I hate this game!....I love this game!

' This game is all that is soulless and wrong in the world! I hate it with the red hot passion of a thousand fiery suns! ' - Me

' This is the best invention ever. Forget the wheel or sliced bread, this is the shit! ' - Me

I've said both of these things, or variants thereof, about golf and poker. Both activities have cause me great happiness and great anguish at different times. Despite the disappointments, I stick with them. Pardon the analogy, but I'm like a battered wife who just doesn't get it. I get beaten, hurt and crapped on by these things, but I love them still. Addicted? In love? Brain Injury?

I haven't gambled at table games at a casino in quite a while. The last time I went I lost nearly $100 on the 3-6 poker tables. This isn't all that bad when you look at it, but I consider myself much better at poker than that. Of course, I won the money back right after on the craps table, as per usual, so it wasn't all bad. Because of this particular excursion, I vowed to stay away from poker for a while, except for work get togethers.

Our boss has poker nights as his place every now and again, and I would go there to play, but I was rusty due to inactivity. Now some of the guys at work and I have been getting together a few times here and there to play. I was trepidatious at first, but I've won money four out of the past six times played. I love you, poker....

Last night was one such evening. We got together at someone's house to play for an evening. A couple of beers, a couple of laughs, and a couple of tantrums later (by someone else, not me), I got down to a decision for all my chips. I had Jd 6d. (h=hearts, d=diamonds, c=clubs, s=spades, j=jack, q=queen, k=king, a=ace)
The flop was 9d, 9c, 4d. So I was on the flush draw. I was the short stack left at the table, so I went all in. The other guy had a pair of 8's . The turn came....Ad! Flush baby! The river came...8d! Full house for him! Shit! Poker...you bitch....

We finished the first game early, so we decided to start a second round. I proceeded to knock every person out of the game. The sweetest part was against a friend at work who just that night gloated that I couldn't beat him head to head. Well, a flop comes up 10c, 7c, 4d. I have Kc Qc. So I'm on a flush draw with two over cards. This other guy goes all in. I figure he has top pair. I call. He has Ah 10s. I was right. I end up winning when a King comes on the turn. He got quite upset saying I had no business calling. It was a coin flip! I had him covered and every reason to call! And I won!
Poker, you're my first, my last, my everything....

See what I mean by the ups and downs?

Friday, Kris was in town and we went golfing. This was sadly my first outing this year. Now, I'm not that great at golf. I regularly shoot 95-105 after I've been playing a bit. I don't play as often as you need to get a lot of practice, and I've only played for about 6 years or so. Enough of the excuses.

I start off ok, shots are sounding good, feeling good, going the right distance, but not quite the right direction. I kept pulling the ball to the left, until I get to a dogleg left hole, then I hit it straight. Golf, you motherf***a....

Eventually we make our way to the 14th hole, I', feeling good about my chances because I won the hole before. My honors. I step up and crank the 3 iron shot to within 6 feet of the hole. Sink the birdie putt. SWEET! Only my second or third birdie ever. Sadly. Golf, you're my new best friend.

Now we are down to the last hole, once again I won the hole prior and remember how I did last time I did that, so I'm feeling good...

Scene:

Dave pulls the cart up beside the 18th Tee box, sets the parking break, steps out and chooses his 3 iron. He reaches back and grabs a tee from the wheel. He makes his way up to the tee box and peers down the length of the fairway confidently...

He plucks a ball from his right pocket and pierces the ground with his tee, balancing the ball and rising to take his stance. He swings once just to loosen his back, then approaches the ball. He leans over, placing the club just behind the ball, left foot an inch or so in front of the right to correct his swing, he pauses, breathes in, out, opens his eyes, and begins his backswing...

The swing reaches its apex and he continues the swing quickly and 'gracefully' toward the ball. Contact is made and suddenly his hands feel lighter...


CRACK!
WWWHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!
AHH!

I glance up and apparently, according to Kris, jump about a foot in the air when the head of my club comes flying off as I made contact with the ball. A foot in the air and a yelp of some kind. The head of the 3 iron flies about sixty yards skimming the ground the whole way. The whirring noise was more of an interrupted whirring, very Chewbacca-esque. The damn thing sounded like a randy wookie's mating call. I lose complete track of the ball and complete lack of understanding as to what the hell just happened!! I run up and find the head of the club and stare mystified. I didn't finish the hole or the game and just gave up on the day. I didn't find out until about an hour later I left my phone in the golf cart. At that point I just uttered a defeated sigh as Kris chuckled devilishly.
Golf you asshole son of a rarggafargasargrabblemartyugilfiry bastard....


Well, at least I've made some money from the poker to get the club fixed...