The Deeper She Goes; The Louder She Gets
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Deborah Worley-Roberts' table was the latest to break and she let out a cry of anguish.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow," she said, almost Shakespeare-esque. The Romeo to her Juliet? Gaetano Brignone.
"I didn't bust out Pussy Cat!" said Worley-Roberts, referring to Brignone.
Someone uttered the almost compulsory 'See you at the Final Table' and Worley-Roberts lept upon it.
"You had better concentrate and play better! I'll see you there!"
Arriving at her new table Worley-Roberts greeted her new table mates but got zero response so she promptly called them, ��Miserable fuckers.��
Virgilio Dicicco opened for 12,000 and it folded to Worley-Roberts in the big blind who called.
The flop was 
and Worley-Roberts check-called a 25,000 bet from Dicicco.
The turn was the 
and a check saw a shove from Dicicco.
��You are an angry man aren��t you?�� Worley-Roberts.
��Call, call,�� Dicicco responded as Worley-Roberts began to decide on what to do and asked for the pot to be spread and a count of his stack.
��Two to one,�� she pondered, ��Ninety six more? I don��t believe you my friend. My gut has been pretty goddamned good this year honey. I must be insane.��
Worley-Roberts called and Dicicco turned over 
to the 
of Worley-Roberts.
The 
on the river completed the board and the full house for Dicicco.
Not the start at the new tables she was looking for and Worley-Roberts berated herself for making such a read straight after joining a brand new table.
| Player | Chips | Progress |
|---|---|---|
|
280,000
198,000
|
198,000 |
|
190,000
-130,000
|
-130,000 |
|
||