Læs eksklusive uddrag af Miikka Anttonens ‘Once a Gambler’

De sidste to dage har vi her på PNN bragt dele af et interview med den finske kult-blogger, Miikka Anttonen, i anledningen af udgivelsen af bogen ‘Once a Gambler’. Du kan finde artiklerne lige her.

I dag åbner der op for forudbestilling af bogen på OnceAGambler.com, og i den forbindelse har vi her på PNN fået lov at bringe uddrag fra to forskellige kapitler i den nye bog. Først er det fortællingen om Miikka Anttonens første pokerspil nogensinde i den lille australske by Cardwell, hvor den dengang bare 20-årige finne for alvor får øjnene op for Texas Hold’em. Senere er det fortællingen om, hvordan et flipgame pludselig tager overhånd under Unibet Open i Warszawa, og en 1-outer kommer til at koste både bankrollen og værdigheden.

God fornøjelse.

 

Uddrag fra kapitel 5 – “Down Under”

It’s a Friday night in Cardwell, and having clocked another exhausting working week I’m having a couple of beers with the older workers at the seafarm. They are in their fifties or sixties, and to me they seem so illiterate I’m unsure if they know how to read. They’ve lived their whole lives in Cardwell, and it shows.

”It’s hold’em time soon”, one of them says.

I enquire what hold’em means.

”It’s the greatest game in the world, son, how come you’ve never heard of it? Having those two girls all for yourself and all, you look like you have a little bit of gamble in ya!”

I’m about to give him a lecture on my personal history with gambling, but before I get the chance I’m being lectured myself – about the rules of Texas Hold’em poker.

”So y’are getting dealt two cards, and then we put three cards here we can all use to make a hand, and we bet and raise and bluff and all that shit. Then we deal a fourth community card, more bets are made, and finally we put one last card on the table. The river, it’s called mate, because it can wash it all away when ya thought ya were safe, mate.”

The men tell me that they usually play a few winner-take-all tournaments on Fridays, among the ten of them or however many players they happen to get. Since I’m new to the game, it’s suggested I watch the first tournament and only participate in the second. The stakes are moderate, $20 to enter, creating a $200 prize pool for the eventual winner. I don’t mind the thought of that. I’m more than willing to lose $20, since I’ve already saved thousands of dollars. And if I happened to win, the $200 would give me a nice boost. Any kind of change to the dull weekends is welcome, even if it’ll end up costing me a little bit of money.

I  had expected watching drunk men playing cards to be a tedious experience. But from the very beginning something clicks with me, and I find myself invested. I don’t know what it is, but I’m concentrating like I’m watching a David Lynch movie, even that I don’t know what exactly I’m looking for. I remember Rounders and Johnny KGB’s cookie tell. I start looking for clues and patterns, trying to figure out in advance who’s going to win the hand, despite barely knowing that a flush beats a straight. I notice how one of the guys always gets overly excited when he’s dealt something he likes. There’s only one guy, an old, grey-haired man, that I can’t get anything out of. The men tell me that he usually wins.

When the first tournament is over an hour and some minutes later, the grey-haired man shows the tiniest bit of emotion by smiling for a fraction of a second, and the nine other guys are desperately wanting a rematch.

”This bugga gutta be cheetin’ ya know, how else ya explain he wins every time in a game of luck”, says one of the men, spitting bundy in my face in the process.

I put my $20 on the pile, fully expecting to never see it again. It’s going to the old man’s long overdue retirement fund, but I don’t mind at all. All I want is to participate, not for the gamble, but just to have something to do.

What occurs in the next hour is an unimaginable stretch of luck. I have no idea what I’m doing, but one after another I knock out all of my opponents, including the grey-haired man.

”Ya got a real dose of that beginner’s luck, mate, that’s all it is”, one of my fallen competitors says, farting loudly to finish his sentence, as if to point out that a whiff is all my performance was worthy of.

When I’m handed $220 for my efforts, I can’t believe it. I’ve had so much fun, and I’ve made more money in an hour than I make in a day at the seafarm. No one had even stood a chance, as I’d had a mountain of chips in front of me the whole time, and whatever I’d done, the deck had always seemed to reward me. I fail to understand the luck part of the equation, and decide that I have a talent the world is still unaware of – poker.

All I can think of for the rest of the weekend is poker. I even try to get the guys to play another tournament on Saturday, but they are conservative people with families, and Friday is the only day when they have time for poker. I want to find more opponents and keep playing, but there’s no one in Cardwell to play against.

Coincidentally, when I’m daydreaming about poker in my bunk, one of the girls I’ve shared the trailer with decides to confine with me and tells me how fed up with Cardwell she is. She wants to go south to find new adventures. Perfect.

When the truck comes to pick up the workers before sunset the next Monday, there are two workers less to pick up. I’m already on my way down the coast, looking for the nearest casino.

 

Uddrag fra kapitel 10 – “Serena”

Once the dinner is over, we head to another high-class night club with an open bar. But there are now 300 poker players inside along with other customers, and with everyone trying to order free drinks at the same time the bar counters are a chaotic clusterfuck. I resort to a table with friends and we decide to make our own orders, and pay for table service to get trays of Vodka Red Bulls. Serena is sitting next to me, but after the first tray is downed she wants to go dancing to the blasting techno beats. Luckily there are other girls in our group, so I don’t have to accompany her to the floor. I stay at the table with Jay, a few friends, and a guy that I don’t recognize but who seems to be friendly with everyone else, so I introduce myself and we shake hands.

”Hey, I’m Miikka, by the way.” I consider adding something about the blog, but decide against it.

”What’s up, I’m Ellis”, he says, smiling. ”You wanna do PLO flips 200 euros or so?

In his first ever sentence to me, the guy who’s destined to become one of my best friends and a regular traveling partner for years to come, tries to get me to do drunken PLO flips. Seems fitting.

With my last 3000 euros burning in my pocket I’m happy to accept, as are a couple of other guys along with Jay, and we start flipping five ways. First for a hundred euros each, then two hundred. Once I’m down a bit, I start doing 500 euro flips heads up against Jay, who’s the only person willing to give me action at those stakes. Of course, no one knows this is virtually all the money I have to my name besides what little I have left on my online accounts. It only takes a few flips to lose all of it except for a couple of hundred I’ve smartly set aside for the rest of the trip. Jay’s trying to get me to continue, but I tell him I’m done.

He spots the watch in my hand, the one I bought from Vegas.

”How about your watch against some of the money?”

I really don’t want to lose the watch. It’s the last baller thing I have left, and if I lose it, I’ve officially achieved nothing in the last six months.

”Sure”, I hear myself saying.

It’s a big flip. Jay deals me four high cards, double-suited, and a measly 6-6-3-2 rainbow for himself. I only need to hit one of my cards, and he’s more or less drawing to a six. I manage to do that on the flop, and hit a flush draw to help my case on the turn. He has exactly one out, the six of diamonds left in the deck to beat me. When the river lands I’m genuinely surprised, because despite getting used to losing every significant flip ever, the odds of it hitting are so small. Yet there it is, the six of diamonds, staring at me. I take the watch off my wrist, admire once more how beautifully heavy it feels in my palms, and hand it over to Jay. But this time, I’m not finished.

”Let’s do a few more of those 500 euro flips”, I hear myself suggesting. I’m in that gear again where I’ve lost control over my own actions. ”I’ll pay you tomorrow if I lose.”