I got that giddy feeling again. I hadn’t felt it since I went to see Tool in the Point in 2006. God is an astronaut were coming to town! I’ll admit that I’ve only recently grown attached to the whole Post-rock genre but in the time I’ve been listening to it, God is An Astronaut are a band that constantly stuck out. Accessible, yet intricate.

Electric Avenue, Waterford was the venue – and it was packed!. However, to put things into perspective, God is an Astronaut have been selling out large venues all across Europe all Summer long,yet I describe Electric Avenue as being packed whenever there’s more than twenty people spread out around the place! It’s as intimate as it gets, and even though I only arrived to see the supporting act, Library Tapes, finish up, I was still able to get a table right at the front!

Even though I’ve been listening to them practically non-stop for the past month in anticipation of this gig, I can’t recall their set list! I can only say that it was absolutely mind-blowing! There was something old and something new with each and every one of their songs leading up to epic climaxes. This was the type of gig that you didn’t jump around to, or mosh to, but simply stood there in awe, desperately trying to take in not only the statutory rape of your ears, but the assault of your eyes through the form of a synchronised visual display!

In hindsight, that was my problem – I paid too much attention to the music instead of my drink! I made the “newbie” mistake of leaving my drink on the edge of the table I fought so hard to get. On the very first song, once the sound of the guitars and drums married each other for the infamous “wall of sound” effect of post-rock, my pint slid off the table! I heard the glass fall, but assumed it was one of the skangers behind us who must have taken a wrong turn and ended up in this place! Anyway, I turn around and go to take a drink – an invisible drink! Not to worry, I only have to buy another. If it was any other band I probably would have complained though!

The rest of the show was epic to say the very least. When it was over, I went up to the band to congratulate them on their show because it’s always nice to see bands put so much energy into a small show like this. I bought their intriguingly self-titled latest album and a t-shirt and asked the entire band to sign it. I also talked to Thorsten, their “frontman” so to speak, about how their gear was stolen earlier this year. I have a lot of respect for a group of people who can bounce back from a set back such as that and continue on. A lot of people would have had their souls destroyed there.

Afterwards, and I suppose this leads up to this present moment, I wonder if they felt weird signing an album. To most people, Torsten Kinsella, Niels Kinsella and Lloyd Hanney aren’t household names yet to me, I hold them in the same regard as I do my all-time favourite band; Tool! I wasn’t able to get the John Hancock of Maynard and co when they came to Dublin two years a go, but I’ll happily accept the signatures of God is An Astronaut on my newly bought album!

Despite being together for eight years or so, I don’t think the time has come and gone for God is an astronaut. Their new album is fantastic and they deserve to be playing all the biggest venues worldwide and to adoring fans of all ages. I admit I have a hidden agenda though. When they “make it”, I might just ask them to buy me that pint they owe me!

“It’s my last orbit”, I announce to the table. I’ve been at the table since 11pm and my stack has yoyo’ed back and forth but at least I’ve made money. Or so I thought.

I look down at pocket eights and am facing an early position raise of €7 which has been called in one spot already. I flat call, playing a stack of around €90, and the big and small blinds also come along for the ride! And what a ride it was.

My stack is now exactly €80, so I say to myself “No set, No bet” because I hate cashing out for odd amounts. However, any possibility of my hand hitting the muck vanishes when the flop comes down J-8-5, two spades. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but there’s a bet of €21 which is then called by the original raiser. I push for €80 and would have been happy to take it down there because I figure I’m going to be dodging spades if I’m called. The thought of someone taking down a pot on the flop is frowned upon though and I find a begrudging caller.

I try and decipher what exactly I have to dodge on the turn and river but I’m not appeased. I announce my hand and am told only that I’m slightly ahead. The turn comes a red six. It only completes a gutshot, but in a game like this, it should be viewed as a scare card. My opponent doesn’t look like someone who’s just sucked out and as it transpired, he had not yet hit his straight. The river is a red nine.

He triumphantly throws up J7! I swear, had I ate any food at the break during the tournament, I would have got sick all over the table. I don’t get angry or shout abuse. I just put on my coat and walk away, silently wishing that I could be that lucky in an important pot. Even if it’s just the once!

It’s been a long time since I posted about poker. It was probably for the best. I got back into the game at last weeks Irish Winter Festival, an event that I was also blogging for. The hours are long enough as it is when covering these events, but when you sit into a cash table full of drunken messes and then find yourself actually losing money, the hours suddenly become much longer!

On the first night of event, I actually found myself winning money, despite taking full advantage of the PaddyPower hospitality budget and managing to spew away my first €200 buy-in by pushing on a four-flush, ace-high board with AK, no spade. The player with the 6 high flush pretty much beat my chips into the pot. Ugh! I can’t remember any showdowns later on that night because from there-on-in, I wielded the mighty Check-Raise as if it were the weapon of warriors! I got most of my profit when I led out on a paired board with a gutshot. The likes of Thomas Nolan and Nicky Power would be proud of me because despite being raised and the button calling, the lure of the gutshot was too great and I shipped the lot in. Fold Fold! Cash out!

The next two nights saw me run particularly badly. I flop the bottom end of the straight in a raised pot, holding 4h5h. I lead out for pot and I’m called. There’s the Ah on the turn, giving me the heart draw. I lead out for pot and I’m called. The river is a spade of some sort, putting three out there. I check-call his half pot bet of €128 and am shown the flush. I then flop the nut flush and get it all-in against top-pair and a redundant flush draw. He runner-runner’s a house! Sat at a table with people that I’m pretty sure all hate money, I decide to relent and perform that classic act of degeneracy by reaching into my wallet once more. One time! I sit tight and watch chips literally flying about the place. I find a pair of Jacks under the gun and raise. Some drunk English guy comes over the top of me for everything and now it’s my turn to beat someones chips into the pot! The flop comes 664. “I hit that, mate”. The turn comes an Ace “Waaaheyeeyeey, I hit that too”. He throws over the Ace-Four. Clean up on table one please! I buy-in once more and manage to recover €182 over the next few hours despite not seeing any spectacular hands.

On the final night, I sit in once again with my 200 euro. I decide to soul-read a player after about 10 hands after he straddles and then raises after the entire table calls. I decide to rep the UTG limp with AA or KK and shove for €153 more. I flop a gutshot but I’m not sick enough to hit it and by the river, my hand is back in the wallet. I soon double up (and then some) when I flop Top Pair from the Big Blind with K-J on a draw heavy board. I check and the guy to my left leads out for about the pot and by time it gets back to me, there’s been 3 callers. Top pair is the nuts, and there’s a tonne of dead money in this pot. All-in! Call! “I have the King”, “So do I” is what I hear back as the dealer sorts out all the chips as we try and dissect each others hand, defiantly choosing not to show up. “Well, I’m beating a few Kings” I murmur, “Do you have the Ace?” he inquired, “Um, No” I reply, “I’m ahead so”. “Not anymore” I state as the dealer throws up a lovely Jack on the turn. I 100% expected the board to pair on the river to counterfeit me but the case €200 then became the case €460. But I’m still stuck.

The story has to have a happy ending though.

A few minutes after, I witness €700 being open-shipped into the pot. I had already folded but could sense that my time was near. In a straddled pot, UTG raises it to 40. He’s managed to become stuck for double what I was, but has managed to do it all in about 10 minutes! He gets two callers – both chinese. I look down at TT and make it €150, which is about 33% of my stack. I get three callers! I see a flop of KK7 which is actually pretty nice for me. They all check to me and I duly ship it all-in. I was probably 70% sure I was ahead, but think checking behind is just terrible given that I don’t want to give them a free shot to hit an overcard or to hit a set. Of course, had I been snap-called, it would have been sick and I probably would have gone looking for a nice piece of rope!

Thankfully it didn’t come to that!