My buddy Peddie pointed out that since I wrote a poker blog about a disasterous day that I had last week I should write one about yesterday which was the exact opposite. I'll make it brief but the overriding theme is that poker is a never-ending game interrupted by sleep, food, sex, shoplifting, whatever - but it always continues in a marathonic (I invented a word) sort of way, and the only time to really tally up is when you are gone and your friends and relatives say "he did very well in poker," or "for his sake I hope they don't have playing cards in heaven."

I wasn't going to play poker yesterday but knowing that I had a lot of ground to make up would have led to a mentally draining weekend (and at my age I really need to conserve the few brain cells I have left) so I pointed the poker van southward on the New Jersey Turnpike and found myself in the nine seat, which as some of you may know, was THE seat that led me to fame and glory in days of yore. Symbolism aside, the seat played as it did in those yore days. At first it seemed as if the bad streak would continue as weak player Dave called my pocket 8s raise with A-10 to a flop of 10-10-2. But as time passed and I continued to muck, muck and muck unplayable cards I sensed that this could be a special day. Two hours into the game, with barely a hand to play I was close to even. Surely mathematics would kick in.

And then it did with a vengeance. Weak Dave raised on the button and I called from the big blind with pocket 6s. A strong Asian player (I don't know his name but he insists that he's half-Italian and half-Jewish) called as well. The flop was 8-6-2 with two spades. I bet out 60 and Asian guy called. Weak Dave then raised to 360. I stalled for effect and then seemingly reluctantly called the raise. Asian guy then shoved his stack of over 2000 into the center of the pot. Weak Dave agonized for quite a while before mucking pocket kings, and of course I insta-called. I have played with Asian guy many times and was momentarily worried that he might have pocket 8s but I dismissed that because he would have raised with them preflop in front of Weak Dave, so I essentially knew he was on a flush draw. When the fourth six hit the turn I coasted home free.

And then it became the sky's the limit as I began to run over the table, bluffing weak players out of big pots and revealing monster hands to players who dared get in the way of this steamroller. I pushed one young internet player off a better hand and when I barrelled through him on the very next hand making an unusually large river bet he said "you can't be doing this every hand," and pushed his chips into the pot only to be faced with the fact that I hit runner-runner flush.

The coup de grace came with a flop of J-9-4 to my pocket 4s. I bet and got one caller, a very aggressive new-to-the-table player who had started bullying people even as he was first settling into his seat. The player smooth-called my bet. An ace hit the turn and I made another modest bet hoping to induce a raise. To my delight he reached for a stack of green chips and pushed them forward, raising 250 more. I frowned and squirmed and counted my chips before pretending to reluctantly make the call. The river was inconsequential and he pushed half of his 1000 dollar stack into the pot. Again I hesitated, squinted and frowned before uttering the golden words - "I'm all-in." He couldn't get his chips into the pot fast enough with his A-J and when I revealed my set he just slumped back as if hit in the stomach with a cannonball.

Grabbing my water bottle under my arm I proceeded to the cage with my racks of chips. Cashiers and other players on the line congratulated me on a great session but I never for a moment forgot that poker never ends. I smiled and said thanks and went home to eat and sleep and... well the rest is none of your business.