Confessions of a Poker Writer: WSOP Diaries – Tales of a Milly, a Hard Willy and an Over Friendly Guy Called Billy

Confessions of a Poker Writer: The Magic of Number ‘222.'

Lee Davy continues to let you peek into his World Series of Poker diary where he reveals the universes urge to make him watch pornography, a one time chip lead performance in the Millionaire Maker, and an over friendly air-con guy called Billy.

Confessions of a Poker Writer: WSOP Diaries - Tales of a Milly, a Hard Willy and an Over Friendly Guy Called BillyHave you ever tried running on a treadmill with a hard on?

It has it’s problems, the worst of which was the speed kept increasing without me touching a button.

I quit watching pornography over a year ago, and since then I see sex everywhere. Take the other morning as an example. I enter the gym at my condo and there is a woman working out in there. I deliver the pleasantries and then get started on the treadmill.

I decided to go for a 5k run, and halfway through I start hearing what can only be described as sex noises. She huffs, and puffs and I swear she was blowing…well you get the picture. At one point she climaxed so hard I tried to turn around, because I was sure she was fucking someone, and I nearly went head over tit.

What a morning!

I go for a run, and come out with an erection.

I decided to chill by the pool. I’m just sitting there minding my own business when a woman with a thong walks right past me, says hello, and starts showering right in front of me. I swear her butt cheeks brushed my knee. Most people would have sat and stared. I had to get the hell out of dodge. Talk about being triggered. It was like watching a cross between Bangbus and a Timotei advert.

I head over to the condo and notice my wife is laying in the lounger in the other pool. I decide to creep in and scare the shit out of her. So, I wait for my hard-on to subside, and sneak in…she would never believe me. In true Vietcong style I am upon her without her even noticing. I’m about to give her the big old “BOO!” when I notice one of her tits is hanging out of her bikini top. She opens her eyes.

“Hi, love.”

I just stare at the tit.

“Why are you trying to get a sun tan on one tit?” I ask.

“Oh…how did that get there?” she giggles like an extra in a Carry on Film.

I swear the universe is trying to send me a message.

The air conditioning is working. Now I have a different problem. The air conditioning engineer won’t leave me alone. His name is Billy, and he’s one of those people that never leaves. He was called out last night because the thermostat wouldn’t work. It turns out someone turned the switch off by mistake. I swear it was my hard on.

Confessions of a Poker Writer: WSOP Diaries - Tales of a Milly, a Hard Willy and an Over Friendly Guy Called BillySo Billy turns up. I make him a drink. He establishes that it’s a false alarm within the first minute, and then leaves an hour later. He’s the type of guy who would ask you for a shower, because he was hot and sweaty. Either he caught a glimpse of Liza’s nipple at the pool, or he has a penchant for little Chinese guys with stiffies. Either way, I wish he would just fuck off and leave me alone.

I played in the Millionaire Maker.

I loved it.

Each time I bust I get a pro to critique my hands, and I am learning a lot. I nigh on double in the first few hands. I flop a set of deuces in a hand against Ted Lawson’s wife, and for a brief moment in time, PokerNews shows me as the chip leader.

When I ask the pros if they ever dream of winning they never say they do. I do. It begins the night before, and continues until I bust. I always envision me receiving the bracelet off Jack. A tear forms in my eye, and I laugh as the crowd tell me to get the fuck off the stage after hogging the mic for too long. That’s the image I formed after I flopped the deuces.

I also had the opportunity to be the chip leader proper, but I didn’t take it. This is a classic example of why the re-entry rule is so heavily stacked in favor of those with money.

With blinds at 100/200, I open to 500 (off a stack of 80bb), with AK, and Giuseppe Pantaleo moved all-in for 20bb. I am preparing to call, when the small blind moves all-in for 100bb. I know it’s a fold, but I kept telling myself to call, and if I bust, then buy back in the following day. Here’s the rub. $1,500 is a lot of money for me. So I folded. Pantaleo showed nines, the raiser showed queens, and my ace hits the flop. It didn’t hit the flop when I was all-in AK v JJ in the last level of the day. Pocket Jacks has been my nemesis in all three of my WSOP tournaments: (KK<JJ, AK

I enjoyed the day though. I am getting better. I had a tough table. There was only one good spot, and I couldn’t get involved in a hand with him. I was also giving off tells. The worst being the carrots I kept munching on. I am so poor I can’t even afford a knife to take the peel off. I made another cock up as well. The night before I froze my water bottle. I was thirsty as fuck, during the game, but the ice wouldn’t melt. So I wedged the bottle between my legs, and I think I froze my sperm. I needed it though. I still had a hard on from the morning, and I’m not sure the guy to my left appreciated each movement knocking his chip stack to the table.


Don’t believe what they say about the Chinese.

It’s not true.