4
#234 – London Journal #1 – Long Night’s Journey into Day, Part I
[Written during the Phoenix to Minneapolis portion of my September 3-4 flight to London.]
I’M NOT READY FOR THE FOOTBALL
I worked on figuring out what’s up in the NFL this year, in preparation for the football pool my friend Joanne (she’s a different person from my wife Jo Anne – note the spelling) enter every year. The first year we entered together, we won it. Since then, we have lost so badly that they’d revoke our membership if we weren’t such easy money for everybody else. To assure that our participation will continue to be appreciated, I have taken the precaution of stiffing the commissioner, my once-good friend Al.
I’ll be happy to pay the entry fee, Al. As soon as you get a judgment against me. And get in line!
During the Phoenix to Minneapolis portion of the flight, I discovered the following about the NFL season: (1) Michael Vick is in some kind of trouble; (2) It’s okay for the Falcons because he wasn’t very good anyway; (3) Peyton Manning is a very good quarterback; and (4) This is the year the Arizona Cardinals aren’t supposed to stink anymore. Really. This time, really REALLY.
There was a great little piece in SPORTS ILLUSTRATED about a fantasy league draft in a 14-owner league where three of the owners are Daniel Negreanu, Erick Lindgren, and Gavin Smith. The entry is just $200, so why aren’t there more people in it? The answer might be in the heavy “side action.” According to the article, Lindgren made $250,000 of side bets for the fantasy league, including whether one of the owners would throw a punch before the end of the season.
Daniel arrived for the draft mentioning that it was his second wedding anniversary. “As far as she knows, I’m on my way to the airport.”
I laugh at what a jerk Daniel is, then remember that my own wife is still taking occasional pain medication from major surgery and I’ll be missing at least three of her medical appointments in connection for treatment of a disease where the BEST CASE SCENARIO is that it will have a 1-in-3 chance of returning.
Yeah, that Daniel Negreanu is a sick individual, huh?
JET LAG
I flew out of Phoenix at 1 PM on Monday, arriving in Minneapolis at 4 PM for my connection. But it’s actually 6 PM local time when I arrive. The connection takes off at 7 PM, which is really 1 AM in Great Britain. I’m supposed to arrive at 9 AM, though it should be 2 AM on my body clock, which is usually the time I think about going to bed, unless I play one last SnG (or two).
Even then, I’m at least 2 hours from the hotel but I usually read that long in bed before going to sleep.
But no matter. Even if I do The Forbidden and take a nap before local bedtime, I’m not really messing with my body clock. I take 11 AM naps at home all the time, and here I won’t have to pick kids up at school starting at 2 PM.
This whole analysis has reminded me of two things: (1) The perfect treatment for jet lag is poker. With the poker lifestyle, you can nap when you want. Even if you’re playing (or writing) at your body clock’s sleep time, all you really have to do is sit around and (sort of) pay attention. O’Neil Longson is an inspiration at times like that. (2) I need a conversion table for the times of my favorite Full Tilt tournaments or, more likely, I need to develop new favorites. For example, I’ve been haunting the Midnight Madness, which starts for me at 9 PM. That’s 5 AM in London. Even I’m not that sick.
I hope to sleep a lot on the Minneapolis to London segment of the flight. In case I don’t fall asleep, I’ve got three books to read: LONDON – THE WICKED CITY, SEX WITH THE QUEEN, and THE MICHELIN LONDON GUIDE. I also have the materials for the proposal for what COULD be my next book, my absolute last about poker. The very tentative title is “Matusow is Awake – Adventures in Poker.” More on that if I pursue it.
