WSOP 08 Trip Report: Day 4

Intro | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6

I came into Day 4 in high spirits. Although I’d lost some chips at the end of Day 3, I now had nearly $30,000 locked up and was still sitting on an above average stack.

My table draw didn’t look too tough, though there was a pretty good internet player named James across the table from me. I could tell immediately that James was going to be annoying, possibly as a player, certainly as a person. He was a bundle of nervous energy, tapping his foot, shuffling his chips, glancing around the room, muttering to himself, and shifting in his seat. When the cocktail waitress passed by, he bought an energy drink. “Jesus, kid,” I thought to myself. “You need that like I need a hole in my head.”

To James’ right was a rail-thin Serbian man named Aleks who looked to be in his late 50’s. He was frail, and his hands shook badly whenever he picked up his chips or his cards. Also, he never knew when it was his turn to act. He had to be reminded to ante on every hand and nudged whenever the action was on him.

Worst of all, he had this awful habit of holding on to his cards for a few extra seconds when he knew he was going to fold. His trembling hands would pick up the cards (upon being reminded that it was his turn), he would look at them, then he would hold them pinched between two fingers in a clear indication that he was about to throw them away. But then he would hold on to them for a second or two, look around him, roll his eyes, and fold. That may not seem like a big deal, but between this habit and his constant inattention, Aleks was costing us about ten seconds per hand, and that adds up.

To Aleks’ right was a big, friendly middle-aged guy with “Cedric the Realtor” emblazoned on his shirt. Ordinarily I would have thought he played a little too slow, but relative to Aleks, he was a speeding bullet. He was also friendly and talkative, so I didn’t get too annoyed with him.

Level 16: 2500/5000 with a 500 ante, I have 565K
Cedric was to my immediate right, and to my left was a young Asian guy who played the single worst hand I saw the entire tournament. In early position, he just called the blind bet. Then, when a middle-aged Dutch guy raised, he called that, too. The flop came K-9-6 with two hearts, and the Asian kid moved all in for like three or four times the size of the pot. The Dutchman quickly called.

The kid turned over T-4 of hearts. The Dutchman had Ace-King. I was rooting for a heart just to keep this awful player at the table, but it didn’t come and he was eliminated. Frankly I’m shocked that this guy even made it to Day 4 playing that badly.

I was thinking all of this in my head, but James was saying it out loud. “Wow. Ten-four soooooooooted. That’s… interesting. Nice hand, sir. Oh man, I wish a heart had come. Well played,” he laughed.

As soon as the kid left, I gave James a piece of my mind. “At least wait until he leaves the table to berate him.”

James’ face reddened and he quickly got defensive. “I wasn’t berating him. What did I say?”

There’s no sense in trying to argue with these no-etiquette know-it-alls, so I just didn’t answer. I had made my point and hopefully he felt chastised.

In the first big pot I played at the table, I raised Jack-Ten of clubs first to act. This is a little weaker than I’d ideally play from early position, but I had a big stack and I knew that Cedric and Aleks wouldn’t defend their blinds as vigorously as they should. The Dutch guy called, and Cedric called out of his big blind.

The flop came Q-T-8 with one club: not ideal, but not terrible either. Hoping to keep the pot small, I checked. The Dutchman bet 40K. So much for playing a small pot. Cedric folded. This was a bigger bet than I expected, and I feared he had a legitimate hand, but I felt obligated to call, as I could still be ahead and there were a lot of ways the turn could improve my hand.

A second Ten came, giving me trips. I didn’t expect Dutch to bet any worse hands if I checked to him, so I went ahead and bet 60K myself. To my surprise, he raised to 200K. I sighed inwardly. I had a big hand, but I felt like he had something bigger. I wished I knew more about him, but I definitely didn’t think he would raise me here as a bluff, and there were few worse hands he would raise for value. Having just stacked that Asian kid, Dutch had me covered. A bad decision here would mean the end of my tournament. I made a very disciplined fold, saddened to lose 100K but still in good shape.

The player to James’ right was a very aggressive player who I believe was from Cambodia. He had been raising a lot, and I was looking for an opportunity to take a shot at him. When he raised my big blind and James called, I saw my chance. Holding Queen-7, I put in a big re-raise. The Cambodian folded quickly, but James deliberated for a while before throwing his hand away. “Better watch it, bro,” he told me, in the most threatening voice that a scrawny, bespectacled internet geek can muster.

“Watch what?” I feigned ignorance.

“That smelled like a squeeze. I’ve four-bet three squeezes this tournament,” he told me.

“I know how to five-bet,” I shot back as I stacked the chips.

“I seriously doubt that, bro.”

“I’m inside your head, bro,” I retorted, mimicking his style of speech. I really was contemplating a big bluff for all my chips if he had played back at me, because I thought that if he had a big hand, he would have raised the Cambodian the first time around.

Friendly guy that I am, I rarely antagonize anyone at the table on purpose, though it can be strategic to do so. Sometimes if a guy doesn’t like you, he will go out of his way to bluff you or call you down. As long as you are expecting that and make the appropriate adjustments, this can be to your advantage. James was irritating the hell out of me anyway, and I had position on him, so I decided I might as well needle him a bit.

That little bluff that I ran against James and the Cambodian proved helpful the next time I was in the big blind, when I was dealt a pair of Kings. The Cambodian raised, and I once again re-raised him. This time he re-re-raised me, and after pretending to think for a few seconds, I moved all in. He folded, and I picked up a sizable pot without a showdown, which is always nice.

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.”

“What should I do?” She hates to fly, and I didn’t want her to spend five hours in the air each way only for me to be eliminated fifteen minutes after she took off.

“I don’t know. It’s up to you. I have to get back. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

It didn’t. I barely played a hand in the next twenty minutes. I kept looking over at the old man who had won that pot from me. He looked like a baseball manager gumming a wad of tobacco. The entire lower half of his wrinkly face gyrated in a jerky semi-circle as he chomped on his gum. He looked like a cow chewing its cud. The sight of his gnarled claws handling my chips, my hard-earned chips, disgusted me.

Frustration gnawed at me. I was dejected. I could feel my concentration slipping, and I was afraid I might make a mistake at this crucial juncture in the tournament.

At that moment, I felt a buzzing vibration in my pocket, an indication that I’d just received a text message. I checked the phone, and there was missive from my girlfriend: “On brd. I hv confidence in you. :-)” I smiled, took a deep breath, and settled in to play my A game. I have plenty of experience playing a short stack. At least it’s easier and less stressful than playing a big stack.

It also helped that my table broke and I was moved away from my gum-smacking nemesis.

Level 17: 3000/6000 with a 1000 ante, I have 150K
My new table was a lot more fun. To my immediate left was guy named Dan who was possibly a year or two younger even than I. To his left was a very tight, older guy from Puerto Rico, then to his left was an amateur player from Hawaii. I forget his name, it was something Hawaiian, but no one called him by his real name anyway. He revealed that he was Jewish and that his friends in Hawaii called him “Hulajew”, which we all thought was hilarious and adopted for his nickname at the table.

To Hulajew’s left was Mark Vos. I played with Mark back at the 2006 WSOP, though I never determined whether he remembered me. Regardless, he’s a blast to have at the table. He’s really animated and funny and is pretty much always in a good mood whether he’s winning or losing.

Mark was making small raises almost every hand, which was fine by me, because my stack was the perfect size to resteal. The first time that I did this, I made a point of showing a pair of Jacks when Mark folded. I wanted him to know that I was going to play big hands that way so that he wouldn’t be able to make really loose calls against me when I shoved all in on him with weaker holdings.

For about an hour, I barely kept my head above water. It would have been boring, but joking around with Dan, Hulajew, and Mark kept things interesting. Finally, my patience paid off. One of the other short stacks at the table moved all in, and I woke up with a pair of Kings in my small blind. The other guy actually had a pair of Queens, so it was terrible luck for him. But he got no sympathy from me. I was just glad to have some chips again.

Level 18: 4000/8000 with a 1000 ante, I have 400K
The next orbit, I re-raised one of Mark’s raises with Ace-King. Mark’s an aggressive player, and this wasn’t the first time I’d re-raised him, so I was ready to get all my money in if necessary. But when I heard, “All in,” it came from the wrong end of the table.

I looked over at the Puerto Rican man who had been so tight and quiet I’d forgotten he was at the table. Even with a big hand like Ace-King, I was not at all happy to be facing an all in from him. But I was getting better than 2.5:1 odds on my money, so I had no choice but to call. Thankfully, he had a pair of Jacks.

This was the third time I’d raced pre-flop for a big pot with Ace-King versus Jacks. Every time, I was the one with Ace-King, and so far, I was two for two. An optimist might say I was on a rush, but I felt like I was due to lose on of these. The flop came with the handsome King of Hearts, though, and I eliminated another player.

Dan had been really patient and tight all day, maybe even to a fault. Hulajew, on the other hand, was getting absolutely smacked in the face with the deck. He had already shown down pocket Aces three times in about six hours. So when Dan raised, Hulajew re-raised, and Mark called the re-raise out of nowhere, Dan very nearly folded Kings. After a long deliberation, he decided he was just too short and there was too much money already in the pot, so he moved in. Hulajew moved all in as well, and Mark got out of the way. Sure enough, Hulajew had Aces again.

Hula also had a lot more chips, so I was cheering for Dan to win, mostly because I knew the table would be more fun with both of them there than if Dan were eliminated. And what should come on the flop but the miracle King that Dan needed to stay alive? ESPN loves that kind of drama, and the whole table was standing up and shouting as the dealer dealt out the cards, so the cameras and the reporters were around to witness this.

As penance for the bad beat, Dan bought a shot of vodka for himself and Hula, which they downed just before the dinner break.

Dan, Hula, and I were all in Vegas by ourselves, so we decided to head over to the Rio’s Japanese restaurant together. On the way over, both of them were getting dozens of calls and text messages about the shot. Apparently Pokernews had found that funny and included a blurb about it among their online updates. Friends and family of both Dan and Hula also thought it was hilarious and were texting constantly to express their appreciation.

At dinner, the two of them kept up the drinking, splitting two bottles of Sake. I demurred. Dan was starting to get a little tipsy and tried to insist on paying for dinner as further penance for the bad beat, but we wouldn’t accept it. We compromised on a game of credit card roulette with Dan contributing two cards. The Japanese waitress initially did not understand that we wanted her to pick a card at random and was upset that three of us were trying to pay for dinner with four credit cards. Finally she figured it out and drew one of Dan’s cards, but was further confused when he cheered and announced he had “won” then proceeded to pick up the tab.

Level 19: 5000/10000 with a 1000 ante, I have 600K
We certainly had a good time. Frankly, after dinner, our table felt more like a small-stakes home game than the biggest poker tournament in the world, with a $9 million first prize and everyone’s chips probably worth six figures in real money equity. Dan and Hula kept up the drinking, ordering a shot and a beer every time the cocktail waitress walked past. Even Mark had the occasional beer with them, and we were all laughing and having a good time.

I did my best to join in the fun, both because it was enjoyable and because it was good for me if others at the table weren’t taking the game seriously. Adding to the fun was a middle-aged guy from New Jersey named Craig who joined the table. He had a good sense of humor, and when he realized there were three other Jews at the table (Dan was Jewish as well, as was the masseuse working on Mark), the jokes really started to fly.

The masseuse told a couple of funny ones, and when she was finished with Mark, no one wanted her to leave, so Hula requested her services as well. She had to go wash her hands first, and while she was gone, he noticed that she’d already started the clock.

“She really is Jewish,” Craig quipped.

At this point, Craig was the oldest guy at the table. When he raised my big blind, I warned him, “Careful, son.”

“Son? I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Are you his father?” Mark asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know who his mother is,” Craig shot back, eliciting some laughs. Then he grinned sheepishly at me. “No offense.”

“None taken,” I assured him. “I thought it was funny. My mother probably would too.”

“OK, I’ll tell her.” Burned again.

The drinks kept flowing, and Dan in particular was really getting plastered. I honestly feared that he might throw up on me. Because our table was joking around so much and Dan was making such an ass of himself, the cameras spent a lot of time with us. If I end up on TV at all this year, it will be because I was next to the drunk kid.

Somehow, “the drunk kid” still managed to finish the day with more chips than I did, though I’d worked my way up to a respectable 750K. Believe it or not, Dan, Hula, and Mark went out for more drinks when we were done playing, because we’d stopped early that night. I was invited but, again, demurred. I was in back action and had every intention of winning this thing.

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