The Deeper She Goes; The Louder She Gets

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.