Imperial Palace Elevator Conversation

For some reason, people in Vegas talk to strangers on the elevator, which is a total 180 from common elevator behavior anywhere else in the world. I think it has something to do with the general mood of the place combined with how crowded the elevators often are.

Usually it's just some lame joke about the crowds or something, but today, while I was waiting for the elevator at the luxurious Imperial Palace when a skinny man who looked to be in his early fifties walked over and pressed the button as well. "Mmm mmm mmm," he groaned, shaking his head at me in frustration.

There are about a million reasons why someone might be feeling that way in Vegas, so I just pursed my lips and snorted sympathetically.

"This my last trip with that woman," he told me. "We get home, I'm gettin' a divorce."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Mmm hmmm. She outta her goddamn mind. I mean she seriously crazy."

"Vegas can bring out the worst in people."

"Naw, man, this been goin' on. 53 years old and she a muthafuckin' streetwalkin' whore."

I sighed along with him as we boarded the elevator, then asked which floor he was going to. He told me, and I pressed the buttons for both of us.

"Up till now, you know, it was workin' out alright for me, but I can't take this shit no more. She is muthafuckin' nuts."

"A lot of them are."

He smiled a bit and laughed for the first time. "You got right, man."

My stop was first. "Best of luck to you," I told him.

"Alright, alright, I appreciate that. You too now," he answered as the doors closed behind me.

David Sklansky's Home Invaded

Legendary 2+2 poker author David Sklansky was recently the victim of a home invasion robbery committed by what appeared to be several armed individuals. According to the local NBC affiliate,

"'The guy burst into the bedroom, it was dark but I did see what appeared to be a gun,'" home invasion victim David Sklansky recalls.

Sklansky was asleep in his bedroom when two men broke into his home near Wigwam and Bermuda shortly after 3 am Thursday morning."

Thankfully, no one was hurt. Sklansky's cool-headed (some might say robotic) personality surely helped in that regard:

"'During the time he was there, my main focus was to make sure that he didn't think that I was panicking or that I would do something silly,'" Sklansky explains. "'The advice is the same as in a poker game; you try and figure out what the other guy is thinking and then act accordingly. I can imagine if he was doing this same robbery with someone who didn't' behave the way I did it could have turned out terribly.'"

I think it's particularly funny that the article doesn't in any way explain Sklansky's involvement with poker, so I'm sure that quote comes across as bizarre to those who don't know who he is.

Based on his forum posts, Sklansky seems to be taking it remarkably well, though in characteristically oddball fashion:

"I have no personal animosity toward these guys. They used the absolute lowest level of force necessary to accomplish their purposes. In one of my books I wrote that there is not enough difference in the punishment of criminals who harm victims and those who don't, using Steve Wynn's daughter's kidnapping as an example. I'm not going to change my mind just because I am now one of those victims. In this case I doubt they will be caught anyway since I never saw them and they let the other person in the house sleep through it!

Meanwhile if this is being read by the robbers or someone who knows them I would request that they mail me those few things (photos, etc) that are of no value to them but are to me."

Early reports indicate that the parrot is unharmed.

Article Requests

I've recently received a few requests for old articles of mine that appeared in the 2+2 Magazine. First off, let me apologize that my archive is so out of date. The revamping of the website has proved far more complicated than anticipated, but it is nearly finished now. When it launches, it will contain an up-to-date archive of all my strategy articles and book reviews. Until then, you're free to e-mail requests for specific articles to me at foucault82(at)yahoo(dot)com. As long as the volume doesn't get overwhelming, I'm generally able to reply very quickly, though there may be some delay while I'm in Las Vegas the next few weeks. Thanks to everyone who's interested in reading these, it's very flattering!

WSOP: The First Two Days

I'm going to be publishing my trip report from my 35th place finish at the 2008 World Series of Poker Main Event in three installments in the Two Plus Two Internet Magazine. The first installment, covering Days 1 and 2, has just been published in the August issue.

You can read trip reports from other events, including the 2006 and 2007 WSOP, in their entirety on my website.

Oh and for those of you who have been getting e-mails from me, there is some additional information in this version of the trip report, though not a lot.

Quite the Upgrade

Even though I eventually won a WSOP seat through Stars, they were out of hotel rooms at the Palms, so my only option was to take $1000 in exchange for their sponsorship. Cheapskate that I am, I spent my first few nights at the Imperial Palace. The room was nothing special, but it was better than I expected. It even had a little balcony with a decent view of Caesar's and Bellagio:


Having survived Day 1, I decided to treat myself on subsequent days. I booked a suite at the Rio, which was remarkably cheap (I'm paying barely more than I did at AP), and is way bigger and more badass:


It has a slightly better view as well:

My First Day in Vegas

I came out to Vegas a few days early to get into the swing of things, to see some friends with whom I play and talk poker regularly online but rarely see in real life, and to take care of some business. This will be my third time playing in the main event, and it amazes me how much has changed since I first came to Las Vegas two years ago. In 2006, I was a nervous kid who knew no one, was known by no one, and was in awe of every famous player I'd seen on TV.

I can't claim to be a poker celebrity, but yesterday I got a taste of what that would be like. After waking early, going for a swim, having breakfast, and putting in some non-poker work at my computer, I made my first trip to the Rio. I wasn't going to play but to meet up with Bill Ordine, a reporter from my hometown paper, the Baltimore Sun, who is working on an article on poker and philanthropy. He'd already interviewed Barry Greenstein, who's known as “the Robin Hood of Poker” for donating over a million dollars in tournament winnings to a children's charity, and Annie Duke, who organized a $5000 buy-in charity tournament called Ante Up for Africa to coincide with the WSOP.

My own story is a little different. I've donated only a little more than 5% of my poker winnings to the non-profit organization that I founded, the Boston Debate League (BDL). My real contribution is all of the time and work that I put into it. Poker is what enables me to do that. I average 20-25 hours of work per week for each, and I make enough playing poker that I can afford to put that kind of time into the BDL.

It's great that Bill is doing this article, because poker sometimes gets a bad rap among the general public. People tend to believe, not entirely without reason, that poker encourages a cut-throat, every-man-for-himself mindset and that it rewards lying, treachery, and deceit. Hopefully an article in a major newspaper that focuses on the good that poker enables people to do will help to clean up that image.

Poker hasn't just given me the financial freedom to do “good work”. It's also taught me valuable skills that a liberal arts education did not. To paraphrase Ms. Duke, poker isn't fundamentally a game of lying, it's a game of pricing and negotiation. I do feel it's given me some business sense that has proven useful in meetings with foundations, prospective donors, the Boston Public Schools, and other individuals and institutions with which the BDL works.

Largely, the interaction between my poker “work” and my urban debate work has been a one-way street. That is, poker gave me the skills and financial freedom to grow the Boston Debate League, but the latter didn't do much for my poker game, except maybe making me feel less of a leech on society by gambling for a living.

Recently, however, that's started to change. In addition to playing, I now make money by coaching poker as well. Sometimes this is with individual students who pay me by the hour, but I also work for a video training site called Poker Savvy Plus. They pay me to record videos of myself playing or talking about poker and then offer these videos on a subscription basis to people who want to improve their game. My experience teaching debate and working with professional teachers has definitely made me a more successful and popular poker coach.

Yesterday, I got to meet my co-workers at Poker Savvy for the first time (in most cases- there were a few I already knew). But first, I had about an hour to kill between my interview with Bill and my meet-up with Poker Savvy. So, I headed down to the Amazon Room, the convention center at the Rio Hotel & Casino where the WSOP is held. I was hoping I might see someone I knew, but the odds were slim. Actually, the odds were good that I'd see someone I knew but slim that I'd recognize them. Since I play poker almost exclusively online, I plenty of people by their screen names but have no clue what most of them look like.

As luck would have it, though, I was spotted by my friend Richard almost immediately. Richard goes by Shorty both because of his last name is and because he is immensely tall. He was just starting a 20-minute break from a tournament he was playing, so I accompanied him for a quick bite at the WSOP Poker Kitchen while he told me how things had been going for him so far in Las Vegas. Mostly he raved about how soft and juicy the side games were and asked what I was planning on playing.

I told him the truth, which is that I had exactly $10,000 in cash on me, which I needed to buy into the main event. My plan was to play $5/$10 or $10/$25 games, hope for the best, and then find a Bank of America (there are none on the Strip, so I'd have to take a cab there and back) to withdraw more if I didn't win. Shorty told me that he was leaving town that night and would be happy to lend me some cash since he wouldn't need it. We exchanged phone numbers so that we could meet up when he was finished playing that night, and then he got back to his tournament.

I wandered around for a bit longer and then headed up to the suite in the Rio that Cardplayer magazine had converted into a studio for the duration of the WSOP. This is where I'd be meeting everyone else from Poker Savvy to record a roundtable Q&A session where we discussed poker topics submitted by Cardplayer readers.

Since I arrived about fifteen minutes early, I had some time to hang out with the Cardplayer crew, including the main reporters/hosts for their internet content: Shawn Green and Lizzie Harrison. Those of you who follow the poker scene may know these two, and those of you who don't probably won't be surprised to learn that Lizzie is an attractive and buxom twenty-something. Her looks have earned her a bit of a cult following on internet poker forums, and I can assure you that she is at least twice as hot in real life. But she, Shawn, and the rest of the Cardplayer crew were also very down to earth and fun to shoot the breeze with.

After about twenty minutes, the other Poker Savvy people started to arrive: Justin “Jurollo” Rollo, Dani “Ansky” Stern, Isaac “Ike” Haxton, Chris “Tribefan” Rhodes, Tony “Bond18” Dunst, and some of the behind-the-scenes guys. We took our seats and waited for the star of the show, Mike “The Mouth” Matusow, to join us during his break from the Ante Up for Poker tournament.

For those who don't know, Mike is, to understate the matter, a character. Though he's had tremendous success as a poker player, winning multiple WSOP bracelets and several six-figure prizes, he's also lost a lot of money to compulsive gambling and spent some time in jail for possession of cocaine. He's called “The Mouth” because he talks non-stop at the table, often berating his opponents' play, singing his own praises, or just generally calling attention to himself.

Lately, he's made some impressive gains in getting himself together. In the last year, he's dropped over sixty pounds, motivated by a $100,000 prop bet to get from 241 lbs down to 179. Just recently, he won his third WSOP bracelet in the $5000 rebuy 2-7 single draw rebuy event.

So we are all sitting in front of the cameras and waiting for Mike when suddenly there is a loud thump on the door. Someone opens it, and The Mouth comes crashing into the suite like a stampeding rhinoceros. “You all wouldn't believe how f---ing fast I f---ing ran to get up here,” he pants, nostrils flared. “Let's do it! Let's go! Let's get this thing f---ing started!” he shouts, clapping his hands. He takes the last available seat, which is in the back.

I'm wondering if the most famous guy here shouldn't be seated more prominently, but it turns out not to matter, because Mike makes himself the center of attention no matter what. He fields the first question enthusiastically and then interrupts whomever is speaking when he decides he has something to add. When he isn't shouting over us, he is gesticulating wildly to the people off-camera that he has to go in a minute or that he would like a bottle of water. We pass it to him, and he consumes the entire thing in a single ten-second chug, then tosses it haphazardly aside.

I don't imagine that much strategy content slipped past Mike's antics, but the clip should at least be good for comedic value. It doesn't appear to be up on Cardplayer's website yet, but I'll let you know when it is.

After the taping, we went out for drinks sans Mike. Truthfully, an afternoon with a bunch of internet poker players is not generally something I'd look forward to. Most are brash, self-absorbed, whiny, and otherwise annoying. But I must say that to a person, my co-pros at Poker Savvy were a great bunch. They are all very successful at poker and have a lot to brag about, but they don't come across as stuck up or anything, and they have some good stories.

For the full-time professionals, the WSOP is a magical time of year. Groups of guys, from four to ten or more, rent palatial houses in Las Vegas and spend weeks playing poker and partying their asses off. I don't think any of the best stories were intended for public consumption, but you can probably imagine the sort of debauchery that a bunch of guys in their early twenties with way too much money can get up to in Las Vegas. I'm only a few years older than most of them, but that whole lifestyle has never really been my scene. There are times when I feel little pangs of regret and a sense that I could be living a seriously crazy life, but for the most part it doesn't appeal to me. I do love hearing the stories, though.

We left the bar around seven, and I got a ride back to the Rio. I'd had only one drink in anticipation of putting in some hours at the tables that night. As I was waiting for a seat to open up, I ran into Shorty again. He had just been eliminated from his tournament and was going to go pack his bags then bring me some cash before leaving for the airport.

About an hour later, I was seated in a tight but not particularly tough 10/25 game when I spotted Shorty wandering the cash game section. I stood up and waved to catch his attention, played one more hand, then walked away from the table for a minute to speak with him. “Here's $7500,” he greeted me, handing me a roll of $100 bills. I pocketed it as he shared some intel on players at my table whom he'd played with in the last few days, then I wished him a good flight and returned to my game.

This really underscores the value of reputation in the poker community. I've known Shorty for about three years online, but we've met only two or three times in real life. Yet, just as a favor, he's willing to lend me $7500 in cash on the understanding that I'll send him a check when I get back to Boston. It's just a reality of high stakes poker that people often need access to large sums of cash, and now to money on various online poker sites as well, and it's infinitely easier to manage the logistics of moving this money among friends than to deal with the hassle and expense of wire transfers, getting to an off-Strip bank, or withdrawing from an ATM.

Poker friends can also help you raise money by staking you in a juicy game that's beyond your bankroll. They reduce your risk by putting up some of the money you need. Then if you lose, they eat the loss, and if you win, they get a cut. In fact, I was up on the WSOP before I even got to Las Vegas as a result of buying 10% of a friend who has had a phenomenal run, making two final tables.

Of course there are scumbags who take advantage of people, borrow money they can't or won't pay back, and rip off their investors. But reputation spreads quickly, and these people can quickly be cut off from the world of poker financing. Because I have been an active and ethical member of the poker community for several years, I know many people who would lend me money in a pinch, stake me for nearly any tournament I wanted to play, or help me transfer funds between online poker sites. And there are plenty of people for whom I would do the same.

First Day in Vegas

My first day in Vegas was a blast. I'll get into more detail tomorrow, but basically I got to pretend I was a big shot for a day. I had an interview with a reporter doing a story on poker and philanthropy, then a taping for Cardplayer with the Poker Savvy folks, then out for drinks with them (just one beer for me because I'm getting over a cold and wanted to play later), then 10/25 NL at the Rio with $7500 on the table. I'll get into more detail on the other stuff tomorrow, but here are two quick hands from the cash game. It was a pretty tight/boring but not very tough table.

The first one, I opened for $100 with AJo in the CO, and both blinds called. The flop came Jd 7d 4d, and unfortunately, I did not have the Ad. They checked to me, I bet $200, and the SB called. I hadn't been in the table long, but I'd already seen him make one very loose call for a pretty big bet on the turn. He checked a 4c on the turn, I bet $500, and moved all in for $1600 total. I hadn't realized he was that short, and while I didn't feel great about my hand, I felt priced in. It was definitely borderline, though- I would have folded KJ. He flipped 77 and I was drawing to 2 outs, which I didn't hit. Kind of a cooler, though I don't think stacking off was mandatory. Maybe a smaller turn bet and folding to a raise would have been better.

The next one, I opened to $100 with 97s in MP3, the SB called, and the BB, a Finn who was new to the table, made it $410. He covered me, and I had well over $5000, so I called, again not realizing how short the other player in the pot was. The BTN shoved for $675 total, and thankfully the Finn just called, so I called as well. I was pretty shocked the Finn didn't reraise there, because it was pretty obvious I didn't have a monster. The flop came J98, he checked, and I opted to check behind. Scandinavians are known to be aggressive in weird spots, so I wanted to see what developed. The turn brought 5, giving me a double bellybuster. He checked again, so I bet $1100, and he folded. The river 6 gave me a straight and won me the pot to put me pretty much even on the night.

WSOP Here I Come!

After spending more than enough money to buy in directly, I finally won a freaking main event seat in one of the last $650 satellites Stars will be running. Counting the spending money and sponsorship deal that comes with the package, I think that I ended up breaking even on satellites almost to the dollar.

It wasn't a particularly interesting tournament, but I did make one tight fold fairly early on. I raised QQ UTG, and the BB min-re-raised me. I didn't have quite the right odds to chase a set, but I called anyway and then folded when he bet half his stack on a ragged flop. Obviously I'm not 100% sure I was beat, and the guy did turn out to be a pretty aggressive player, but I still have my doubts about just how wide his range is for min-re-raising an UTG raise.

I also found myself folding both AK and KK preflop much later in the tournament, but those were actually trivially easy situations. In both cases I had a safe stack, we were one player away from the bubble, and there was a massive chipleader open shoving every hand. There was just no reason to get involved, even with AA.

Speaking of which, here was an interesting spot that I saw at another table on the bubble:

Poker Stars, $615 + $35 NL Hold'em Tournament, 3,500/7,000 Blinds, 9 Players
LeggoPoker.com - Hand History Converter

UTG: 42,162
UTG+1: 52,824
UTG+2: 56,370
MP1: 88,111
MP2: 84,791
CO: 12,672
BTN: 169,828
SB: 18,412
BB: 59,926

Pre-Flop: (16,800)
5 folds, CO raises to 11,972 and is All-In, BTN calls 11,972, SB folds, BB calls 4,972

Flop: (45,716) T 8 8 (3 Players - 1 is All-In)
BB checks, BTN checks

Turn: (45,716) 6 (3 Players - 1 is All-In)
BB checks, BTN checks

River: (45,716) T (3 Players - 1 is All-In)
BB checks, BTN checks

Results: 45,716 Pot
CO showed A A (two pair, Aces and Tens) and WON 22,858 (+10,186 NET)
BTN mucked and LOST (-12,672 NET)
BB showed A A (two pair, Aces and Tens) and WON 22,858 (+10,186 NET)


It's to the BB's credit that he played this correctly. I think a lot of people would have reshoved with AA there, but he's much better guaranteeing that the BTN goes to showdown and increasing the odds of the short stack getting eliminated.

Feels good to win this, because now I don't have to waste time and effort booking a hotel, finding someone to pay me to wear their clothing, etc. Just nice to have all that stuff taken care of.

Collecting Casino Chips

The New York Times ran a neat article today about a convention of casino chip collectors this weekend in Las Vegas. In case you need another excuse not to play the slots, you can apparently hit the jackpot even if you don't deposit your chip:

Last year, Eric Rosenblum, a lawyer from Merrick, N.Y., sold a $100 chip he picked up in the 1980s at the now defunct Desert Inn casino here for $20,000. Returning home from a vacation some 45 years ago, a Missouri woman, Sandy Marbs, threw a $1 chip from the Showboat Casino, once a Las Vegas mainstay, into her jewelry box. Last month, she sold it on eBay for nearly $29,000.

Paul "UCLABruinz" Smith Wins Bellagio 2K

Paul Smith AKA UCLABruinz, shown here with his daughter (yes his head really is that huge), just took down a $2000 Bellagio prelim event for $203,495.

I've known Paul for a while through the 2+2 forums, but I first met him in real life at the 2006 WSOP. I was really impressed with him as both a poker player and a person, and I can't imagine a nicer, more deserving guy to win a big score like this. Except for me of course. But Paul is a notable exception to what I was just saying about how I don't like spending my time in the company of poker players.

On a recent episode of the 2+2 Pokercast, Eric "Sheets" Haber spoke about the difficulties of running a staking empire: managing your money well, determining how good a potential horse actually is, dealing with the inherent risks of deception and tilt on the part of your horses, etc. Paul, who has just made Eric a good deal of money, strikes me as the rare sure thing. He's undoubtedly a strong player and very reliable to boot. I just wish I had a Sheets-sized bankroll so that I could afford to put great players like Paul into the largest buy-in tournaments.

Way to go Paul! Very happy for you. Hopefully we can meet up again this summer.

Restuarant Review: FIX

I've been hearing a lot of good things about FIX, but my opinion after dining there last night is that it's overrated and overpriced. I'm not generally particularly snobby about food or demanding about service, and though I like to eat out, I don't go to expensive restaurants very often. When I am spending $75-$100/person on a meal, however, I expect to get more than a trendy atmosphere and a fancy preparation, even at what is technically a 'casual' restaurant.

Even on a Tuesday night, it was a good thing I'd made a reservation (less than two hours in advance was sufficient), because the place was packed. The hostess was both friendly and attractive, and though my girlfriend and I had to wait a few minutes for our table, we weren't herded into a lounge and pressured to buy expensive drinks, which was a nice change of pace from some other Vegas hot spots.

FIX does have a fun atmosphere about it, hip and energetic without being as overwhelming as the decor in a place like Mandalay Bay's rumjungle. But ultimately it is still just a part of the casino floor, and from where we seated in the corner of the restaurant, there was no ignoring the passers by outside or the blinking and bleeping of the slot machines that were both distracting and mood killing.

Warm breadsticks and a delectably sweet, creamy butter kept us company as we examined the menu, and our waiter was prompt to take both appetizer and entree orders. Generally, I appreciate quick service and disdain overly chatty waiters. However, when I'm spending upwards of $40 for a piece of fish, I appreciate some additional attentiveness in helping me to select an entree and explain the details of the preparation. I guess we could have requested more time, but the waiter took our orders so quickly that my girlfriend and I didn't even have time to discuss what to get, and we ended up both ordering the Seabass.

We started with Lobster Tacos, an interesting but largely successful creation. At $21, they weren't cheap, but they did contain many large chunks of lobster and came with a very tasty guacamole, making them something of a bargain relative to the more standard appetizer fare that was similarly priced. An overly heavy dose of cilantro occasionally drowned out the more subtle flavors, but all in all we were both impressed with the Lobster Taco appetizer.

Another nice touch I've enjoyed at other high-end restaurants like Mandalay Bay's RM is an extra little starter or appetizer sent out compliments of the chef. It's never anything large, but sometimes I've gotten a single piece of sushi or something that was fun to try and added to the experience of luxury. Not only was there nothing like this at FIX, but the entrees didn't even come with any sides. I'm fine with restaurants serving expensive food in small portions, but I do appreciate getting something else to round out the meal.

The seabass itself was quite good, but it didnt quite rise to the level of exceptional. Aside from its butter-braised top, the fish itself was kind of bland, though the lemon risotto, baby shrimp, and lobster broth with which it was served were all quite tasty. I would have been happy spending $20-$25 for a dish like this, but it was hard to see where the extra $20 was going.

For dessert, we shared a root beer float that was supposed to come with warm chocolate cookies. It was tasty enough, but ultimately it was just IBC root beer and generic vanilla ice cream. And the cookies were decidedly not warm. I realize this is a petty complaint, but again, it led me to wonder why I was paying $9 for this.

The quality of service really deteriorated over the course of the meal as well. Whereas the server had initially been attentive if a bit rushed, we waited nearly ten minutes after finishing our float to get the bill, during which time our server was nowhere to be seen. At comparably priced establishments, I've had multiple servers hovering nearby and swooping in to brush away crumbs or bring a new menu as soon as one course is finished. The service at FIX was far from terrible, but it just wasn't up to par for what they were charging.

And that was really the theme of the whole experience: perfectly good, but just not good enough to warrant the exorbitant prices. It may sound naive to complain about paying too much for something mediocre at a Las Vegas casino, but the truth is that that hasn't been my experience at other expensive casino restaurants. If you're looking for a nice dinner out, spend just a few dollars more for one of the fine dining establishments at Mandalay Bay. Nothing spoils the aftertaste of a good meal like the lingering feeling that you've been ripped off.

10/20 Live at the Bellagio

I played this for a few hours last night, thinking the games would be softer than usual because of the current Five Diamond series they are running. Wrong. Almost everyone in the game was a regular, and although I was still one of the best players at the table, there was only one guy there who could be described as bad, and even he was bad in a loose aggressive sort of way, making him much tougher than the typical loose passive bad player.

It didn't help that I wasn't playing very well. For one thing, the last few times I've played live, it's been 2/5 and 5/10 NL games, both of which use the $5 chip as the standard betting unit. When you play live, you generally keep your chips in stacks of 20, so I'm accustomed to a stack being worth $100. The Bellagio 10/20 game uses $20 chips, and for some reason I could not get the idea out of my head that these stacks were worth $200 rather than $400. As you can imagine, that's a pretty big error to make.

I got a seat pretty quickly, and folded the first few hands just trying to observe the table. Just after I sat, a very well-dressed and sophisticated-looking young Asian man sat down. He looked wealthy, and I was hoping he was going to be a rich fish, but he was only holding two $500 chips in his hand, enough to buy a 50 BB stack. But then he passed one of the chips to the runner and told her he wanted "1000 in orange [20-dollar] chips and the rest in black [100-dollar chips]." I looked closer at his remaining chip, and saw that he was in fact casually spinning not $500 but $5000 on the felt as though it were a penny. There's no cap on the buy-in for this game, and he was in for 10 Grand. I had a little over $6000 with me and no way to get more that night, so I was only putting $2000 at a time on the table myself.

This guy immediately started raising every pot and showing garbage hands. This was a typical live table, though, so no one was playing back at him. I finally reraised him with QTo on my BB, and he folded. A few hands later, he opened to $80 UTG and got called by the second most active player at the table. I held AJs on the button. Ordinarily I'd just call here against an UTG raise, or maybe even fold. I was way ahead of this guy's range, though, so I slid two nearly full stacks into the pot, intending to reraise to $380.

His eyes bugged out and he folded. No sooner did I see his reaction than I realized what I'd done. Goddammit, those stacks are worth $400 each! To my greater dismay, the second player asked how much I had behind. It was just shy of $1200, meaning that 40% of my stack was already in the pot. He moved all in, and I knew I was going to have to call it off. Against anything except AA, I was getting more than the right price. Thankfully, he turned over KK, but the flop gave him top set, and just like that, I was reaching into my pocket again. 'At least stacking off with AJ pre-flop should give me a good table image,' I thought to myself.

I counted out twenty bills and laid them in a stack in front of me. Bills play at the Bellagio, so I didn't even need to bother converting them to chips. A few hands later, I got 99 in the CO and opened for $80. The same Asian guy called in the small blind, and we went heads up to a Jc 4d 3d flop, a pretty favorable one for me. He checked, I bet $140, and he raised to $300. I'd previously seen him call down two bets out of position with K4 on a Kxxx board, so I didn't think he was too likely to be check-raising me with top pair. That means he probably had either a set, an unlikely two pair, or much more likely, a bluff or semi-bluff. I called.

The turn brought the 5s, and he bet $400, which I called again, planning to call a non-diamond river. The river was not a diamond, but it was an Ace, also a bad card for me. I was really torn over whether to call on this particular card, since if I was right that he was on a flush draw, the nut draw was his most likely holding.

Ultimately, it was his bet sizing that convinced me to fold. He bet just $700 into a pot of more than $2100, which really felt like a blocking/value bet. Looking at the numbers now, I kind of feel like I should have called, since he doesn't have to be bluffing very often to make it profitable, but at the time I just didn't feel there was any chance he'd do this as a bluff. Ironically, I would have been more inclined to call an all in bet. I agonized and folded. He didn't show his hand, which he'd generally been doing when he bluffed, so I felt pretty good about the decision at the time.

I didn't feel good about laying out five more bills on the table, but I didn't want to play a real short stack. Those bills didn't have a bright future with me. The next pot I played, the same guy raised my big blind to $80, and the other softish spot at the table, a young Asian woman who was tight but not particularly good, called from the SB. I decided to come in with Jh 6h on my BB. Not exactly a monster, but these two were the ones I wanted to play pots with.

The flop came Qc Tc 9h, giving me an open-ended straight draw. We both checked to the aggressive Asian, who also checked. That told me a lot: he didn't have a strong made hand, a club draw, or an open-ended straight draw. I was pretty sure he would have bet any of those.

A 5h on the turn gave me a flush draw to go with with my straight draw. The Asian woman bet $160 from the SB, and I just called. Given how tight she was, I might have been able to get her to fold with a semi-bluff raise, but the stacks were awkward for it, and I figured I could represent clubs if they got there on the river but my draws did not. The Asian guy called as well.

The river brought the 4c, completing a potential flush but not the one I wanted. Still, I was pretty sure neither of my opponents had made it, either. The woman checked, and I tossed my $500 in bills into the pot. The man quickly grabbed five black chips, thought for a minute, and placed them in the pot. The woman reluctantly folded, and he showed me 54o for two pair. It's not a bad call if he realizes that my range is going to consist of exactly flushes and bluffs, and that there are two busted draws I could be bluffing, but I had a feeling he only called because he made two pair.

That left me with about $1200 in chips and a little under $2000 in my pocket. I decided I was just going to play short stacked for a bit, since I wanted to preserve enough for one more nearly 100BB stack. I was thinking that at least I'd have an action image that would help me get paid off, but around this time I realized how many players were getting moved away from the table. It dawned on me that we must be a 'must-move' table, meaning that players are seated at our table from the waiting list but required to move to one of the other 10-20 tables when a seat opens. So most of the players who had seen my unintentionally wild play were getting dispersed, and soon enough, so was I.

My new table was no better than the last, filled mostly with competent, tight young men. Thankfully the aggressive Asian guy got moved over with us, so there was at least some action at the table. I started reraising him pretty aggressively and win a few hundred dollars pre-flop. I built up to around $1700, then found AJ on my BB after an $80 raise from my little yellow friend and a call from someone else. I popped it to $400, and this time he shot me a dirty look and called. The other guy folded, but the flop was an awful Q98. I was sure he wasn't going anywhere, so I just checked and folded. "Bad flop for Aces," I told him.

"Yeah sure," he smiled.

The next orbit, a pretty tight aggressive kid to my left who was playing a kind of short stack opened to $100, and the Asian guy called, as did the button. I called with Qs Js on my BB, and the flop came down 9s 7s 4d. I checked, the kid bet $300, and the Asian called. I felt like the kid probably had an overpair, but there was a chance at least one of my high card outs was good, along with the flush outs, of course. So I moved all in, and to my surprise the kid folded. The Asian guy asked if I had a flush draw and then called. The Ks came on the turn, I showed my flush, and he mucked, so I don't know what he called with, but he was kind of upset. I, on the other hand, was happy to get my stack well over $2000 for the first time all night.

I won a few more medium-sized pots, and once again found myself squeezing the Asian guy with AJ in my BB. Again he called, but this time the flop was a bit more favorable to me: 9c 7c 2c, with me holding the Jc. It was from a monster, but I knew he was calling light pre-flop, and he'd seen me check and give up in this spot before, so I thought a bet would get some respect. I bet out $800, nearly the size of the pot, with about $1200 behind, obviously planning to call it off if he moved in. "Aces this time?" he asked as he folded.

The very next hand, he raised again, and this time I really did have Aces. I reraised, but he finally figured out how to fold a hand pre-flop. Possibly for the better, since playing out of position against him, even in a reraised pot, could have gotten ugly now that I was >300 BB deep.

By the time this next hand rolled around, I was sitting on a stack of nearly $3600. I limped UTG with 43s. Limping in is something I pretty much never do online, especially at a 6-max game, but at more passive full ring live tables, it's easier to get away with. The tightish kid from before raised to $100, the Asian called, and I called.

The flop was a potentially interesting 234r, giving me top two pair on a coordinated board out of position against two opponents with very differently sized stacks. The kid had just over $1000 left, and I had a feeling he'd move all in with an overpair or a big Ace, since those hands would have a gutshot and, from his perspective, overcards to a pair as well. Sure enough, he did start counting his bills, but as he did, I noticed that the Asian was watching him intently and loading up his own chips.

Ugh, what did that mean? He was loose, but he wasn't stupid. How light was he going to call $1000 with me already showing interest and with another $3000 or so that I could still move into the pot after he acted?

The kid did indeed move all in, and the other guy quickly called. Christ. I could see him calling with a big pair, maybe JJ+, but I think he reraises most of those pre-flop. The last time he had K's he made a huge reraise and showed the hand. Was he dumb enough to call with a smaller pair like 88? I wasn't sure, but his call was awfully quick and confident. I didn't think he'd call 23 or 24 preflop, and while it would be a fine play for the kid to move all in with AK, it would be suicidal for the Asian to call the all in with it. Fold equity is an important part of that play.

So what did that leave? Draws? He's already getting bad odds on those, plus he has to be concerned about me forcing him to put in another pot-sized bet before showdown. Maybe a combo draw, but only 54 was likely to be in his range. That leaves sets and straights as a substantial part of his range. I folded.

The turn brought a 3, which would have filled me up. The river was a 2. "I missed," the kid said.

"7 high," the Asian announced, still not turning over his cards.

Blood pounded in my temples. Are you fucking serious? He must have had exactly 75, if that was true. The kid turned over AK. The Asian mucked. Jesus fucking Christ, I am such a fish. Why am I making nittish folds against a rich, crazy Asian gambler? Why am I assuming he knows what he's doing? He was the reason I hadn't quit the game already! Plus I held a 3 and a 4, making 22 his most likely set if he was going to have one at all, and I have four outs against that unlikely scenario. Why didn't I think this shit through?

It was my turn to post the BB, but I indicated for the dealer to skip me and packed up my things. The game was bad, I was frustrated, and I wasn't playing well. No reason to chase losses, I finished down barely $1000, just half a buyin and well within a standard deviation for me these days, though it always hurts more to lose at live poker than online.

And of course it always hurts more to lose when you know it is your own fault. I've had enough bad beats and cold decks to know they are par for the course and not get too upset no matter how much I lose as a result. But when I have a bad night because of my own mistakes, a bad fold or a failure of 3rd grade math skills, I beat myself up over it for days, no matter how much it did or didn't cost me in the end.

$1500 Bellagio Prelim

Man I hate live poker tournaments. Only the biggest buy-in events have a reasonable structure, such that even when you're playing for thousands of dollars, you don't get a lot of room to play poker. But every now and again I tempted by them, because the atrocious play does kind of make up for the bad structure. Generally I feel like my time would be better spent playing live cash games, though.

Anyway, my starting table was about as good as I could have hoped. Jonathan Little (2p2's Fiery Justice, currently 2nd in Cardplayer's Player of the Year rankings) was a few seats to my right, but mostly the table was comprised of middle-aged wannabes who operated at various levels of cluelessness. They weren't very animated or talkative, though, so I've just got a few hands to mention, no good stories from the first table. But hang in there, there's a real character at my second table.

Slow and Steady

We started with 25/50 blinds and 3000 chips. The guys on my left were kind of loose, so I was playing very tight and straightforward poker for a while. The first real pot I played, I raised to 150 with 99 and got three callers, including the BB. I bet 400 at a K85hh flop, and only the BB called. He was the player I thought would have the most K's in his pre-flop range, and I figured I was probably beat. The turn was a T, and we both checked. But then a 9 came off on the river, and he checked, called 1000, and mucked when I showed my set. That provided some breathing room for me right off the bat.

I folded some garbage for a while, then re-popped the guy on my right with ATo when we were both in late position, taking it down pre-flop.

After one hour of play, the blinds doubled to 50-100. The first pot I played at this level, I opened to 300 with TT in relatively early position, and the SB moved all in for 1250. Live players are notoriously nitty, but I'd already seen this guy open shove UTG once (he wasn't called), and he wasn't giving off any strong tells. Also, he was Asian, and absent evidence to the contrary, I always assume Asians are about 20% more aggressive than their Occidental equivalents. So I called and won a race against his AQ.

Jonathan was raising a lot of pots, but he also seemed to be getting a lot of good hands, and I wasn't really interested in tangling with him anyway, since almost everyone else at the table was bad. The only pot we played, I re-raised him with QQ and he folded.

Spotting Tells

I just finished reading Joe Navarro's Read 'Em and Weep (review coming soon) and was trying to make more of an effort to spot people's tells. I never picked up anything really blatant during a pot in which I was involved, but a few things I spotted during other pots seemed to be accurate, so I was feeling confident about that. For example, I twice saw players in early position raise their eyebrows and sit up a bit in their seats before limping into the pot, and both times they ended up reraising. Though I didn't get to see the cards of either, I think it's safe to say they were both pretty strong.

The only move I tried to make based on a read did back-fire, though. There was an early position limper, and I completed something like T4s in the SB. The flop came AJ2, and the action checked to the limper, who bet 200. I generally don't give early position limpers credit for an Ace, though that's a better assumption online than live. In this case, though, the guy had stared at the flop for a long time when it came out, which both Navarro and Caro say is a sign of weakness. This is a decent spot to check-raise bluff anyway, since the limper will often stab at this flop with anything, so I raised to 550. Unfortunately, the BB cold called the raise, so I had to give it up on the turn. The limper did fold, though, so my read on him may have been correct.

Next orbit, an early position player limped in for 100, and I raised to 400 with KQo from relatively early position myself. One of the looser players on my left called, as did the limper. The flop came KJ5, I bet 800, the loose player called, and the limper folded. I wasn't particularly concerned about being beat, but I felt the best way to get in two value bets would be to check the turn (it was a blank) and value bet the river. To my surprise, though, the guy bet 1500. This was a bit troubling, because he was kind of passive, but I just couldn't lay down top pair second kicker yet. I called, we checked through the river, and he showed me AK. This is a spot where I feel like a really good live player might be able to get away on the turn if he had enough trust in his read. It was a big blow to my stack.

The same guy won a small pot off of me a few hands later when I raised KQ again and he called. The flop came 983r, not a great board for a c-bet, but he was calling such a wide range pre-flop that I had to try. Unfortunately, he called. The turn was an 8c, putting a flush draw on the board, and we both checked. I checked again on a river T, and now he bet 1500. When he checked the turn, I figured he was probably drawing, but his most likely draws (76 and JT) both just made something, so I folded, and he showed me 76s, having also picked up a flush draw on the turn.

Short Stack Ninja

At the end of the second hour, we got a 15 minute break, then blinds doubled again. Like I said, it was a disgusting structure. Having just lost a big pot, I was now down to like 11 or 12 BB's. The guy on my right tried to open limp from the SB, but I shoved on him without even looking at my cards and he folded. I open shoved AT from late position and took the blinds, then did the same thing with a small pair the next orbit. A few hands later I got AK UTG, and even though I had about 14 BB's at that point, I went ahead and just shoved anyway, hoping to get looked up light. No such luck, though I was happy to take the blinds.

Now with a bit more room to maneuver, I opened to 550 with 55 on the button, and both blinds called. I couldn't afford to bet at a 984 flop, so we checked it down all the way, and amazingly my 55 held up. That's one of the perks of live poker: you get to showdown marginal hands that no good player would ever allow you to see a river with.

Accumulation

We'd been busting a lot of people from out table, and eventually another familiar face showed up: Allen Cunningham. I've played mid-stakes Razz with him online a few times, but had no NLHE experience with him. Everything I've heard suggests he's very good, though, and I definitely got that sense from him today. He's a quiet but likable guy and very focused at the table. He just kind of exudes competence and intelligence, which isn't a feel that I've gotten from a lot of the other well-known pros with whom I've played.

He started off fairly short and tight, but then won two big pots and seemed to open up a little. He'd just folded to a re-raise from the SB and opened to 600 the next hand when I found 66 in the SB with a stack of about 4000. I thought for a while about whether he'd be more or less likely to have a hand given that he'd just been re-raised, but then I decided that I had a good resteal stack with a pair against a kinda late position raiser and I was just going to stick it in. He asked for a count but folded before I gave him a number, which was fine by me.

After this hour, we finally got a reprieve from the doubling blinds. They stayed at 100/200 and we added a 25 ante. This was incentive for me to open up a bit, and for some reason the guys on my left started calling a bit less, which was perfect. I stole the blinds a few times, but didn't get into any big pots this level.

After another hour, blinds doubled yet again to 200/400/25. With about 6000 chips, I open completed 98s in the SB against a pretty bad player in the BB. He checked his option, and the flop came AT7. Most players, even bad ones, will raise an A in this spot pre-flop, so I often bet a flop like this with air. The straight draw just made it that much more attractive of a proposition. I bet 700, and he raised to 1400. Fuck you. All in. He stared at me for a while and folded angrily. Yeah I didn't think so, you little min-raising bitch.

"Works every time except the last," he muttered. The other annoying thing about live poker is the dumb shit people say. I had my Ipod on, but with the sound on fairly low. Although I heard him perfectly well, I wanted to give him a hard time for mouthing off to me, so I took the ear buds out and asked him to repeat himself, as though I were really interested in this little nugget of wisdom he'd just laid on me. Looking even more annoyed, he said, "That all in works every time except the last." I made a point of laughing really loud as though this was the first time I'd heard that and as though he were trying to be friendly.

A few orbits later, the same clown called an UTG raise from Cunningham and moved all in over a bet on a J75 flop. His AJ lost to Cunningham's 77, and I was tempted to repeat his stupid line back to him, but I behaved myself and kept quiet.

A very tight guy on my right made a donkishly huge open raise to 1800 from kind of late position, and I honestly considered folding AQ, but I just wasn't in the mood. Although this is often AK, it's rarely AA, and the possibility of AJ/AQ/maybe even smaller pairs and worse Aces convinced me I should shove for 9K. He folded, which was fine.

After that pot and a few blinds steals, I was finally sitting on a healthy stack again, and then got a pair of K's, the best hand I'd seen all day. I raised to 1200, and one of the loose bad players called in the SB. Thankfully, he'd luckboxed his way into a nice stack of his own, and I was licking my chops at the prospect of adding it to my own. The 456 flop was not exactly what I was hoping for, but when he led into me for 2500, I had a feeling he was trying to protect a pair rather than semi-bluff a draw, which meant he was right where I wanted him. I asked for a chip count, then moved all in. He called me pretty quickly with 22, and I busted him to win my largest pot of the tournament. It put me over 20,000 chips and probably in the top 15% or so of the remaining players. I didn't get a chance to count, though, as our table was broken and I had to take my newfound winnings over to another table post-haste. That's ok, my work there was done.

The Story Gets Good

Naturally, when I took my new seat, there were several dumb comments about how many chips I had. I heard one person say, "You and the 10 seat should play a big pot. Then we'd really have a chipleader." I glanced over to the dealer's right and saw a middle-aged guy in a beard and a Las Vegas hat sitting on a stack at least twice the size of mine. Then I saw the beer in his hand. Then I saw the way he was swaying in his seat and slurring his speech. Good lord, he was drunk off his ass and sitting on about $20,000 of cash equity! I was literally salivating as I stacked my chips.

Unfortunately, he wasn't playing as many pots as I expected, though he was making an ass of himself in other, often humorous, ways. For one thing, he was trying to flirt with a skinny but otherwise unattractive middle-aged dealer and asked her if she didn't use to do interviews for Cardplayer's website (if you've never seen their 'reporters', they are mostly attractive young airheads). She sort of laughed awkwardly, and he slurred, "You did, didn't you?!" and touched her shoulder. She jerked away from him quickly.

Then he tried to hit on a very attractive Eastern European woman who was serving drinks. He was tipping well and ordering a ton of drinks, so she would usually give him a little shoulder pat and a few seconds of conversation when she came by. All that friendliness evaporated pretty quickly after this interaction:

Drunk: "You've got a beautiful accent."

Hot Waitress: "Thank you."

Drunk: "Where are you from?"

Hot Waitress: "Ukraine"

Drunk: "Where's that, like Russia?"

Talk about the wrong thing to say. The look on her face was priceless. To her credit, she handed him his drink and walked off without another word.

I decided I should get on Drunky's good side, so I asked where he was from. "Right here. Well, Pahrump," he responded.

"I've been to Pahrump," I told him, which was true. My girlfriend and I had lunch there on our way to Death Valley back in February.

"That's where all the..." he kind of trailed off, as though he were about to say something inappopriate, and the whole table started laughing.

I quickly figured out what he was talking about: Pahrump has legalized prostitution, and it's brothels are a popular side trip for a particular type of Vegas tourist. I laughed and nodded along with him as though I'd known that all along. "Yep, I know," I assured him

The rest of the table assumed something else from this. "Of course he knows," I heard someone on my right say. "Why else would he have gone to Pahrump?" I may have tarnished my reputation, but I succeeded in getting on Drunky's good side.

He was also constantly forgetting when it was his turn to act and how much he ought to be betting or raising. Once, without even looking at his hand, he announced that anyone who tried to steal this pot was going to be in trouble. "Even you, Boston," he warned me with a smile. Everyone must have believed him, because the action folded to him in the SB. By this point, he'd lost interest and was looking around the casino. The dealer tapped him on the shoulder. He swiveled in his seat, teetered for a moment, regained his balance, and asked, in all seriousness, "Did I win the pot yet?" The whole table laughed, he raised, and the BB folded.

What Goes Up

The last significant pot I played at this level occurred when there were three limpers and I checked 52o on my BB. The flop came K74, and I figured I was done with the hand, but the action checked around, and a turn 3 brought me an open-ended draw. There aren't a lot of K's I'd expect anyone to be limping at this level, there were no flush draws on the board, and there weren't really even any plausible two pair hands for any of them. I, however, playing as the unraised blind, could have absolutely anything. I led out for 1600, and only the first limper called.

The river brought an 8, and I decided to follow up my bluff with one more big bet, thinking I could get him off of like 99 or 76 or something. I bet 5000, and he tanked for a while before moving all in. Whoops. A few players on my speculated that he might have had KK for a slow-played top set, which seems plausible.

The next blind increase was less than double for once, jumping only to 300/600/50. I tried opening AJs UTG to 1650, but an aggressive and seemingly competent young guy in the SB reraised to 5000, and I had to fold. I thought he might have been from 2+2, and after the table broke, he did indeed introduce himself as JP OSU.

I finally got to play a pot with Drunky when he raised my BB. Even though we weren't that deep anymore, I decided I was going to call him with anything and check-raise all in on most flops, simply because he was playing so erratically. He made it 2200, and I called with T8s. We went heads up to a K95 flop, which was ideal for my plan, assuming he'd bet anything but only call all in with a K or better. I guess I was wrong, though, because he checked behind.

A turn J gave me an open-ended draw, but I still wanted to check-raise all in, so I checked to him again. To my frustration, he checked it back again. A 7 on the river gave me the nuts, and I decided just to bet out 4000 and hope he'd feel obligated to call since he'd played so passively up to this point. Infuriatingly, he folded.

Worst Beat of the Day

My worst bad beat of the day had nothing to do with the cards I was dealt. It was having this second table break and getting moved away from the drunk with the massive stack.

I was still unracking my chips when I got dealt JJ. Someone in early position raised in front of me to 1800. A quick count told me I had about 16,000 chips, an awkward size. I decided just to call the raise. I was still getting my bearings at the table and hadn't even taken a look at the raiser or his stack.

We went heads up to a T53 flop, and he bet out 3500. Ugh. I looked over and saw he had about 9000 behind, meaning that his pre-flop raise had been for more than 10% of his stack. Ugh. If he was a knowledgeable player, he wouldn't be raising so much without a strong hand, and he wouldn't be betting this flop with like AK for 25% of his stack. Ugh. Maybe if I'd been at the table for a bit and knew something about this guy, I could have laid it down, but I'd put in more than 10% of my stack pre-flop as well, and now I couldn't bring myself to fold an overpair to one bet with such shallow stacks. I moved in, he called with QQ, and I was crippled.

The next hand, I open shoved 77 for less than 2 BB's and lost to KQ.

There's a $3K prelim event on Friday that I may play, but frankly I'm tempted to just to go play cash games instead. They had like three tables of 10-20 NL going yesterday, plus at least one 25-50 and 50-100, which meant that the best players weren't going to be at 10-20. I'm 90% sure that would be more profitable than the tournament, but for some reason I feel a strange compulsion to play the tournament anyway. We'll see.

By the way, JP OSU has final tabled the tournament along with Layne Flack, Nick Binger, and Pocket Fives' Basebaldy. He's 4/10 coming in, and they start play at 3PM today. Goooooooo JP!

WSOP Main Event: Day 3

I should be on my way to the Rio right now, preparing to nurse a sickly stack into a monster as I did on Tuesday. Instead, I am sitting in front of my computer trying to decide how to explain to all of you how it all came crashing down.

Yesterday morning, I felt on top of the world. I had undecupled my chips on Day 2 of the World Series of Poker and put myself in great shape to go deep at the biggest poker tournament of the year. Within a few hours, I’d have $20,000 locked up and a shot at much more. My starting table was going to be tough, with at least two strong players I knew fairly well from an internet poker forum. Nonetheless, I had 80,000 chips more than the next largest stack at my table, and my seat position was good as well, with the strongest players and biggest stacks on my right and the shorter, unknown players on my left.

Like any self-respecting white man in America, I am constantly seeking out ways to appropriate black culture for my own financial gain. Listening to some Jay-Z in the car, I hoped, would get me pumped up and help me perform my best. This morning, I intended to bring a knife to a fist fight and hold triggers to crews... metaphorically... at the card table.

I started the day in the 6 seat, which is right in the middle of the table and afforded me a nice view of all the action. Justin Rollo, a moderator of the 2+2 poker tournament forum and a really fantastic tournament player, was in the 2 seat. Matt Sterling, another 2+2 member and one of the top-ranked online tournament players, was in the 4 seat. A mid-stakes cash game player named Andy had the most chips after me and was seated to my immediate right in the 5 seat.

We were rapidly approaching the money bubble, the point at which the lowest cash prizes are awarded. This year’s payout structure is less top-heavy than it was last year, meaning that there is more money for the lower places. The top 621 finishers were all guaranteed about $20,000, which isn’t a lot relative to the $10,000 entry fee, but since many players won satellites into the tournament and didn’t actually invest $10,000 in it, I knew that quite a few would be very worried about busting out in, for instance, 625th place and winning nothing.

With my big stack, I’d hoped to get a table full of scared players whose blinds I could steal with abandon. There were a few at the table, but unfortunately I had to compete with Justin, Matt, and Andy, who all also recognized and wanted to take advantage of this dynamic. My plan for the day was to come out of the gate with guns blazing. I was going to be the one stealing blinds, and if the other good players at the table wanted a piece of the action, they’d have to get through me.

I knew that Justin in particular was pretty aggressive, and I planned to reraise him at the first opportunity. As it turned out, his first raise was against my big blind, and I had Ace-Queen, so it was how I would have played the hand anyway. He folded, though later told me he was contemplating a re-re-raise with Jack-Ten, and if he had, I would seriously have considered moving all in. That’s just how it goes when two aggressive players with a history lock horns.

Reraising Matt didn’t go over so well. At the 1200/2400/400 level, he opened to 6000 from late position, and I made it 20,000 to go with A9 in the small blind. He called and called a bet of 30,000 on Ks Ts 5d flop. I checked and folded the turn, my stack suddenly 50,000 chips lighter.

Stacks were still pretty deep though, so I took a few flops in position with speculative hands like small pairs and suited connectors, but I never connected with anything and had to keep folding to flop bets.

Andy, on my right, had also been playing a very loose and aggressive style. He was calling a lot of raises from Justin and Matt, and I’d been looking for a chance to punish him. Finally, at the 1500/3000/500 level, Justin opened for 9000, Andy called, and I reraised to 35,000 with Q4 on the button. They both folded. “Nobody can read you dudes like we do.”

On my next big blind, Andy raised to 8000 from the small blind, and I called with Js Ts. He was very aggressive post-flop, so I knew I could win a big pot if I caught well against him. The flop was Kd 6s 5s, and sure enough he fired a big bet of 18,000. I called with my flush draw, counting on either winning another big bet if I hit or maybe taking the pot away on the turn if he showed weakness. Unfortunately, it was a blank, and he fired 64,000 at me. I really felt like he was just pushing me around on a board where it would be tough for me to have a big hand, but at this point I wasn’t even sure I had enough chips left to make him fold if he had anything. There was also the danger that he was semi-bluffing with a better flush draw than mine, in which case I’d be in terrible shape. I threw away my hand angrily, leaving myself with only about 200,000 chips.

Desperate to pick up a pot, I raised to 9000 with 66 first to act. Not surprisingly, Andy called on his big blind, and we saw a flop of QT5. He checked and called a bet of 15,000. The turn was a J, and he checked again. I couldn’t expect my 6's to be good here, but this is a board where I, as an early position raiser, could easily have a monster hand like QQ, JJ, or TT for three of a kind or even AK for a straight. Since Andy didn’t reraise pre-flop, it was rather unlikely that he had a hand this strong. So I fired 35,000 at him, and he thought for a long time before finally folding. “Your reach ain’t long enough, dunny.”

Blinds jumped again to 2000/4000/500, and I was planning on slowing down with the reraises, which I probably should have done, but I found myself in kind of a weird spot. Matt raised the blind of a pretty weak player to 10,000, and Andy called. I had Ace-Nine on the button, and I felt like I could have the best hand here and regardless it was a decent spot to squeeze. I made it 40,000, Matt called instantly (that was very worrisome), and Andy folded.

I got an AJ7 flop, which gave me top pair, but my nine kicker meant that most likely any action I got on this board would be bad action, so when Matt checked, I was happy to check as well. The turn was a T, he bet 40,000, and I called. I would have been very unsure of what to do if he bet the river, but thankfully he checked. I checked as well, and he looked disappointed. I was hoping that was because I had caught him bluffing on the turn, but it turned out he was hoping to induce a bet from me on the river, because he showed me TT for a turned set. Ouch, down to 140,000. I’m lucky he played this the way he did or I could have lost even more.

At this point we were about 10 players away from the bubble and playing hand for hand, which meant that the dealer had to pause after every hand we played and wait for all 70 other tables to finish playing the hand as well before we could deal the next one. This was to ensure that the right players got paid, but it made the game move at an excruciating pace. I think we played maybe 15 hands in two hours before the bubble finally burst.

I had come into the day thinking that I was virtually a lock to make the money, but now I found myself with a below average stack and a bit of a conundrum. I wanted the $20,000, but I also wanted to take advantage of the many profitable situations that the bubble created for players willing to take risks. Andy had accumulated a ton of chips with his aggressive play and was now raising every single hand, so I wasn’t going to be able to steal cheaply from the scared players. My best bet to pick up chips was going to be to turn Andy’s aggression against him, but that would mean putting my neck on the line and risking elimination myself.

Hand for hand was so boring that Andy would sometimes get up and leave the table for a few minutes, since that was how long we generally waited between hands. He once failed to make it back to the table in time to steal, which meant I finally had the opportunity. I raised to 12,000 with Qc 3s, and a loudmouth kid from Florida named Randall called from the small blind. D’oh.

The flop was Jc 5c 2c, giving me a decent flush draw but not much else. Randall bet out 16,000. I felt like he was just trying to steal cheaply from me and didn’t have a hand that could call all in. But if I was wrong, it was likely to cost me $20,000. “All in.”

“Nice flush draw,” he commented as he threw his hand away. Phew. ”Don’t let me do it to you dunny cuz I overdo it.”

A minute later, Andy returned to the table. I told him he missed a hand and that I got to steal the blinds for once. He seemed genuinely upset about this. The very next hand, it was back to business as usual, with a 12,000 raise from Andy. Except this time, I had a pair of Jacks. The safe way to play them would be to move all in for about 140,000 now. Andy would almost certainly fold, and I could win about 20,000 chips with very little risk of getting knocked out on the bubble.

But Jacks were the best hand I had seen all day, and I really needed to win more than 20,000 chips with them. The smart thing to do was to give Andy some rope and let him hang himself, so I just called the raise. I was going to call a bet on any flop, even if three overcards to my pair came. Thankfully, I got a very safe 854 flop. He bet 24,000, and I moved all in. “I have a pair,” he told me. I stared silently straight ahead. “I think you were trapping me with a big pair. Were you trapping me” I’m behind. I’m sure I’m behind. But I want the table to know they can’t bluff me. I’m going to call if I’ve got a pair,” he told the table at large. “I call.”

“All in and call, table 26!” the dealer shouted for the benefit of the camera crews. Reporters from ESPN and various internet sites, plus random players from other tables, swarmed around us. We turned our hands face up, but had to wait for ESPN to set up the shot before seeing the turn and river. Andy showed K5 for middle pair, making me a solid 79% favorite to win a 300,000 chip pot. This also meant, however, that there was a 21% chance I would be eliminated right here, agonizingly close to a $20,000 payday, and go home empty handed.

The ESPN producer finally gave the signal, and the dealer showed us the turn, a harmless 9c. My odds of winning just improved by 9.5%. I breathed a sigh of relief when the river was neither a K nor a 5, giving me the best hand and a much needed double up. “No, you’re not on my level, get your breaks tweaked.”

“Do you think we’ll be on TV?” Andy asked me a little despondently.

I shook my head. “Only if you had caught a 5.”

Undeterred, Andy was right back at it next hand, raising to 12,000. This time I called with Js Ts. The flop was Qh 9h 6d, giving me an open-ended straight draw. Andy bet his usual 24,000, and I called. The turn was the Ac, he checked, and I bluffed him out with a bet of 55,000.

The hand after that, he called a raise from Matt, called a flop bet, bet 90,000 on the turn when Matt checked, and folded to check-raise all in. Just like that, he went from table chipleader with 500,000 chips to having barely 150,000. “Had a spark when you started but now you’re just garbage. Fell from top ten to not mentioned at all.”

Finally, the bubble burst, and the room erupted with cheers. I visited the restroom during the ensuing break, and a man at the urinal next to me remarked, “Nothing like a $20,000 piss.”

With their money locked up, the previously scared short stacks were suddenly very willing to double up or go home. We busted out a couple people from our table very quickly and got some new faces, including a somewhat well-known pro named Chip Jett. Chip had an artificial tan, frosted hair slicked back with a heavy gel, and a complete inability to sit still. He was constantly rocking from side to side in his chair, stacking and shuffling chips, and glancing nervously around the table. Despite all this, he actually turned out to be a pretty friendly guy.

To my left was a white guy in his early fifty’s who lived in Seoul, South Korea. He had won some Korean championship with like 600 players, but I have no idea how, because, though a hell of a nice guy, he was the most predictable player ever. He only played really big hands, and he always came in for huge raises that generally resulted in him winning nothing more than the blinds and antes. If he ever flopped top pair or better, or ever had Ace-King pre-flop, he would instantly move all in without regard for the size of the pot relative to his bet.

Naturally, this guy was a prime target for blind theft, but infuriatingly, he kept getting dealt the 1% of hands he would actually play whenever I raised him. On three occasions, he reraised my steal, ultimately showing me KK or AK. The fourth time, he just called me and then moved all in on a Q-high flop, showing me AQ. Damn it, man, how do you always have big cards?!?! He was very apologetic and kept showing me his monster holdings, assuring me he wasn’t trying to pick on me. Well you should have been, sir, because it was certainly my intent to rob you blind.

I gave him such a hard time about catching well against me that I’m pretty sure he let me steal from him once just out of pity. It was the fifth time I’d raised him, and before I did, I warned him, “If you have AK again, I might have to call you just out of spite.” He looked at his cards, smiled, and folded an Ace face up. Piece of advice, sir: if a guy raises you five times in a row, your Ace is probably good.

The entire 2500/5000/500 level was bad for me. Having to back down to the Korean constantly was costly, and Justin re-raised me twice as well, once showing Ace-King. I was pretty sure he was bluffing the other time, but I had 5-4 and didn’t feel like putting him to the test for all my chips, so I just folded. I never had any big hands and lost some money at showdown with JT versus AJ on a J high flop in a blind battle.

By the time we got to the last hour of the day, where stakes were 3000/6000/1000, and I was back down to about 220,000 and in a bad mood. I felt like I had played pretty well for most of the day, taken some big risks when appropriate, and still I had lost more than 100,000 chips. Everyone else was catching cards and hitting flops and I just kept getting dealt garbage or getting bad flops for whatever promising hand I held. Finally, I got Ad Qd in first position. It was the best hand I’d seen in ages, and I decided that since I was in first position and had been pretty tight for a while, I was going to represent an overpair post-flop if I got called. I raised to 16,000, and only the big blind, a young guy in Full Tilt Poker gear who had been pretty quiet, called. The flop was Ts 4s 2h. He checked, I bet 25,000, he raised me 25,000 more, and I moved all in for his last 175,000 chips. He called so quickly and so eagerly that I knew not only was I beat but that I couldn’t win even if I caught an Ace or a Queen.

“All in and call, table 26!” the dealer shouted, but now the bubble was over, and ESPN was no longer rushing to cover every all in confrontation, so thankfully this embarrassment was not preserved for posterity by video camera.. My opponent turned over 44 for three of a kind. He was a 99.6% favorite to win. My only hope was to catch either a 3 or a 5 on the turn, followed by the other card on the river to make a running straight. A 6 on the turn cut my odds down from .4% to 0%, and just like that, I had 27,000 chips, barely enough to pay the big blind of 6,000, which hit me on the next hand.

Action folded to Matt in late position, who raised to 16,000. The small blind called, and I threw in the last of my chips without looking at my cards. There was already 46,000 in the pot, so I was getting better than 2:1 on my money ,and it was very likely that Matt would re-re-raise to knock out the small blind get the pot heads up with me. If I could win at showdown versus him, I would triple up and have a workable stack again. “All in and call!” the dealer went through the motions of muttering, but it was such a small pot that he knew no one would care.

Matt showed Ace-Jack, and I turned over my hand to find King-deuce. Not bad for a blind hand. I had about a 35% chance of winning. My Korean friend patted me on the back. “King is coming. Just watch,” he told me. Sure enough, the flop was K85, and suddenly I was way ahead. The turn was a T, but an Ace on the river crushed my comeback.

“Nice hand,” I told both Matt and the guy on my right. I shook hands with my friends at the table, wished them luck, and stood up. “Get zipped up in plastic when it happens that’s it.”

Except that wasn’t it. I would have preferred go like Tony Soprano, a sudden black-out and then roll credits. Instead, I had to stand beside my empty seat like a rotting corpse while the dealer tossed the next round of cards to those still playing until a floorperson arrived to escort me to the payouts area.

It was after midnight, I was tired, disappointed, frustrated and angry at myself for making a stupid move. So what did I most want to do after busting out of the main event? If you guessed, “Spend an hour filling out paperwork and waiting in queues,” well, you were wrong, but you may be qualified to work at the Rio.

I’ve played enough tournaments to know the importance of patience, especially when it comes to my last few chips. The old adage is that ’a chip and a chair’ are all that is needed to win a tournament, and I had so recently made a big come back after getting short stacked that I really should have known better than to make a crazy, desperate bluff.

Now I had to sit, back against a wall, shoulder to shoulder with all the other losers, to wait for some crocodile-skinned bureaucrat to call my name. “Anthony Brooks?” It took me a minute to figure out that meant me. I was somewhat consoled by the fact that a fairly strong player showed up on bust out row right around the time I did. Although his name will be well-known to most poker enthusiasts, to the career paper shuffler behind the scenes at the Rio, he was just “Robert... Miz-arky?”

I finished 361st and won $34,664, showing a tidy profit even after deducting the $10,000 entry fee, which was itself a prize I’d won in another poker tournament. By any account, I’m very fortunate to make this kind of money playing a card game, and it’s always my goal to do something valuable with the money and free time that poker affords me. In the next month or so, I’ll be organizing and teaching at a free summer debate camp for public high school students and teachers in Boston, and then traveling to Chicago for a week to volunteer at a similar camp.

Thanks again to everyone who’s followed along and offered your encouragement and congratulations. Hopefully we can do this again next year!

WSOP 2007 Main Event: Day 2A, Part 2

Barry and goleafsgoeh were the two players who most concerned me at the table, and with one gone and one crippled, I was ready for total table domination. Except that we didn’t get to play even a single hand after the second break. No sooner had the tournament director announced “shuffle up and deal” than a guy known as the Grim Reaper, because he walks around breaking tables, deposited an armful of plastic chip racks in the center of our table and started passing out new seat assignments. I will say, though, that it was a pretty cool feeling carrying four full racks of chips across the convention center floor and feeling the envious eyes of every player in the room burning into my back.

There was no one I recognized at the new table and several weak looking players to my left, so I decided to carry on with my plans for domination. Blinds were now 800/1600/200, and a guy who seemed pretty aggressive moved all in for 24,000. Not on my table! I called with a pair of Tens. He turned over a pair of Jacks. Whoops. A flop of J55 left me dead to running quads, which I did not catch.

But no worries. A few hands later, I raised to 4500 with AA. The big blind raised to 12,000, leaving about 25,000 behind. Hoping to look like a bully, I grabbed a stack of orange chips and shoved it into the pot. He shrugged and called with KK. My hand held up, and I took down another good-sized pot and eliminated my third player of the tournament.

Next orbit, a hotshot looking British player raised to 5000 first to act. He had a stack of about 75,000, and I decided not to reraise him with my pair of Jacks because if he moved all in, I would feel like throwing up. We went heads up to a 5s 5h 4s flop. He bet 10,000, and I grabbed the trusty stack of orange chips (there were twenty of them in the stack, so this single pillar of my mountain of chips was worth 100,000) and moved it into the pot. He thought for a long time before folding. I may have lost some value here with the big raise, but there were a lot of turn cards I did not want to see (ie I did not have the Js), and I wanted the whole table to get the message: if you play a pot with me, you may well be playing for all of your chips.

I got to talking with another Poker Stars qualified at the table who turned out to be internet player Teacuppoker. His real name was Casey, so that’s what I’ll call him. Then a clean cut middle aged guy got seated to Casey’s left. The man glanced at my Poker Stars hat and asked me what my screen name was. I told him and asked him his. He pursed his lips. “Yeah, I don’t so much give that out.” What the [censored]? That’s fine if you don’t want to out yourself, but don’t ask for my screenname and then refuse to give me yours.

“So you’re one of those guys?” Casey asked him, seemingly bothered by the same discourtesy I was.

“Well there’s only a small pool of people who play 200/400, and game selection is a big part of my game.” 200/400?!?! This guy is big time.

“Am I at least allowed to know your real first name?”

“Adam. Adam Richardson.” That made him Admo from the 2+2 internet poker forum. I still didn’t know what name he played under online, but this was enough info for me that I didn’t feel slighted any more.

We talked a bit about the highest stakes poker games online, and I asked him if he ever played Brian Townsend, the high stakes player who showed up at my first table on Friday. He shuddered and laughed. “I quit Brian almost a year ago. You can ask my wife, I have a recurring nightmare where there’s a glitch in the software so that I can see his cards, and I still lose!” Good Lord, I am glad I got off that kid’s table.

I never played a big pot with Admo, but he did get me into some trouble. He opened for 4500, I reraised to 15,000 with AK in the small blind, and then the old man in the big blind, I think he was Greek, started counting his chips. He looked annoyed, and, and this was important, I don’t think he knew I was looking at him. I was in the 9 seat and he the 1 seat, so the dealer was between us. If he knew I was looking and looked annoyed, there would be a chance that he was acting with a monster holding like KK or AA. If he is genuinely annoyed, he’s more likely to have a slightly less strong hand like JJ, QQ, or AK. “All in,” he finally said.

Now Admo thought for a minute or two before folding. That still wasn’t enough time for me to make up my mind. There was now about 40,000 in the pot, and it was going to cost me 75,000 more to call. Although I’d have an above average stack if I called and lost, this was still the single biggest decision I’d had to make so far in the tournament. My gut was telling me to call, but in general you don’t make money by calling big bets from unknown old men with Ace-King.

I closed my eyes and recounted the pot. I took a deep breath. I opened my eyes and looked at the old man. He was staring straight back at me over his bulbous nose. It was an aggressive stare, another sign of weakness. When people want a call, they will try to look non-threatening or nervous. This time he definitely knew I was watching him, and now he was trying to look strong. I sighed and stood up. “Call.”

“Let’s see ‘em,” the dealer said. I turned over my Ace-King. The guy kept his cards face down. This is an annoying thing about live poker, no one ever wants to show his hand and at showdown there is always this big production over who is going to show first. Just turn your [censored] hand over. “Sir?” she prompted him.

He grunted something.

“What was that?”

“Keep them low,” he said in a heavy accent, and flipped TT. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had made the right call. Against a pair of T’s, my AK has 43% equity. I needed 39.5% to make the call correct. Flop Q85. Turn 5. River 7. TT is good.

The Greek beamed and shook my hand. “Nice hand,” I told him, nodding sagely and returning the hand shake. I sat back down, remarkably unflustered. So this is what it feels like to flip a coin for $100,000. And lose.

A few minutes later, I went over to talk to my girlfriend, who was standing in the spectator area about fifty feet away. “I just lost a monstrous flip.”

She gave me a sympathetic frown. “I saw you stand up, so I knew it was something big, but I couldn’t tell if you won or lost. The guy sat back down, so I didn’t think you eliminated him, but you were smiling.”

I took that as a big compliment. One of the toughest things about being a serious poker player is learning to deal with bad results. The goal is always to focus on making the right decisions, because in the long run, the money follows the odds and the best players win. In the short run, things can and do go wrong all the time. I can control my decisions, but I can’t control the cards, so there is no sense in getting upset over them. If I can accept a bad outcome in a gigantic pot at the World Series of Poker so well that my girlfriend of six years cannot tell from my body language whether I won or lost, then I am in the right mind set.

Hopefully, the table got another lesson: I’m willing to make a big call if you play back at me. Soon thereafter, I opened Qd Td against a weak player’s big blind, and he called. The flop came 8h 6h 3d, and he bet into me for 7500. When someone bets into me on a board like this, it’s often because he’s unsure of his hand and wants to take the pot down before you put in any more money and get more committed to your hand. Hell, I’ve two over cards, a backdoor flush draw, and a read. I call.

The turn was the Ad, a scare card for my opponent and a flush draw for me. He checked and folded to a bet of 15,000.

Despite losing the huge pot, I went into break with 280,000 chips. I’m 90% sure I would have been chip leader for the entire tournament if an Ace or King had fallen.

After break, a French player named Paolo was seated at our table. Blinds were now 1000/2000 with a 300 ante, meaning that there were 5700 chips in the pot before cards were dealt. I was really looking forward to stealing from the tight players on my left, and was already envisioning all those chips getting pushed my way when I heard a little French voice on my right say, “Raise.”

Whaaaaaaaaaat?!?!? Those are supposed to be my blinds to steal. We can’t have this. Paolo had put 7000 chips in the pot. I pretended to look at my cards and then announced, “Re-raise”, shoving 21,000 chips into the pot. Someone needed a lesson in etiquette.

The action folded back to Paolo, who quickly said, “All in.” Damn it. I looked at my cards, praying to see Aces. Instead, I tossed a Nine and a Seven into the muck. Paolo must have had a monster hand, to risk all chips like that against an unknown player with so little thought.

My next aggressive re-raise was against Casey, who raised to 5500 when I was small blind and the Greek was big. I made it 16,500 with King-Queen, and he folded.

Dominance at the table finally (and expensively) established, I started stealing like mad and meeting very little resistance. Only Casey showed a willingness to play back at me, and he had really bad timing such that I usually had hands when we tangled. Somehow, I finished the level with barely more than the 280K I had when it started.

After break, blinds were 1200/2400/300. My plan was to tighten up for the last level of the day and take advantage of my aggressive image to get paid off on any big hands now that the antes were smaller relative to the blinds. Unfortunately, my plans were once again spoiled by an untimely table break. On the plus side, this meant I got to run over a new table that didn’t know how aggressive I was.

Once again, I was already envisioning the pot getting shipped my way when some annoying guy on my right beat me to the punch, raising to 7200. Annoyed, I made it 21,000 with 54 off-suit on the button. Even if he suspects I’m up to something, this is a rough spot for my opponent. I’m brand new to the table, he’s got no idea how I play, he’s out of position, and his entire stack of 150,000 is at risk if he makes a bad read. He folded.

I put the same guy in another tough spot about half an hour later. He opened for 7200, and I just called with Ace-Jack offsuit. The flop was 965, all different suits. He bet 9000, which is a pretty weak bet for a board that coordinated. I had no piece of the flop, so I raised to 32,000. I’m representing two pair or better here, and if my opponent decides not to believe me, he’s either going to have to call and risk a big bet on a scary turn or shove his stack in a spot where he’s only going to get called by monster hands. There weren’t even any good draws on the board for him to semi-bluff all in with. After a long session of irritated chip shuffling, he folded, and I finished the day with 344,100 chips. Quite a long way from the 30,000 I had at the start.

There were 6,358 entries in this year’s main event. We stopped for the night with 351 remaining. Day 2B will probably have a few more than that, but when everyone plays together for the first time, there will likely be around 800 competitors remaining. First prize is $8.5 million, and I honestly feel I have as good a chance as anyone at winning it.

Oh, this will probably be meaningful to some of you. I later found out that the guy I bluffed in those last two pots was Robert Mizrachi, brother of Michael “The Grinder” Mizrachi.

WSOP 2007 Main Event: Day 2A, Part 1

I ended my Day 1 report by bemoaning my measly 30,000 chips but predicting that, “A lot will depend on how things go in the first few hours. If I can get off to a good start, I could easily double or triple up and be right back in contention.” Let’s just say I got off to a good start.

I was in the 1 seat, to the immediate left of the dealer, at my starting table. In the 2 seat was a young, pretty woman of Indian descent named Jigna. She was a little too loose, especially from out of position, but she was also tricky and kind of aggressive, which actually made her kind of tough to have on my left. She was generally very friendly and made the table fun.

To her left was Barry Greenstein. Many of you will recognize the name, but in case you don’t, Barry is one of the best and best known poker players in the world. He’s a regular in the largest cash games played anywhere in the world (I overheard him telling a guy he’d played with the night before that losing “twenty” wasn’t even worth mentioning), which is where he makes a very nice living. When he plays tournaments, he usually donates anything he wins to charity, which has earned him the nickname, “The Robin Hood of Poker”.

In the last year, I’ve developed a healthy disrespect for anyone whom ESPN tries to convince me is a good poker player. I’m not going to name names, but a lot of the people you see on TV are actually rather bad at poker, or at least far from world class. That is definitely not the case with Barry, though. I’m not thrilled to have him on my left, but it is an honor to play with him, and he’s a very friendly, humble, classy guy, which is much more than can be said about a lot of TV pros.

The only other person of note is a young guy who turns out to be internet player ‘goleafsgoeh’. We’ve played together online a few times, and he recognized me as soon as I told him my screen name. Also a very nice guy.

The first big pot I played, a kind of doofy looking guy opens for 3000 from middle position, and I reraise to 10,000 from the SB with Ace-King. He calls quickly, which worries me a little, but then I get a great A83 flop. The problem is that there aren’t a lot of hands that call my reraise and continue to give me action on this flop. He had previously folded an Ace face-up to a raise on an Ace high flop, so I didn’t think he’d pay off with a lot of worse hands here. If I bet now, I think he’ll correctly fold a lot of the time. I decided to check after a long pause, hoping to make him think I have a big pair like QQ or KK and am afraid of the Ace. He bets 15,000, which I call after a minute’s thought. The turn is a 6, and we both check. I checked again on a T river, figuring he was more likely to bluff than to call with a worse hand. He bet 15,000 again, I called, and he showed me A5. Oh wow. Calling my reraise with A5 is beyond awful. This guy is going to be good to have at the table.

Winning that pot put me back above average and gave me enough chips that I could start playing aggressively again. The next orbit, I raised to 3000 with AT in early position, and Greenstein called. Ooooh, my first pot with Robin Hood. Nothing fancy, he folded to a bet on a Q76 flop.

A little while later, the doofy guy raised to 3000 and got called by three players. Seems I wasn’t the only one to notice how bad he was. It was pretty clear those two didn’t have big hands, or they would have reraised him. Why not, if he will call with A5? And if he’ll open with A5, he clearly doesn’t need a big hand here either, which means this is a good spot for a squeeze play. I reraised to 16,000 with A4o on my big blind, and everyone folded.

Barry must have been quite card dead, because he was playing very tight, which is not usually his style. Then again, every time he did get enter a pot, everyone got involved, so I guess there wasn’t much else he could do. In the best example of this, he raised to 3000 first to act, and got called by no fewer than five different people. Having already made one squeeze play, I wasn’t going to attempt another in such an obvious spot, but then I found a pair of Jacks in the small blind. I re-raised to 20,000, prepared to call an all-in (unhappily) from anyone because I knew it would look like I was just making a play at the pot.

About ten minutes before the break, goleafsgoeh lost well over half his stack to a guy who made an unlikely three of a kind on the river. I felt kind of bad for him, but that’s poker. “I need the break, but I kind of wish it weren’t coming so soon,” Jigna whispered to me. I stared back at her, puzzled, and she nodded in GLGE’s direction. I looked over, and his face was bright red. He was actually on the verge of tears, but it kind of looked like he was, and he was clearly very upset. “He’s ready to tilt away the rest of his money now, but he’ll calm down during break,” she explained.

I’ve heard a lot of speculation about why there are so few female poker players. In my opinion, the rampant sexism in the poker community is a big part of it, but one common explanation is that many women lack the aggressive drive that’s so important to playing good poker. Clearly not Jigna’s problem, huh? Talk about a shark sniffing blood in the water. Conversely, some women have told me that they feel they have an advantage because they are more adept at reading and interpreting people’s emotional state than men are. It wasn’t hard to tell GLGE was upset, but Jigna certainly noticed it before I did.

After the first break, blinds were up to 600/1200/200. A guy in early position called the blind, I called with Qs Js, and then Jigna raised to 6000 in position. The first guy called, so I did too. The flop was all low cards, something like 853 with only one spade. We both checked to Jigna, who checked as well. Should have taken it when you had the chance, J. The turn was the As, giving me a flush draw and a good scare card to represent. The first guy checked, I bet 10,000, and they both folded.

By now I was up around 100,000 and feeling great. I opened to 3500 with a pair of 5's in early position and got called by both the A5 guy and the big blind. I fired 7500 at a Q73 flop and only the first guy called. The turn was another 7, and remembering the top pair I’d seen him fold, I thought maybe I could knock him off of pairs better than mine but lower than queens or even off of a pair of queens with a weak kicker by betting 21,000. Well, he either hit the 7 or didn’t believe me, because he shoved his last 60,000 into the pot, and I had to fold.

On the one hand, it certainly sucks to bluff off 30% of your chips. But plays like these have hidden payoffs down the line, especially at a tournament like the WSOP where you play with the same people for hours on end and most everyone is paying careful attention. A little while later, a pretty active player came in for a call of 1200, and a few others called as well. I had a pair of Queens in the small blind and raised 7000 more. Jigna folded her big blind, but the first caller quickly announced, “All in.”

Everyone else got out of the way, and I had a decision to make. Queens are a very strong hand, but some players do like to get trappy by just calling the blinds when they have Kings or Aces. This was a really big bet, something like 60,000 chips. If he wanted to be trappy, wouldn’t he have made a smaller raise to 20,000 or so? Ugh, but if I’m wrong, I’ll be crippled. Losing this pot would leave me only about 10,000 chips. Visions of the 2006 main event, where I ran Queens into Aces pre-flop early on day 4, danced through my head. “Call.”

“If you can call, you can win,” the guy told me with a frown, turning over a pair of 4's. So far so good. I’m an 80% favorite to win the pot, but still I hold my breath as the dealer turns over the flop. KT8, still ahead. No 4, no 4, no 4... my heart freezes in my chest as I see a small card come off the deck... thank God, just a 3. One more now, fade the 4... uh oh, another little one... but it’s another 3. My hand is good, and I take down my largest pot of the tournament so far.

A little while later, a kind of weak player called 1200. I raised to 6000 with a pair of Aces. To my delight, Jigna called on the button, and then Barry in the small blind started counting out chips. He reraised to 33,000. And I am holding the best possible hand. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

I asked how much he had left. He moved his hands so I could see, but I really needed an exact count to figure out how to play my hand, so I asked him to count it. He seemed annoyed by that but kind of half complied. He had about 50,000 behind. I felt like at this point I was going to get all his money whether I called or re-raised pre-flop, so my thoughts turned to Jigna. I’m representing a ton of strength whether I call or raise, and she’s probably going to fold almost anything no matter what I do. But I had to at least give her a chance to make a mistake. After much thought, I just called the raise. Jigna folded instantly.

The flop was JT7, not exactly what I wanted to see. If Barry had Jacks or Tens, he’s now a huge favorite. And my call of his reraise is so suspicious that he might be able to get away from Queens or Kings despite the size of the pot, since he can no longer count on being ahead of Jacks or Tens himself. Ugh, why didn’t I just reraise him pre-flop and get all the money in then? I got greedy. “All in,” he announced.

“Call!” I blurted out. The die was cast.

“You make a set?”

I shook my head and flipped over my Aces. He turned up Queens. Wowowowowow, there were nearly 200,000 chips in this pot, and I was an 88% favorite to win. Things got a little hairy when an 8 fell on the turn, as now a 9 or a Q on the river would give him a win, but it came a 7 and I eliminated Barry Greenstein from the tournament. He took it very well, shook my hand, and gave me an autographed copy of his book with his bustout hand illustrated inside the front cover. It’s a very nice troph... er, memento. I put up pictures at http://www.thinkingpoker.net/Bookpics.html if you want to see for yourself.

I want to emphasize here that I in no way outplayed Barry. In fact, I may have misplayed the hand and almost given him a chance to escape. This was just an unlucky spot for him, what poker players call a cold deck. If I had had Queens and he Aces, the hand would have gone down the same way, and I would have been the one to lose a monster pot. It was pure luck of the draw that I got dealt the best preflop hand when he was dealt the third best.

Here’s what Barry had to say about the hand on his blog:

“The very next round someone limped and the player in the cutoff raised. The button called. This time in the small blind I had Q Q. It was $6,000 to me and I had to decide to play them fast or slow. I decided he had been raising enough and had a good stack. He had been a decent player, and usually showed good hands. So I decided to play it fast. With three people in there I didn't want to call and see and ace or king come off. I raised big and he just called, which made me think he was trapping with aces. I was hoping he had A K. I just decided if an ace or king didn't come I would have to go for it. It was a bad flop - J 10 7. Now if he had jacks he also beat me. I kind of got myself stuck in the pot. I moved in my last $60,000. He did have aces. AND that was it.”

He says I was “a decent player”, so that’s kind of cool. But he also confirms my fear that on certain flops, he actually would have gotten away from his Queens. There’s no way he folds them pre-flop, so I think I really screwed up by trying to sucker Jigna in. And in fact, I’m lucky that I failed to rope her in, because she told me she folded 99, which would have made a straight.

Barry and GLGE were the two players who most concerned me at the table, and with one gone and one crippled, I was ready for total table domination.

WSOP 2007 Main Event: Day 1A

I left the house around 11AM on Friday bound for the Rio and the main event of the 2007 World Series of Poker. Vegas is experiencing record highs for the weak, with the thermometer topping out near 120 degrees. It's enough to leave me sweating after a two block walk to the car. As I cruised up I-15 with A/C on full blast, George Thorogood came on the radio. I'm not generally the sort to sing out loud, but this seemed like a good way to get pumped up, so I declared along with him that I was, "B-b-b-b-b-aaaaaad. Bad to the bone!" Then, sadly, an even more fitting song came on: Elton John's "Don't Go Breaking My Heart".

This year, 6000 people are expected to enter the $10,000 poker tournament. If that number proves accurate, then there will be 5999 broken hearts. No one enters the tournament without a dream of winning it, and in fact, everyone has a chance, no matter how slim, of actually taking home the bracelet. One of the keys to poker's appeal is that it blends elements of skill and luck. The best players win often enough to show a profit, but they still lose often enough to give everyone else a chance. Even though I believe I had a substantial edge over last year's field, I was still very fortunate to finish in the money. There were many players better than I who did not do as well, and many players worse than I who did better. That's poker, and heart-breaking as it can be, it's also the beauty of the game.

In the last year, I've improved a ton as a poker player. Nevertheless, it is more likely than not that I will win nothing in this year's tournament. After all, only 10% of us will win anything. A top player, and I am not quite in that echelon, might have a 25-30% chance of taking home a prize. This is why it is so important to focus on winning the largest prize possible, even if this means slightly increasing your chances of winning nothing at all. Since you will cash infrequently, it is crucial to make the most you can when you make anything at all.

After reporting on the three preliminary WSOP events that I played without cashing, I got a few concerned e-mails or phone calls asking me what was wrong. Not to say that I played flawlessly, but there's really nothing at all out of the ordinary about losing several tournaments in a row. I've played hundreds of poker tournaments on the internet this year and finished in the money in only 17% of them. This includes streaks of a dozen or more tournaments played without winning anything. Nevertheless, I've seen a return of about 35% on the money I've invested in this way. That's just how poker tournaments work: you lose most of the time, but occasionally you win big. Really big. The winner of the 2006 WSOP main event took home $12 million, the largest cash prize in sports history.

So that's what's at stake as I slide into my seat just before noon. When the tournament director announces "shuffle up and deal", four of the ten seats at my table are still empty. This is not a good sign. Only very good players can afford to be blase about showing up on time for a $10,000 poker tournament.

This year, we start with 20,000 chips, and the blinds begin at 50-100. I try to size up my table immediately. I identify at least two players who, though unknown to me, seem to know what they are doing. Thankfully, they are both to my immediate right, meaning that they will almost always act before I do when we play pots together, which gives me a tremendous information advantage.

My goal is to avoid playing pots out of position against these guys, but as it goes with the best laid plans, this one was quickly laid to waste. The guy two seats to my right was very young, probably younger than I am, and very aggressive. He was opening literally 50% of the pots with a raise to 350, which meant that if I wanted to play any hands at this table, I was going to have to tangle with him. Early on, he raised to 350 on the button (meaning he was last to act before the blinds, and could therefore raise an even wider range of hands than usual), and the other good player called in the small blind. In the big blind, I had Ace-Queen, which is a huge hand relative to the stuff these guys could be playing. Still, I'd be happy taking the pot down pre-flop, so I made a pretty large reraise to 1500. Thankfully, the button folded. The small blind called, but that was less worrisome, because I had position on him.

The dealer spread a flop of Q95, all different suits. This gave me top pair with the best possible kicker, which is a monster hand in this situation. There were so few draws on the board that I felt comfortable checking as well when my opponent checked to me, figuring that he'd be more likely to pay off with worse hands if I didn't bet the flop.

The turn was a 3 and put a possible diamond flush draw on the board. My opponent bet 3500, which I called. The river was the 8 of diamonds, and he checked to me. I contemplated betting my pair of queens for value, but his turn bet was so big that I think it's almost impossible for him to put me on a worse hand than the one I have. If the diamond draw had missed on the river, I could bet hoping he would put me on a busted flush draw, but here, I just turned over my hand. He mucked, and I won my first pot of the 2007 WSOP, and a sizeable one at that.

The young guy two seats to my right kept up the aggression, and I reraised him once pre-flop as a bluff. His constant raising had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the table, either, and they started playing back at him as well. Around this time, I found myself holding pocket Tens one off the button and staring at yet another raise from this guy. I should have reraised him, but for whatever reason I elected to just call and play a pot in a position. A Danish guy who had been quiet and seemed like a solid player also called in the SB, and the three of us saw a 8d 6d 3h flop. The aggressive guy bet 800, I raised to 2500, and then the Dane, whom I expected to fold instantly, started counting chips. That's not good. Finally he put out 2500 for a call, and the other guy folded.

Wow. I stared at him, trying to figure out what he could have to call that raise from out of position. He wasn't getting the right odds to play just a flush or straight draw, and he seemed smart enough to know that. But with so many draws possible, I'd expect him to put in another raise with a monster hand like three of a kind rather than give two players a chance to outdraw him on the turn.

It seemed to me his most logical holding would be either 86 for top two pair or something like 9d 7d for both a flush and a straight draw. Based on that read, I should have bet the 9h that fell on the turn, but his call scared me so much that I feared a check-raise and declined to bet. The river was the 7d, making the final board 36789 with no flush possible. My pair of T's had suddenly turned into a straight, the second best possible hand. The Dane bet 3000, and I raised to 11,000. On the one hand, this is a really big raise that I can't expect him to call very often. However, when I raise here, I am representing either a straight or a bluff. Whether he calls with worse hands depends on the frequency with which he thinks I am bluffing. If I make a smaller raise, it will be harder for him to think I am bluffing, and consequently easier for him to fold. Thus, I raise big because that is the only way my bet could plausibly be construed as a bluff. He folded 9d 7d face up, and I won another big pot.

Just as I was starting to feel good about things, a young guy in a Cardrunners sweatshirt sauntered over to take one of the empty seats. Cardrunners is a subscription-based website where you can watch instructional videos, with commentary, of some excellent internet poker players as they do their thing. This sweatshirt already identified the new player as one of a few individuals, and now I just needed to figure out which he was. I watched as he passed his seat card to the dealer, and I saw the name I was praying not to see... Brian Townsend, AKA aba20, AKA sbrugby.

Brian is the best poker player you've never heard of, and if you have heard of him, well then he may just be the best player you have heard of. He's a regular winner in the largest poker game available online, which is a no limit hold 'em game with $300 and $600 blinds. The buyin for the game is $60,000, and readers of Brian's blog (http://www.cardrunners.com/fusetalk/blog/index.cfm?forumid=31) know that it is not unheard of for him to win or lose hundreds of thousands of dollars in a day. This guy voluntarily plays nosebleed stakes heads up with Phil Ivey... and wins.

I was not thrilled to be at his table. Thankfully, he was playing very tight, and I was able to stay out of his way. Nevertheless, I decided to investigate a rumor I'd heard that you could request a table change at the WSOP. I stood up from the table, found a floor man, and asked him if this was true. He looked at me like I had two heads. Oh well, guess I'm stuck with these guys.

To my great joy, however, our table was one of the first to get broken down so that we could be redistributed into recently vacated seats. My new table looked much less scary, populated primarily by a bunch of middle-aged small business owner types. These guys are great because they are usually poker enthusiasts with substantial non-poker income who can afford to play the main event even though they often cannot count on having a positive expectation.

To my left was a young, very tricky, loose, and aggressive player who was either Mexican or from the Mississippi Delta, I never did figure out which. He knew a bunch of the staff at the Rio and was almost certainly a professional poker player. He gave me a ton of headaches at this table, and I left with a lot of respect for his game.

To my right was one of the strangest looking men I have ever seen in my life. I think he was either an oil tycoon, a pirate, or both. He was a short, rotund, well-dressed, heavily-jowled older man sporting a large white Stetson hat and, I kid you not, an eye patch. This wasn't one of those temporary deals you get when you have eye surgery, this was an honest-to-goodness shiver-me-timbers pirate patch. Here's a picture, though unfortunately the patch is a little tough to see: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=worldseriesofpoker&tcount=26&scount=7&gallery_id=753475&image_id=6.

To his right was a guy from Eugene, Oregon with a shaved head and goatee who looked eerily like a tall, white version of my friend Dave. Also like Dave, this guy was a Raiders fan. Unfortunately, Tall White Dave didn't last long, and he was replaced by a kind of annoying guy named Cory. I didn't play many hands at this table, but still managed to go into the first break with over 30,000 chips, an increase of 50% from my starting stack and a great spot to be in relative to the average, which was only like 22,000 at this point. I even heard a rumor that the chipleader had less than 40,000, though that seems unlikely.

After break, blinds doubled to 100/200 and things went downhill quickly for me. I finally got dealt a pair of Aces and raised to 600 from early position. Two guys who both owned car dealerships called me, one from late position, the other from the small blind. I bet 1500 on a Tc 7s 5c flop, and only the small blind called. He checked and called 3000 on a 6d turn. The river was an ugly Qc, completing a possible flush draw. My opponent bet into me for 7000, and I reluctantly folded. He later got caught bluffing in a similar spot, so I may have folded the best hand, but it seemed reasonable at the time. This, combined with a few aggressive moves that got snapped off by the tricky guy on my left knocked me down around 20,000.

Not a whole lot more happened in this level, and I went to break with a slightly below average stack of 22,000. I came back to find that blinds had doubled again to 200/400. This Cory guy I mentioned who had replaced Tall White Dave at the table seemed like he was going to be annoying. There were two car dealers at the table, and although Cory wasn't one of them, he sure looked like a man who could sell you a used vehicle. Here's a picture: http://www.pokerstarsblog.com/2007/07/2007-world-series-more-glory-for-cory.html. As soon as he sat down, he started running his mouth about nothing in particular, just kind of trying to loosen up the table and saying stuff like, "Who's having fun? Everyone's so serious. Eh, look at this guy, he keeps looking at me like he wishes I would shut up. Hahaha." He was talking through even really straight-forward decisions every time he played a hand and generally wasting everyone's time.

Most of that stopped after a little while except when the cameras were around. I didn't know this at the time, but this Cory guy made the final few tables at the 2005 main event and went deep in a few other tournaments (there's a little bio of him in the link above). For whatever reason, ESPN was always checking in on him, and even though he mostly quieted down at the table, he'd always start yammering again when they were around. I tried to call him on it but to no avail.

I spent most of this level pretty card dead, and the few times I did make a play at the pot, nobody believed me. Then I finally got a pair of Aces, raised, and everyone believed me.

There was this Frenchman at the table who was intermittenly reading a book (specifically I think it may have been a Star Wars novel!) while at the table. He'd shown down some weird hands after raising from early position, so I wasn't giving his raises a ton of respect. He opened to 1100, but from what I could tell, though he didn't have his book out at the time, he wasn't paying much attention to the hand in question. A kind of loose, middle-aged guy from Washington State called the raise, and the action folded to me on the button. I was holding King-Queen and sitting on a stack of 16,500. This seemed like a good spot to make a squeeze play, because I'd be putting in 25% of my stack against an early position raiser, which looks very strong, and although I would appear committed to the pot, I'd actually have room to fold if the Frenchman moved all in.

I raised to 4500 after some thought, and the Frenchman folded quickly, as I believed he would. Then the Washingtonian stared me down and called. Those who don't play tournament poker may not grasp the significance of this, but it is very odd just to call a big bet like this out of position. At this point the size of the pot is about equal to the size of my stack, so I would expect the guy who is going to be out of position post-flop either to fold or to move all in on me rather than putting himself in an awkward spot.

Based on how he's played the hand, it looks an awful lot like he has a medium pocket pair. Pre-flop, my hand is essentially a coin flip against any pair Jacks or worse, so I would have been willing to call his all in. I would rather not flip a coin for my tournament life, but at this point there was a lot of money in the pot, so it would be worth it. However, the flop came out J83, and only then did my opponent bet into me. While I could have gotten all in pre-flop, with five cards to come, I now had only two chances to hit my King or Queen and consequently had to fold to his bet. It really sucks to have to fold at this point, leaving myself with only 12,000 chips, but I do think it's the correct play, and it's what I did.

If he's going to call my reraise with a medium sized pair, then this is actually a really good way for him to play it. However, I think he should be folding to the reraise, which is why I made it in the first place. If I have two high unpaired cards like KQ, AQ, or AK, he's got 50% equity in the pot, so given the hand I actually had, he played well. However, the problem for him is that I might also have a pair higher than his, in which case he has only about 20% equity. I could very easily have JJ, QQ, KK, or AA with this preflop action, in which case he is going to lose a big pot. But in this case, he was fortunate that I had indeed missed the flop with my overcards, and he won the pot.

So I went into the dinner break with 12,000 chips and a bad taste in my mouth. It was really frustrating, after getting off to such a good start, to find myself short-stacked so quickly. On the plus side, though, my dad and brother had come out to Vegas to watch me play and generally to hang out, so it was good to see them. We got dinner at the Sao Paolo Cafe. Well, actually, just I ate, as they'd already eaten, but I bought my brother a beer, because he is now 21. When they came to watch me last year, he kept getting carded and kicked out of the Rio. He was like three months shy of 21 at the time. This year, now that he's legal, no one's carded him yet.

Blinds were still 200/400 after dinner, but now every player had to ante 50 chips every hand as well, which made stealing the pot pre-flop even more important. My chip stack would afford me barely ten times around the table, meaning I wasn't quite desperate, but I needed to get some chips soon. I folded for the first orbit or so, then got dealt the King of hearts and the Queen of clubs in middle position. I came in for a raise of 1100. The tricky guy on my left called, and the Frenchman called in the small blind. Man, I am just getting no respect at all. I raise 10% of my stack and get called twice?!?!?

The flop came out J84, all hearts. Holding the K of hearts, I was satisfied with this. There was now 4200 in the pot and 10,000 left in my stack. My goal in this situation to get someone to take a stab at the pot, at which point I can raise all in. I may get the better to fold a pair, and even he does call, I'll probably have an almost 50% chance of winning the pot. The Frenchman checked, and I checked, hoping the aggressive guy would bet. He did not oblige, but the turn card was a King, giving me top pair with a good kicker and also the second best possible flush draw. I checked again, as the pain in my neck on my left seemed almost unable to keep himself from bluffing after getting checked to twice. But still, he didn't oblige. The river was something irrelevant, and possibly I should have just bet my hand for value at this point, but I checked one more time hoping against hope that the guy might bluff. No such luck, though. He checked, and I won the pot but no further money. It's really the hallmark of a good player that he was always betting and raising when I didn't want him to but that I couldn't induce a bluff from him when I needed it.

Captain Ahab on my right got eliminated and was replaced by a pretty well-known tournament player who's had success both live and online. I don't know his real name, but he plays under the online moniker UGotPzd. One of the car dealers at the table recognized him and pronounced his screen name "You Got Pezzed." Uh, sir, I don't think that's what he was going for, but it's cute that you thought that.

The car dealer, it turns out, was none other than internet player brsavage, who has in the past been ranked the number one tournament player online by both Poker Stars and an online site called Pocket Fives that tracks such things. Brsavage has recorded some videos for PokerXFactor, a site similar to the Cardrunners one that I mentioned before. I actually stirred up some bad blood with him by publicly questioning some of his advice in a kind of flippant way on an internet forum, but quite a few very strong players agreed me about the content of what I said, and Savage himself didn't even really dispute it. He's got no idea who I am, but I've got some idea of how he plays, which is nice. He certainly held his own at the table, but I didn't think he was anything special.

I also had a bit of history with UGP. From what I know, he is a smart and courageous player who is very willing to make a heroic call if he suspects you are bluffing. Though he had no idea who I was, just from the fact that I was wearing a Poker Stars hat he could probably make some informed guesses about how I play. He was open raising quite a lot pre-flop, but I knew he knew that with my stack I was going to be looking for an opportunity to make a move on him. The implication was that I needed to play a wider range of hands for value and not look to bluff him.

Fortunately, I got dealt a pair of Aces on one of the many occasions when he opened to 1200. I very rarely slowplay a hand, in part because it's unnecessary and in part because I am so aggressive with weaker hands that I can usually get action on my monsters. With about 14,000 chips, however, it was going to be awkward to reraise here. Even UGP's penchant for heroic calls might not be enough to get me action if I raised. So, I just called. We went heads up to a flop of 7h 4s 3s. He bet 2200, and I moved all in on him. This was going to be a key hand for me. If I could get a call here, I'd be a huge favorite to win and double my stack, which would get me back to average and buy me a lot of breathing room. I knew UGP was expecting me to make a move on him, and this was a great board for it, as there were a lot of draws I could be semi-bluffing.

As he stared me down, I did my best to remember how I felt, and hopefully therefore how I looked, when I made my unsuccessful bluff against the Swede in the 5K event. I planted my face on my hands, which were balled into fists obscuring my mouth. Through my dark sunglasses and under the rim of my black Poker Stars hat, I stared hard at the felt. My heart was legitimately pounding, because although I knew I had the best hand, I was nonetheless putting my life on the line for the first time. If my opponent did call and got lucky, he could eliminate me right here. And even worse, there was the risk of him folding when I so badly needed the double up. I just hoped that UGP, seated next to me, could feel the heavy, rhythmic thumping through the table.

Author Mike Caro, known as the mad genius of poker, argues that players have a "calling reflex." It's more exciting to call than to fold, so everyone looks for excuses to call. If you suspect your opponent is about to fold, he suggests, you might as well do something to trigger his calling refles. If it doesn't work, well, he was going to fold anyway, so no harm done.

I swallowed hard and shifted in my chair. "Call," UGP announced, tossing 10,000 chips defiantly into the pot and flipping over a pair of 9's. I turned up my Aces, and he nodded. "I was afraid of that." When the money went in, I was a 90% favorite to win the pot. Only if the turn or river was one of the last two nines in the deck could my opponent pull ahead. It is very, very rare to get your money in this good. I was fortunate both that my opponent had a pair as good as 9's and that we got a flop with no cards higher than his pair, making it easier for him to make a big call against me.

My hand held up, and suddenly I was back in good shape. Still, you can see what a role luck plays. Even after a lucky pre-flop match-up and a lucky flop, there was stil a 10% chance that I could have been eliminated from the tournament right there. And to win an event like this, a player will need to survive much worse than 90% odds many times. So there's a lot that can go wrong to cause you to get your money in bad, and a lot that can go wrong even after you've gotten your money in good.

But I digress. I was rolling now, and when I got another chance to play a pot with UGP, I took it. He open raised to 1200 from the small blind, and I called 800 more with Queen-Jack in my big blind. The flop was a very favorable KQT. He checked, and I checked also. The turn was an 8 and put a second spade on the board. He checked and called a bet of 2000. The river was the Qs, giving me trips. It also completed a possible flush, but there wasn't much reason for me to worry about that. UGP checked, I bet 6000, and he called and mucked his hand disgustedly when I showed. I'm thinking he probably made a pair of Kings.

Next orbit, I reraised one of his raises with a pair of Tens. He looked at me, said, "Oh you're going to be trouble, aren't you?", and called. The flop was a beautiful Kh Th 7s, giving me three of a kind. There were way too many draws out there for me to trap, and with him already suspicious that I was bluffing, no reason I'd want to trap anyway. I guess he didn't have anything, though, because he checked and folded. Oh well.

I got moved away from the table before UGP could take any revenge on me, and the new table looked pretty favorable for me. There were a lot of short stacks and only one guy who had more than my 50K. That guy, however, had well over 100K and was probably at that time the chipleader in the entire tournament. Everything I observed about his play in the next few hours suggested that he completely deserved it.

Adam was in his early 20's and wearing an old Ramones t-shirt that hung shapelessly on his skinny frame. What really struck me about him, though, was the intensity with which he focused on everything that happened at the table. He didn't excessively waste time on any decision the way Cory had done with his grandstanding, but Adam always took a second or two to consider his options before doing anything. Often, his brow would furrow and his eyes narrow as he pondered all of the facets that might affect how a hand plays out: which players are involved, from which positions, how many chips do they have, who looks uncomfortable, who's been playing tight, who just lost a pot, who seems to have what level of poker knowledge, and on and on. I've just never seen someone so intensely focused on a poker table before (thought I've heard Phil Ivey has a very similar table presence), and it was really impressive/intimidating to watch him. The term 'shark' was invented to describe poker players like Adam.

For the most part, I was staying out of his way. Early on, I took a few flops against him when I was in position since we were the two big stacks at the table. I won most of these pots, but he got away cheaply every time I had a strong hand, so I didn't take him for much. When two good players clash, losing the minimum can still be considered a victory for the player who is out of position, so I did not take great pride in outplaying him, though I was glad to have the chips.

I went into the fourth break with high spirits and 50,000 chips, more than four times what I'd had two hours ago and the most I'd had all day. When we returned, blinds were 300/600/75, and this is when things started to go downhill again. I wasn't doing much steal raising, but nonetheless, I was getting called or raised almost every time I opened the pot. My good starting hands kept getting bad flops in multi-way pots where I pretty had to give up.

I wussed out of making a big river bluff against Adam in one hand. I had gone for an early position steal with Td 8d, as early position raises usually get a ton of respect in live poker and I wasn't having much luck from late position. But no such luck here, either, as one guy called in position and Adam called from his BB. The flop was 994 with two clubs, but I bet at it anyway, because my early position raise represented a big pair. The first guy folded, but Adam called. This is a tricky spot here because Adam could have a 9, a pocket pair, or a club draw, and he would play all three differently on the turn. The turn was an off-suit K, and we both checked. This is a good card for me to represent, but not on the turn. If I had hit the K, I'd probably check it because of the chance that Adam has or chooses to represent (since he knows I will rarely have) three of a kind. The river put a third club on the board, and Adam checked it again. A bluff here was going to cost me 25% of my chips, and of the hands that I put him on after the flop call, I felt he would only fold the pocket pairs, not trips or a flush. So I checked, and he showed me 66 for a winning hand.

The bluff probably would have worked, but even that isn't a guarantee, and just because it would have worked doesn't mean it would have been a good idea. I have to play against a range of possible hands my opponent could have, not just the one that he turns out to have, and in this case, I felt like there were a lot of ways for him to have hands that were not going to fold to a river bet. That's what makes good players so tricky to play against.

I was card dead for the entire two hour level, and between the blinds and antes eating away at me and a few aggressive moves not working out well, my stack got ground down to around 28,000.

An interesting dynamic can occur on the last hand before a break. For this particular one, we were going to get only 15 minutes, so a lot of people were looking for an excuse to fold and cut out a few seconds early to dodge lines at the bathroom or food store. Because of this, smart players will often steal raise very aggressively, expecting that no one will play back at them without a stronger than average hand, electing instead just to give up and go to the bathroom.

The first six players all folded and stood up to leave. Adam open raised to 1700, his standard raise size, with only three players left to act behind him. I was one of those players, in the small blind, where I held King-Jack. I contemplated my options. King-Jack is a good but not great holding, but I felt like Adam could be raising almost anything here. If that's true, then I'm going awfully easy on him by just calling and letting him see a flop in position rather than reraising and putting some pressure on him. But if I do reraise, I open myself up to getting re-re-bluffed if Adam suspected what I was up to. Finally, I decided I didn't want to play out of position against him and that it had been so long since I had played back at him that my reraise should command some respect. I announced, "re-raise" and pushed 5500 chips into the pot.

Adam stared at me for a few seconds, and then grabbed a tall stack of orange chips, worth 5000 each, and deposited it into the center of the table. He was putting me all in. While it's possible he was bluffing here, I also think he would play most if not all of the hands that dominate mine, such KQ, AJ, AK, JJ, QQ, KK, and AA, like this as well. The presence of those hands in his range meant that I couldn't call off the rest of my chips here. I sheepishly folded and left for break with just 22,000.

It was more of the same when I returned, except blinds now were 400/800/100. I managed to steal a few pots to keep my head above water, but all in all it was an awkward stack size to play, as I couldn't afford to open pots without a legitimate hand but was a little too deep to reraise all in on a semi-bluff. Plus, there were a lot of shorter stacks at the table getting desperate and moving all in at the drop of a hat, so mostly I was just hoping to get dealt some cards that would enable me to snap one of them off.

That never happened, but the experience of sweating out these last two, grueling hours (the round began at about 1:30 AM) helped the table to bond a bit. Also, since we knew we only had a few more hours of playing together, we were less guarded than we'd been earlier in the night. Across the table from me were two Mexican guys, one a real friendly and funny middle-aged man named Javier, and the other an older guy who didn't say much, in part I think because he didn't speak English very well. The rule is that only English can be spoken at the table once cards are in the air, so Javier would be talking in Spanish with the other guy while the dealer was shuffling, and then as soon as he picked up the cards, Javier would transition seamlessly into English without missing a beat and continue his story. He amused the table several times with this little trick.

I wasn't aware of any stereotype about old Mexican poker players, but this guy turned out to play just like most of the old white men and the only old black man I've every played with, which is to say that he was very very tight pre-flop. Consequently, I was not thrilled to find Ace-Queen after this guy had already open raised to 3200. However, the raise was coming from middle position, I had a good stack size to shove on him, and Ace-Queen was the best hand I'd seen in four hours (that last point shouldn't matter, but psychologically, hands start looking stronger than they otherwise would when you've had nothing but garbage for hours). If he was really tight, he might even fold something 99 or TT that would have 50% equity against me. So I moved all in for about 22,000, and he stared at me for a moment before pitching his hand. Phew.

After that, I got away with another steal or two, including taking a pot away from Adam on the flop, and ended the day with 31,100 chips, less than I had at the end of level 1 and about half the average stack. That was a little discouraging, but at dinner I didn't even think I was going to make it through the day, so I can't really complain. I had a good time, got to play with a wide variety of players, met some interesting characters, and played solid poker. The first day was a real roller coaster ride, where some times everything went my way and other times I couldn't catch a break. On the whole, though, I don't feel I made any big mistakes, and I've lived to fight another day.

I play again tomorrow, at which point two thirds of the field will already have been eliminated. Blinds will start at 500/1000/200, so with a stack of 30,000 chips, I'll be in jeopardy from the get-go. A lot will depend on how things go in the first few hours. If I can get off to a good start, I could easily double or triple up and be right back in contention.

It was 4AM when I left the table, and 4:45 by the time I had parked the car and begun walking down the street to the house where my girlfriend is staying. Even at night, Vegas in July is stiflingly hot, easily in the high 90's, but it can also be quiet and beautiful. The desert sky was crystal clear, with rarely a cloud in sight, and the sun, just beginning to rise, painted the distant horizon a brilliant bluish pink.

WSOP or Bust

I arrived at the Rio around 3:30 PM on July 4th. I had $4000 in tournament lammers in my left pocket and $3400 cash in my right. My objective was to play satellites (they were running a bunch of $500 and $1000 megas, including one at 4PM) until I was up to $10,000, at which point I would register for the main event and then either pick up my gear from the Poker Stars suite at Treasure Island, or, if it was too late, head home and swing by TI the next day.

When I arrived, however, I found a tournament registration line stretching out the door and around the corner. I knew the sats were going to be soft, but that also meant they were going to be boring, and waiting in this line would crush my hourly rate. The line for single table sats didn't look much better, so I decided to check out the cash game scene. 5/10 NL had open seating, so my mind was made up.

I bought in for $1500, and as I was stacking my chips, I watched a young Asian kid with a big stack, probably like $4000, get 100 BB's all in with AK no flush draw against an old man on an A-high, monochrome flop. Yipes, this is live poker 101: don't stack off to old men with top pair and no draw. Target acquired.

I was playing my usual game of raising limpers with position and firing at flops to chip up, but then lost a sizeable pot to a Brit who slow-played KK and found myself with about $1000. The guy who had limp-called KK before limped to a straddle, a loose guy who was Swedish by citizenship but not by ethnicity limped behind, and I made it $120 with KTo. They both called, and the flop came out KT8r. Checks to me, I bet $250, they both call. Turn off-suit deuce, they check to me, I shove my last $650 or so, and the first guy tanks. The Swede folds out of turn, which is pretty rude but actually helps me in this situation since I want the call. After like 5 minutes the Swede calls the clock on the Brit (they had played together before and the Brit thought it was funny) and the guy finally calls, telling me he has no pair. Whoops, maybe I didn't want that call after all. Turn is another deuce, though, and I'm shipped a nice pot.

A little while later, this tool takes a seat next to me. He's got the sunglasses, the hair gel, fashionably unbuttoned shirt, and a ball cap that reads "Philly" in what I guess was supposed to look like graffiti letters. He clearly thinks he's hot [censored] as he takes a fat roll of bills from his pocket and peels off twenty. Then, in completely unballer fashion, he thinks better of it, puts half the bills back, and buys in for $1000.

Meanwhile, his girlfriend is pulling up a seat slightly behind him and to the right. Note that this still takes up some space at the table, as the guy is sitting considerably closer to me than he otherwise would be, and because he is lefthanded, he jostles me several times as he stacks his chips.

His lady didn't have to be unattractive. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and large breasts. But she was a thickalicious girl in a very short skirt that highlighted her thunder thighs. Her plunging neckline revealed quite a lot of cleavage, but her completely unsupportive bra gave her a bad case of pancake boob.

I was not happy with this guy for depositing his stubbly face and his busted girlfriend in my peripheral vision, and I resolved to make him regret it.

He posts $10 in the CO, and another new player at the table has already posted $10 as well. Action folds to the tool, who raises his post to $50. I resolve to pop him with any two from the button. I find 72o, but a deal's a deal, so I make it $150. He glances at my stack, ponders a moment, and calls.

The flop comes 444, and immediately he asks me "Did you make a full house, too? I made a full house. I check." I hate it when people run their mouths during a hand. After a few moments of thought, I bet $180, and he calls.

Turn is a T, and he checks. [censored] Zeebo Theorem can I really get this tool to fold whatever [censored] full house he has? If I really had a big pair I'd just price him in on the turn and river since he's only got a pot-sized bet left in his stack and probably no understanding of what "pot odds" actually means. But that's exactly why I can't run a bluff that way, and if I just shove now, he'll probably put me on AK like the live "pro" tool that he is. So after much thought I check behind.

The river is a K, and I get as excited about this as I would if I really had AK. "Damn," he says with deliberately, conspicuously bad acting. "I let you get there. You got AK. I should have bet the turn, huh? OK, I check." As I am pondering, he keeps mentioning AK, and every time he does, I have to wait a few more seconds before I can bluff. Finally he shuts his stubbly mouth long enough for me to announce a bet of $350. Dickface turbo-mucks and sneers at me with an intolerable air of superiority, "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

I flip my 72o, and his face drops like a rock as the implications of this hand become clear to him. Here he has taken his filly to come watch him own this "high stakes" poker game, and not only has he lost, not only has he been bluffed, but some kid took one look at him and decided that it would be profitable to play the worst hand in poker against him. It's not like I missed a flush draw and had no choice but to bluff the river. Having never played a pot with this guy in my life, I took one look at him and decided to run a multi-street bluff from scratch with seven-deuce off-suit.

His girl starts consoling him with thigh stroking, but of course her pity is the last thing he wants right now. She is supposed to be in awe of him, not feeling sorry for him. "I wish you had flopped two pair. I would have taken all your money," he tells me. 77 I guess? Yeah, if the case seven and a deuce had flopped, you probably would have stacked me. Congratulations. I kind of half shrug but still have not said a word to him.

Now he puts $1000 more in bills on the table and is on mega-tilt, limping into every pot, calling any raise, and firing at lots of flops. Amazingly, the table is letting him get away with it, and I can't pick up anything to play against him. Finally a nice guy on my left cold calls a reraise from the kid with A's in the SB, leads a rag flop, and shoves over the kid's raise. The kid calls but mucks when the dude flips his hand on the river and storms away from the table with his woman tripping after him in her skinny heels.

Meanwhile, the guy who just stacked him, who was already up for the session, is now up quite a lot. He calls his wife to tell her the good news and starts racking his chips. We'd been friendly, so I tell him it's been good playing with him. "I'll play another round," he tells me. Live poker 102: Always bluff a guy who has already bragged to his wife about how much money he has won.

Unfortunately, the guy is on my left, and I can't get him to enter a pot. Finally, he raises $35 UTG in what is likely to be his last hand. A super-loose, short-stacked kid who looked half Japanese and half Filipino calls, and I call out of the BB with 93o. I would have reraised, but didn't want to commit my stack against the kid. Flop K94. Hmmm, maybe I won't need to bluff after all. I check, my buddy bets $60, the kid folds, and I call. Turn 5, I lead $120, and the guy folds. I was probably good all along, but I was ready to bet 2x pot on the river if called.

Now I've got a nice, wild image and nearly $3000 on the table. Time to run this table. My sights turn back to the young Asian kid who stacked off with AK. He opens for $30 UTG+1, a really loose and spewy older Asian man calls, someone else calls, and I raise to $160 with J9o in the CO. Only the older man calls, leaving himself a pot-sized bet left in his stack. I'm prepared to shove a lot of flops, but leads into me on an Ace high board that misses me completely, and I fold.

A few hands later, the loose Swede limps, a quiet guy in sunglasses and a black t-shirt with skulls on it limps, there was probably another limper in there somewhere, and I raise to $75 with QJo. The Swede and the metalhead call. Flop J45r, Swede checks, and the metalhead leads into me for $120. WTF is this? I call, and the Swede calls.

Turn is a blank, and now the guy shoves his last $360. Ugh, is he really shoving worse than QJ after getting called twice on the flop. Apparently he is, because after I fold, the Swede calls and his 67 is good when a 7 rivers. Bastard!

After like four limpers, I raise to $100 with Ac Kc and get called by the spewy old Asian man and by a very young, very quiet Swede. He was at the table when I sat down two hours ago and hasn't played many pots since. From the little bit that I've seen, he plays well post-flop. He's got about $2000 and seems to respect my play, ie he hasn't tangled with me and has complimented me on a few hands.

Flop As Qd Jd, they check to me, and I bet $200, ready to get it in with the SOAM for $800 or whatever he's playing. However, he folds, and the Swede calmly drops six $100 bills into the pot.

On the one hand, he didn't seem at all inclined to force action at the table and in particular seemed to be staying out of my way. Plus, this seems like a pretty bad spot randomly to make a move on me. But on the other hand, what hands over-limp, over-call a raise, and then drill a flop like this? After much thought, I folded, and he showed me the 8h. I nodded with a thin smile on my face, and he said, "I had an A to go with it, of course."

All this spewing has been expensive, and suddenly I realize I've only got $1700, barely what I started with. Time to rectify that situation. I open 4s 3s UTG for $35, and the action folds to the young Asian kid I targeted a while ago, who makes it $140. Everyone folds to me, and I figure with $1700 effective stacks and a good read I can justify this call.

Flop As 8d 6s. This development has exciting implications. I check, he bets $150, I call. Turn Qs, and I peel $400 in bills from behind my stack and drop them into the pot. He stares me down for a long time before calling. There are a lot of rivers I don't want to see, including any spade and anything that pairs the board. Thankfully, it's a harmless deuce. After a pregnant pause designed to invoke the memory of my big bluff against the tool from Philly, I shove the rest of my stack. The kid calls so quickly that I momentarily fear a higher flush, but instead he just looks disgusted when I table my hand, and the dealer ships me a nice pot.

After another orbit, I take a break to hit the restroom, get some food, and count my money. It's 7PM, and I'm still $600 short of my goal. I don't plan on playing poker tomorrow, and I want to play day 1A of the main event, so I need to get this [censored] taken care of tonight. I return to the table with a fruit salad and a mission.

Even thought I could come in CO-1, I decide to wait for my BB and enjoy my fruit. As I'm waiting, some guy in a Dead Money hat with a press pass around his neck takes a seat in the SB. He orders a beer, which the waiter spills across his chips. From what I saw, very little beer got on the guy, but he gets all pissy anyway. Jesus christ, these servers are delivering thousands of drinks each in a cramped, chaotic environment. Sometimes they are going to spill, it pretty much only got your chips, it's nothing to get worked up about, so just sit back down you [censored] [censored] [censored]. People like this are what I hate most about live poker. New mission: bust this clown.

Two limps to me, I raise to $75 with black TT. The Japapino calls, the soggy journalist calls from the SB, and both limpers call. [censored] me, this is a big pot, please Lord show me a sweet sweet ten. Flop Ah Qh Td!!!!! And to make the moment even more orgasmic, the journalist leads out for $200. Folds to me, and after a moment of thought, I raise to $700. Folds to him, he insta-shoves, I call, he flips AQ YES YES YES YES THANK YOU GOD AND THANK YOU KARMA FOR STICKING IT TO THIS POS!!! Usually in big pots like this I sweat it until the river, but this time I know that my hand is going to hold. The universe will not let this guy suck out, the universe will not let this guy suck out.

The universe does not let this guy suck out. He walks away from the table without saying a word or finishing his replacement beer. It takes me five racks to carry all my chips over to the cage, and that's after shoving like twelve bills into my pocket. Losing at live poker is way more frustrating than losing online, but there is nothing more rewarding than owning two live assholes and then carrying a mountain of chips over to the cage.

It's official: I'll be playing Day 1A of the World Series of Poker Main Event.

$1000 Single Table Satellite

Went out to the Rio last night, primarily to meet Nate from 2+2. Traffic was atrocious, so it took me like twice as long to get there as it should have, but I still had about two hours to play. I got a seat in a new game, and when I got there, there were like five people at the table and three other piles of chips with no player in sight. The dealer asked if we wanted to get started, and I was of course all for it, but this thirty-something Jewish dude on my left who looked like a giant prick said he wouldn't play until a sixth got there. He sounded like a giant prick when he said it.

Table didn't look too wild, mostly solid-looking guys who weren't smiling or talking or laughing or anything. A few were in for as little as $500, but there were a couple with $1200-$1500, and the prick on my left (the only guy at the table wearing sunglasses, and they were prick sunglasses) had bought in for $4000.

The table played like a tight/standard live game, plenty of limping and calling, not a lot of betting and raising. Easy but not especially profitable or interesting. The prick on my left was mostly folding and not saying anything, occasionally he would he would grumble quietly to me about the limpers, but unlike me, he never raised them light. He seemed to think I was the only decent player at the table and wanted to have a bitch session with me about how bad everyone else was, but he seemed like a giant prick and also kind of bad in his own way so I just kind of nodded.

On my right was a Brazilian guy in headphones who didn't like how tight the table was playing and kept initiating deals where the entire table agreed to straddle for an orbit. On my straddle, there were a few limpers, and I raised $100 on top with whatever two cards I was holding. Everyone folded, and the Brazilian complimented me on my steal. I smiled and mucked.

Later in the orbit, I raised his limp, he called and check-folded to a bet on a TT9 flop. He asked what I had, and I told him an Ace, which was true.

A few orbits later, everyone folded to him in the BB, and he completed my straddle. I knew he expected me to raise, and I was prepared to do it with a wide range, but I decided just to check 76o. Flop KQ8cc, we check it through. Turn offsuit 5, he checks, I bet $35, he raises to $75. Easy call. River offsuit 4 that's gin baby! He checks. Now there's very little chance he's bluffing with such a small turn check-raise, and all the most obvious draws missed, so I know he's checking cuz he thinks he's good and wants me to bluff at it. So I oblige and bet $250 at a pot of like $190. He tanks for a minute, calls, and mucks when I table the nuts.

A little while later, I completed 98o from the SB after a few people had limped a straddle. Flop 567r, I lead for 100, some dude raises to 250 with 150 behind, and calls off the rest. A 7 on the river worries me, but he shows 65, and I scoop the pot. The prick on my left, who had played like three hands in the last hour, complained that all the donkeys were giving me their money. Can't win if you don't play, sir!!!!

The table still sucked, and I was up like $850 at this point, so I called Nate to see if he wanted to go early for dinner. He did, so I cut out before my next BB, and we went over to the Sao Paolo Cafe.

The Sao Paolo isn't anything spectacular, but they are close to the Amazon Room and will give you a pretty tasty meal fairly quickly and cheaply. I haven't been many other places in the Rio, but none of them look spectacular, so Sao Paolo is a solid staple. Highly recommended for WSOP dinner breaks.

Nate is hands down my favorite 2+2 poster. There are plenty of people who have won a lot more money than he has and are probably better at poker, but few of them have his range of expertise (he can discuss betting strategy after the second draw in Badugi as intelligently as he can re-stealing at a MTT final table) or his ability to express ideas in a clear and concise way. It was a pleasure to meet him, as he seemed to be an interesting guy in real life as well.

After dinner we got coffee at Starbucks with his roommate, 2+2 poster Pete Fabrizio (sorry, Pete, despite asking you twice, I forgot your real name), who had been sweating the $10K PLO final table. Pete is apparently a PLO genius.

We didn't get to talk much PLO, but he did say something interesting in response to my complaints about the tight prick at my 5/10 table who inexplicably bought in for $4000: "The last $1000 in his stack is usually going to go in as a big dog." This concept isn't revolutionary, but I'd never thought about it in that way before. A super tight player usually gets his money in good for the first few bets. I mean, if I'm open raising 50% of hands from the CO and this guy is only calling top 10% on his button, then obviously he's going to be ahead pre-flop the times he calls me. But with the cards he's playing, he's not going to make a lot of 400BB hands. When that much money goes in on a 9QK flop, for instance, it's likely that I've made a straight against his set.

Anyway, I watched the final three of the PLO tournament for a little while, but it was moving pretty slowly, so I went and got myself on a 5/10 NL list. It was a long list, though, and while I was waiting, I heard them call open seating for a $1030 single table satellite. That'll do.

This guy who looked like an Arab Andy Bloch organized a $300 last longer, and I thought about getting in on it, but decided it would be in my interest to have other people at the table concerned about busting so that I could shove into their BB's. It certainly didn't affect Arab Andy's play, because while the rest of the table was tight to a fault, he was making absurd calls and shoves left and right and sucking out pretty consistently.

We didn't lose a single player until the 200/400 level, which with 5000 starting chips is unheard of. Across the table from me was some bearded dude in his 40's who was pretty consistently in a grumpy mood. He complained about the dealer exposing cards, the speed at which we were moving, the way others were playing, etc.

The second player to go out was this kid on my right shoved 4600 with T9o on his BB when Arab Andy opened for 1600 at the 300/600 level. Andy thought for a while and ended up calling with QJ. Obviously he should have been calling any two, but Beardy made fun of him for that call. A few hands later another guy shoved 3600 or so and I snapped him off with AA which put me second in chips behind Andy.

Then Beardy opened for 1600 and the SB shoved 2200 more. "Why do I feel like I'm dominated?" he started hemming and hawing over the most straight-forward call ever and nearly folded. He looked at AAB and said, with an air of superiority, "I've got the same hand you had, it's half as much for me to call, there's three times as much in the pot, and I'm still thinking about." Well sir that just makes you six times as much of an idiot, doesn't it? Finally he called with QJ and beat A6 (which he criticized the guy for shoving).

When blinds hit 500/1000, we were 6-handed, and I shoved KQo UTG for 8500. The guy to my left called pretty quickly, and then the guy to his left tanked and finally called. Whoops. First guy shows AK, second shows... 55!!! Well that just pads the pot for my inevitable suckout. Flop JJT, turn 9, BINK! I dodge a Q or 5 river and bust two players to take back the chip lead. A few hands later, with blinds capped at 2000/4000, the guy in last shoves, Beardy calls all in, and Andy calls them both with KJs. First guy had A3, Beardy had TT, and Andy makes the flush to bust them both.

As soon as we got heads up, I offered a 50-50 chop. I had only 40% of the chips, but the last satellite I played, the last two standing chopped 50-50 when one dude had 75% of the chips, so I figured it was worth a shot. AAB wanted 60-40. I proposed 55-45, but he wouldn't take it, so I just took the even chop. Even though he had been the worst player at the table, his stupidly loose aggressive tendencies were probably going to help him play well with huge blinds, and I didn't want to flip a coin for $10,000. I would have expected a skill edge against Beardy the old nit and probably insisted on getting an edge in a chop, but with AAB, I think it really was going to be a crapshoot who won.

I'm off to play some more satellites now, wish me luck!

More 5/10 NL at the Rio

I went out to the Rio last night to play the 7PM $1000 second chance tournament. For some reason, even though our table was apparently sold out, four players didn't show up in the time I was there, which unfortunately was not very long. In fact I was probably the first eliminated from a field of 60. Some loud mouth tool who had apparently been donking it up in the cheaper series tournaments opened to 150 at 25/50. I called with 97s, then a nerdy Asian kid made it 500 from the button. The tool folded, and I called cuz effective stacks were 5K. Flop QT8, I check, he bets 500, I call. Turn 6 gives me the nuts, I check, he bets 1500, I shove, he calls with QQ for top set and spikes a 6 on the river. That knocks me down to 800 or so.

Then this kid who actually seemed to be pretty good, was very attentive and such, opened to 125 against one of the away BB's. He varied his opening size, and the last time he raised this small, he had KT. I jammed with Q8s, and he called pretty quickly with KJo. Good read? Anyway that was the end of me.

I sat with $1000 at a 5/10 table and almost immediately lost a substantial pot. I raised AQo to $35 from middle position, the button, who had the gaunt face and fashionable attire of a German but was actually an algebra teacher from Dallas, called, and the BB, a smart looking young white guy, called too. Flop was KKT, we checked it all the way around. Turn was a third club, like a 6 or something, and the BB bet out $75. I had the Ac, so I called.

River was an off-suit A, and he checked. I value bet $200, and he called with Jc 7c for a flush. Whoops. It's a no cap game, so I put $500 in bills on the table.

For a while I was completely card dead, and the table was pretty tight aggressive (for a live game), but there was a lot of straddling, so I made some nice squeeze plays to pick up some chips in a few straddled pots.

To my left was a hipster-looking guy from Chicago named Jeremy. He talked a lot, which was a little annoying, but he was kind of fun I guess. He seemed to be aggressive, though he was also getting absolutely run over by the deck and was on a bit of positive tilt. The best example of this: Jeremy limped UTG, UTG+1 raised to $30, two calls, he re-raises to $180, UTG+1 instantly jams for like $700. As Jeremy is thinking, UTG+1 shows him an Ace. Jeremy tells him, "I've got AK, I shouldn't call for a chop, but why would you show me the A? I think you have AK also," and he called. The guy did in fact have AK also, and they chopped.

Jeremy's brother is also at the table, and seems to be a little newer to the game, as Jeremy is constantly explaining to him why he played a hand a certain way. The two of them discuss the psychology of showing the A, and brother man apparently thought it was a reverse tell and that the guy had AA, mostly because of his lack of hesitation when he 4-bet shoved.

In my favorite hand of the night, there was a straddle UTG, brother man called UTG+2, algebra teacher called (he was loose), and I popped it to $120 with 86s in the SB. Brother man called pretty quick. For whatever reason, I felt like he had a mid pocket pair.

The flop was 853, giving me a gut shot. I bet $150, because it's live poker and smaller c-bets work, and because if he was torn between raising and calling, I wanted him to feel comfortable calling so I'd have a shot at hitting my draw. As soon as I bet, my opponent quickly glanced over at this brother, Jeremy. I took from this that he was unsure about what he was supposed to do here and instinctively looking at his brother because that was who had been teaching him the game. It was just a split second, then he very clearly counted my stack and his own chips before putting out his call.

Having picked up on his weakness, I was planning to fire at the turn. But then the dealer rolled a deuce, giving me a double gutshot, and I decided to check and see if I could get a free card or at least put in the last bet rather than risk getting raised off my hand. My opponent bet 300, and remembering his suspicion when the guy insta-shoved pre-flop against his brother, I instantly moved all in, charging the guy his last 500 and change. He tanked, told me he didn't think I had anything, and folded. The nervous glance at Jeremy also made me think he was concerned about looking dumb by making the wrong play, and basically making a bad call is more likely to end in embarassment than making a bad fold, since I may not (and in fact did not) show my bluff.

That was the only big pot I won all night, and in three hours, I never saw a hand better than that AQ. Right before I left, though, there was a hilarious hand between the two brothers, which Jeremy had already announced would be his last. At his brother's urging, he straddled UTG, his brother called, and like three more people called. On a Th 8c 4c flop, Jeremy bet $120 and only his brother called. The turn was the 5h, Jeremy bet $300, and his brother raised him $500 more. It was obvious to me at this point that the brother had at least a set. While Jeremy was thinking, his brother playfully flashed him the 7c. Based on the AK vs AK hand and the discussion following, there was a lot of leveling going on here, and the whole table knew it and was laughing at this little family feud. Finally, Jeremy shrugged and called. The turn blanked, and Jeremy checked and called an all in for like $500 more. His brother obviously showed him 76, which was double gutted on the flop. The student becomes the master!

Jeremy was still up $700 on the night, so he didn't mind too much dropping $1200 to his brother on his last hand. As they left, the brother asked what I had in our big pot, and I told him about my bluff, which he took in stride. I made like $350 in three hours, so I guess it was worth my time, but boring as hell cuz I was card dead and mostly the table was pretty boring.

Vegas Taxi Driver Blog

I was browsing this blog from a Vegas taxi driver and was very glad to see this post about all the racism surrounding NBA All Star Weekend. I was in Vegas while Mandalay Bay was hosting the NBA All Star game, in fact I was staying just next door at the Luxor, but as that was only the second time I'd ever been to the city, I didn't really have a point of comparison for the crowds, traffic, etc. Before realizing that this event was going on, I did note that Vegas seemed a lot more diverse than I remembered it, but I never felt particularly unsafe or saw any criminal behavior or anything like that.

The next time I was in Vegas, which was about a month later, however, I heard from cab drivers, poker dealers, and hotel employees (all white) about how bad that weekend was, not just in terms of crowds, but about how it was unsafe to walk outside, people were getting shot in the street, etc. Like I said, I had been walking around the Strip that weekend without seeing any of this, but I kept hearing the same thing from so many people that I started to think maybe there was some truth to it, even though my spidey sense was telling me this was mostly just racism talking, as there were so many more black tourists that weekend than there usually are in Vegas.

Anyway, I was glad to see that at least one Vegas cab driver felt the same way I did about all this fear-mongering. He reports overwhelmingly posititive experiences from that weekend and argues that the traffic and crime were not abnormal for a three-day weekend in Vegas. Best of all, he frames his anti-racist ethic in a classically Vegas way:

"Las Vegas needs to grow up and respect all races and cultures that visit and spend money." (emphasis added)

Life Fish

Just read a good post from Taylor Caby (Green Plastic) over at Cardrunners that captures very well my sentiments towards at least one segment of the WSOP scene:

"I'm already really tired of the whole live poker scene. I don't HATE vegas by any means, but i do hate the tourney circuit and all the bs that goes along with it. For the most part, these players are miserable. They berate dealers, act like they are celebrities, look down on players who aren't in the "in" crowd, etc. It's almost like high school all over again, except it is a bunch of grown men (and occasionally women, who often times i've found are even worse with this stuff)."

He goes on to draw a distinction between live and internet pros, and while I certainly agree that the latter tend to be better players, I'm not sure they're necessarily better mannered. Internet pros are so accustomed to having a good game available whenever they want it that they take it for granted and often have little concern for the ethics of poker. The anonymity of the internet, combined with the fact that many of these guys are very young and not accustomed to being popular, seems to give them license to run their mouths, berate other players, act cocky, etc. A lot of them are very willing to bring that behavior with them when they play live.

Case in point is the guy I called "Izod" from my $2500 6-max trip report. It turned out he was a member of 2+2, as I suspected he was, and he responded to my trip report basically to defend his behavior because he said he was trying to tilt the fish. In my opinion, this misses the point entirely. Essentially, he was saying, "No, no, I was acting like a complete douche because I thought I could make some money by doing it!" Congratulations, you're a life fish.

I also think is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. I'm pretty sure the kid acted exactly the way he wanted to act, making fun of Dogtown and laughing at his play to his face, and then attached some ad hoc "justification" to this shameful behavior. It certainly wasn't the case that this guy needed any encouragement to make a loose call, and even if it were, well, it would take a lot more than a small edge in a poker tournament to cause me to make a complete tool out of myself.

WSOP $2000 Pot-Limit Hold 'Em

Today I played my second preliminary event in the 2007 World Series of Poker. The game was pot-limit, rather than no limit, Texas Hold 'Em, with a $2000 buy-in. As the name implies, a player may not at any point bet or raise more than the amount in the pot. The game still plays very similarly to no limit hold'em, especially given the relatively shallow stacks we get to work with. The most important difference is that antes are never used in pot limit games, so that the forced blind bets drive the action exclusively. This means pots are smaller pre-flop, and therefore a tighter, more conservative strategy is generally correct. That's not a 100% good thing for me, because although I'm capable of adapting, that's not my preferred style of play. However, smaller pots also mean there are more decisions to be made in any given hand, and since I expect generally to make better decisions than my opponents, that's a source of profit for me.

On the way to the Rio, I had to stop at Bank of America to get some cash. I hate Bank of America. Unfortunately, I got stuck with them after they bought out Fidelity, with whom I'd previously had an account. They constantly mail me credit card offers inside envelopes labeled "Important Account Information!" Jesus Christ, you are a multi-billion dollar financial institution, why are you resorting to fly-by-night, Publisher's Clearinghouse scam tactics?

Anyway, I go up to the teller, swipe my card, enter my PIN, and tell her I want to withdraw money from my checking account. "Would you like to open a Nevada account now that you live out here?"

What in God's name are you blathering about? "I don't live here, I'm just out here for about a month." I made one other withdrawal a few days ago, and I have no idea, even if the teller knew that she would conclude that I now live in Vegas. And even if I did, why would I want to change my account? Because I've always wanted a Nevada routing number on my checks?

"Oh, are you visiting family?"

What? Why do you care, just give me my money. "Kinda, my girlfriend."

She smiles. "Have you heard about our blahblablah credit card?"

Ugh. "Yes." Any chance that will spare me the spiel?

"Great, well you can get blah blah blah APR..."

"Not interested," I interrupt her.

"Maybe just for overdraft protection?"

"No thank you."

"OK, I'm just going to have to get my supervisor to authorize this, one moment." As we are waiting for the supervisor, she looks at me with a smile that tells me more inane badgering is on its way. "Can I ask why you're not interested in the credit card."

Good @#$% God, enough with the credit card! "I'm really not interested."

"It's an $8500 line of credit," the supervisor interjects.

This is unbelievable. I'm a very level-headed guy, and it takes a lot to get an abrupt response out of me. "Seriously, I don't want the credit card."

"OK, then, here you are, sir." The bitch finally signs the form to authorize my withdrawal, and I leave with my money.

My starting table in the tournament was fairly solid, with at least two other young, appropriately aggressive players. The softest looking spots were a middle-aged man with a big brown moustache and an older guy in blue sunglasses. The older guy largely fit my stereotype of loose passive play, but he turned out to have a bit of crazy in him.

We started with 4000 chips and blinds of 25/50. With fewer than 100 big blinds in the starting stacks, this is a pretty shallow structure that doesn't allow a lot of room for mistakes or bad luck. The first pot that I played, a few people still had not taken their seats, and one of the empty spots at the table was in the big blind. The action folded to the old guy, who just called the blind in late position. This is generally a weak play, but even more so when there's no one in the seat to defend the big blind. I decided I was going to raise with any two cards, but then i turned out I had Ace-King anyway. I raised to 275 and took it down. As I was planning on raising thiis guy quite a bit, often as a bluff, I showed him the Ace-King, hoping it would buy me a little credit next time.

Next orbit, one of the better players on my immediate right open raised to 150. This was the first time action had folded to him in late position, and I had a feeling he was going to be opening a pretty wide range. I was prepared to reraise him light, but then found Ace-Queen, which against a late position open is a legitimate reraising hand anyway. I made it 450, and he folded.

A few hands later, the old guy raised to 150, and the kid on my right reraised him to 400, which he called. On a flop of Q94, all different suits, the guy checked and called a bet of 600. The turn was something irrelevant, the old man checked, the kid bet 1000, and then the old man put him all in for 2500 more. Wow, that kind of action from a loose passive old man is usually a pretty strong hand. The kid must have the same thought, because he thought for a long time before calling with a pair of Aces. And the old man has... King-Ten, for nothing more than a gut shot straight draw! Like I said, he had a little crazy to him. The river paired the board, and the kid took down a nice pot.

Soon after, the old guy, who still had a fair number of chips, called the blind bet of 50, the same young guy called also, and I raised to 275 with Ace-nine of spades. The old guy was the only caller, and we saw an AK5 flop. He checked, and I decided to check also and give him a chance to launch some crazy at me. He bet 500 on an 2 turn, which I called. The river was a 3, and he checked. I thought it was unlikely he'd call a bet with anything worse than my top pair weak kicker, so I just turned over my hand, and he mucked.

Next orbit, I opened from late position with a raise of 150 holding Ace-King. A guy on my left who'd been quiet and pursed his lips like a duck bill whenever he played a pot called, and one of the more aggressive players in the small blind reached for some chips. I don't think I had a particularly aggressive image, but nonetheless, some players will often reraise light in this spot with what is called a 'squeeze play.' Basically he is hoping that I will fold often because I'm worried about the guy left to act behind me, and that the guy behind me will not often have a strong hand since he elected not to reraise me the first time. With the blinds plus my raise and a call already in the pot, that's a lot of chips to take down without a fight.

Given that Ace-King is a strong hand in its own right, and that there was some chance the kid was just on a squeeze play, I was prepared to come back over the top of his raise. However, he ended up raising very small, making is just 400. This made me suspicious, because the fact that he's offering such good odds on a call suggests he could have a very strong hand like AA or KK. I opted just to call his reraise after all, as I could get away cheap if I was behind and might be able to keep dominated hands like AQ and KJ around, whereas they would probably fold if I put in another raise. On the right flop, those hands could lose a lot of money to me. The flop was all rags, though, something like 753, and I folded to a bet. Oh well.

Despite his occasional crazy tendencies, the old man was still my best source of chips, so I kept hammering at him, raising his next call with a pair of 9's. The flop was KQ9, all clubs. Trips 9's is a very strong hand, but with all those clubs out there, slowplaying is too risky. I bet 400 into a pot of about 600, and much to my disappointment, he folded.

At this point, the table broke, and we all got moved to empty seats at other tables. Blinds went up to 50/100, and I didn't get much in the way of playable hands. I did open to 300 once with a pair of Queens, and an Italian (actually from Italy, not an Italian-American) called out of his BB. The flop was 7c 5d 2c, he checked, I bet 400, and he raised to 1000. It's pretty unlikely I'm beat here, but there are a lot of scary cards that could fall on the turn, and even if I just call, my opponent may slow down with worse hands than mine anyway. So, I moved all in for about 4000 more, and he folded.

On the last hand before our first break, the action folded to me on the button. I opened for the maximum, which was 350, holding a pair of 4's. The thing is that with a pair of 4's, I probably have the best hand, but anyone holding two overcards, even something as weak as 65, has the odds to call. Hence, I raised a little more than my usual 300. The big blind called anyway, and then he led into me for 500 on a Td 5h 2d flop. Hmmmm. When people call out of position pre-flop, they almost always check to the raiser on the flop, because the raiser usually bets the flop whether he hit it or not. Then the out of position player can raise if he likes his hand. The fact that this guy did attempt to check-raise me made me think he could be trying to steal on the cheap, and although there are two cards higher than my pair on the board, I felt I could still be ahead, so I called.

The turn was the 7h, putting two flush draws and several straight draws on the board. The guy bet 500 again. The pot was now 1750, and he was betting less than 1/3 of that, which gives me good odds if I'm on any kind of draw. This could mean that he himself is on a draw and wants to prevent me from making a larger bet, or that he is worried about the strength of his hand, or that he is bad at poker and trying to 'trap' me. Unfortunately, with about 5000 chips in my stack, I was in an awkward spot. I felt that if I just called the bet, it would be clear I was weak (since I'd passed up two opportunities to raise on a board where a lot of draws are possible), and he'd be able to bluff me on a lot of scary river cards. I also felt that even a small raise could be threatening to some of his better hands, because he will then be in the same situation on the river: even if he suspects he's ahead now, unless he wants to risk 5000 chips to find out, he'll be out position and potentially facing an all in bet on a scary river card. So I made a small raise, to just 1500, prepared to fold if he moved all in.

But he just called, and the river was the Ad, completing the flush that was the most likely draw for him to have had. He checked, which is actually bad to do if he just made a flush, but live players do this all the time anyway. There was about 5000 in the pot, and I had 3500 left in my stack. I contemplated moving all in to represent the flush and possibly knock him off some mid-pair hands that were beating me, but I decided the turn raise wasn't very consistent with me having a flush draw, and so I just gave up and checked. He turned over Ace-five offsuit, exactly the kind of thing I was hoping I could make him fold on the turn. Oh well, he probably would have snapped off my river bluff anyway. Not a great way to start the break.

When we came back, blinds were 75/150, meaning I could afford only 12-13 more orbits if I didn't pick up some chips. I stole the blinds once with A2 in late position and with KQ first to act. Then when I was in the big blind, the A5 guy made a pretty weak raise to just 350 from early position and got one call. I decided I was going to make a squeeze play with any hand that had sufficient showdown value, something like a pair or two big cards. But then I found a pair of Aces, the best possible starting hand! I reraised 900 more, but they both folded. At least that validates my feeling that it would have been a good time to bluff.

That put me back around 5000 after paying the blinds. After another orbit at the table, the first player to act just called 150, and I was next with Ace-Queen. I raised to 600, everyone else folded, and he called. The flop was Ah 3s 4h, giving me top pair with a good kicker. To my surprise, the other player led into me for 1000. There was now 1425 in the pot and about 4500 in my stack, so at this point my only objective is to get as much money in the pot as I can. If I'm beat, there's nothing I can do about it- we're too shallow for me to fold a hand this strong.

So how do I do that? Even my opponent was bluffing or semi-bluffing, there's a good chance he'll give up once I call that big bet unless he improves to a hand that beats me. This is what poker theorists call "reverse implied odds"- if he has this kind of hand, I stand to lose the rest of my chips if he does improve while winning nothing further if he does not. That's an argument to raise now, just to keep him from improving on a semi-bluffing hand.

If he has top pair with a worse kicker, I also think raising is the best way to get paid off, as there are a lot of turn cards that could scare him, and he may think that I am semi-bluffing if I raise. If he has a better hand than mine, well, then he is just going to win a big pot, and there's not anything I can do about it. So I raised, he moved all in, I called, and he showed me pocket 4's for three of a kind. The turn put another heart on the board, and since I had the Qh, this actually gave me a chance to win on the river, but alas, it was not to be. I lost the pot and was eliminated.

This last hand actually presents a very interesting situation, because although I was never the statistical favorite to win the pot, not pre-flop and certainly not on the flop, I believe that the way the hand as a whole will play out results in me showing a long-term profit. Allow me to explain:

When my opponent calls the raise to 600 pre-flop holding a pair of 4's, he is hunting for that third 4 on the flop to make three of a kind. He knows I'm likely to have fairly strong hand to be raising him from early position, and the times that he catches trips, he'll have a well-disguised monster and expects me to have something strong enough to pay him off. This is what poker theorists call "implied odds"- although his 44 is actually a slight favorite over my AQ, he has to realize that I could easily have a pair bigger than his 4's, in which case rather than being a slight favorite, he's going to be a big dog. He is not counting on the strength of his lowly pair winning the pot unimproved. Rather, he is speculating, making a small investment pre-flop with the intention of either winning a big pot when he makes his trips or getting away cheap when he doesn't.

But does he actually get paid off often enough for this strategy to be profitable? I think that he does not. Since he has already called 150, my raise charges him 450 more to see the flop. The times that he doesn't flop trips, he's generally going to have to check and fold to a bet, and I'm going to bet most flops, whether or not they improve my hand. So for example on a K85 flop, he will be folding the best hand, but he has to fold, since I could easily have AK, KJ, AA, or many other hands that have him drawing nearly dead. He'll only hit that 4 only about 15% of the time, which means that he'll be checking and folding about 85% of the time.

I have 4500 chips left in my stack, so if he wins all of them the 15% of the time that he does hit the 4, he'll come out alright. However, he isn't going to get my stack anywhere near that often. If the flop had been K84, he would have gotten one bet at most out of me, because once he bet or called a bet, I would have given up on my AQ and kept the rest of my money. He got a "perfect storm" flop that gave me a strong hand and him an even stronger one. Much more often, he'll miss and get bluffed out, or he'll hit, but I won't have a hand that can pay him off. In short, the implied odds aren't there for him to make that call pre-flop, even though he happened to win a big pot this time simply because the stars aligned in his favor.

Although this is analysis of the situation is a little rough around the edges, I think it illustrates an interesting point. Even though 100% of my money went into the pot when I was behind in the hand, I'm actually the one who stands to make money in this situation long term. Having won a big pot, however, my opponent will likely never realize that he was in fact making a marginally losing play. That's the magic of poker, and what makes it such a difficult game to master: losing plays work often enough to deceive players into thinking they are winning strategies. And winning players often find themselves playing Monday morning quarterback from the sidelines.

WSOP $2500 6-Max

On Monday, I played my first WSOP preliminary event, a $2500 6-max tournament. This is a little beyond my bankroll, but there are so few opportunities to play 6-max tournaments, and I'm not playing many other events, so I decided to go for it.

The dealer at my first table was a bit of a character himself. As I sat down, he was talking with a dealer at the next table over about Ben Affleck (who, for those who don't know, is an avid poker player and at the WSOP). After finishing that conversation, he explained to us that he had a movie script that was going to "make millions" and he just needed to get it under Affleck's nose to escape the drudgery of poker dealing forever. Someone asked him, sarcastically, why he would want to leave this job, to which he replied, "I am so sick of getting cussed at and having cards thrown at me and all that bullshit. It's like, why are you getting angry at me? I dealt the cards, but I didn't tell you to call that raise with 76s."

To the dealer's left, in the 1 seat, is a young surfer dude with blond, spiky hair, dark sunglasses, and a goatee that juts out several inches below his chin. "Gnarly", as I’ll refer to him, worries me a bit just because guys our age don’t usually have the disposable income that would allow them to play a $2500 poker tournament with a negative expectation. He isn’t bad, but he does play very straight-forwardly, and his table talk demonstrates a rather shallow level of thinking about the game.

To his left, and my right, is a black guy in his early 30's. For reasons I’m not going to speculate about here, there are very few black poker players. I’ve played with only a handful (that I know about- obviously I usually have no idea about race when playing online), and with one notable exception, they’ve all been quite bad at poker. However, the ones I’ve played with have almost all been flashy, wearing expensive sunglasses, big jewelry, etc. In this way, they’re like a lot of the young Italian guys who play at Foxwoods, fundamentally gamblers looking to splash around and show off how much money they have. The only talented black guy I can recall playing with is also much more conservative in his dress and mannerisms, so I think this is primarily a sample size issue. The guy at this table is both quiet and dressed in a subdued fashion, wearing a black sweatshirt that says “Dogtown” in small letters on the sleeve, so I’m not prepared to assume he’ll be a weak player based on his demographics alone, the way I would if he were, for instance, an old white man.

I’m in the 3 seat, which at a 6-handed table, puts me in the center, across from the dealer and slightly to his left. To my left is a young, pudgy guy in an ill-fitting Izod shirt. He talks quite a bit about what’s going on, and from the things he’s saying, I’m able to gather that he’s pretty knowledgeable about tournament play and poker in general, almost certainly the best of my opponents at the table. We’ll call him Izod.

To his left is a guy I’ll call Vinny. Vinny looks straight out of the cast of the Sopranos: track suit, gold chain, slicked back hair, etc. Then again, I say that about every poker playing Italian from Long Island, so that says something either about me or about Long Island Italians. Regardless, Vinny actually turns out to be a pretty even-tempered, friendly guy.

Next around the table is an older gentleman who shall henceforth be known as Gramps. In my experience, old guys are almost always tight passive (meaning they play very hands, and rarely bet or raise when they are playing) or loose passive (they play a lot of hands, but still are almost always checking or calling other people’s bets rather than forcing the action themselves). Gramps turns out to be of the latter variety, and is no worry to me whatsoever.

Despite my reluctance to assume he will be, Dogtown quickly makes clear that he is, in fact, not only a fish, but one of the worst poker players I’ve ever played with. He hates to fold, will play almost any two cards pre-flop, call almost any raise, rarely fold if he catches any piece of the board, randomly bluff in awful spots, and make it very obvious when he has a good hand. In short, I love having him on my right, and love watching him get lucky over and over again against the better players at the table. In particular, he takes a lot of chips from Izod by rivering a lucky two pair.

Izod was very vocal in criticizing Dogtown’s play, and finally, in his own defense, Dogtown said sheepishly, “If you concentrate, you can feel which cards are going to come.”

That just fueled the fire. Now Izod and Vinny are both openly mocking him, laughing and making jokes about his play while he’s sitting right there. He’s taking it well, but it’s annoying the hell out of me. For one thing, it’s bad for business to make fun of bad play. The old agage is, “Don’t tap the glass,” a reference to a common aquarium warning against disurbing the fish. Professionals make money based on the mistakes of bad players, so we benefit from an atmosphere where mistakes are accepted and encouraged, not mocked.

More importantly, though, this is just rude. Guys like Izod give all internet poker players a bad reputation with their lack of class. It's ironic how many pros will justify their profession ethically by saying that losing players are compensated for their money with entertainment while at the same time behaving so rudely to someone who is clearly a losing player.

After reducing him to 500 chips, Dogtown doubles up Izod up by calling his all in (with blinds still 25/50) with 98 offsuit. Izod’s AJ holds up, much to my dismay, but he goes out fairly soon anyway.

Early on, I’m not getting much in the way of cards, and with Dogtown on my right calling everything, I don’t have a lot of room to steal pots. He does eventually donate most of his chips, though, and finds himself with only about 1700 at the 50/100 level. He just calls the big blind, and I look down at A5. This is far from a great holding, but I’ve been looking to get involved with Dogtown before he loses the last of his money, and just the Ace is enough to put me well ahead of his range right now. I raise to 300, and he, of course, calls.

The flop of 842 is a good one for me, giving me a inside straight draw. However, there are now 750 chips in the pot, and 1400 in Dogtown’s stack. He checks, but I know he’ll never fold better hands, and he’ll occasionally put me in a tough spot with worse. I don’t want to get all in with him right here, but I don’t want to bet and fold what could be the best hand, either, so I check as well. Awkward spots like these are why I shouldn't make plays this like this.

The turn is an Ace, giving me top pair, though with one of the worst possible kickers. Admittedly, Dogtown doesn’t much like folding, but given how scary this Ace ought to be to him, I think he’s more likely to bluff at the river (or call a river bet with worse) than to call the turn with a worse hand than mine. So, I check again.

The river is a T, and now Dogtown announces, “All in.” Ugh. I wanted him to bluff, but he’s just bet twice the pot, and all I have is top pair with a weak kicker. Whatever, I can’t fold now.

“Call.”

“Good call,” he says, looking unhappy before he's even seen my cards. He turns over KT as he’s exiting the table. Wow, now that is beyond atrocious. On the river, he picked up a hand that could very possibly be good, and then he turned it into a bluff by moving all in for two times the pot. I’m not going to call that bet with worse than KT, and he knew that, because he knew he was beat before I turned over the winning hand. With his hand, he ought to make either a smaller bet that I could call with worse, or check and give me a chance to bluff. Oh well, I guess that’s just the kind of thinking that bad poker players can’t or won’t employ.

The best hand I see at this table is AJ, which I raise to 300 first to act. Vinny calls on the button, and then Gramps reraises to 850 from the SB. A reraise from loose passive Gramps? Even with AJ, it's time to get out of the way. I fold, and Vinny grumbles to me good naturedly, "300 and fold? You put me in a helluva spot. I call."

Flop 643, Gramps bets 2000, and 1500, and Vinny calls, telling me, "You owe me 2300 chips."

I'm tempted to respond, "I didn't tell you to call a raise with 76s," but I catch myself, realizing that speculating about his hand, even in reference to the dealer's earlier comment, would be inappropriate.

Gramps moves all in on a Q turn, and Vinny deliberates for a while before folding 76s face up! Heh. Gramps, of course, shows him a pair of Aces. This is why I say I'm not worried about him: certainly he can be dealt good cards, but he'll never give me a tough decision, because his play is just too straight-forward.

This table breaks, and I'm moved to another, slightly tougher looking table. There are a few more young guys here who look like they could be competent and no obvious fish. On closer inspection, though, there are two white guys in their early 30's who give signs of being little more than ardent enthusiasts with lucrative careers that enable an expensive hobby. One in particular is wearing a corporate polo shirt with a World Series of Poker visor. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone wearing poker clothing (except for gear worn as part of an endorsement, obviously) who was any good at the game. Only amateurs wear tee-shirts that say "I went all in at the World Series of Poker!"

But I digress. The three players on my right, the aforementioned pair included, turned out to be pretty loose passive, so I was raising their limps with a lot of medium-strength hands. Generally I'd win the pot with a flop bet, whether or not I hit anything, and sometimes I'd fold if they played back at me. Nothing complicated. Once, the guy to my immediate right just called the big blind of 200 first to act, and I raised to 900 with A9. One of the corporate amateurs in the big blind called, as did the limper, which was not the result I wanted.

I got a flop of A87, which is actually kind of tricky when I have A9. If I bet the flop, I'm pretty much only going to get action from people with two pair or top pair and a better kicker. So, I check, reluctantly giving a free card to two players. The turn brings a T, potentially making more two pair hands for others but giving me an open-ended straight draw. They all check to me again, and now I bet 1700, prepared to call a check-raise, though I wouldn't be happy about it. The BB calls, while the other guy folds. We check it through on a K river, and my A9 prevails over his A2. Excellent, that's exactly why he shouldn't be calling a raise with an easily dominated A2.

I'd just been thinking how nice it was that I was able to get away with all this raising because even when the table thought I was bluffing, all they would do was call me pre-flop and then give up if the flop missed them, which is exactly what I wanted them to do anyway. Then I got dealt a pair of Kings, and thought how nice it would be if someone did re-raise me, and sure enough I made my standard raise to 600 and the button, who'd been giving me the stink-eye every time I raised, made it 2500. Niiiiiice. I had about 16,000 chips to start the hand, but I was worried he'd fold most worse hands if I moved all in preflop because live poker tournaments are like that, so I just called his raise, deciding to check-raise all in on the flop.

The flop was a lovely 852, and I figured it was very unlikely my opponent could get away from another overpair. I checked, he asked what I had left, and then bet 5000. I moved all in for like 7000 more, and he folded. Oh well, it was still practically a double up.

A little while later, though the same guy gave me some actual trouble. After winning that pot and getting up a nice stack, I was playing more aggressively than ever. I raised 6s 5s, the kid (Jewish, with stylish sunglasses and clothing and such) called in the SB, and one of the corporate amateurs called from the BB. Flop Qc Jc 6d, and they checked to me. Bottom pair not good enough on this board, I check, too.

Turn 5h, they check to me again, and I bet 1200. Now the kid in the SB check-raises to 2500. Blech. I have the worst possible two pair, and the size of his raise, barely the minimum possible amount, suggests that he's got at least a better two pair. However, there aren't a lot of ways for him to have that. QJ is the most plausible, then 65, but my holding makes that unlikely. I doubt he'd play Q6 or Q5, I think he would have reraised QQ or JJ preflop, which makes high three of a kind unlikely, and again, with me holding 65, it's unlikely he has 66 or 55. I had seen him raise before on a draw, but in that case he was in position, which he isn't now. Our effective stacks were over 20,000, so even though I thought he could have a draw, I didn't want to 3-bet him and commit my entire stack to this pot. So I called.

The river was an ugly K, improving hands like KQ and KJ that I was beating on the turn. Now he bets 3200, which is like half the pot. I only have to be good about 25% of the time, and I decided he could be on a missed draw or even value betting like KT or something that he had semi-bluffed on the turn and then made top pair with. So I called, and he showed me QJ. Nice hand.

We had our second break of the day, and then the guy to my right was busted and replaced by a pudgy dude with a short stack. My Jewish friend asked how much the guy had, to which the man dejectedly replied, "Like $5." I eyed his stack myself and counted only about 3000 chips. Blinds were now 150/300 with a 25 ante, so he didn't have a lot of room to maneuver. He moved all in from late position a few times to pick up the dead money and grew his stack to about 4000.

He was moving in with such frequency that, combined with his pessimistic statement when he first sat down, I knew he was ready to give up and I was going to have to call him with a somewhat wide range if the opportunity arose. Sure enough, he shoved all 4000 chips second to act, and I looked down at 99. I only had about 12,000 chips, so I was a little reluctant to flip a coin with him if he had two overcards to my pair. However, based on my read, I had to figure him for a wide range that could include smaller pairs and stuff like A8 that I was way ahead of. So I moved all in over the top of his raise. I turned over my 99, and to my delight, he turned over 75s. With more than ten times then big blind and four players to act behind him, that's a pretty bad move, and I'm in great shape with a pair higher than either of his cards.

Buuuuuuuut a 963 flop is not good new for me, even though it gives me three of a kind, and I groaned audibly when I saw it. The turn, of course, is a 4 to give my opponent a straight. I could still improve to a full house if the river pairs the board, but that doesn't happen, and I'm down to 8000.

Next hand, the same player open raised to 1000. I had AQ, and moved all in for my last 8000. He folded, and after that the table broke, and I was moved to my toughest table yet. There was one mustachioed old man to my left who was quite bad, but then there were two young Asian guys and a pretty competent Brit.

One of my first hands at the table, the Brit opened for 1000 on the button and folded when I reraised to 3000 with AKo in the SB. I only had like 6000 behind, but there are plenty of live players who will and fold to a flop shove, so I figured that would be more +EV than shoving pre-flop.

On my first button, I raised to 850 with QJo, and one of the Asian kids called from the BB. He checked and called a bet on an A34hh flop. I caught a J on the turn and checked it back, but the river blanked, and I folded to a bet.

Next orbit, I opened with KJo and folded to a reraise from the other Asian kid. Then, first to act, I opened to 850 again with AJs, and again got reraised, this time by the first Asian. I had like 7500 behind, and thought for a while about what to do. It was annoying to get reraised again, but I felt like the fact that I'd just been reraised actually made it less likely that he'd be doing it light here. I ultimately folded, but I wasn't happy about it, and I'm still not sure it was correct.

After paying another round of blinds and antes, I was getting rather short, and started looking for a chance to reraise all in over someone's open. The Brit on my right, probably the most aggressive player at the table, made a small raise from middle position to 800, and I decided I was going to move in with anything halfway decent. I found K9 and shoved for 5400. He stared me down and kept shaking his head. "I just don't think you have anything. I haven't got much," he said apologetically as he called and turned over KQs. Ugh. Q on the turn puts the nail in my coffin.

Some Live 5/10 Hands

On Friday I played some 5/10 NL at the Rio with Tom (LearnedFromTV on 2+2). He took a seat to my immediate left, but didn't give me much trouble and provided a welcome relief from the boredom of live cash play. No particularly interesting hands, but here, I think, were the best:

Very first hand of the game (we got seated all at once in a new game), UTG raises to $35, I have KK in MP2 and make it 120, he calls. Flop 734, he check-calls $200, turn 9, he check-folds to my all in for $680. I was pretty sure I wasn't getting paid off on the first hand of the game, but what can I do?

Next orbit, it folds to the CO, who's exactly the kind of guy you want to have at your live table: doofy-looking, middle-aged white guy in bad sunglasses, some sort of hometown hero who hates to fold and thinks he's much better than he is. He min-raises to 20, I make it 70 with AKo on the button, and he calls. The flop comes down J64r, and he checks quickly, picking up a stack of chips as though to call my bet. Mike Caro tells me strong means weak, so I bet $100, exactly the amount he's holding. He calls. Turn Q puts a flush draw on the board, he checks quickly and chambers some chips again, but folds to my $200 bet, flashing me a Jack. "He folded the best hand, didn't he?" Tom whispers. I just nod.

A while later, the guy from the KK hand puts out a Mississippi straddle (same as a straddle, except you do it from the button, and SB has to act first), as he does everytime he's on the button. I make it 70 with AJs in the SB, and action folds to the straddle, who calls. Flop Qs Jc 6c, he calls a bet of 120. The turn blanks, and I ask how much he has left. "A little over $600." Tricky spot. I felt he could still have a pretty wide range here, including draws and worse J's, and he's probably going to bet almost all of it if I check. Maybe check-raise all in is best then? Anyway, I bet $240, figuring I could fold to a shove, but that it wouldn't look like I was going to fold, and thus he wouldn't shove worse hands. He just called again. With the drawy board, I can't see him slowplaying two streets, especially when it looks so much like I'm going to call the turn, so I check a blank river and call his quick all in of like $430. He shows me Ac Qc. Damn, it all makes sense now.

There was no table limit, so I reloaded for $1500. I limped 8s 5s behind a limper and got a beautiful 6s 7c 9s flop. Action checks to me, I bet $35 into a $40 pot, BB (kind of a station) calls. Turn off-suit K, he checks and calls $120. River off-suit A, he checks again, I grab four hundred dollar bills (a little more than the size of the pot) and toss them impetuously into the pot. He calls and mucks when I show.

I finished the session stuck about $750, mostly from raising people who limped straddles, firing at the flop, and folding when they played back. Several times they showed me hands, though, so I still think I was probably making profitable plays.

Oh, one funny hand, there were like four limpers, and I check 54o on the BB. Flop TT5, I am of course giving up on this dog, but it checks around. Turn 5, I still don't like my hand much, but we'll see what happens. Checks again, river A, I might actually get some value out of this! I bet $25 into the $60 pot and get one call. "I got the low boat," I tell him, turning up my hand. He shows me AT for the virtual nuts! Wowowow checks trips top kicker on the flop AND fails to raise the river when he is a lock AND can expect a huge raise to get paid off by the case T.

The guy was actually really fun though, he was probably in his late 60's, said he was from Colorado, and seemed to know all the dealers. I called him the "wheelchair cowboy" because he wore a black leather jacket and ten-gallon hat while whizzing around in a motorized scooter. But he kept making wisecracks in a heavy Western accent that were especially funny coming from him. The one I remember, I had just lost a pot to the only woman at the table, and he stared me down and informed me, "You got beat by a girl."

"I sure did."

"That's alrut. I useta lahk that sorta thang. Can be fun."

Cross-Country Road Trip Part 2:

Over continental breakfast, Emily and I discuss what to do about the last episode of Sopranos, which was to air that night. Though Emily is not a fan of the show, I very much am. The complication was that, lacking either cable or ready access to friends with cable, I'd missed the last two episodes. My first instinct was to hold off on watching the finale until I'd seen these others, but Emily pointed out how difficult it would be to avoid hearing about it. That made sense, so we planned to arrive at our HBO-equipped hotel by 9PM central, since Sopranos comes on at 10 on the East cost.

A few hours of driving brought us to Omaha, one of the hidden jewels of our trip. I was expecting some small, backwater, sleepy town, especially after our experience with Cleveland. But what we found was a really hip, vibrant, and charming downtown marketplace. There seemed to be a really nice mix of people enjoying the public space, plus bookstores, music stores, and restaurants. We lunched at a delicious cafe that served a wide variety of freshly prepared meals, picked up a few CD's as our selection of road music was growing stale, and then headed just north of the city to a prarie safari.

For just $5/person, we got access to a scenic drive and footpath through habitats populated with elk, buffalo, wolves, black bears, and cranes, many of which came within feet of the car. It was very cool, but we lingered a bit longer than planned and ended up having to floor it to reach our final destination of North Platte by 9PM. We made it with minutes to spare, and I turned on HBO only to find the Sopranos nearly over. Since when did it start airing at 9PM/8PM central? Infuriating.

There weren't a lot of restaurants to choose from, but we found a very cheap diner called Penny's that offered decent food and all-day breakfast. I was hoping to have my coffee poured by a bee-hived waitress in her early forties, but instead our server was a young Asian woman with a lot of scars on her face. The chef was a white guy in his early twenties with one arm in a sling, which made us wonder about how Penny treats her employees.

Now wanting to see the Sopranos finale more than ever, I changed our hotel reservation for the next night to a different place just outside of Denver that had HBO. This time we made it to the city with plenty of time to stop for burritos and browse an amazing bookstore called The Tattered Cover. I love bookstores, and this rates with Powell's in Portland, Chicago's Seminary Coop, and Somerville's McIntyre & Moore as one of the best I've visited.

The flagship location is in an old theater building and preserves the feel with bookshelves spread out across the balconies, mezzanine, pit, etc. Old rows of folding chairs provide places to sit and read, and the basement offers the largest collection of quality bargain books (ie stuff someone would actually want, provided their interests were specific enough) I've ever seen.

I'm going to make a whole separate post about my reactions to the Sopranos finale, but for now I'll just say I was pretty disappointed and felt kind of dumb for going to such great lengths to see it. Funny enough, though, we were seated near a large group loudly discussing the ending at dinner, so Emily was proven correct that I would not have avoided hearing about it. Denver's downtown mall, much like Omaha's, was quite charming and offered a variety of appealing restaurants. It was a bit more fashionable, though, and not in a good way. Maybe this was a function of the kind of people going out to dinner on a random Monday night, but the place had kind of a snobby, obnoxious undertone to it. We had a good time, nonetheless.

The weather in the morning wasn't great, so we elected to skip any more Denver sightseeing and head on to Moab, Utah. The drive through the Rockies proved one of the highlights of the trip. I-70 led us up, over, and around soaring peeks and the rushing Colorado River. Though they didn't offer any amenities aside from bathrooms, the rest areas were generally scenic and made a stop feel less like an interruption and more like a genuinely relaxing break from a long road trip.

We stopped for lunch in Vail, which seemed like a cute place, though obviously full of snobby leisure class folk. My favorite was a well-groomed WASP with sweather knotted around her neck sipping red wine with lunch at a pizza parlor, though the 9-year old girl walking alone from upscale boutique to upscale boutique loaded down with shopping bags was pretty classic, too.

The second half of the drive was pretty bland, though there's something remarkable about a rest stop in the middle of the desert. For hours you are driving along, bored out of your mind by ramrod straight roads and unchanging scenery that seems to exist like a screensaver on the windshield of your car. Then you step out and all of sudden you are in the middle of nothingness, staring for miles in any direction (something no city boy has much opportunity to do), and everything is quiet and the wind is blowing and the sun shining and you feel very calm and apart from the world.

The boringness disappeared abruptly when we turned off I-70 towards Moab. We were quickly plunged into gorgeous canyonland, with lots of red rock facades and natural rock formations. Moab itself was also a pretty cool place, home to a vibrant outdoor adventures community.

The next morning, we woke at 6AM to visit Arches National Park before beginning our last, long day of driving. The park was great, full of scenic vistas and opportunities to scramble up close to amazing natural arches and other rock formations. We could have spent a lot more time there, but we still had one of our longest drives ahead of us. I hadn't realized how nice the drive through central Utah would be, but this was another hidden jewel of the trip. For one thing, it was much greener than I'd expected, and not at all flat. Rather, we were constantly climbing and descending peaks and plateaus, provided with plenty of opportunity to admire breathtaking vistas along the way.

After stopping for dinner and heavy traffic through the city, we didn't arrive at Emily's new digs until 11PM. It's in the middle of a cookie-cutter development about half an hour south of the Strip, one of literally hundreds of completely identical houses. The adventure tours company for whom she's working keeps the place for its guides to use when they are in town, but that happens rarely. Although she is technically renting just one of three bedrooms in the house, Emily will often have the place to herself for a mere $400/month.

At the time, however, we are exhausted and in no mood to get lost trying to find the place, which is of course exactly what happens. When we finally arrive, her new roommate is not there to let her in, nor is the key where it's supposed to be. As we're waiting for him to return, three carloads full of trashy teenagers, many of them tripping off their asses, suddenly appear. It was surreal, watching these random kids stumble around, fall over, argue with each other, and talk about how many shrooms and pills and what not they've swallowed. It was also extraordinarily annoying, as they twice came within inches of hitting our car while driving around. Aaargh, I just want to go to sleep.

The new roommate shows up, introduces himself, helps unpack, etc. He seems cool. After dozens of trips up and down the stars, I finally get all of Emily's stuff into her new room. We half-inflate an air mattress, and I collapse, exhausted.

Monday in Vegas

I had some Mandalay Bay chips that I forgot to cash in on Saturday, and since I needed to go there anyway, I decided to check out their game. The guy keeping the wait list when I first got there didn't seem to speak English very well, and I couldn't figure out whether there were actually NL games going or if I was just on an interest list.

I took a seat at a 4/8 limit game while I waited and was pleasantly surprised by the dealer, who took the time to explain to me a few things that, though I knew them, would have been useful had this been my first time playing poker at a casino. I guess a lot of inexperienced players start off in this game or something, but I definitely had some hiccups getting accustomed to things like moving chips over the betting line and would have appreciated more welcoming dealers when I was starting out.

Anyway, the game was predictably ridiculous, which meant I had to play super tight. The only decent hand I got, I raised a limper with TT, got 3-bet, the SB cold called, and I check-folded to a bet and a call on a QJx flop. The 3-bettor had 33 and the cold caller had QJ. Oh, and for some reason the blinds were $1 and $2 even though the bets were $4 and $8. I got bored and annoyed very quickly and kept darting up to check where my name was on the NL lists. The same guy, Josh W., was ahead of me for both 1/2 and 2/4 NL. Bastard.

The blind was about to hit me again when a woman starts calling for Josh W. I was praying that he won't respond and that she'll realize he's not responding before I have to post. The dealer was scrambling the cards from the previous hand when the floor woman tapped me on the shoulder. "Are you still interested in a seat at 2/4 NL?"

Guess it wasn't too hard to figure out that the guy who kept running over to check the list was the next guy on the list. "Most certainly."

She led me to my seat (another thing I liked about Mandalay Bay, the floor was much more hands on and helpful than what you get at, say, Foxwoods) and brought me my chips.

I could tell immediately that the game was good, very good. There was some big convention at Mandalay Bay, and several of the guys in the game were wearing business dress and badges, which was a good sign. In one of the first hands that I saw, a scuzzy looking dude in a dirty, faded sports cap raised a couple of limpers to $35 and got called in like six spots. Wow. Then he shoved roughly $300 on an AcQc3s flop. A guy two seats to my right calls, and the rest of the board falls Jd 6h. The pusher shows 9c7c for a busted flush draw, and the caller shows 8c6c for a worse flush draw that rivered a pair. Wowowow this was going to be a good game. And since this wasn't internet poker, the guy who just pulled off the ridiculous catch didn't get up and leave with his ill-gotten gains, but instead stayed at the table to my right with a giant stack. I set my sights on him immediately.

The first pot I played, there two limpers on my BB, I raised to $24 with KK and got one called. The flop was like 966, I bet $35 and got called. Ooooh, a K on the turn, I bet $75 and take it down.

I built myself all the way up about $1100, honestly without playing any pots worth mentioning here. The game was just that soft, and I suppose I was getting the right cards in the right situations. I did see two players give off blatant tells. The first one, I had TT on a JJ94 board after the flop had checked through. I bet and a huge calling station called me. I bet $75 on the river, and he moved all in for $74 more. While I was thinking, he looked over at the guy next to him and said, "It's time for me to leave anyway." I mucked and he showed me QJ.

The other pot didn't involve me, but the guy to my right was in the BB in a limped pot when the flop came out with three T's. The SB checked, and the BB exclaims really loudly, "What is that? I check," and rapped the table violently. I immediately figured him for quads. The flop checked through, and on the turn the SB bet. "You don't have anything, I call," the BB announced, quickly tossing his chips into the pot. Everyone else folded, the SB checked the river, and the BB slammed a stack of reds into the middle of the table, grossly overbetting the pot. The SB folded, and the BB proudly showed his quads.

This also reminds of a story I forgot to include yesterday involving Captain Calling Station. This old guy on my right was playing a pot out of position against CCS, and on the river the board was like AKQTx. The important part is that the river put the four straight on the board. Before the old guy had even acted, CCS eagerly bet like $90. The old man teased him about it. "You're that eager, huh? Can't even wait for me to act? Really excited about your straight, hmm?" It was very obvious to me, and, I thought, to everyone, that that was exactly what was going on. But the old man checked and called the bet anyway, and sure enough CCS showed him the straight.

After hours of trying to get into a big pot with the guy who couldn't fold a flush draw for any price, I finally got my chance. He raised to $15 after two limpers, which was kind of a small raise relative to what most people were doing. I didn't really know what to think of that, but it looked like it would certainly be a multi-way pot, so I called with Ks6s on the CO. Sure enough, seven of us saw a beautiful 8s 4s 2s flop.

The action checked to my mark, who bet $55. It was kind of a weak bet, but still a good sign that he had something, since no one continuation bets into five callers if he misses the flop completely. Then, the player immediately between the two of us moved all in for a little over $200. My read on him was that he was just in general way too eager to shove his stack into the middle, he had bought in kinda short and lost his chips twice already.

Although I was happy to see so much money going into the pot, this actually put me in kind of an awkward spot, because I was going to have to call this bet cold for almost 20% of my stack, which would make it very difficult to conceal the strength of my hand (raising was just too likely to kill my action, and I wanted to give someone behind me the chance to semi-bluff with the As or put me on a draw). So when I called, I tried make it sound as though the guy's over-aggressive shoving tendencies had something to do with it. "Alright, I'm gonna call you," I told him with sort of a chastising tone of voice, as though I were teaching him a lesson or giving him less credit than I otherwise would in this spot.

The action folded around to the fish, who also called. Between this action and the fact that he didn't even seem to consider a raise, I figured him for the As. I wasn't sure about what his other card was, and although it didn't affect his equity in the pot, I thought it might affect his turn action.

I held my breath and prayed for not-a-spade on the turn. The dealer showed us a black 9, but it turned out to be a club. My fish checked. There was now about $650 in the pot, and I had around $850 left in my stack. The fish had me covered. Against a good player, it might have been tricky to determine a good bet size here, but based on how I had seen this guy play his flush draw hours ago, I had fairly easy decision. "I'm all in."

The fish groaned and stood up. He looked down over the dealer's had at me as I stared emotionlessly at the felt. "What do you have? Do you have an 8?" Right, I'm shoving 200 BB's on the turn with middle pair. Good read. He went on like this for a minute and then turned over the As that I knew he had and stared at me for a while.

The all-in player called the floor and tried to get the fish's hand killed for exposing his card. The floor ruled that since nobody was left to act, he was allowed to show his card. The whole time, I was thinking of ways to keep him in the sidepot even if they killed his hand for the main pot. Perhaps I could feign moral outrage and tell the floor I didn't think that was fair and didn't want to win on a technicality and offer to let him play his hand in the main pot anyway. Thankfully I didn't need to resort to anything like this.

"You have nine outs," someone at the table said, quite inapproriately, though there was nothing I could do about it, and I knew it didn't really matter anyway.

"I think I've got more outs than that," the fish responded, flipping over his other card, the Jd. Wow, is this guy really looking to call off 200BB, a larger than a pot-sized bet, with a bare flush draw on the turn? Even if his other outs were live it would be an awful call.

"I call!" he suddenly announced with great excitement.

It occurs to me in retrospect that this was probably the largest pot I have ever played, in terms of number of BB's. There were well over 600 BB's in the pot, and you just don't get that deep at low- to mid-stakes online NL games, and certainly not in tournaments. The fact that I had gotten the money in as nearly a 6:1 favorite made it particularly exciting.

But I had didn't have much time to enjoy the moment, as the dealer quickly burned the top card from the deck and revealed the river: the Qs, the black mariah. My King-high flush had been overtaken by my opponents Ace. "Fuck!" I exclaimed, banging my fist on the table as my triumphant opponent pumped his in the air. This is not an uncommon reaction for me when I'm playing online in the comfort of my own home, but at casinos, I've generally tried to comport myself with more tact. I'm still not proud of how quickly frustration overtook me, though I did calm down almost immediately.

"That's one of the worst I've ever seen," said a gentlemen from North Carolina with whom I'd been friendly. I lifted my head from where I had allowed it to droop sullenly over what had been a mountain of chips just a moment before.

"Good playing with you," I told him. I was too frustrated to play my best any longer. In a live game, you spend hours building a stack, getting to know the players at your table, and trying to set up great situations like the one I'd just been in. It took about four hours between the time when I saw this guy make his first terrible call and when I finally got the opportunity to take advantage of that information to induce a much, much worse play on his part. And then he lucks out and wins anyway.

On my way out, I clapped him on the back and said, "Enjoy it," as genuinely as he could, and I hope he does enjoy it. I'm not spiteful, and it helps that I don't think he thinks he outplayed me or anything like that. He was there to gamble, like so many others in Vegas, and he was one of the lucky few who came out on top. Poker is the only game in the casino where the house lets the gamblers spew money to you rather than to them, and guys like this one have made me a boatload of money.

When some old lady drops a quarter into a slot machine and wins a six-figure jackpot, the casino doesn't cuss her out and tell her how lucky she was and what a terrible decision it was to play the slots. Instead, they celebrate, cheer for her, hang a picture of her smiling face on the wall. The occasional longshot win is what keeps them gambling, so I hope that he does enjoy his winnings, because in the long run, he'll probably donate them and much more back into the great poker economy. And in the end, I'm the lucky one, because I'm one of the very few who is able to take money out of this economy, enough money that I don't have to have a 9-5 job or a boss or a morning commute. I am the lucky one.

Sunday in Vegas

Joe, Logan, and Darren all left on Sunday, which meant we had to check out of the Venetian. I was staying another night, but at the MGM, so the plan was for them to move all of their stuff into my room there. Since they didn't get in until like 8AM Sunday morning, Joe decided to crash for a few hours while I went to breakfast with Logan and Darren, both drunk. I enjoyed a pretty delicious Belgian waffle, watched them lose some money at craps (I don't play table games), and then talked by the pool with Darren while Logan nodded off on the chaisse lounge next to us.

The front desk had extended our check-out time to Noon, but Joe was still grumpy when we woke him up at 11:30. We had to wait in line to ensure we got our poker rate when we checked out, which took like twenty minutes. After that, there was a long line to get a cab at the Venetian. We confirmed with the driver that this is due to a terribly set-up taxi stand. Apparently the Venetian is constantly changing the layout so that drivers never know which lane they need to be in to pick up passengers and the whole thing turns into a giant mess. Apparently some drivers won't even make pickups at the Venetian for this reason.

I had no trouble checking into the MGM early, and for $70 (with poker rate), it was a great room. Though it was on the small side, it featured a great view of the strip, two very comfortable pillow-top beds, a large tub, and a nice TV.

Logan took a nap while the rest of us got lunch and played some cards. I got seated at a very loose passive 2/5 NL table. The only guy at the table who was at all aggressive was on my immediate right, and I played back at him a few times just to set a dynamic and keep him in line.

I picked up a fair number of chips in the early going by raising limpers, making continuation bets, etc. The first big pot I remember playing was against a guy I called (in my head) Captain Calling Station. He was a graying fifty-something, hefty but not fat, with a goatee that ruined any dignity that the first hints of wrinkles on his face might otherwise have brought him. He wore dark sunglasses (I immediately lose respect for anyone wearing sunglasses at a 2/5 cash game) low on his nose so that he could peer over them like a disapproving librarian when he was trying to get a read.

I'm pretty sure that most of the time, the only thing he was looking for was an excuse to call. Obviously that's where the Calling Station part came from. The Captain was because he looked like the kind of single guy who stands out on the deck of his boat with a beer in hand and a leather-skinned middle-aged woman in a sagging bikini on his arm. But he'd been calling a lot of my raises and continuation bets out of position, and I'd let him win more than one pot with a marginal hand.

A $100 tournament starting at 6PM had drained a lot of players out of the 2/5 games, and our table was in danger of breaking. The floorman told the dealer to stop raking the pot when we got five-handed, which I thought was cool as hell, but some others at the table were talking about quitting anyway. I started ramping up the aggression, so when everyone limped my button, I raised to $40 with K9o. Only the Captain called, and he check-called my bet on an A67 flop. Having decided to win I was going to win this pot or die trying, I was going to fire again on the turn, but then I hit my 9 and decided I'd check behind rather than risk a check-raise.

The river was a T, and Cappy checked again. I was pretty sure I couldn't win at showdown, but I had been meaning to try a bluff in a spot like this after observing how passive most liver players seem to be on the river. This was a major difference I noticed between live and online games, having seen live players check down some huge hands on the river (like the A4 full house from Saturday) on the assumption that, although they were probably good, worse hands would never call. Similarly, my river value bets were not getting paid off as often as I expected.

With this in mind, I bet $200 on the river, nearly the size of the pot. With no hesitation at all, CCS counted off $200 in chips, and for a second I thought he had called. I must not have looked too disappointed, though, because he stopped without putting them in the pot, played with them for a minute, and folded.

It was tempting to show him my bluff, since after all he was a calling station and I didn't plan to bluff him very often, but he seemed like the kind of guy who might be easily embarassed and/or enraged by something like that, so I just mucked and stacked the chips.

In the interest of saving our crumbling game, the floor asked if we wanted to change the stakes to 5/5 NL, for which there had been an interest list for hours. I was all for it, but the bigger stacks didn't want to cash out down to $1000, which I wouldn't have either in their shoes, so I didn't push the issue. They found us another player, set the max rake at $1, and we kept it going until the table filled up again.

Not long after, I finally stacked someone. I forget the exact action, I think maybe some people had limped my BB and I'd popped it with 55. Anyway I flopped a set and bet $100 on a K-high flop, $150 when the third heart came on the turn, and then shoved like $250 on the river. The guy mucked when I tabled my set, so I don't know what he had, and since the dealer was between him and me, I couldn't see his reaction, either. He proved to be a pretty big station, though, and since the players to my immediate right were some of the better ones at the table, I moved across the table to get to the left of the presumed fish at the first opportunity.

I should add at this point, because it becomes important later, that the woman who took my old seat looked to be in her early 60's, with a sweet face and the perfect little old lady vestments: a beige sweater with an oversized ceramic image of a cartoon mouse eating a block of cheese pinned a few inches below her left shoulder. Based solely on her appearance, I assumed she would essentially be a dead seat at the table. That is, she would play too tight to lose much and too predictably to take much from anyone.

To my right was another older woman named Barbara who told me she was one of the original dealers at Caesar's Palace back in the day. She seemed nice enough, but something about her, either the way she looked or dressed or carried herself, I'm not quite sure, made me think she was a little strange. Sure enough, after a bunch of limping, she suddenly opened raised to $40, got one call, overbet the pot on a 9 high flop, and got all in against AJs that flopped a flush draw. He turned the flush, and she whispered under her breath, "Dumb shit."

There was plenty more swearing where that came from, some at least seemingly playful, some of it downright spiteful and mean-spirited. She once called a raise to $25 from the sweeter old woman and check-folded KK face up on an A-high flop. The other woman turned over AA, and Barbara cried out, "I knew it, Mary, you little shit! That's why I didn't reraise you!"

That was the first time Mary raised, and she’d been at the table for over an hour. About an hour later, she raised again, and after one caller, I elected to call on the button with 65o, as Mary had about $600 in front of her and I covered.

As is my habit, I envisioned what kind of flop would allow me to win a big pot against what I was sure would be a big pair: certainly 347, but I’d be willing to call any reasonable bet on any flop that gave me so much as an open-ender. What about 66x? Would she figure me for calling a raise with a 6? Hard to say, but she’d have to lose something.

Then I envisioned the aftermath. This poor, sweet old woman sits patiently, socializing with friends and waiting for her pocket aces. She finally gets them, the holy grail of Texas Hold ‘Em, and she loses two months’ social security checks to a “bad beat” from some young hot shot who calls an early position raise with 6-5 offsuit. Is this really who I am? A guy who invests $15 in a garbage hand in the hopes of ruining this poor woman’s evening (maybe her month? This is the kind of bad beat story she might tell years into the future) and taking her money, money that could have been used for her grandson’s college education or her granddaughter’s orthodontia?

The flop came Q82, Mary bet and won the pot. She flipped over AQ suited and tipped the dealer.

Barbara also seemed really excited to know the floor people by name and was constantly calling on them for little favors, such as to announce an open seat at our table, give her a massage (this is the floor man, mind you, not a professional masseuse), or to move the whole table because her seat was in the aisle and kept getting run into. I offered to swith seats with her, as this would have put me closer to my fish, but she shot back kind of grumpily, "No, I want this one one!"

At first she seemed friendly with some of the regulars there, but after she got stacked again and left in a tizzy (unfortunately I forget the hand), everyone started talking about her. One of the floormen came over and said, "Whoever busted her, thank you."

Even sweet old Mary chimed in. "Ooooh, I do not like to play cards with her. She's as sweet as can be away from the card table, would do anything for you, but she gets in such a bad mood when she's playing poker. I have to show her my AA or she'll go on all night about how unlucky she was to get an Ace on the flop."

I unfortunately did not get to keep the fish's money for long. After a couple of limpers, I made it $40 out of the SB with AQs and two calls, including from the guy I previously stacked. I could now see more clearly that he was an oafish 30-something wearing a shirt that said OMW. I amused myself throughout the evening by thinking of things that could stand for. Anyway, the flop came out rags but gave me a flush draw. I bet $100 and OMW called.

If you flop a big draw and don't get the money in right away, the turn can be tough to play. We got an offsuit K, and I decided to fire again, both because this was a good card to represent and because even though I was committing myself to call an all in I could count on quite a few outs. So I bet $175, he moved in for his last $250 or so, and I obviously called and missed. He showed me KJo with no spade, meaning he had called the flop with nothing and turned a four-outer.

I tried not to show any frustration as I paid him off, but this got tougher to do when he muttered bitterly, "What goes around comes around."

My eyebrows shot up. "How's that?"

"You beat me and then I beat you."

"Mmmm," I grunted, pursing my lips and nodding. Right, I flop a set, you call me down with God knows what and lose your stack. Then you call me with air, catch a miracle turn card, and dodge twelve outs on the river. I can see how those are parallel situations.

Worst of all, he pretty much stopped playing pots with me after that. We played only three more of any significance. First, I raised AK from the BB, bet at a whiffed flop, and check-folded the turn. Then I raised KTs against his limp, bet when I flopped a gutshot with an Ace on the board, checked down the turn when I picked up a flush draw, and then overbet the nuts on the river. He folded suspiciously.

In the third one, I raised J0s against some limpers on my button, got two calls, and checked down an A-high flop. The turn gave me a gut shot and a flush draw, and once again two calling stations checked it to me. I wanted to bet badly, but I didn't think either of them would fold much of anything, nor was I confident that a bet now would lead to a big river bet getting paid off if I hit. So I checked again and rivered the flush. OMW led into me for $30 into a $75 pot. I thought about making $100 more, but decided for $120 instead. This time he paid me off with A2.

Suddenly, I was running really hot. On the next three hands, I picked up 99, KQs, and 99 again, twice picking up the blinds and several limps and once flopping set over set to stack a guy with like $300. The next orbit, I raised OMW's limp to $25 with JTs in LP. The button, who was sitting on very nice stack, made it $75, and the SB called cold (!). Priced in, I counted off $50 more and prayed for a big flop. What I got was the potentially tricky 982r.

The SB checked. To cold call a $75 reraise with $325 behind, he ought to have a monster, but that wasn't the vibe I was getting from him. More likely was that he was just another overly loose passive live player. Still, I didn't want to commit myself to getting it in versus him on the flop if it helped his hand, as I probably don't have more than 8 live outs.

If the button were smart and aggressive, he'd be re-raising me with a ton of hands given how aggressive I'd been this orbit. However, this was the first time in hours I'd been re-raised pre-flop. We both had nearly $900 behind, so I figured the best move would be to check and see what he does rather than getting blown off of eight outs to the nuts. With stacks of this depth, I may even be able to knock him off of an overpair at some point during the hand if I miss and get the right sense from him.

Anyway, the button checks also, which surprised me, and the turn is a beautiful Qs to give me the nuts and put a flush draw on the board. SB checked again, and now even though I thought it was unlikely that either opponent liked his hand much, I had to bet. There was barely $200 in the pot and I had a virtually unbeatable hand, so I needed to take a line that would allow me to put all $900 of my stack into play if the button liked his hand after all. I bet $200 and both players folded. Oh well.

One other kind of funny hand, this guy sat down to my right and bought in for the minimum of $200. After a few limpers he completed the SB and I checked T3s in the BB. Flop was 932 and gave me a flush draw. He checked, I potted it, everyone else folded, and he checkraised to $75 with like $125 behind. With deeper stacks I might have just called him, but then I never know what to do on the turn, so even though I knew he wasn't folding, I figured I had plenty of outs and wanted the table to see my three-bet all in "on a draw" so that's what I did. He snap called me with 32o for bottom two pair, but I rivered my flush.

Staring at me with a look of anger and frustration, he demanded, "Did you just go all in on a draw."

"Sure did."

"And what was at that time middle pair."

"Yup." I avoided eye contact and stacked the chips. He grunted and reloaded.

Eventually, he came around and decided I might be a pretty good player after all. After the seat change, I was to the immediate right of Captain Calling Station, who actually turned out to be a pretty nice guy (though a degenerate gambler) named John. I thought he'd be angry or resentful that I'd been hammering on him before, but he was pretty humble about admitting I'd gotten the best of him. He told me he didn't mind losing to me because he never left a casino with money. One night, he said, he was up $27,000 (I got the impression he played much higher stakes than what we were playing, and the prospect of getting into those games with him had me drooling), and came home with nothing after blowing it all at blackjack. His wife called him every name in the book and eventually divorced him. Yipes.

I made my usual straddle UTG and looked at my phone: 11PM, meaning I’d been playing with barely a break for 8 hours. More importantly, I could detect a seismic shift in how the table regarded me. I had a mountain of chips stacked in front of me, and most of my opponents had been around long enough to see me raking in all of the big pots I played. Lately, I’d been getting less action and hearing less grumbling about my “bad” play. But this table was soooo juicy! Not juicy in the sense that they’d lose their asses with anything, but juicy in the sense that there was $7500 in the table and only one other guy who seemed to have half a clue how to play poker. After folding, I resolved to take a walk, go to the bathroom, and play one more hour.

I returned to my seat and posted from the CO. The other competent player limped UTG, Mary limped behind him, two or three other players, including OMW, limped in, and I looked down at 75. It was tempting to limp in too, just to play a pot in position, and then I remembered that I’d already posted. I tapped the table, the button limped, the blinds tapped, and the flop came out Q77.

UTG bet $30, and Mary, to my surprise, called. It was unusual for our table to see this much action on such a dry board, so I just called in position with my trips. Everyone else folded, and the dealer burned and turned the K. UTG checked, and Mary, to my great surprise, bet $75, leaving a little less than $250 behind.I considered it very unlikely that she would play any hand containing a 7. Could she have KK or QQ? She limped behind a limper, and I’d previously seen her raise AA in a similar situation, so I slightly discounted these, but who knows. I really didn’t think she was the type to semi-bluff. Maybe AQ or KQ? I called, resolving to throw my hand away to a big river bet.

The river was the A, and Mary bet about $55 into a pot of nearly $300. I smiled inside and stared envisioning how this pot would give me a stack of over $2000 and get me unstuck for the trip. Her weak little blocking bet told me she was uncertain about her hand, probably worried that I had a 7. What could I raise? What would she call with? I decided that if I bet her last $183, she’d be getting better than 2:1, and would maybe talk herself into a call, both because she might want to put me on a busted flush draw or just because she didn’t want to fold two pair to the “Macadamia”, as her friend called me (because she thought I was a nut).

“All in”, I announced, moving a stack of red chips into the pot. Her spindly claws couldn’t shovel chips into the pot quickly enough. “Can’t win this one, sweetheart,” she informed me with a hint of malevolent glee as she flipped over her pocket Aces for a rivered full house. I grimaced, matched the last of her chips, and smiled at her. “Nice hand.”

In my mind, I replayed it. No reason to shove the river. She isn’t going to call with a worse hand. There was no flush draw on the flop to represent. Though unlikely, she certainly could have a boat, and the odds of her having a boat are probably better than the odds of her calling with a worse hand. But the weak river bet is what I kept coming back to. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how perfect it was. If she made the big bet herself, I’d already resolved to fold. But the underbet convinced me I was good and induced me to try raising for value. Had she stumbled upon this brilliant play by dumb, nut peddling luck? Or did she know that I would do the work for her, and that she couldn’t count on having a big bet of her own paid off? I wanted to ask her this, but I realized it would be rude, as I’d essentially be accusing her to her face of being just another clueless case of beginner’s luck.

After another orbit of folding, I stood up, wished everyone a good night, and went to cash in my chips. I felt a tap on my arm as I stood waiting for the cashier to convert my racks of casino chips into crisp $100 bills. Looking over and down, I saw Mary smiling up at me. “It was an absolute delight to have you at the table, and you’re a helluva poker player,” she told me.

“It’s too bad we were across the table from each other, we didn’t get to talk much.” She said good night and started to return to her seat, but I stopped her. “Your river bet was perfect,” I said.

Her face lit up. “I invited you right in, didn’t I?” she whispered conspiratorially.

“I couldn’t resist,” I admitted with a smile.

Saturday Night in Vegas

Although it was after 5AM Saturday morning when we went to bed, I woke up in time to play the $500 Noon tournament feeling not the least bit hungover. It may have been better if I slept through it, though. Early on, I made a classic internet donkey mistake and failed to look at the stack size of my opponent. He had lost a big pot early on after calling a check-re-raise all in with 99 on an 8-high flop and was down to just a few thousand chips at the 100/200 level.

I raised to 600 with Q’s and he called on the SB. The flop was an ugly AJ5r, and without looking at his stack, I bet 900. He instantly moved all in for 1350 more, and I decided I was priced in to call. His A8o held up, much to my annoyance, and just like that, I was short stacked.

At the 200/400 level, I played another interesting pot. A guy with a huge stack who turned out to be an atrocious calling station had moved to the table not long ago and was getting involved in quite a few pots. With about 6500 chips, I raised to 1200 UTG+1 with AJ off-suit. The calling station called, and a guy with even fewer chips than I had called on the button. I obviously wasn’t worried about the station, but the button worried me. He really ought to moving all in with any hand he wants to play, and if he does just call, he needs to have a monster. Him being a terrible live tournament player, however, this isn’t what I put him on. Rather, I figured he would have some kind of medium strength hand. I think he would have shoved AK and maybe AQ in this spot, though I can’t say for sure.

The flop was AT6r, and I really had no idea what to do. I couldn’t afford to bet and fold, but I figured that if I got any action on this board, I would be dominated. Finally, I decided these guys were so obvious with their play that even from out of position I could check and figure it out. So I checked, the big stack checked, and the button bet 1000 into a pot of 4000. Ugh. I think I maybe should have check-raised all in here, but with that bet on this board, he’s likely to have either a hand that crushes me or very little. I called and resolved to figure it out on the turn. The calling station hemmed and hawed, announced that he had a little piece, and called. I don’t think this was an act of any kind and read him for bottom or middle pair.

The turn put an 8 on the board, and I checked again. The big stack also checked, and the button moved all in for 4000. Since I could basically beat only a bluff and didn’t think he would bluff into two callers, including the calling station, I folded. The big stack called instantly with his 86s and eliminated the button, who had AJ. Oh well.

My bustout hand was equally annoying. Still at the 200/400 level, a pretty generic player opened for 1600, and a tight player called. This was waaaaaaaay more action than we usually saw pre-flop, and believe it or not, when I looked down at a pair of Queens, I wasn’t happy. But with 5000 chips, I had no choice but to move all in. My stomach really sunk when the old nit on my left asked the dealer to count it down. He finally moved all in over the top, and the raiser started saying, "I don’t see how I can fold this," and I knew that one of not both of them had me crushed. The raiser called with KK, and the nit had AK. The case K on the turn put the final nail in my coffin.

Once again, I went upstairs to cool off and unwind a bit. Logan, Darren, and Joe had gone over to play the Mandalay Bay 2/4 NL game, which we’d heard was quite juicy. I called to see what they wanted to do for dinner, but they all had nice stacks at loose tables and didn’t want to leave, so I went over there to join them.

The Mandalay Bay poker room is pretty cramped relative to the Venetian room, and the dealers are a bit slower and more amateurish. They rake the pot even when there’s no flop, and they take additional money to put into a progressive high hand jackpot (Edit: Logan tells me that there is no rake on the jackpot, in which case I see no drawback to it. As he points out, it did seem to draw some fish.) To add insult to injury, the waitresses are not nearly as attractive as those at the Venetian either. However, the games are very good, and the floor is a lot more welcoming than they are some places.

There weren’t any open 1-2 seats so I sat in a 1-2 NL game while I waited. They didn’t make me post, so I came in UTG, though I didn’t play a hand until my button, when I raised to $12 after two limpers with KsQ. Both limpers called, and the flop came As 6s 2s. Check, the guy to my immediate right bet $15, I raised to $60, the first guy folded, and the second guy called. I turned a K and shoved when the action checked to me, but the dude called with A6s to stack me.

He paid me back a few hands later when he completed the SB and I checked 93o on my BB. Flop 9s 6h 3h and he check-calls a pot-sized bet (there were other players in the pot, but they all folded the flop). The turn put up another heart, and we checked through. A river 9 gave me a boat, my opponent bet $30, and I raised him $100 more. He told me he wanted to return some of my money and called with Kh 5h.

As I was leaving, I witnessed a hilarious showdown. I didn’t see the action on every street, but on a KQQ52 board with three clubs, one guy shoved and the dude to my right elbowed me and showed me his hand: 9c3c. He had floated the flop with a backdoor club draw and hit. When the SB called, I said, "I think you’re screwed" but it turns out the pusher had AQ and the SB had overcalled an all in bet with K5 on the river! 93 ships another big pot.

I was still a bit frustrated from the tournament and tired from the night before and certainly not playing my best when I first sat down at the 2-4 table. I made some bad plays early on and got off to a bad start. Eventually my aggression started to pan out and I got together some chips and a good reputation. Having just raised some limpers in the last hand, I raised again to $45 with AdKd. The loose player in the SB called, two of the calling station limpers called, and we saw a flop of 4d6cQd. Gin! The SB bet out $50, one of the calling stations called, and as soon as the action was on me, I leapt of my seat, shoved my chips into the pot, and called out loudly, "All in!", doing my best to look like a very excited amateur with a big pair. The SB thought and folded, but the other guy called quickly with a pair of 8's. He managed to dodge all of my 15 outs. "Nice read," I told the guy as genuinely as I could muster as I left the table, too annoyed now to keep playing.

It was barely midnight and no one else wanted to leave yet, so I walked around by myself for a bit to cool down before going back to my room. Nothing all that remarkable had really happened, I’d just had some bad luck in two tournaments and lost one stack at a cash game. This wouldn’t even faze me online, but when playing live, so much more is invested in a single game, since they run more slowly and you can’t play more than one at once. It’s something I need to work on if I want to start playing more live poker.

Friday in Vegas

I woke around 8AM Friday morning, it being 11 AM my time. When I finished showering and dressing, Logan was awake as well. Together we went across the street to the Mirage buffet.

Though the selection at breakfast wasn’t great, the food was quite good for a buffet. The bacon was crisp and the french toast was hot and soft, not like the cold and stale hunks of egg-soaked bread I’ve seen elsewhere. The room looked a lot nicer and better designed than other buffets I’d been to, and judging by the promised lunch and dinner offerings, it would be a good place to have either of those meals.

We got back to the Venetian poker room around 10:30, as I wanted to register for a tournament that I thought started at 11. I learned, however, that it did not start until Noon, so I took a seat at a 1-2 NL table where Joe was playing. I quickly won $200 with a set of T’s on a K-high flop, and a little while later, got up to use the bathroom before the tournament.

I was playing a $500 deep stacked event that runs on Saturdays and Sundays. For a regularly scheduled live tournament, it’s a great structure: 10,000 chips to start and forty-minute blind levels. I had over 100 BB’s for the first two hours of the tournament, which is generally unheard of if you aren’t spending four figures on the buyin.

The play was predictably weak tight and terrible, and my aggressive play quickly drew the ire of my tablemates. Unfortunately, they kept outflopping me, and though I made some good laydowns, I soon found myself below average, with the blinds and antes rapidly spiraling. A passive guy with a ton of chips limped UTG+1, someone else came in behind, and I decided to take a flop with 86s on the button. The stakes were 300/600, so my 17,000 chips didn’t allow for big implied odds, but the play was so passive that I wasn’t too worried about either of the short stacked players in the blinds moving all in, as they almost surely would have were this an online tournament.

What I hadn’t counted on was the BB thinking he was the SB and tossing an extra 300 chips into the pot. When it was explained to him what was happening, he pulled the chip back, but the floor ruled that he had to raise. "OK, I’m all in."

"I’m sorry, sir, but that would be a string bet. You must raise 600 more or forfeit the 900 chips.

"Fine!" he exclaimed angrily, firing his cards into the muck. The big stack just called the raise, as did the player behind me, and I was sorely tempted to move all in, as I felt either of them would have taken the opportunity to raise if they liked their hands particularly much. But a glance at the first player told me he might well look me up, so I just called.

The dealer spread the flop: 762r. The guy up front quickly bet 3000 into a pot of about 5000. I wasn’t sure what to make of this, but I didn’t think he could have an overpair, even 8's, given his failure to reraise pre-flop with the limpers behind him. After a few seconds of thought, I moved all in for roughly 15,000. "I call you," he told me quickly, though for some reason I felt like he was just being spiteful and I could be ahead. I turned over my hand, and he showed my KJ off-suit for no pair and no draw. Turn J, river J, and I’m out.

Leaving the others to play cash games, I went up to our room to unwind, check my email, call my girlfriend, etc. Afterwards I checked out the pool exclusively for denizens of the Venezia Tower. Nestled amidst a beautifully landscaped garden, I found no fewer than five pools of varying sizes, some heated, some sporting fountains or statuary, and all looking very relaxing. I read for a while on a stone bench in the shade of a large-leafed tree, and then headed inside to get ready for dinner. My only complaint about the pool is that there was no view. I later realized we were on the tenth floor of the hotel but unable to see anything about the hotel’s towers rising around us on all sides. It would be nice if there were a view of the city as well.

We dined at Delmonico’s, a Wolfgang Puck steakhouse in the Venetian. Since I don’t eat steak, I’m probably not the best person to review this place, but I found the service somewhat lacking for a restaurant of its caliber and price. When I eat at an expensive restaurant, I’m generally looking to try something new and appreciate the gourmet preparation. I’m expecting the wait staff to be knowledgeable enough to make suggestions, explain the preparation, and generally help me appreciate the meal.

When I asked our waiter about the soup of the day, he said simply, "lobster bisque," with no attempt to make it sound appealing or tell me what was special about Delmonico’s lobster bisque. I got a very similar response when I asked about the fish of the day. My friends who ordered steak didn’t get much more information, and the waiter also offered no assistance as we were selecting a wine from a very extensive (and expensive) list.

By this time, our fourth roommate for the weekend, Darren, had also joined us. Darren’s a few years older than we are and recently married, but he has a baby face and routinely gets carded when we go anywhere. He didn’t get carded at Delmonico’s, but Logan did tell them that it was Darren’s birthday and asked the waiter how old he thought Darren was.

"24?" he asked after sizing him up for a minute.

"You’re off by nearly a decade," Logan told him.

"I’m 14," Darren chimed in quickly. Our heretofore stolid waiter unleashed a deep belly laugh that instantly tripled his charm. After the meal, he brought out a chocolate gelatto on the house for the birthday boy. Darren shared with the table, and we found it quite delicious, particularly the whipped cream.

From there, we went straight to the poker room to catch some of the Friday night action. The Venetian poker room is probably my favorite in Vegas. It’s spacious, with good game selection and higher-than-average maximum buy-ins ($300 at 1-2 NL and $1000 at 2-5 NL). The staff is also excellent, with some very efficient and friendly dealers, helpful and accommodating floor staff, and some of the best (and best looking) cocktail waitresses I’ve seen.

Having left my traveler’s checks in the room, I bought into the 2-5 game for the $700 I had in my pocket and ran it up over $1000 pretty quickly. To my immediate right was a vivacious Asian woman who looked to be about 50, and to my left was a dark-skinned, comical, slightly drunk, and downright maniacal young poker player named John. I was anticipating a fun and profitable game.

The Asian woman struck up a conversation with me and started giving me some pretty basic poker advice. Playing the part of confuzzled tourist, I asked if she wasn’t a professional. She told me no, explaining that she played for the first time a few years ago and fell in love immediately. "At first, I lose very much money, but I get better, and I love this game. My husband ask me if I want have sex, and I say, ‘No, I want play pokah, baby!!!’" Hmmm, perhaps it’s better that Emily doesn’t play.

Still in a playful mood, I asked if I hadn’t seen her on TV. "I doh knoh, I dohn watch pokah on TV."

"You weren’t at the final table of the World Series?"

"Just a ladies’ event!" she announced proudly.

"Oh, are you Annie Duke?" I asked.

"Hahahaha, your friend, he is big boolshitter," the woman told Darren, who was sitting on the other side of her. He nodded.

"Oh wait, I know who you are. You’re Johnny Chan!" she laughed even harder.

A little while later, she won a big pot off of a loud guy with huge arms bursting out of a muscle tee and frosted hair gelled into a prickly ridge. She got her money in pretty bad and made a runner runner straight. He said something about how badly she played the hand, and a big fight ensued. They ended up betting $200 on whether she had a gutshot or an open-ender on the turn. Although the guy was out of line for running his mouth, he was right that she had a gutshot, so I didn’t get involved. She insisted she wouldn’t pay unless she saw the tape, at which point John cut the tension with a deadpan incredulous, "Wait a minute, you all have cameras in here?!?!" to the dealer.

The meathead left not long after, without collecting his $200, but the fight pretty much killed the jovial mood at the table. The woman on my right seemed upset that no one took her side and was no longer willing to joke around with me. As luck would have it, the episode of ESPN’s 2006 World Series of Poker coverage in which I make a very brief appearance came on TV, but I could not get this woman to turn her head in look. I think we had lied/BS’ed with her too much for her to believe anything we told her.

I was up to about $1200 when I made a few mistakes. I had been playing back at John’s aggressive play, pulling a few squeezes on him, though it was tough being to his immediate right, especially as we got deeper. He straddled UTG, got two calls, and I made it $70 with red Q’s on my BB. He called, as I figured he would do with almost anything, and everyone else folded. The flop was a less than ideal KcT6c, and John called a $120 bet.

The dealer turned a 6, and I checked. Without much hesitation, John bet $300. With nearly $1100 behind, I had a tough decision. I really felt like he was on a draw, but my only move now would be to check-raise all in, and if he did have a K or a 6, I’d be drawing near dead. After much thought, I folded, and he showed be 95cc. Darren and I discussed the hand later and concluded that I definitely should have shoved on him. I was basically just playing scared with 220 BB’s and over $1000 cash.

Still steaming from that fold, I raised to $25 with AA in early position, and both John and a short-stacked guy who seemed kind of tight called. "I have the best hand right now," John told me. The flop was a very dry Q85r.

"You say you had the best hand?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

"OK I check."

"Well it’s not best anymore, I check too." The other guy checked pretty quick, and the dealer turned a T to complete the rainbow. I bet $55, John folded, and the other guy min-raised to $110. Immediately I had a sinking feeling my my stomach. I asked what he had left, and when he told me $160, I rationalized a reraise all in by telling myself that after the flop checked through, my hand was pretty under-represented. He quickly called with QQ for top set.

I later learned that calling this guy "pretty tight" was like calling the cocktail waitress’ outfit "pretty revealing." He went to showdown twice in about three hours, both times holding big pairs pre-flop that turned into sets on the flop. I’m also pretty sure he (correctly) folded K’s to me pre-flop, which really burned me up.

I did make one play with which I was very satisfied. I had moved seats to get off of John’s left. The player three seats to my right was extraordinarily passive, as revealed by this hand: he limps behind a bunch of limpers and bets an A64 flop checked to him. I call with A2 on my BB, everyone else folds, and he immediately comments that this is "suspicious" of me. The turn is an A, and I check and call again. The river brings an 8, I check, and he checks behind with A4 for a full house, telling me that he didn’t see how I could call with a worse hand. Although I was ready to muck my A2, I still hate his check.

Anyway, in the hand I want to talk about, I called an early position raise with 76s in middle position, and this guy called from his BB. The flop came 56c9c, he checked, and we both called a bet from the raiser. An 8 on the turn filled my gut shot, but when the BB bet out $100, I figured he had the same hand and just called, hoping to bluff him off of it if a scare card came on the river. Sure enough, the river was a 9, and he checked. After thinking for a few seconds, I bet $300, and he told me he was folding a straight.

By midnight, we were done playing serious poker and ready to get drunk and have some fun. We put our names on an interest list for a 6-12 Mixed Games table and kept bugging the floor staff until they finally helped us round up another group of friends to play with us.

For the who don’t know, the 6-12 Venetian Mixed Game is some of the most fun you can have playing poker in Vegas. Everyone is there to play some unusual games, drink free drinks, and have a ball. The mood is very laid back, and the dealers do their part by joking around and letting the players decide how the game should be run.

We were joined by one pretty weak player and a group of four young guys who seemed pretty solid. One kid in particular was not drinking and had a very strong grasp of the triple draw games like deuce to seven. This was kind of annoying since we were just looking to screw around and have fun, but he sort of got into the spirit, and he didn’t leave with too much of our money.

The nine of us settled on a rotation of Stud/8, Omaha/8, 2-7 Triple Draw, Razz, and Badugi. Impressively, several of our dealers avoided a very common error when dealing Stud/8, which is to pull the chips into the pot once the action is heads up. Since these pots are so often split, it is more efficient to keep each player’s bets in front of him for the duration of the hand once it is heads up, but very few dealers do this. Yet another feather in the cap of the Venetian poker room staff.