Well, it took right up until the final ten minutes to stumble upon what I would declare as the 'hand of the day', but it was worth the wait, if only for the endless banter that ensued throughout the hand.
The hand in question involved two of the chattiest players remaining in the tournament,
Roberto Romanello and Liverpudlian (I think) Michael Humphries. It was Michael who commenced the action, raising it up to 4,000 preflop. As the play passed around to Roberto in the small blind, Michael pulled down his hood in true
Phil Laak fashion and concealed all but his eyes like some form of poker ninja.
Without too much hesitation, Roberto made the call and the two players saw an
flop. As soon as the board was dealt, Roberto peered down at his chips, grabbed the bottom of his two columns and confidently slid his remaining stack across the felt.
"I'm winning, definitely," boasted Roberto as Michael rose from his seat.
"I might call just to bum you," joked Michael, much to the amusement of everyone watching. "I've always wanted to bum a Welshman."
"I knew you were going to do that," he continued. "I need any any ace, king or jack."
"You can't gamble on that," pleaded Roberto.
"Has anyone got any lube?" inquired Michael.
"The masseuse might have some," added
Ash Hussain, who had otherwise remained content to watch on in awe.
The mood suddenly went serious.
"How much is it?" asked Michael.
"13,600," replied the dealer after counting the Welshman's stack.
"Is it that much?" said Roberto, perhaps feigning surprise. "Whatever happens," he continued, "I like you, you're a nice guy."
Before Roberto had barely finished his compliment, the chips were in and Michael had called.
As Michael revealed
for ace high, Roberto chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Oh no," he said as he tabled an inferior fingers-caught-in-the-cookie-jar
.
The crowd held the breath as the dealer popped out a harmless
turn, some perhaps devilishly willing out a nine so they could be entertained before hometime and witness the sickest of bad beats. Michael's eyes were fixated on the felt.
As if in slow-motion, out it came, a
on the river. The crowd gasped.
"Ship it!" exclaimed Roberto as he high fived his neighbour, the smile surely requiring a plastic surgeon to remove. "Sorry mate," he added.
Taking his beat like a man, Michael remained cool and simply concluded, "I still have chips, I told you I'm a shit player."
What a hand! Roberto is now dangerous, but don't count Michael out. He took his beat well asnd still has enough chips remaining to mount a decent challenge, although the wounds from the seven on the river may take a while to heal.
(c) Photography: Floppy Photos Ltd