As much as I hate to admit it, I sure do love a good complainin‚Äô every now and then.
I have no right to complain about much, really. I know this. People like me should never complain. I have it good.
It‚Äôs the people you usually don‚Äôt hear complaining who really have something to complain about. Not me. Petty little things like college football games or losing a hand you‚Äôre a 4-1 favorite to win pre-flop shouldn‚Äôt affect me in the grand scheme of things.
So the events that have transpired the past week shouldn‚Äôt have me complaining. They shouldn‚Äôt make we want to drink heavily like I was between the ages of 17-28 again. You know, that uncontrollable vomit-inducing kind of binging. The kind many of you likely still do.
But for me, the last week was my own personal helluva a week on the bubble.
In poker, I hate the bubble. I hate that excruciatingly long period until the bubble bursts, when everyone is playing like a fucking baby, waiting for the short-stacks to go night-night. I understand why it happens, but it doesn‚Äôt irritate me any less because I understand it.
And in the other two, where the top 18 paid, I finished 19th.
Yep, twice in two days I was the bubble boy.
I figured this would happen eventually. I‚Äôve done very well recently, and I figured I was due for a gutblow like this. While short-stacked in both tournaments, I wasn‚Äôt THE short-stack either time, and I had my money in with the best of it when I went out both times, hoping to chip up so I had some fighting chance to get to the bigger payday. But I got outdrawn both times, and that happens.
But it still sucks.
But do you know what really sucks? How the DAWGS played last night in the Sugar Bowl.
From a fan‚Äôs perspective, it was the ultimate ‚Äúbubble‚Äù performance.
I‚Äôve been railing on ‚Äúcoach‚Äù Mark Richt for some time now. Long before most, if not all. Last night he proved what I‚Äôve been saying all along: he‚Äôs the Bobby Cox of college football coaches.
I realize that under Richt, we‚Äôll always have a good team. We may win a few ‚Äúdivision titles‚Äù (SEC crowns), but as long as he‚Äôs coach, we‚Äôll consistently disappoint when it matters most.
I was at the Sugar Bowl last night. When we were down 28-0 in the first 21 minutes, I was ready to leave. We were being out-coached, we looked totally unprepared, and I didn‚Äôt want to sit there and watch my team get thoroughly thrashed. But I was talked into staying for one more DAWGS offensive series, we scored, and I stuck around.
This was tantamount to playing in a poker tournament when you know it‚Äôs not your best day and you‚Äôre not totally into it‚Ä¶BUT when you also know you have enough talent to compete and compete well. You think your talent will trump all, and you‚Äôll pull through.
That‚Äôs what I thought about my DAWGS. ‚ÄúThis is WVU.‚Äù I thought. ‚ÄúThere‚Äôs no way they‚Äôll beat us in essentially a home game. There‚Äôs no way a team as talent-laden as ours will lose to a school filled with a bunch of inbred sister-fuckers. We‚Äôre the fucking DAWGS man!‚Äù I thought as I looked at a typical WVU student like the one at left.
I thought wrong.
But I kept thinking we‚Äôd ‚Äúcash.‚Äù When it was 38-35 in the 4th quarter, I kept telling myself, ‚ÄúWow, we‚Äôre going to get dealt pocket Aces here when WVU over-commits to Q-T pre-flop, and then we‚Äôll double-through them and be in the money!‚Äù
Ok, I never thought that, but it was similar: ‚ÄúWe‚Äôll just stop them on this series and get the ball back, march down the field and score. Oh great! We stopped them. It‚Äôs 4th down! What‚Äôs this? A WVU time-out? That‚Äôs odd. Surely they‚Äôre going to try a fake punt here. Why else would they call this odd time out? I can‚Äôt believe they‚Äôre going to get so ‚Äúcutesy‚Äù and over-commit to some obviously gimmicky fake punt here and give us great field position for the win!!! Surely Richt and the DAWGS coaching staff sees this coming. Everyone in my section here seems to think it‚Äôs going to be a fake punt too!!!‚Äù
Seriously. They did. We were all yelling, ‚ÄúWatch the punter!‚Äù before the football ever reached that scrawny little punter‚Äôs hands.
But alas, Richt and the DAWGS never saw it coming, and all of us fans were c‚Äîkteased into a near-cashing by the DAWGS.
Perfect ending to my week on the bubble. PERFECT.
If nothing else, I can take satisfaction in knowing that all of my loose bubble ends have been tied up.
Which is one less thing for me to complain about.