From the Desk of the Poker Philosopher

The finale of my trip report from the 2008 WSOP is now appearing in the October issue of 2+2 Internet Magazine. I must say, getting down to the final tables of this huge tournament is a pretty thrilling experience, at once exciting and surreal:

"On Day 6 of the main event, the Amazon Room was empty. Nine tables were collected in one corner of the immense room, 80% of which was utterly vacant. A single cocktail waiter patrolled between tables. Floor staff and press chatted idly as they waited for something to happen. Tensile cord stretched an oval around the 79 remaining players, so that every table was on the perimeter and observers could easily watch any of them."

If you haven't read them already, you should probably start with Part 1 and Part 2.

Labels: narrative, personal, poker, poker strategy, Rio, tournament, trip report, wsop

Stumble It!

My latest poker article, a strategy-filled narrative from my third and fourth days at the World Series of Poker Main Event, is now appearing in the September Issue of 2+2 Internet Magazine. Here's an excerpt from early on Day 4:

At this point, I was rolling along with a very nice stack, and there were just a few hundred competitors left in the tournament. My girlfriend was about to fly out to Las Vegas to support me. She had just passed through security when it happened.

I raised to 15K first to act with K-J of clubs and got called by a grizzled man who looked to be in his late 50’s or early 60’s. The flop came A-Q-6 with two clubs, giving me a flush draw and a one-card straight draw. Even without all my draws, this is a good flop to bet at, because as the pre-flop raiser, I am more likely to hold an Ace than my opponent who just called a raise. I bet out 35K, and he raised to 75K. I moved all in, and he called with Ace-Queen for top two pair. None of my draws got there, and just like that I was crippled, down to about 150K.

“Nice hand,” I muttered as I pushed my chips to the winner. His withered old man jaws stopped smacking on a wad of gum long enough to thank me.

I stepped away from the table to cool my head and call my girlfriend. I told her what had happened.

“We’re going to be boarding in twenty minutes,” she advised me.

“I’m not sure what to tell you. I have no way of knowing how long I’ll last. It’s going to be touch or go until I either get some more chips or get knocked out.”

If you'd prefer a more visual summary of the tournament, check out Poker Savvy Plus, where I'm working on a series of videos covering these and other hands I played in the 2008 Main Event.

Labels: narrative, NLHE, personal, poker, poker strategy, tournament, trip report, Two Plus Two, wsop

Stumble It!

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.

Labels: Las Vegas, narrative, personal, poker, poker strategy, tournament, wsop

Stumble It!

This incident occurred a while ago, but I just came across this first-hand account from a hired chef who was not playing in the game posted on The Agitator:

The raid occurred around 7:40 p.m. I was in the kitchen area which was just inside the front door when suddenly there was loud banging from the door. Within seconds, the room was full of Dallas SWAT officers yelling for everyone to put their hands in the air. Behind the Dallas SWAT team came many more law enforcement officers and several camera crews for the A&E reality show, Dallas SWAT. The camera crew’s chests were clearly marked as “A&E Film Crew.”

Bear in mind that, prior to police entering, the place was virtually quiet. There was the sound of poker chips in the air, but not much else. The players were essentially professionals and working stiffs having fun…there were doctors, lawyers, accountants, and other professionals. There was hardly anything “dangerous” about the place at all. In fact, the cops found no weapons in the facility or on anyone there. The show of force and weaponry brought by the cops was simply outrageous and unjustified, given the circumstances, but, then again, are they enforcing the law or making a TV show?

Among other things, I think this is an interesting comparison with the way decisions made by Harrah's and the hosts of World Poker Tour events are driven by camera crews and the needs of the networks that broadcast poker.

Labels: Harrah's, narrative, news, poker, underground poker club, WPT, wsop

Stumble It!

Thanks for all the support guys. Today was ridiculous, such a tough table for most of the day, fought tooth and nail to get up to 2 mil then got moved to softer table and picked up quick 2 mil. Alex is an amazing player, had some awful luck today and kept coming back. Even on my right he was ridiculously tough to play against. He deserved to finish higher, but for selfish reasons, not sorry to see him go. Roothlus and Gbecks on my left, also very solid of course. Raptor got moved to table at end of day, but then I was moved not long after. Gah I feel like I've been dangling by the seat of my pants for four days now.

Sorry I don't have a pic with chips stacked up, but believe me that bag was heavy as hell and weighted down with beautiful green chips worth 25K each. I look forward to ripping it open and stacking it all up tomorrow while the rest of my table drools with jealousy.

Here's a wild hand: Alex on my right is super LAG, has been opening like 30% of pots. I've 3-bet a couple of times, recently he called OOP with 87s, check-raise bluffed a K-high flop, and showed when I folded. He told me to stop 3-betting him. I did.

Few orbits later, blinds 10K/20K/3K, he opens to 55K UTG+1, I call, tight player in HJ raises to 200K, Alex calls, I shove for 1 million, tight guy tanks and folds K's face up. Alex folds and tells me he had AK. Deliberately not revealing my hand here, but what do you think of their folds?

Another one, late in the day, I have 3M. Fat middle-aged guy from GA with like 1.5M opens to 80K at 12/24/3, I flat with AKo, everyone else folds. Flop Q44 he bets 125K I call. Turn A he bets 300K I call. River blank he bets 500K I tank. He doesn't seem like the type to triple barrel bluff, and I can't imagine I beat anything he's value betting. I'm afraid he has AQ. I tank some more and try to talk to him.

"Aren't you afraid I have a 4? Did that cross your mind?" No response.

"I wish I knew more about you sir. All I know is you are from Georgia." No response.

Finally I call, he tables KQ. I show AK, and he mucks angrily and asks, "How do you call the flop when I fire?"

I ignore him.

"You call with nothing on the flop?" he asks again.

"Sorry sir, but you wouldn't answer any of my questions," I tell him as I stack his chips.

I'm second overall, with 79 remaining. $77,000 locked up.

Labels: 3-bet, 4-bet, narrative, NLHE, poker, poker strategy, tournament, trip report, wsop

Stumble It!

My dad keeps up with the blog, so I figured I'd make a post to wish him a Happy Father's Day. I didn't see him today, since he's in Maryland and I'm in Boston, but he'll be coming out to Las Vegas for the WSOP as he has for the last two years. After my first day (1C), we're going to Bryce Canyon for two nights before I (hopefully) play Day 2B. Happy Father's Day, dad.

On the same theme, here's a great story about being a father from 2+2 poster "Marlow":

In the months leading up the birth of my daughter, just about everyone who had the chance told me that my life was going to change. Of course they were right, but it's interesting that no one ever asserted that I was going to change. Beyond the impact my daughter has had on my sleep schedule, ability to play cards, drink, watch football, and travel - the greatest changes have all been to my personality and outlook. Before, I was a walking existential crisis. So much of my life was devoted to exploring my place in the world, and what the whole "meaning of life" is. But after she arrived, I stopped asking these questions. I'm no longer tortured by all of that. I’m satisfied. I can't say that I know definitively what the meaning of life is, but my need to ask the question of myself and the world has ceased completely.

Anyway, I have a story I'd like to share. Yesterday my daughter turned 3. In addition to the books, toys, and other presents that we've given her, we also let her choose where we ate dinner. She decided on ice cream first, then miso soup and sushi at the Japanese restaurant next door. She loves this place because not only does she love the food, but they have a small pond with dozens of koi fish in the middle of the room. She can walk right up to the pond and peer over the side to watch the fish swim up to her in the hope that they'll be fed. For a 3 year-old, this is the best. As an added bonus, she usually meets and plays with other kids who are there, too. So last night she's there looking at and talking to the fish when three older (probably 5 years old) boys came over to the pond and start to blow on the fish as they swim by. Clearly the fish did not like this. When they were blown on, they'd quickly swim off. The boys, being boys, were delighted that they were able to agitate these creatures. My daughter watched this for a minute or so, and I could almost see her thought process: "They are older, so should I do this too? The fish don't like this, though - and I like the fish. I don't know what to do." But then she made her decision for the welfare of the fish. So she marched over to these three kids who were significantly bigger than she was and started saying "don't blow on those fish!" over and over. They paid no attention, and after a few minutes, she came back to me exasperated. I suggested that she ask more politely. Of course, I knew that this would have no effect on them, but I wanted her to keep trying, to keep doing what she thought was the right thing. I didn't want to step in and teach her that justice only happens when you turn to an authority figure. I wanted her to feel as though she could do something for a cause that was important to her. To her credit, she started to ask politely. Then they started laughing and mocking her. This only spurred her on. She was getting angry, and started slapping her knees and shouting "stop, stop, stop, blowing on those fishies!!" again and again.

At this point I'm practically in tears I'm so happy. She is demonstrating empathy for the fish. She's standing up for what she believes in, even though the boys must have been very intimidating to her, and she did not resort to violence when she became frustrated. Eventually, one of the boys started clapping aggressively close to her, and I had to step in to protect her and scold him. The kid's father then materialized and ushered him away. The episode ended, but my wife and I praised her for the rest of the night.

But this was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I was and still am bursting with pride. To me, this is what parenthood and life is all about.

Labels: narrative, personal

Stumble It!

Cardplayer just posted a great interview with the always entertaining Tony "Bond18" Dunst. On why he enjoys being a professional poker player:

"I get to play a game all day, every day, and take any day off I want. What could be better? Last time I got a little burnt out, I took two weeks off and spent all day getting high and playing Call of Duty 4. And you know how many consequences there were? Zero."

Also, if you haven't already been following Tony closely on his Around the World in 90 Days tour, now's a great time to start, with the WSOP just getting underway.

Labels: narrative, poker, tournament

Stumble It!

A few days ago, as part of our cross-country road trip, Emily and I spend the better part of a day in Little Rock, Arkansas. I found it to be quite an interesting place, kind of a hip and relatively liberal mecca in a region of the US often stereotyped as backwards and conservative. Presumably Bill Clinton's legacy and influence have something to do with this, but I imagine the man was equally a product of the place.

After setting up our tent, our first stop was a scenic overlook at a nearby state park. As we were doing our best to point a camera at ourselves blindly with one hand, another couple arrived and offered to take our picture. They were a 'classic' Arkansas couple: he a straggly white guy sporting a goatee and a Home Depot polo, she a slender black woman with a pronounced posterior, and both exceedingly friendly and polite.

The man asked where we were from, and after I gave him a brief synopsis, I asked if they lived around here. He positively swelled with pride and drawled, "Why, yes sir, we do!"

"You're lucky," I told him, nodding at the sprawling, tree-covered delta spread out below us. They both smiled and offered some suggestions of things to see in the area, most notably the Big Dam Bridge.

I mention their races because it reinforces something I've noticed in my limited time in the American South. Despite northern stereotypes about racist hillbillies, Southern cities seem to be a lot more socially integrated than those in the North. I've seen many more inter-racial couples or even just groups of friends having dinner or coffee together than I do in places like Boston or Chicago.

Then again, that's only half of the story. I've also heard it said that, "In the South, they don't care how close you get, as long as you don't get too big; in the North, they don't care how big you get, as long as you don't get too close." It may be that opportunities for higher-level education, employment, and economic success are harder for many blacks to come by in the South; I'm really not in a position to say. And of course the Klan is still alive and well in many Southern states. But issues of racial equality, justice, and segregation are very important to me, and I'm always particularly mindful of them when traveling in a new region or culture.

On that note, we also visited Central High School in Little Rock, which in 1957 was the site of a riot that attracted international attention. The Supreme Court had recently declared the racial segregation of public schools to be illegal, but when nine black students attempted to enter Central High School in September, they were turned away by the Arkansas National Guard on the orders of Governor Orval Faubus.

A federal judge then ordered the school integrated. Faubus withdrew the National Guard, but a crowd of over a thousand angry whites gathered to prevent the Little Rock Nine from entering the school. The mayor of Little Rock wrote President Eisenhower for help, and he responded by federalizing the Guard and sending 100 members of the 101st Airborne Division to support the local police in maintaining order. A violent riot ensued. The students were threatened, and many reporters were beaten.

Eventually, the riot ended and the Little Rock Nine did attend school that year, with the only senior among them becoming the first black student to graduate from Central High School. The next year, however, Governor Faubus closed the state's three high schools rather than proceed with their integration, and students of all colors were forced to find new schools.

It's sad but important to realize that this was not the work of one misguided governor or a small but loud minority of virulent segregationists. Even after closing down the public high schools altogether, a Gallup poll found that Faubus was one of the ten men most admired by Americans in 1958.

One thing I find interesting about the civil rights movement is the role that pictures and other forms of media coverage have played in its successes. The style of nonviolent resistance popularized by Gandhi and King relies heavily on appealing to the conscience, not only of the oppressors, but of the world at large. You may have seen this powerful image from the Little Rock riot before:


It's one thing to have a political disagreement about whether schools ought to be integrated. Personally, I don't consider it a matter, like tax cuts, on which reasonable people can disagree. But especially in that era it kind of was, and regardless, there is such a world of difference between disagreeing with the decision of a judge or politician and cursing, spitting at, and attacking children.

Here we see a crowd of angry adults who are both older and far more numerous than the teenagers trying to do nothing more than attend a school that the highest court in the land has told them they have the right to attend. A lone girl walks calmly and bravely past a mob driven wild by hate, epitomized by the sneer on one woman's face.

Images like these provoked a kind of moral crisis for white Americans. They were able to overlook or make excuses for the fear, mistrust, hatred, and racism that informed their own support for segregation. But an angry mob attacking children cannot be interpreted as anything but a moral failing of the highest order. Over time, images such as this forced many people to change their opinions and drop their support for many of the most overt forms of discrimination.

This creates an interesting phenomenon where a town like Little Rock, which once festered with racism, can in many ways end up being less racist, or at least more conscious of its enduring racism, than more progressive cities that never saw such a singularly explosive incident of racism.

The epilogue to the picture above is that the the two women, the black teenager and the sneering white woman, met at Central High forty years later to reconcile. There was another moving photo (I couldn't find it online) of them standing arm in arm. The white woman was in tears.

When a woman, and more broadly a city, is so dramatically confronted with her own racism and forced to acknowledge their wrongdoings, they can ultimately end up more sensitive to the issue and conscious of the need to work actively to overcome it. For the millions who witnessed the Little Rock spectacle and others like it on television, however, it can have the opposite effect: they externalize racism as a belief held by redneck hillbillies who are not at all like themselves. They are inclined to think that if they are not burning crosses or shouting racial epithets, then they are not part of the problem.

Later the same day, we passed through Memphis, but didn't have much time to spend there. That's a shame, because I really would have liked to have visited some of the civil rights sites there. It's a part of American culture that I find really interesting both historically and as a lesson for today. Despite the progress that has been made, so many of the problems targeted by the civil rights movement of the 50's and 60's, such as segregation and educational inequality, persist today. Yet there is no movement on the scale that there was 40-50 years ago. Why not? Which of those strategies can and should be revived? Which failed? Which need to be adapted for contemporary America?

If any of you have made it through this rant and want to hear yet more of what I have to say on the subject, you might be interested in my review of Jonathan Kozol's Savage Inequalities.

Labels: narrative, personal, race, trip report

Stumble It!

Tony Dunst, my friend and fellow Poker Savvy guest pro, has just departed for his own world poker tour. Better yet, Full Tilt Poker has hired him to chronicle the journey for their blog. As Bond explains it:

I go on a trip starting from Melbourne and ending in Melbourne within 90 days to play high-stakes poker tournaments around the globe. The stops include the Party Poker Million cruise in the Mediterranean, the Grand Prix de Paris in France, WPT Barcelona in Spain, the WSOP and Bellagio Cup in Las Vegas, and a stopover in Wisconsin so I can see my friends and family for the first time in a year. At the end of every day I come home to my laptop and write up what happened over the course of the day and in the tournaments.

I'm very jealous, but I also intend to follow along closely. You can too, by keeping up with all his updates.

Labels: narrative, poker, tournament, trip report

Stumble It!

I was in Providence Wednesday night for the Rhode Island Urban Debate League's end of the year banquet. It was a powerful event marked by three highlights: speeches from Providence mayor David Cicilline, Great Debaters star Nate Parker, and the graduating seniors of the RIUDL. Perhaps the biggest story, though, was the amazing turnout. Dozens of students and coaches brought their families and were joined by League supporters, school district officials, and Brown University students who work with the League. The overwhelming turnout even forced a last minute change of venue to a larger ballroom at the Westin Providence. The Providence Journal and the Brown Daily Herald covered the event.

Mayor Cicilline spoke briefly but eloquently about the importance of debate and the history of the Rhode Island Urban Debate League. Though he's new to office, he seems to have had a long-standing relationship with the League. To say that I'm jealous would be an understatement.

Then, a young woman named Rosanna Castro gave awards and introduced the RIUDL's graduating seniors. Rosanna was one of the League's first debaters, and since graduating in 2004, she has gone on to join the school board. We've got some strong allies on the Boston School Committee, but once again, jealousy ensued as I listened to this bright, articulate, confident young woman credit so much of her success to debate.

The seniors had similar stories to tell. The Boston Debate League did two joint events with the RIUDL this year, so I've gotten to know some of their students a bit. It was moving to watch them pondering such an emotional milestone as graduation and reflecting on an activity that has meant so much to them. Some read from carefully prepared speeches, others reveled in hamming it up on the fly, and still others giggled nervously through quick thank yous to their coaches and teammates. But always, they acknowledged that were it not for joining the debate team, they would never be able to speak so eloquently before a crowd of hundreds.

The real show-stopper was Nate Parker, who starred alongside Denzel Washington in The Great Debaters. Now this was a guy to be jealous of. Nate is young, handsome, charismatic, smart, articulate, well-informed, successful, and presumably pretty well-off financially these days.
Experiencing so much success as a young man and being tapped by one of the most popular and talented actors and directors in America to star in his film is the kind of thing that would go to most people's heads, especially those who spend so much time in Hollywood. But Nate seems down-to-Earth and genuinely passionate about debate. Though he was unfamiliar with the activity prior to starring in the film, Parker now describes debate as "a major step in leveling the playing field" for disadvantaged students. He's since traveled the country to attend several other urban debate events.

Needless to say, he's a big hit with the students. After speaking for a few minutes, he invited the audience to come up on stage and ask him questions. Not surprisingly, several giggling girls were the first to take him up on the offer.

When asked about the upcoming presidential election, he gave a characteristically thoughtful response. "I really wanted to approach this with an open mind. I didn't, you know, want to just say 'Oh I'm for the black guy!' I've read all the candidates' books and I've never missed one of the debates. But after taking it all in, I'm supporting Obama." That line was met with thunderous applause.

I'm usually skeptical of celebrities who want to pontificate about politics, and this country certainly doesn't have the best track record with actors-turned-politicians. But I couldn't help thinking what a great candidate and great leader Parker would make.

Labels: narrative, personal, trip report, urban debate league

Stumble It!

Imagine that you are riding on the subway when a disheveled man wearing dirty clothes and a long, unkempt beard boards your car and begins to rant about how aliens got him and are coming for you too. He is crazy, you think to yourself, and probably you avoid eye contact, turn up the volume on your Ipod, or even more to another car. But he is also intriguing and occasionally funny, if more than a little strange. He’s not like me, you try to tell yourself. But he’s got two eyes, two feet, and a brain made from the same stuff as yours.

For a professional poker player, reading Dave Cinch is more than a little reminiscent of such an experience. His new book, The Poker World According to Cinch, is self-consciously paranoid and egomaniacal, a larger-than-life portrait of his experiences in and around the game of poker and of the worse-than-average luck he’s supposedly experienced. It is occasionally humorous and insightful, though never as often as the author intends. In the end, you’d like to say that your approach to the game has nothing to do with that of this inveterate gambler, but you can’t be so sure.

The Poker World According to Cinch is equal parts memoir, character sketch, and what might generously be called philosophical treatise. Cinch has spent twenty years playing, dealing, and hosting private poker games in Kentucky and at casinos around the country. At times, his tales resemble nothing so much as extended bad beat stories. To his credit, though, he always focuses more on the psychology and the experience of running bad than on the can-you-believe-it aspect (which isn’t to say such self-pity is entirely lacking).

His best tales aren’t even poker stories. Instead, they are about subjects as diverse as kidney stones and shark attacks. There is, however, always a poker analogy or metaphor at the heart of them.

In all cases, Cinch spins his yarns “gambler style”, with a healthy dose of colloquial spelling and grammar meant to evoke the sights and sounds of the gambling hall: “Frosty the Pool Shark got busted by Dusty Roads the horseman, with Dusty singing Christmas carols (“Frosty the Pool Shark”) and happily drawing to a deuce off-suit gutshot! There were seven witnesses to it in the game besides me, plus the dealer- and a flock of railbirds to boot. And I know you’re not gonna say the railbirds would lie. This is the straight scoop, man.” On the whole, this is an effective strategy for transporting the reader into that world, though at times it feels more than a bit forced.

The biggest distraction, however, is the author’s penchant for hyperbole. Everything is the shrewdest hustle, the worst beat, the wildest game ever. If the Guinness Book of World Records gave an award for most references to the Guinness Book of World Records, this one would be a cinch to win it.

Cinch’s sketches of the other characters who populate his world are the highlight of the book. As he explains it, “Poker is more about people than about cards. The people that gravitate towards the gaming sub-culture are the interesting thing, not the odds or the hands.” At his best, Cinch provides an insider’s perspective on this fascinating world, populated by such colorful characters as Cat Doctor, Marijuana Slim, Vic Mobster-elli (aka Baby Blue Eyes), and Fraulein Omaha.

Among them are thieves, hustlers, cheats, and above all degenerates, the kind who take their families’ gift money to the casino on Christmas Eve. Cinch’s portraits are whimsical and voyeuristic, but never judgmental. In fact, he has a special place in his heart for such devoted gamblers, believing that “That kind of gambling deserves it’s own wall in the Hall of Fame. I’m talking about the guys who will get up in there with the worst of it and don’t care.”

You see, Cinch is himself a gambler who just happens to play poker. Nowhere is this more clear than in his treatise on “Special Probability.” This is the bit where, despite the protestations to the contrary and the distinct lack of humor, you really hope he is joking. And the more he insists that he isn’t joking, the more you want to turn up your Ipod and move to a different car.

According to the Cinch Theory of Special Probability, “gambling isn’t science or math—it’s art. To be honest, I experience gambling not as a series of rational decisions, but more as a metaphysical drama—a kind of handicapping of the unfolding of a creative universe. I try to intuit about the nature of the game and the universe itself.” In other words, he believes that certain games, certain dealers, and even certain hands are out to get him. Supposedly he formulated the theory after a streak of losing 100,000 straight hands of Texas Hold ‘Em over a 10 year period.

This isn’t some off-the-cuff musing. Cinch devotes nearly 25% of the book to explaining, justifying, and promoting this theory. I’m not going to try to summarize it here—you’d have to hear it in the author’s own words. Not that I’m recommending that.

Cinch is a good story-teller, but he’s not much of a moralist, metaphysicist, or philosopher. His vignettes are entertaining enough, but they would be better if he would focus on the story rather than trying to extract a morals and truisms about gambling. Still, it makes me shudder to think just how close those of us who spend our time refining mathematically-grounded strategies are to abandoning that project, donning a joker hat, and creating a crackpot theory of the universe in our own images. Cinch seems to understand this dark side of poker all too well.

Labels: book review, humor, narrative, poker

Stumble It!

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

It has been 25 years since Savage Inequalities was first published, and there have been some changes. Schools are still funded primarily by local property taxes, guaranteeing that wealthier school districts will produce better educated children. However, the federal role in education has greatly increased, and funds from Title I and other revenue streams have in some cases ironed out the most glaring disparities. According to a 2002 study by the Government Accounting Office, pupils in Boston, Chicago, and St. Louis now receive more investment than their suburban counterparts.

But I have worked in two of these districts, and I have seen and heard about conditions at some schools that would not be tolerated in Newton or New Trier. Without engaging in an extensive critique of the GAO's numbers, I will say that there are some reasons why they may be misleading. Dropout rates, in part of a product of inferior schools, are much higher in the city. In fact, as Kozol points out, schools often plan for and rely on substantial numbers of students dropping out. Thus, 35 students may be assigned to a classroom with 27 desks on the safe assumption that 8 of those students will not be attending school by the end of the first semester. While per-pupil spending may be high for those students who remain in school, the numbers may not be so rosy when distributed across all of the students that the district ought to be educating.

Moreover, federal education funds are from a free lunch. No Schools Left Behind, the latest incarnation of the Elementary and Secondary Schools Act that authorizes most federal education spending, including Title I, imposes stringent requirements on schools to raise their standardized test scores or lose their money. The result is 'teaching to the test', an education built as much around test-taking skills as around knowledge. Even when asking very progressive, well-meaning administrators for relatively paltry sums of money, I am often asked about how debate affects test scores. Dutiful booster that I am, I'm prepared with an encouraging answer, but sometimes it's hard not to feel like a part of the problem myself.

In the realm of desegregation, there has been no improvement. If anything, segregation has gotten worse than it was when Savage Inequalities was published and is now as bad as it has been since the Brown decision more than 50 years ago. Sadly, the trend seems to be towards ever greater segregation, as courts around the country are scaling back or eliminating busing schemes. The new conservative majority in the Supreme Court ruled during its last term, in a decision in the case of Parents Involved in Community Schools v. Seattle School District No. 1, that school districts may not even voluntarily elect to desegregate themselves by making race-based student assignments to public schools. It is cruel and ironic how the 13th amendment, the Brown decision, and even the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, have been co-opted by the conservative agenda in defense of segregation and, by extension, inequality.

Labels: narrative, personal

Stumble It!

On Friday morning, we got the chance to explore the region of Zion called The Narrows that we had to pass on Sunday. As the name suggests, it's a particularly narrow portion of the canyon that is both one of the most scenic and one of the most difficult to traverse. In many places, the canyon floor is completely immersed by the Virgin River. During summer months, the water is warm enough for even amateur hikers to wade through The Narrows and appreciate its stunning, other-worldly assets.

Labels: narrative, personal, travel, trip report

Stumble It!

Labels: narrative, personal, travel

Stumble It!

The first round of the first tournament of the Boston Debate League’s fourth season has just gotten underway. With about forty students competing, it is one of our largest events ever. Unfortunately, 90% of the debaters are from 50% of the schools in the League. While these schools are doing very well, the other half of the League has not gotten off to such a good start. It’s something we’ll need to work on during the year, but seeing the enthusiasm, and the nervousness, of all the students here makes it seem like a much more manageable problem than it did earlier this week.

There is such a hectic energy that surrounds these events, particularly the first one of the year, when there are so many kids who are trying debate out for the first time. Some are driven by their fear to arrive early and pace nervously outside of the school until I arrive to let them in. Others panic and can only be coaxed into coming by coaches and teammates who spend the arrival/breakfast hour furiously calling and texting their no-shows.

These coaches, veteran and novice alike, scramble to marshal their squads for the season opener. They have registered their students with me several days ago in teams of two, but I’ve learned to prepare for a barrage of 11th hour changes:

“Shanice isn’t coming, drop her and pair Marcus with Beni. Tarell can debate alone.”

“Chanelle and Kiki are having a spate; we need to split them up. Pair Chanelle with Dan and Kiki with Jemal.”

“I have a student who’s never been to a practice, but he’s here now and wants to debate. He’s not registered. Is that OK? Can we find him a partner from a different school?”

“Shanice is here, let’s put her back with Marcus, then Beni and Tarell will debate together after all.”

It takes me three drafts of the schedule for Round 1 to get everything straight. Almost half the teams in the Novice division are from the same school, meaning that they can not debate against each other, and my computer program has difficulty generating a schedule that meets this constraint. Meanwhile, there are only four teams in the Varsity division, and although two of them are from the same school, there is no way around pairing them against each other for one of the three rounds. But computers are not given to such compromises, and ultimately it becomes easier to print the closest approximation that the program can give me and then correct it by hand.

All of this logistical work occurs amidst a blur of commotion: stomping feet, pounding music, beeping timers, and the din of young voices echoing through the vast hallways of this big brick schoolhouse. I puzzle over the constantly shifting matrix of school names and student initials, all the while incorporating last minute changes, pointing late arrivals vaguely in the direction of the auditorium, where donuts and coffee await them, and fending off unimportant inquiries and requests to “hurry, the students are getting restless.” It is as demanding as playing eight tables of poker at once, and I love every second of it.

Finally, I’m ready to photocopy and distribute the pairings just ten minutes behind schedule. Only a few people notice that I’ve entered the auditorium and ascended the wooden stairs to the podium at center stage, but they quickly start a chorus of shushing the spreads quickly across the disparate huddles of well-dressed teenagers.

“Good morning, everyone. Thanks for your patience. The veterans among you know that it wouldn’t be a BDL tournament without some hectic activity in the morning. But you also know that we usually make up that time over the course of the day and finish ahead of schedule, because I’m just that good.” Usually my faux arrogance is a good for laughs or even a few cheers, but this crowd is anxious to get started. I skip my introductions and get right to business, making a few announcements and then handing out the pairings and the judge’s ballots.

A mob of people, coaches and students alike, converge on the pile of paper at the front of the auditorium. Papers are shuffled, sheets passed back and forth between friends and strangers alike, and everyone is scrambling to gather her things and get to her assigned room. It is now 9:45, and I have told them to start their debates at 9:30.

By 9:50, the auditorium is empty, save for a few coats, backpacks, and crumpled Dunkin’ Donuts boxes. Season Four is officially underway.

Labels: boston debate league, narrative, personal, urban debate league

Stumble It!

Last night I attended a panel discussion hosted by Harvard Law School's newly formed Global Poker Strategic Thinking Society. I hadn't realized this at the time, but the discussion was actually part of a class taught by Professor Charles Nesson, so seating was at a premium. I was able to get a chair in the back, but later arrivals, including Greg (FunkiiMunkii from 2+2), had to stand or find some impromptu seating.

There is a telecast of the event, so I've tried to give more of my perspective in this retelling, since an objective account is available to those who are interested. Also, for background reading, I've reported on two other meetings with this group: First HLS Meeting and Lunch with Lederer.

Professor Nesson kicked off the event by introducing an internet application called Question Tools that enabled audience members (in the future, to include those watching such an event over the internet- Nesson is a big proponent of Second Life) to submit questions online. These questions were instantly viewable by other audience members, who could rank the ones they most wanted to see answered. In this way, the moderator could steer the discussion towards the topics most interesting to the audience.

Unfortunately, Professor Nesson, for all his good qualities, is not the first man I would put at the helm of a ship, and panelist Crandall Addington was not to be steered. The result was an entertaining but rather scattershot event that never really reached its objective of exploring the debate over the legitimacy of poker.

Addington introduced himself as one of the Texas road gamblers who played with the likes of Doyle Brunson and Amarillo Slim in the early days of Texas Hold 'Em, from the 1950's-1970's. At Nesson's request, he did share an interesting account of the origins of the game and how it spread to Las Vegas. Like many of us who play today, he first encountered poker while in college. One of his fraternity brothers at Southwestern University had learned the game in Robstown, TX, a town that has since been credited by the Texas State Legislature as the birthplace of Texas Hold 'Em.

Addington was drawn to the game because, unlike the draw poker games played in that era, Hold 'Em offered four opportunities to influence the action and outcome of the hand. As he mastered the game, he became increasingly fascinated by it, and soon he had make poker his career. Along with the other Texas road gamblers, he brought the game to the Louisiana and Mississippi casinos, where 2-7 single draw lowball was the game of choice, and then to Las Vegas, where Stud games had reigned supreme.

Addington credited a St. Louis mobster named Sid Weinman with popularizing the game in Vegas. Sid worked at the Dunes Casino (where the Bellagio now stands) and set up a table in a prominent location on the casino floor, a spot that attracted quite a few "seals" (seemingly archaic poker slang for what are now called "fish") who lost some valuable commodities, including, he insinuated, a controlling interest in the Dunes, in that game. Later, the same mob allowed Johnny Moss to spread No Limit Texas Hold 'Em at the Aladdin.

So far, we've got young college graduates wasting their education and gangsters spreading presumably crooked games in Las Vegas. What was that about the legitimacy of the game?

Howard Lederer, the other guest, took over the story from here. It was the mid-1970's, and just as Addington was getting out of the game, Lederer was getting in. He was a regular at New York's Mayfair Club, where some of the best Bridge and Backgammon players in the world plied their trades. Lederer was fortunate enough to fall in with them around the time that they took an interest in poker, and together these bright young games players taught themselves the ins and outs of Texas Hold 'Em.

They would travel to Vegas twice a year for the Poker Hall of Fame and World Series of Poker tournaments, initially getting fleeced by Addington and company but eventually making a name for themselves. Lederer spoke of satellite poker communities in New York and California but indicated that anyone looking to make a living at the game eventually moved to Las Vegas, as he did.

Lederer credits television and later the internet for the explosion of poker and specifically No Limit Texas Hold 'Em, which in the 1990's was a dying game.

Both Addington, now an entrepreneur with credentials in both the pharmaceutical and precious metals industries, and Lederer, still a professional poker player but also an internet entrepeneur with Full Tilt Poker, point to poker as a crucial training ground for business and negotiation skills. Both say that the ability to recognize profitable opportunities and learn from mistakes, initially learned at the poker table, have made them their fortunes in the business world. Now we're getting somewhere.

Nesson now introduced himself as "eon, dean of cyberspace"and told us that he had taken "the assignment, as my avatar's mission, to represent the game of poker against legal persecution, both criminal and civil." It was a suitably eccentric introduction, but his mission is a noble one. He went on to frame the question in just the right way, asking not about legal minutiae but about a question of public policy: should a society permit and/or encourage its members to play games of skill? Why did Mohammad say that his people ought to play games of skill but not games of chance?

It is fairly well-known that the distinction between games of skill and games of chance is important in many legal jurisdictions. Specifically, the question often asked is whether skill predominates over chance in the game of poker. The problem that poker's proponents have run into is that there is no clear definition of what that entails.

Before meeting Professon Nesson, I had assumed that this was just some arcane legal term that the lawyers would need to wrangle over. But his take on the legal process, which I quite like, is that these vague terms provide judges appropriate leeway to make cost-benefit analyses. Thus, the prerequisite for legal legitimacy of poker is convincing society and its judges and legislators that there is a social benefit to be derived from the game of poker.

Nesson then asked his guests to imagine a poker table at which "the game of poker is itself a player" and to "populate the table with poker's adversaries."

"Baptists" was the first word out of Addington's mouth. He'd testified last year before Texas' state legislature towards legalizing the game of Texas Hold 'Em in the state and was surprised to see that only the Baptists, and not vested gaming interests such as the state lottery of the Louisiana casinos, had shown up to argue against the game's legalization.

Lederer took this opportunity to share his insight that the fundamentalist objection is not just a moral but a religious one. That is, those Christians who are offended by gambling feel that gamblers are playing God, for He alone knows how the die will fall or deck will cut, and those who presume to such knowledge are blaspheming.

Lederer went on to say almost by definition, games played between people, rather than between a person and the house, were games of skill. "Do people get together in large groups to flip coins against each other?" he asked.

"He's never met Adam Junglen," I whispered to Greg.

Addington went off on a tangent about the difference between fixed limit and no limit games, and Nesson eventually interrupted to reiterate the central question: "What do our people get out of playing games of skill?"

Andrew Woods, Nesson's accomplice in the GPSTS, made a comparison to the Olympics. The ancient Greeks encouraged competitive javelin tossing because they wanted their young men to know how to throw spears. Nowadays, the ability to make good decisions under pressure was a prized skill and something we ought to foster through games and contests.

"With incomplete information," Lederer added. "That's really what life is: a series of decisions made under pressure and with incomplete information. There is no game that mimics life more than poker."

"Poker is a microcosm of life," Addington added. He went on to initiate an excruciating guessing game with the audience, asking who could figure out the best argument for poker being a game of chance. After summarily rejecting several reasonable and interesting suggestions, he confirmed my fears by insinuating that it was something seen on TV every week, and in fact that it came down to the play of one particular hand. "You see these guys racing off all their chips with AK vs a pair of 9's. You can do nothing to influence the outcome of that. Tournament poker is an aberration of the No Limit Hold 'Em."

Ugh. Greg tried in vain to argue the point with him, but he wasn't going to hear it. He began his next anecdote with the promise that, "This is not a bad beat story, but...," and went on to talk about a hand where he got all in with KK versus 97 and lost.

The player then told him, "I know how to beat pros like you. I just go all in. Then you can't outplay me."

Lederer diplomatically suggested that, "If you were still playing today, Crandall, you'd probably play a different style. The average player is much more knowledgeable these days. You can't just wait to trap someone with a big hand."

Addington dismissed him with a roll of his eyes and continued, "People used to think it was this big advantage to act last." He went on to explain why it is better to act first because No Limit Hold 'Em is a game of aggression and you want to be the one who bluffs first. Apparently, Puggy Pearson used to straddle all the time because he wanted to act last, and Addington thought that was stupid.

"He was putting in an extra $300, though, right?" Lederer pointed out the obvious reason why this was a losing strategy. "That doesn't sound, uhm, like a very wise..." he trailed off as he realized the futility of attempting to explain this.

Nesson finally interjected to move the discussion back to questions of law and policy. "You have to give the judge a reason why she wants you to win," he said. According to him, you can go through life believing you are at the whim of fate and chance or believe in free will and your ability to affect the world around you and your own life. Obviously, a good leader would want his people to hold the latter sentiment, and so in this view games of skill ought to be encouraged and games of luck discouraged.

Lederer drew an interesting distinction between poker and other card games with regard to the role of skill. In a game like gin, a player uses skill to give himself the best hand, but only the best hand can win. In poker, he uses skill to control the outcome, including both which hand wins and how much is won or lost. In fact, the most skillful bet is the fold, and the people who win the most pots are usually the biggest losers.

He cited a recent UK study of gambling prevalence that actually found a slight decrease in the prevalence of gambling addiction between 1999 and 2007 despite the introduction of online gambling, which is legal in Britain.

There was a good question from the audience about whether poker was really a game of skill for most players, or whether the "fish" and "seals" weren't treating it as a luck-based game. There was a lot of high rhetoric in the room suggesting that poker was a game of equals competing to see who was the best, but that in fact a predator model was better suited to the game than an analogy to the Olympics.

Lederer responded that a game of skill is a game of skill no matter what, and that even at the smallest stakes most players are making some effort to play skillfully. That is, even at penny games, many pots do not go to showdown, so players are making decisions to fold.

I don't find this particularly convincing, since players make decisions in blackjack as well, and that's the kind of game we want to distinguish from poker. In general, I think that poker's proponents are too dismissive of the perspective of the great many losers in the game, when in fact it is primarily concern for the losers that motivates the more reasonable of their opponents.

Lederer did conclude by saying, however, that the value of poker as a recreational activity is certainly greater than more passive pursuits such as television. Even casual players making no particular effort can learn something from playing.

On the whole, it was kind of entertaining, and more interesting now that I look over my notes than I thought immediately afterwards. The thing is that I've had the opportunity to discuss this issue with both Lederer and Nesson before, and neither of them had much new to say. Meanwhile, Addington, whom I was hoping would bring a new perspective, told some kind of interesting stories but didn't really address the panel's purpose particularly well.

Labels: narrative, poker, trip report

Stumble It!

Came across a good story recently on the blog of 2+2 poster Degen about being arrested for playing poker in Thailand. I couldn't figure out how to link to just that post, but it's currently the top item on his blog. Here's a good excerpt:

"In America if you are picked up for a petty crime, they cut you a ticket and tell you when to return to court. That’s the only reference point I had, and coupled with the fact that they had what looked like about ten people working on this, it seemed more serious to me than they were making it out to be. Why would they send an undercover informant into our game and bring six officials down for several hours, then haul us all away and hold us while they investigate for several more hours...if this is a minor crime that they are going to let us walk for?

I learned about Groupthink in college and that started to flash before my eyes here. It is when a group of people all basically just nod in unison, not wanting to be the one to buck the status quo, when going down a slippery slope to a horrible decision...such as being arrested in a third world country and signing a confession they cannot read under duress. I could see this on the Amnesty International website. I began to panic."

Labels: narrative, poker

Stumble It!

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