It's funny how when we're not enjoying something, we wish time would
fly by. Then, when things are normal, we complain about how quickly time
goes by. I was reminded of this the other day, when I got knocked out of
the main event of the World Series of Poker. I picked up two Aces, raised
the pot, and got called in two spots. I got an almost perfect flop I
thought, and proceeded to go bust. I did the logical thing after I got
eliminated - I got in my car and drove back home to Los Angeles.
What I thought about mostly on my drive back home was how I wished
the next two days would go by quickly. I was eliminated a couple of
hours after the second day had started, so this made the day Tuesday.
The tournament would not be over until Thursday at about 5 p.m. I just
wanted this year's tournament to be over and next year's to begin.
It probably makes me seem like a spoiled brat. Remember in grade
school when the kid who brought the ball and bat to the playground
wasn't chosen to play, so he took his ball and tried to go home? In that
circumstance, usually there was some quick negotiating, like maybe the
owner of the ball could play right field and bat last. Since I didn't bring
anything to the main event but $10,000, they let me go home without a
hint of a negotiation.
As my ride home progressed, I couldn't get the thought out of my head
about how I wanted time to "fly by." I wanted it to be May 2000,
tomorrow. I wanted the whole next year to just fly by. I didn't care who
won the tournament this year. All I knew was I had waited a whole year
to play in the "Big One" and now it was over - at least for me.
Last year I had come in 20th and suffered a small beat when I flopped
Aces and Queens and moved in. Dewy Weum, who ended up coming in
fourth, flopped Aces with the nut flush draw. Dewy had more chips than I
did, so all things considered he had to call. He knew I may have been
bluffing and even if I wasn't, he was drawing to the nut flush. He also
might have been thinking that even if I did have something like Ace-King
or Ace-Jack, his kicker was an out. To make a long story short, the flush
came on the turn, and then came the long, lonely ride back to Los
Angeles. For about an hour after I got knocked out, words wouldn't come
out of my mouth. I was speechless. Within a few hours, all I could think
about was next year, when perhaps the flush wouldn't come. Now next
year has come and gone and here I was again, driving home. It seemed
like an eternity and I drove and drove before I finally got back to Los
Angeles.
Now the purpose of the column is not to make anyone think that I am
feeling sorry for myself, because the last two poker years have been very
good for me. I guess the purpose is to try to put into perspective how we
live for that one tournament. Sure, there are other important high paying
tournaments, but no where else is fame and fortune matched in the
poker world as in the $10,000 event at the Wold Series. In 1994 I was
fortunate to come in 4th in the Big One. Even then, after winning one
event and coming in fourth in the big one, I didn't savor my success. I
couldn't wait to play in the next year's big one. I promised myself I
wouldn't make the same dumb mistake that had crippled me when I had
been so close. It seems that once you taste that level of success, you're
hooked. Your life revolves around the next $10,000 at the Horseshoe.
By the time I reached Barstow I had replayed every hand that I had been
eliminated with, in all of the six $10,000 events which I have played in. It
took what seemed to be an eternity to get back to L.A., but I finally made
it. The familiar sites of West Hills and home softened my frustration
somewhat, but I still wanted the next 12 months to go by in an instant.
Then the realization hit me. I am too old to be wishing my life away.
That's for the younger people. I made a pledge to myself to forget the
"wishing time would fly" notion, and just start enjoying my life one day at
a time.
Slowly life got back to normal. Things always seem to break down when
I'm gone for a couple of weeks, so I started catching up on my fixing
things. I was constantly bearing in mind to live for the moment, enjoy it,
and cherish it.
And I did, for awhile.
My middle daughter is in her fourth month of pregnancy and my wife and
I, as always, are looking forward to our sixth grandchild. I realized how
nice it is to be expecting another grandchild. So this one day, my
daughter asks us if we could watch my grandson, Vincent Joseph,
because she was going to have her ultrasound. Naturally, we did, and
several hours later my daughter and son-in-law returned. We received
the good news that all had gone well.
When we asked, "Well, what is it?" we got a very nice surprise. We were
told she was having twins, both girls, due in October. My sixth and
seventh grandchildren will be twin girls. Wow! I wish time would fly by. I
can't wait until October.
Oh well, so much for my promise to live life one day at a time. Every night
now I go to bed and pray that I'll wake up and it will be October. This, my
friends, is really what is meant when we say, "We just can't wait for the
big one."
For what it's worth ...
fly by. Then, when things are normal, we complain about how quickly time
goes by. I was reminded of this the other day, when I got knocked out of
the main event of the World Series of Poker. I picked up two Aces, raised
the pot, and got called in two spots. I got an almost perfect flop I
thought, and proceeded to go bust. I did the logical thing after I got
eliminated - I got in my car and drove back home to Los Angeles.
What I thought about mostly on my drive back home was how I wished
the next two days would go by quickly. I was eliminated a couple of
hours after the second day had started, so this made the day Tuesday.
The tournament would not be over until Thursday at about 5 p.m. I just
wanted this year's tournament to be over and next year's to begin.
It probably makes me seem like a spoiled brat. Remember in grade
school when the kid who brought the ball and bat to the playground
wasn't chosen to play, so he took his ball and tried to go home? In that
circumstance, usually there was some quick negotiating, like maybe the
owner of the ball could play right field and bat last. Since I didn't bring
anything to the main event but $10,000, they let me go home without a
hint of a negotiation.
As my ride home progressed, I couldn't get the thought out of my head
about how I wanted time to "fly by." I wanted it to be May 2000,
tomorrow. I wanted the whole next year to just fly by. I didn't care who
won the tournament this year. All I knew was I had waited a whole year
to play in the "Big One" and now it was over - at least for me.
Last year I had come in 20th and suffered a small beat when I flopped
Aces and Queens and moved in. Dewy Weum, who ended up coming in
fourth, flopped Aces with the nut flush draw. Dewy had more chips than I
did, so all things considered he had to call. He knew I may have been
bluffing and even if I wasn't, he was drawing to the nut flush. He also
might have been thinking that even if I did have something like Ace-King
or Ace-Jack, his kicker was an out. To make a long story short, the flush
came on the turn, and then came the long, lonely ride back to Los
Angeles. For about an hour after I got knocked out, words wouldn't come
out of my mouth. I was speechless. Within a few hours, all I could think
about was next year, when perhaps the flush wouldn't come. Now next
year has come and gone and here I was again, driving home. It seemed
like an eternity and I drove and drove before I finally got back to Los
Angeles.
Now the purpose of the column is not to make anyone think that I am
feeling sorry for myself, because the last two poker years have been very
good for me. I guess the purpose is to try to put into perspective how we
live for that one tournament. Sure, there are other important high paying
tournaments, but no where else is fame and fortune matched in the
poker world as in the $10,000 event at the Wold Series. In 1994 I was
fortunate to come in 4th in the Big One. Even then, after winning one
event and coming in fourth in the big one, I didn't savor my success. I
couldn't wait to play in the next year's big one. I promised myself I
wouldn't make the same dumb mistake that had crippled me when I had
been so close. It seems that once you taste that level of success, you're
hooked. Your life revolves around the next $10,000 at the Horseshoe.
By the time I reached Barstow I had replayed every hand that I had been
eliminated with, in all of the six $10,000 events which I have played in. It
took what seemed to be an eternity to get back to L.A., but I finally made
it. The familiar sites of West Hills and home softened my frustration
somewhat, but I still wanted the next 12 months to go by in an instant.
Then the realization hit me. I am too old to be wishing my life away.
That's for the younger people. I made a pledge to myself to forget the
"wishing time would fly" notion, and just start enjoying my life one day at
a time.
Slowly life got back to normal. Things always seem to break down when
I'm gone for a couple of weeks, so I started catching up on my fixing
things. I was constantly bearing in mind to live for the moment, enjoy it,
and cherish it.
And I did, for awhile.
My middle daughter is in her fourth month of pregnancy and my wife and
I, as always, are looking forward to our sixth grandchild. I realized how
nice it is to be expecting another grandchild. So this one day, my
daughter asks us if we could watch my grandson, Vincent Joseph,
because she was going to have her ultrasound. Naturally, we did, and
several hours later my daughter and son-in-law returned. We received
the good news that all had gone well.
When we asked, "Well, what is it?" we got a very nice surprise. We were
told she was having twins, both girls, due in October. My sixth and
seventh grandchildren will be twin girls. Wow! I wish time would fly by. I
can't wait until October.
Oh well, so much for my promise to live life one day at a time. Every night
now I go to bed and pray that I'll wake up and it will be October. This, my
friends, is really what is meant when we say, "We just can't wait for the
big one."
For what it's worth ...
As Time Goes By
By Vince Burgio
By Vince Burgio
