Improved my hand at paulcarvill.com, the home of Paul Carvill on the web

I came 2nd in the 3rd monthly Chertsey PokerSlam. I am officially the 2nd best poker player in Surrey and Hampshire.

Venue: The Woburn Pub, Chertsey
Event: 3rd Annual PokerSlam
Key Players: Paul “Cowboy” Carvill, DJ Nathan Scott, Paul “Salmon” Salmon, Steve the Landlord, Dr. Fondle, Darren Dillon

Snackage: Freshly prepared chilli and fluffy white rice. It’s completely gratis and hot enough to rip the throat out of a hairy dog.

Action: I pull up to the Woburn just in time to pull the last number out of the bag. Seat 1, table 1. Nice. The Woburn is heavy with cigarette smoke and muted terror. I sit down next to JJ, who’s obviously attempting to pickle himself from the inside out. He’s got a strange habit of involuntarily smiling – it’s the best poker face I’ve ever seen, and I have real trouble reading it. He could have a 2 7 offsuit and still be mugging away from ear to ear.

Next to him is Dennis, an old boy. He reckons he used to bet down at the Grosvenor. It looks like he lost his shirt but managed to keep hold of his taupe cardigan. There’s four more faces I don’t recognise as we get down to business.

I pull a couple early pots with great cards including bullets twice. JJ keeps asking what hischips are worth, which is amusing but pointless as he’s fond of putting big handfuls of them into the middle whenever he’s onto something. Dennis gets worn down as we head towards the rebuy cutoff, and goes all-in with a minute to spare. He loses and rebuys. A couple of players are on a winning streak when we stop for a break and dinner. They wish we hadn’t – when we start up again they both go out within minutes of each other. JJ stands up and he’s not much taller tan when he was sitting down. He’s come down with Salmon tonight and I start to suspect he’s a ringer. The chilli is hot and the talk is hotter. Steve the landlord says takings are down when the game’s on, but it’s a great night so what the hell? He’d like a few more players, to take it up to 35.

When we restart Salmon goes out early, putting my conspiracy theory to bed. JJ pisses himself. Our table gets down to three and gets broken up. I end up next to Darren Dillon, who’s got balti dishes full of chips, but all low denomination, bulking his true worth out. Gary No-Hand stays true to form and goes out, with no hand. Johnny All-In’s still hanging on, though his luck may be wearing off as his stack’s not as high as normal.

I tighten my play up and make it to the final table. Ten players left, the money starts at 6th. First hand. someone shouts over to JJ that they’re ready to leave when he is. It’s 12am. JJ looks at his cards and goes all-in. Christ, he could have anything. I’m next up with a K T offsuit. I fold. Johnny All-In takes up his offer and flips over 8 J spades. JJ’s got Kings. The cards come and Johnny lands the winner with a flush. The despair is audible around the table. I had to bet, says JJ. You did, I say. All-In Johnny has the luck of ten leprechauns, and the sense of an idiot. He’s the original PokerSlammer, butting heads with anybody who wants action, often going in blind and coming out with a balti dish feast of chips and cash.

I tighten up – determined to beat my 3rd place last time. Down to four, it’s me versus my brother-in-law DJ Nathan Scott. I’m holding 9 10 clubs. The flop brings 7 8 off suit. I’m certain I can hit the straight. I go all-in. Nathan matches me, with a short stack left over. He’s holding A K. Turn brings an A. Flop brings a 6, but Nathan hasn’t noticed. Well done mate, he says as he reaches for the chips. Murmurs all round. Um, 6 7 8 9 10, I say, and point at the river. He’s gutted. Everyone claps. That’s what you might call a popular win, says Micky Smith.

We meet again a few hands later, and again I win on the river. Nathan’s seething. He goes out in 4th, followed by Scott in 3rd.

So it’s me and Micky Smith heads up. It’s a scary situation to be in. We’re pretty evenly stacked. The blinds chip away. Every fold feels like a wasted opportunity. Every picture card looks like heaven on a stick. After dancing round each other for a few hands I catch a hot one. A K, both of them black as spades. I’m all-in quicker than you can say al-in. He comes with me, and turns over 9 5 unsuited. Sweet mother of God, I’m coming home! The flop is 4 3 8, none of them spades. Turn is a 9, which Micky smith beats me all the way down the river with. A pair of 9s, I ask you?!

Second place garners a £170 wad. Nice work, but not as nice as Micky’s £320.

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