I Think Mike Matusow Has ADHD Too

Nobody is talking to me so that means that something is brewing in the form of a surprise. Since it’s Fathers Day on Sunday, I’m guessing that would be the surprise. I’ve decided to mess with everyone’s head because I am the only father in my immediate group.

Exclusivity has its benefits.

I’ve been telling everyone that I am going up to Durant, Oklahoma to the Indian Casino there to play some live poker this weekend. I have been doing lousy playing on the I-net because I can’t stay focused. Just last night I, stupidly, tried to run a three-bet bluff in a $24.00 tournament on Full Tilt. A three-bet bluff is a bet on the flop, turn and river when your cards can’t carry a tune.

I know better than that, but I pulled a Mike Matusow anyway. I firmly believe that Mikey suffers from ADHD just like me. I keep trying to convince Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson to develop a specialized focusing therapy for gifted poker players who have ADHD but she says the market is too small.

“OK, Mooner. Besides you and Mike Matusow, name me another gifted player with your affliction.” This from my ex-wife but still psycho therapist.

She’s right, I guess, but if she could just understand the frustration that Mike and I suffer at the hands of ADHD, it might penetrate her cold dark heart to our advantage. Really, think about it.

You pay $10,000 to enter a big championship tournament- one of several thousand players to join. You play perfect poker hour-after-hour for three days on end. You build a big chip stack by playing solid cards, executing crafty bluffs and without ever having your entire stack at risk. Creative and crafty play from a gifted poker player.

And then you are sitting three places from the money, your chip stack is 200% of the average and you hit trip nines on the turn to a board of Ace, Jack, and Seven. The Internet whiz kid who is your heads-up opponent in this hand bets half of the pot on that nine, you raise the pot, and after tanking for three minutes, whizzer boy re-raises you all-in.

So, you fold right?

Nope. You think about when you played with this kid on Poker Stars a few months ago and he ran a bluff with the Ace-King, just like this one. Since you will be close to the chip lead when you bust this little shitball plus get three minutes of TV time on ESPN, you spend a few minutes in the tank pretending to agonize over your already made decision.

You wipe your hand over your grimaced face one last time and say, “OK, I call.”

Whiz kid shrugs and flips over the Eight and Ten of clubs for the straight. “Please don’t tell me you played the Queen-Ten like that Mooner. You never play rags like that.”

You look but don’t see the straight and proudly display your three nines. “Nope, Kiddo,” you proudly say. “I only play premium hands.”

It is about the time the word “premium” floats out of your mouth that you count the five cards in a row that make his straight. “Fuck me,” you think to yourself.

You must have thought it out loud because you catch a ten minute penalty for inappropriate language. At the blind and ante structure this late in the tournament, the $10,000 in chips you have left after the whizzer doubles through you has become one pitiful $500 chip in those ten minutes. You sit down, put the chip in the pot to almost cover your $5,000 big blind.

Your cards come- Jack and Six, one black and one red. You stand up and start the walk of shame before the flop even hits the table.

But that was a major league digression.

Fathers Day is a tough one for me for two reasons. First, I am a father and don’t feel that I have been that great at it. I have always tried to do the right thing by my kids but I’m so crazy that what I try has often times been very wrong. I’m way smarter now than when my kids were in true need of good fathering, but they now could care less about any lessons I might impart to help them live better lives. I know that is not a unique fatherly view, but it is mine.

The other thing is that my own father and grandfathers are long gone. Men that I admired and ignored as best I could. As a typical child, I didn’t listen or learn most of the important wisdom I should have from them. I figure that my kids ignoring me is payback.

What I’m trying to say is that I think I have been a good enough father to deserve an “Honorable Mention” on Fathers Day, but I don’t deserve sappy cards and presents or a party. Those trophies that say, “World’s Best Father” that so many kids give their dads needs a companion for sale this time of year. It would be inscribed, “An OK but not so great dad, we don’t get to choose.”

My Fathers Day card should read: “Roses are red, violets are pretty; Other kids have great dads, Ours is sometimes shitty.”

Look, I am not getting all maudlin and morose on you, I’m just attempting to tell it like I see it. I could have done a great job fathering my kids but I am so crazy with the ADHD and my other maladies that I often got in my own way.

Maybe what I am attempting to say is this. Because I don’t feel that I am such a great dad, the celebration of Fathers Day does not stir me to want a party.

Now- start celebrating Ex-husband Day and I am definitely your man. I am the best ex-husband ever! Ask any of the ten women who would get that vote. I think the best day for Ex-husbands Day would be like April 15th, you know do it the same day as tax day.

On Tuesday, March 25th, I posted an article I wrote years ago that I would like you to read. In fact, let’s get a cold Carta Blanca beer and read it together. It will make you feel better about yourself.

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