, BigHeeb took over the lead and I was shortstacked. I finished in 14th place when I made a move and missed a flush against Grouse14.

The Mark jumped back on top for a while, then Grouse14 took over the lead with 12 remaining. Change100 bubbled off the final table. Once the final table was set, Grouse was still in front. Everyone left had made the money, including Chad (aka Pukarama aka Pokerama) who we thought had dropped off the face of the Earth. The last time we hung out was at the Playboy Mansion. How many people can you say that about?

The Mark rushed past the 20K mark once it got six-handed. AlCantHang was all in for his tournament life preflop and came from behind to cripple Bayne and double up. Bayne went out on the next hand. Gracie made a run and doubled up against The Mark with Quads to flirt with the lead.

"THIS IS WHERE I START THROWING UP," wrote The Mark in the chat.

A couple of hands later, The Mark doubled up Grouse when Grouse flopped quad Aces. The Mark slipped to third in chips (after running into quads twice) as Gracie took the lead. AlCantHang finished in 5th place when Grouse took him out. That pot put Grouse in the chiplead. He was the first player past the 30K mark.

With four to go, etl4 was the short stack, which he was for most of the final table and managed to patiently hang in there. Gracie busted out in 4th place as Grouse added more chips to his stack and jumped to over 50K. The Mark finished in 3rd place, which left a one-sided heads up match (66K to 5K) between Grouse and etl4. It took only three hands before it was over. Etl4 busted out in second place, while Grouse took down the tournament.

Here's the final results and list of money winners:

1. Grouse14 - $144
2. etl4 - $96
3. Thee Mark (The Mark) - $57.60
4. Peacecorn (Graice) - $48
5. AlCantHang - $38.40
6. bayne_s - $31.20
7. BigHeeb91 - $26.40
8. Donegal (Pokerama Chad) - $21.60
9. Hermwarfare (Derek) - $16.80

Thanks again to everyone who played. Congrats again to Grouse14 for winning the first tournament back. See everyone next week at PokerStars. Same time, same game.



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