The Come Down
After seven hours of steady progress, I bombed out of the APC tournament in level 8. I was up to 20k by the end of level 4 and pretty much hovered around there for rest of the evening.
I’d played a patient game but just had one of those rash/frustrated/ray of hope type situations. I made it 1800 with A-J and the aggressive BB re-raised me to 5500.
I swear I meant to pass but this chap, aggressive as he was hadn’t yet played back at me and I just had a hunch that this might be the on cue re-steal, so all of a sudden I’ve kind of convinced myself that I can still pick this pot up and so I re-pushed, another 14k all-in, but he shrugged with a well I guess I have to call you type look and flipped up an A-K and out of the blue, just like that, I’m was out the door.
Cue rocketing body temperature, immediate depression and a frantic longing to be home; bad beats are nasty, but when you only have yourself to blame it feels a whole lot worse.
Fortunately, a gang of us left the resort not long after and headed down to one of the Palolem beach bars for some beers and a few hours later it didn’t seem quite so bad.