A cold trip to a London card room

Over 10 years ago now, in the good old days, my friends and I would like to play face to face poker and it was one fateful night we travelled from Eastbourne to Brighton to London to go to take part in a night-time tournament at the famous card room Grosvenors in London.  

I was 19 years old, with high hopes for my chances, but it was only a hope.  Of course, being so inexperienced, in the actual tournament I did incredibly badly. Although my intentions were to win, I don't think I even won a hand!

All the way there I had been focusing on what I would do while I idly chatted with my two friends from the back seat of the red Peugeot as we trundled our way on a dark wet winter night along the motorway as we chatted about cards, women, music and any funny stories we could think of of nights out we had recently had at University..

Our driver, James, was a friend of mine, 20 something of baby-ish looks who came from a wealthy family in Essex, but he had a perceptive lion's mental strength on the card room, very difficult to read, and a determination unmatched when it came to playing football, even though he wasn't the most talented.  He wrote about sports (we were all on a Sport Journalism course) or playing cards with skill and a passion. He was (and still is) one of the nicest guys I've known, but not in the push-over kind of sense, he was funny and self confident too and I think, at the time, was the only one with a girlfriend!...except for long haired musician Dean who always had a girlfriend.

My other friend, on the passengers side, Duncan Wilkie was known for his thick black curly hair and to be honest incredible ugly looks, but a wonderfully funny, intelligent and interesting guy. I had been surprised by him. I think since University he had been working at a poker magazine. Good for him. He sat in the passengers seat on the left and I remember when we all first set eyes on him, we hadn't taken him too seriously, but as we got to know what a great guy he was we all soon became friends with him, and I know James and him were close friends anyway. So here we are were, on the way to the London card room, going deep into territory unknown. I can recall I was terribly nervous, but excited at the same time.  

I'll be honest, my first thoughts when we arrived was that it was an intimidating place.  Or it was all in my own mind.

Everything you would expect a card room to be. It was something out of a movie. Red tinted lights, small, pillared entrance, grim pictures of poker players with chiselled features hung on the walls and smart looking strangers, generally well dressed, confidently sat awaiting start of play and eyeing me unceremoniously as I took my seat at the table. On the way in, as we were idling chatting in the car I had been listening to music from an MP3 player from time to time and I still had my ear phones in with electronic beats pounding, but I wasn't fooling anyone here with my perceived over-confidence.

They could see straight through me like an open book; I was a total greenie, a weak/tight timid newcomer who would get churned up by these seasoned pros. A tall man in dark clothes to my left began to expertly spin his chips again, rolling them over the knuckles and sort of twisting them through his fingers and then spinning them in the air. It was all part of the act. 'Can't you do this?' he asked me, feigning mock surprise.

I shook my head in response an gulped. With my chips dwindled down to half I was already considering a re-buy of the £25, the biggest buy in I had ever made, and looked down at my two hole cards: 7-7. For some reason I can remember the hand like it was infront of me now.  Maybe it was because it was the best hand I'd had in 45 minutes of play. Not what I had been expecting during all that time driving down to hear!  Should have just spent the time and money on a nice drunken night out in Eastbourne, on the pier.

The other hand 'ok' was an A10 off suite, but when the 'mouse' raised, everyone folded. This time I went over the top of an early raise to go all in. What was I doing? The other played called and flipped over A-K and hit his card on the river. Over one hour of driving, countless hours of excited anticipation and it was already over. I was out. I stepped of the table and soon after the first break begun.

Should I re-buy? I decided not to this time and called it a day. I had messed up and squandered £25 and called it part of the learning experience. It only took another hour or so before my two friends fell to the same fate as me. We went to the bar for a drink, and all ordered lemonades. 'So where did we go wrong?', we all asked ourselves. Now I think I know. For me it was down to three things. Lack of strategy, lack of proper bankroll and lack of experience. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I didn't really have a clue.

I really wonder how I would fare now in a live tournament environment. I think I would like to consider playing a live game again. For the last few years it's ALL been online. The winning formula: I now have the experience and the know how to do better at least. I have a specific poker strategy that goes by the following guidelines.... I still don't know how to spin chips through my fingers though, and shuffling cards is not my thing either! Oh how easy it all is online these days. If you love poker don't settle for just the comfort of online play. Do what me and my friends did all that time ago. Get out of your comfort zone and enjoy the experience. Over time that experience will possibly be of great benefit to you.

Just to add insult to injury on the way back our car got a burst tire just outside of Eastbourne, and it was pitch dark.  We laughed about it though and after finally working it out how to get it changed (this was pre-smart phones and probably pre-youtube, although I can see James staring into his phone today! Definitely that kind of guy).

Thanks for reading the short story.  The next live tournament story will be more successful :)  Now where is a game?