Twenty-four tables on PokerStars. Sometimes when I want to relax I 36-table the $1.20 SNGs. We are the fastest-growing group of professional poker players in the universe. (I read that on Wikipedia, after I wrote and submitted it there.)
In any case, I figured that now might be the time to write a microstakes strategy book as a sort of gift to humanity. So I did.
The title of the book is Transforming Pennies into Nickels Without Resorting to Black Magic: A Guide to Untold Riches Playing the Deuce. Hang with me; I feel like I'm losing you. Picture the cover.
Front: a chorus line of 52 ninjas, each holding a different card like a star poised to deal death, facing a chorus line of 52 chickens.
Back: the 52 ninjas have fizzed their cards chickenward. Headless chickens scamper in all directions. Blood and gore stain the landscape.
Six months ago, I placed my book-writing services up for bid in a process that became known as "The Race for the Book." I included a number of fairly reasonable demands that each publisher needed to include in order to stay in the running:
- Willie Randolph's rookie card
- An annual subscription to Uncanny Tales magazine.
Note: I was aware that Uncanny Tales does not exist - but it should. C'mon, amiright? Publishers needed to hire a crack staff to put one together.
Each magazine needed to contain the following: no fewer than six (6) zombies, eight (8) vampires, two (2) werewolves, as well as Green Lantern, Spiderman, Aquaman, Superman, and David Hasselhoff.
My demands also included:
- A monkey in a cage delivered to my door in the dead of night.
- A supply of bananas delivered to my door in the dead of night.
- A tiny piano, such as to be monkey playable, delivered to my door in the dead of night.
- At least $20,000 in ones in a green duffel bag.
Note: I wanted the money to be delivered spy-style in the following manner.
I was to be at the local train station. The publisher's agent was to bump into me. He was then supposed to drop his green duffel bag, filled with cold hard cash, and pick up my green duffel bag, filled with monkey waste.
I was to be wearing an orange shirt, a yellow tie, plaid pants, a Grizzlies ball cap and shades. Your agent would be able to recognize me because my socks would not match.
Well, the response was less than enthusiastic. Crickets. Last week, however, I got a phone call. The conversation went something like this:
"PokerListings here. Still got the book?"
"Wait, PokerListings is a person?"
"40,000 copies in my basement."
"What do you want for it?"
"How about a case of Fat Tire?"
Wow! More than the original demand! "Deal!"
So next week, folks, we dive into Chapter 1: Developing the Mental Steel Trap of a Microgrinder.
Before you know it, you will have learned why not all AA combinations are equal, why a 200-big-blind open is occasionally correct, and why king-eight suited of diamonds is the third-best hand in No-Limit.
No doubt about it, we will delve into some complicated matter. I might occasionally have to resort to calculus, the theory of relativity, or a little light face-punching.
But with some concentration, dedication and inebriation, we will iron out our leaks together on our way to winning days and the tune of dozens and dozens of dimes.
I wish you good chi at the tables.
Yakshi is the actual name of, um, Yakshi. No last name. Like Cher or Madonna, but without the talent. After consuming nothing but strawberry-flavored Pop Tarts, chicken-flavored Top Ramen and Fat Tire beer for 18 months straight, Yakshi began to hallucinate random cards, numbers, dice, stars and coins - a vision that he struggled to formulate into an "advanced Hold'em strategy," which he now uses almost exclusively at full-ring 1¢/2¢ No-Limit tables at PokerStars.
When he is not five-bet shoving 3-2 of hearts, he may occasionally be found folding the two red aces - correctly - pre-flop. His hobbies include spelunking, cheese and nitrous oxide. He lives in Erie, Colo.