Can I leave a cash table with Money? Please.

“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!