Ballin' at Bally's Part 2

For the first time in the history of ever I slept until well past 9am in Las Vegas.

I watched some news, had a meal bar for breakfast, took a shower and then headed downstairs to register early for Event #3 at 11am.

I wish I could say that everything seemed better in the morning, it didn't really.  Well, maybe a little.  I realized that the main thing that had made my brutal exit feel so brutal wasn't the money - it was the glory.  They were awarding these things to the winners...

Out of focus, but still awesome.

Anyways, I was positive enough when I sat down in the 7 seat at a table in the corner of the room.  My back was to the casino so there wasn't much to look at - but thankfully I had two nicer players on my left to chat with.

One was an older cat named Jerry, who revealed that despite his early 60's look and demeanor - he was actually 73.  Jerry was an old school Berkeley type who actually hailed from the east coast.  He regaled me and the other guy (a quiet but friendly school teacher named Matt who didn't look a day over 21) with tales of his poker and non-poker exploits.  He, like me, has played poker with James Woods and also found him to be a swell fella.

I got tangled up in a couple of pots early on, one of which I double barrel bluffed perfectly, all for naught as the old rock was a non-believer and middle pair was more than good to call off a third of his stack.  I say all for naught, but thankfully he stacked off entirely to me about an hour later when I hit a set and three bet his weak lead and he shipped it with top pair 10 kicker.  Well played sir, you are doing it.

So with my confidence high, and my spirits rising thanks to the juicy and friendly folks around me - I proceeded to have the worst run of bad beats I've ever had in a poker tournament ever.

From my twitter feed...

My set of tens got run down by a set of jacks that spiked on the river, after all the money went in on a l0 8 4 flop.

I climbed back up a bit, only to get kneecapped about an hour later by a shortish stack who ripped with 66.  I called off on the big blind with 1010.  Again, my opponent hit a two outer on the river.

So four hours into the tournament, for the third time with a stack just under 20 bigs, I got my money in with a commanding lead.  I flat called the button with a suited A3 and flopped top and bottom pair with a backdoor draw to the nut flush.  Opponent, who I barely had covered let it rip and I snapped. He had a pair of red fives.  A queen of spades on the turn gave me the nut flush draw.  A black five that was NOT a spade gave him the pot.

One outed and utterly crippled, and frankly, fucking over it.

Two hands later I had KK which was promptly called by AA.

Awesome.

I only had one thing on my mind as I departed in haste.  Roast beef, cheddar and horseradish.  Toasted.

The line at Earl of Sammich was twice as long as yesterday, but I didn't mind.  I patiently waited and then ate and licked my wounds, and tweeted out the four monstrous poker hands that I had just experienced.

I meandered back towards Bally's and then crossed into the noise and smoke pit known as the Planet Hollywood poker room.  They had a tournament at 4pm, which was in 5 minutes.  Sigh.  More punishment please.

Thankfully - in poker, as with life, things are often darkest before the dawn.  We had barely played two orbits when he showed up.  Mr. Hollywood Park.  I had never seen this fellow before, but actually I had played with him hundreds of times.  Loud.  Cocky and kind of a cock.  Swarthy.  He of the massive over bet from out of position.   I couldn't help but lick my chops.  I hope he didn't notice.

Less than an hour later I had busted him and all his chippies haz belonged to me.

He had been crazy active, though not with the terrifyingly good timing that sometimes accompanies such maniacal behavior.  I knew that I only need be patient, and I was in perfect position, two players to his left.  With the button I looked down at 88 and three bet his hijack raise, he flatted.  The flop came with a glorious 8.   He led out, as he had done in every pot he had played, with a massive bet 1 1/2 the pot.

Happy dance on the inside.

I three bet him large.  He tanked forever and then called.  A second heart rolled off on the turn.  He checked.  So did I.  Didn't care if the flush hit - I wanted all of his chips.

A third heart rolled off, again he bet massive.  I shipped it, he was committed and called off with bottom two pair.  Rebuy!

Only he couldn't rebuy, he had to reenter, and unfortunately he went to another table.  I didn't see him again until it was final table time.

In a word, my play was flawless.  Again, as is so often the case in these faster and smaller events, I find myself in graduate school with the rest of the class struggling to make it out of kindergarten.   With others raising and calling off a quarter or half of their stacks, and then finding folds - I simply ripped, ripped and ripped again, expertly.

Finally when old Hollywood Park had had enough, he called off with 55 which mercifully did not two out my 1010.  He was crippled, I was phat.  Life was good.

My only stumble came a bit later, I was against a frat kid who fancied himself the table captain.  He ripped a dry board and I had to call with middle pair.  Yes, I had gotten unlucky and he had hit his king.  Upon reflection, since I had such an advantage over him and everyone else I really should've found a fold and picked a better spot.  If I hadn't seen him shoving light so many times I probably could've gotten away.

Anyways, that knocked me down quite a bit - so when old Hollywood Park had crawled back he was the first to suggest a chop at four handed which everyone agreed to.  As the short stack I was ecstatic to get $390 instead of the $180 I would've gotten for fourth.

By the time I got back to Base Camp Bally's it was time to register for the last hurrah.

Once again it was time to rock and or roll.  Unfortunately, at a table full of fishies, I picked the one barracuda to mess with and got tangled up in a catastrophic hand that saw me quickly crippled.  I don't remember the hand very well, I didn't bother to tweet it, but I know it was a disastrous double barrel bluff that ended on the river with a stupendously stupid "hero" call that I somehow had convinced myself was good.

It wasn't.

I was out shortly thereafter and it wasn't even 9pm!  What to do... what to do....

Yep.  I registered as the break approached, re-entering the tournament with 30 bigs and not much hope against a large field.  Even better, the soft players at my first table were nowhere to be seen at my new location.  At least three fellows, and one gal - seriously knew what they were doing.  In fact, the female looked familiar; I googled what I thought was her name and it was indeed her.  Samantha Abernathy, who as you can see here, is a young but formidable poker player who has a gang of recent tournament cashes; and from what I understand (if the pro on my left was to be believed) is fully backed in all of her tournament entries.

So there was that.  But being aware that I was outclassed to my left and right didn't really phaze me much, I'm used to it quite a bit in the larger dailies at Commerce; if anything it makes decisions a lot easier.  No room to get tricky.

I should mention that twice I got my money in behind on my way to the final table.  The big one was running my QQ into AA - but a lady came right in the window.  About time I sucked out instead of getting sucked.  This was quite a bit more than a double up as there had been a raise in front of the guy who had AA.  I four bet shoved, as I had 25 bigs and little choice.  Correct decision, lucky result.

The second occurrence came about an hour later when I three bet shoved with A7 sooted over a very active hijack players standard raise.  Felt great about that.  Not so great when the small blind woke up with AK and reshoved.  The flop didn't bring much, but the turn and river ran out runner runner for a wonky straight.  Yeah, I guess I suck, regardless of making the right move and getting unlucky.

Before I knew it we were redrawing for the final table.  Yes, I had outlasted 150 runners, two nights in a row.  Had to feel good about that.

Then came my exit.  Instead of 8th I finished 9th, after this remarkable de' ja vu' hand.  This time, I three bet shoved from the button after the cutoff had opened. He was a rambling drunken hulk of a player, who was nice enough, but clearly thought he was hot shit.  Nice call sir.

So tasty.

Well this time it didn't sting, really at all.  I figured getting my money in bad twice and winning in this tournament entitled me to a massive broom handle.  Whatever.  It was all good, especially the next morning when I really grasped what I had achieved.

I had final tabled two big tournaments in two days - pretty flippin' awesome.

I feel better than I ever have about my game, I more than once knew my opponents cards before they were revealed; once I even said so out loud.  My future in poker is indeed bright.

Can't wait to go back, not sure when it will be; hopefully before the WSOP, but if not - I'm making it back for sure.  In the meantime I have my home game a week from this Saturday, and then we'll see after that.  Pondering doing another satty as we have a couple of big local events on the horizon.  We shall see.

Having a ball at Bally's

For the first time in a long time I drove to Vegas instead of flying.  The drive was just fine, very little traffic as I left on Thursday instead of Friday.  The only congestion to speak of was in L.A., the amazing "Waze" app on my phone guided me out pretty well, and I only spent maybe 20 minutes stopping and going before the freeway opened up.  Then right after I got on the 15 from Pear Blossom it slammed down again - Waze didn't even blink, redirecting me to a frontage road immediately that bypassed the amazing mile and a half back up of cars (there had been a rollover accident).  I zipped by that parking lot in record time and was back on the completely clear freeway in a handful of minutes.  What an age we live in.

Still, even if I had been stuck in that parking lot for an hour or more - the biggest advantage of driving over flying will always be saving monies.  No plane and no rental car = mucho savings.  I got a great poker rate at the Bally's so my 3 night stay averaged well under $100 a night.  That and a suitcase full of Nutri-System food made this by far the cheapest Vegas trip ever.

The one disadvantage of traveling by car - the monochrome open road for over 4 and a half hours with no one but Zack Brown for company.   I left work at 530 and arrived at about 10pm.  I quickly checked in, threw my crap into my room and instead of collapsing on the bed and getting a good night's sleep I hoofed it across the street to the Bellagio and took the tram to Monte Carlo.  About 20 minutes of walking and another 10 minutes of tram locomotion.

And then I was home - my favorite poker room in Vegas when it comes to atmosphere and friendliness.  The tables and chips are worn but clean, and the decor faded but warm and inviting.  The dealers are pretty chill and the clientele, especially in tournaments, is mostly tourist and soft.

Feels like home.

The tournament wasn't very memorable, but it was friendly enough.  The turbo-ish nature of these events demands a certain amount of run-good, and I had none.  Couple that with overall tiredness and an utter inability to pick my spots wisely - and you have about an hour and forty five minutes of fun but ultimately silly pokerz.

I konked out in bed just after 2 in the morning.  My plan?  Sleep in best I could so I could hopefully be not completely exhausted for the Bally's Labor Day Classic Event #1 at 11am the next morning.

Inevitably, I was up at 8am - and hustled a bit to shower and drag my tired but cleaner ass down to the Bally's poker room to play in their normal 9am turbo.  Bally's has the best turbos in Vegas, not because the structures or starting stacks are any good (they're not) but because they come with 1K prize pool guarantees.

Still, I was sleepy enough to be unable to pick any good spots.  That plus being card dead plus playing in a super-turbo meant again no monies for me.  Still, I splashed around and had fun and in my mind didn't really count the tournament anyways.

By 11am the line for registration in the first big event stretched out of the poker room and into the slot machines.  Lucky for me I had registered well ahead of time.

Ah yes, the dreaded seat 10.

I played for well over 4 hours - and by the end was pretty much burnt toast.  I was rather card dead, which in itself wasn't the worst thing; but the combining factors of fatigue and inattention doomed me to the rail in a field that was surprisingly soft for such a large event.  Almost 200 runners, the poker room was filled to capacity and even tables on the other side of the rail next to the bar had filled up.

After my exit, which I don't remember at all - I made the best decision of the trip.  Instead of registering for the Bally's regular 5pm donk-ament, I got in my car and asked Siri where I could get a hair cut.  10 minutes later I was sitting down in a Supercuts chair as a lovely young woman commenced with buzzing my balding head.

Now that's more like it!

It seems absurd, but after an expert cut like this - I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders, both literal and much more so - figural.  My hair had been out of control, especially my gnarly side-burns, which always grow way faster than everything else; for something as silly as this, I felt positively giddy.

Again, I resisted the urge to go a gamblin' and instead headed back to Bally's and then hoofed it over to the always quiet and sedate Planet Hollywood. There I tracked down my new bosses restaurant and treated myself to an amazing diet cheat.

Roast beef, cheddar and horseradish.  Outstanding.

When I say new boss, I don't mean I'm not with my employer of 19 years anymore, I still am.  I am referring to the inimitable Mr. Robert Earl, who is the owner of Planet Hollywood (yes, the whole thing) as well as the Buca De Beppo and Earl of Sandwich restaurants.  He is the host of my company's newest show on the Cooking Channel - "Robert Earl's Be My Guest" which starts airing September 8th.  I am the lead editor on the show and very proud of it.  I'm happy to say that his signature "Original" sandwich at the above establishment was quite excellent, especially when dunked in the fresh tomato soup that I ordered along with it.

So then it was back up to my room for a brief respite.  By the time I had registered and sat down for the Bally's Labor Day Classic Event #2 at 8pm I felt well fed and finally, well rested.

On the third hand of the tournament, this happened.

Bam.

As is the case with all of these 'deep stacked' events that are full of fish, it was a 7 way limped pot.  I generally avoid participating in this sort of thing unless I'm on the button, which I was.  So I limped with K3.  But it was sooooooted!  So sue me.

The small blind popped it big, with a 7x raise.  All but one folded to me.  It's taken me a long time to get it - but now I do.  When an old man fires out an enormous overbet, especially out of position, especially into half a dozen players - his range is super tiny.  I mean, SUPER tiny.  He is basically playing two or maybe three combinations of cards.  It's NOT AK, it is not JJ and probably not QQ.  It's KK or AA, basically guaranteed.

I've learned now, that when a player plays his hand face up, that is, when I KNOW what his cards are - it is a huge mistake not to see a flop.  And so I did.

Bam.  Two pair.  He donked about 1/2 of the pot.  I three bet him.  He shoved, again - a MASSIVE overbet.   My bet which was pot sized, had just been raised about ten fold.  This was actually a very easy call.

As God as my witness, I actually said out loud "You have aces.  I call."  True story.

He had Aces.  My two pair held and my stack ballooned.  Yay me.

Very satisfying to get the gasps of awe around the table.  Very satisfying, the sheepish look on his face when he tabled his cards.  Don't know if I've ever had a more spectacular drive down the 11th fairway in poker ever then that moment.

This double up (actually a bit more than a double up thanks to the limpede pre-flop) boosted not only my ego but my confidence, and I had a GREAT evening.

Still rather card dead, not a premium hand to be found except for a fleeting AK here and there and perhaps JJ once or twice, I nonetheless accumulated nicely for the next four hours.

I didn't get too tricky, I didn't try too hard to 'outplay' anyone.  But at the same time my cards weren't good enough to sit on my hands and try to get to showdown.  I c-bet when the times were right, I bluffed more than a handful of times - and they mostly worked.

I was just over average in chips when to my amazement we redrew for the final table.  It was just after midnight.  150+ runners, whittled down very quickly by a fast but not crazy structure.  I really think I've got this grinding thing down, at least when I'm in the groove and my A-Game shows up.

The final table lasted awhile before anyone busted.  I don't remember who finished in 9th, but I know who busted out next.  That's a not so subtle hint.  Insert smiley face here.

At the table were two drunk buddies, who both had the resulting unfortunate condition of perpetual outdoor voice along with the even more aggravating "Everything we say is HILARIOUS" virus that seems to accompany the first illness.

Not much bother to me, I had my earbuds and my tunes - which I've found to be REQUIRED equipment in any serious tournament, mostly for this exact situation.

Early on I woke up with aces and 3 bet jammed the louder of the two drunks cutoff raise from my big blind.  He tanked FOREVER and finally found a fold, showing his A7 off suit.  I chuckled inwardly and absolutely did NOT show my cards.  This was going to be sweet, I was in perfect position to knock out the knuckle head.

An orbit or two later, same situation - only now he was short enough that he open shoved after two limpers.  Folded to me in the big, AJ - SNAP CALL.

He had A3 and he won.

No joy in Mudville.

In an $80 tournament I was out in 8th place for $120.  First place was $2000.  Yep.

Honestly, all the good feelings that had built since my haircut, all the good will I had for the game, for the fellow travelers around me - evaporated in the cruel hammer of seventh street upon my heart.  I was literally nauseous and couldn't get up for a moment.  I finally hoisted myself, composed enough to snap the pic above, shook hands with the drunk who seemed to not be able to stop saying 'sorry man' over and over and over and over and over again.

I smiled meekly and somehow didn't say anything - not even SHUT THE FUCK UP.

I have been playing this game for a long time, and I do get it - but as in life, poker has a way of humiliating and humbling us at just the right moment; when everything is looking up, when everything is brightest.  That's when the dagger falls.

I collected my paltry winnings and sat an an adjacent table for awhile, and I won't lie and say that tears didn't well up, but by GOD they did not fall.  Eventually, as when I would count to ten as a kid, the anger and hopelessness began to fade.  I succumbed to the enjoyment of watching the other players - still excited, still in it.  The drunk of course sucked out on someone else, his AJ ironically cracking a boisterous Italian's AA.  The Italian was gracious enough in defeat, though he did commiserate quietly with me about what a "fucking luck box cocksucker" the drunk was.   I could only smile and shrug.  I never, not for one second through the anguish, had one negative thought about Drinky McLoud.  He was precisely what this tournament neeeded at the final table to make it very profitable for everyone else - even though the poker gods had other ideas.

Eventually, before it was over, I had to get to bed.  By the time I was up in my room, my muttering to myself down the hallway had turned into a full volume one person conversation.  I was alright, I was good.  Better than good really.  I had just outlasted 140 players, many of them good - I had final tabled and cashed in a Hendon Mob tracked event.  It had indeed been a great day.


Day 2 - coming soon!