I guess this is my official 2nd report on the 2015 WSOP. I originally thought it would be an upbeat and bubbly straight ahead report, but I first scribbled down my innermost poker thoughts on this year's sojourn to Vegas, and when I looked back at it I thought to myself, self, this is a pretty good encapsulation even if it is light on the details.
As you can see on the first report, my results were less than stellar. Sad to say they were even bleaker on the second go round, with not even a measly min-cash to temper the beating.
The weekend of the Monster Stack I only had 3 major entries and 1 fun side event, the Omaha 8 tournament at Orleans. While I did enjoy myself, the card-centric nature of fixed limit tournaments combined with my lack of experience and any significant skills worked together to guarantee my relatively early exit. I chased where I shouldn't have, and blanked even when the odds happened to be in my favor.
Alas, my 3 NLHE entries, the details of which have since faded from my memory, were also fruitless. At the conclusion of my inauspicious Monster Stack run (barely 4 hours) I made a bee-line for the airport and quickly returned home, licking my wounds and very glad to be back with the family.
I was, indeed, thoroughly disappointed. But on reflection and with the passage of time, I am better than okay with how things turned out.
My poker brethren also partook in the Monster Stack - four others actually, more from my garage than have ever gone forth in the WSOP with their own money (though one was staked) than ever before. All four struck out, two of them relatively quickly like me, the other two found a more prolonged death well into day 2 and nowhere near the money.
All four were no doubt crestfallen as I was, but I wonder if they look back as I do and see the big picture and thus the brighter side.
Tournament poker is exceedingly difficult to conquer, for seasoned pro, serious semi-pro, hard core amateur and total newbie alike. Once again, Daniel Negraneau is halfway through the series with over a dozen entries and only a single cash to his name. But still, he is one of the best tournament players in the world and has no reason to doubt this.
Carrying it further, the arrogance that we as poker players bring into a major tournament is wholly necessary not only for both our sanity and our egos but to help insure the best result possible. Ergo, we only play as good as we feel, and the better we feel the better we play. You have to be a bit cocky in these things, even when you have every logical reason to not be.
I didn't feel especially outclassed in the Monster Stack, but I was keenly aware that the three players to my direct left were better than I was. The others more to my right, were for sure softer, but if they'd had position on me, I would've been forced to reevaluate this summation.
Gladly, my good friend Allen, for the first time in his poker career, found himself at his final Monster Stack table, surrounded by sharks. I say gladly, because I feel it is a very important part of every poker players career and evolution to be confronted by the cold fact that poker is for real and truly a skill game. Hand in hand with this, there are plenty of very skilled players out there, and eventually you will run into them; and in doing so you will realize and acknowledge that they are, indeed, better than you.
I found this out years ago, at the 2011 WSOP, but it was good to be reminded again. Had I run better, and in more than a few instances played better in 2015, I might have been able to hang and hang on. But I was determined not to fold my way to a min-cash, were it in the cards, which, judging by Allen and Jeff's results, it was not.
So at the time, I was dejected. In hindsight, I am at peace and in some ways rejuvenated.
Last Saturday night 19 of us amateurs returned to my garage for a good old $40 tournament. I ran pretty well, but I also played exceptionally well, as every opponent I faced fell squarely into the category of food rather than someone that would eat me. There was one opponent that might occasionally take a chunk out of me, but he was on my near right, and so I was able to avoid and/or outmaneuver him just by virtue of that position.
The others were simply fodder. The bet sizing tells that abounded were mainly what kept me in good stead. Big bet? Big hand. Small bet? Mediocre hand or air. It really was that simple. And it was a great reminder that skill ultimately rules at this silly game that has inflamed my passions so frequently of late.
I take solace that I wasn't a chump less than 4 hours into my WSOP event - I was simply fodder. And so were my compatriots. Could I or anyone of them have gotten hit by the deck a bit and gotten into the money? Absolutely. Were any of us destined for a truly deep run and maybe even the final table? Well, probably not. Stranger things have happened, but truthfully, there are not only a zillion land mines to avoid, but there is an absolutely genuine skill gap.
I do honestly believe that I have been narrowing that gap little by little every year, as I study and work on my game - but I refuse to buy into hype, either my own or ESPN's, that I'm only a few lucky hands away from a six figure score.
Poker is very much like life, in that there is a statistically infinitesimal amount of people who have hit it big mostly by luck. But by far the vast majority of those who do succeed and especially the ones who succeed big, get there by doing the work. It's not enough to splash around with play chips a few times a week, or hit Commerce once or twice a month. It truly isn't. The poker players who learn how to accumulate chips in a tournament and hang on to them don't take short cuts or read books or attend a poker clinic - they put in the time at the tables. Period. The ones who play every day, and work hard at improving, those are the ones we end up seeing under the hot lights.
As a man with a family and a job, I recognize that I will likely never be in this group; and frankly, the amount of work and devotion that is required to climb that mountain is beyond not only my budget but my sanity as well.
It has been said over and over that poker is a tough way to make an easy living; I can easily take that farther and say it's a miserable way to go through life if that's all you have to think about. I love, love, love poker - and I want to continue doing so. Therefore I can wholly accept that the odds of a five figure cash in the WSOP are truly pretty long, and the odds of getting into the six figure / final table club are basically nil.
This thought is both sobering and liberating. It gives me both the pause and the spark I need to carry on, playing when I can, but always putting my family and livelihood first.
How's this for a strange metaphor? Poker is like the Okavango Delta in Botswana. Wild, vast, and yet obtainable with a bit of cash and a sense of adventure. But stay too long and you're likely to get malaria. Wander into the wrong area and you very well might get eaten.
Go to a photo Safari camp. Pay your $1100 a night for a week and enjoy. Take photos and video. Then get your ass home. You are not a Nat Geo film maker, you aren't in the delta every day and you really wouldn't want to be. Sure, on some random vacation you may stumble across a lion taking down a zebra and get the footage of a lifetime; but odds are - you won't. Doesn't mean you can't enjoy the splendor and the journey.
And so that's it for me - I'm looking at the WSOP like I would a Safari. I would love to see a leopard fighting a hyena, but I'll be very happy seeing an elephant browsing on leaves at sunset. I know it's going to be expensive, but I know that it's disposable income, and I'm not paying for a two month stay at the most expensive resort. I'm going for a week, and I'm staying on a local reserve where the chef is good but not great and the camp could charitably be called 'rustic'.
The Colossus really seems to me to be the best value, the budget Safari that still has a chance of capturing a great moment or two. I would be thrilled to have a WSOP cash on my Hendon Mob page, and this seems entirely reasonable and obtainable, my first two tables were amazingly soft. I would rather do this every year than drop another grand and a half and go up against sharks who splash around every day in the Monster Stack.
Still, I have no regrets and I'm glad I did it. Next year - a different approach. I would love to stay in Vegas for a full week, but instead of flying I will drive up, instead of Aria I'll stick with the Orleans. No rental car and no flight means I can afford a half a dozen more buy-ins to smaller events. Ideally, I would play local dailies (not tiny turbos, but real events like at the Aria or Binions) during the week and then fire two bullets in the Colossus come the weekend. In a perfect world I would have cashed enough up until then to free roll into it.
We will see. Until then, I'm going to remember to appreciate the game as a vast and beautiful (though sometimes dangerous) savannah - a place that I love to visit on occasion, but one that I respect and stay away from a good amount of the time.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
WSOP 2015.01
And so it was that I found myself Vegas bound on a Thursday afternoon, headed out to play in the largest poker tournament in history. Thank goodness my flight had a crack cockpit crew. Or maybe they were just on crack.
With the bugs off the windshield and everything in order, we took off on time and arrived while it was still light outside. My rental car had a mere five miles on the odometer...
And even better, it was named after the home of the World Series of Poker!
And so it went. First they played the fanfare from the movie The Natural, which gave me goosebumps. Then Jack Eiffel, the tournament director of the WSOP entire, gave an emotional and rather rousing speech just prior to the shuffle up and deal. The actual announcement was a bit of silly business with a Roman gladiator in full costume that I ignored - he said, "Shuffle up and kill - I mean, deal!" which was barely legible at the time.
As well as about 20 tables jammed inside the food court! Crazy!
And so we were in plenty of time to register for a $160 tournament at Binion's. Noah lasted quite a bit longer than me, as I managed to suck fairly hard. I underestimated my opponents as they were almost all older than me and very passive at the table. Of course, I realized in hind-sight, that most of them that I tangled with, likely play tournament poker just about every day. In any case, while I had been gently led to value-town once in the Colossus, in this Binion's tournament it seemed I was determined to take the grand tour. Over and over and over and over. I sucked pretty hard.
So I bid Noah adieu, but not before I saw this guy sit down at his table.
Yes, Oakland A's fans, that's Jose Canseco! Noah said he was friendly and chatty as all get out. Too bad I missed out. But I didn't miss out on the Aria 7pm. I arrived well over an hour before start time, plenty of time to register right? Wrong.
Yep, there was a line alright. The Aria was also running a high roller and a charity tournament so they only had 20 tables available. I was alternate 51, and by the time the first break rolled around, I still wasn't in and there were over 250 more alternates to go after me!
Still, I got to sit down in the third level with over 50 bigs, which wasn't too bad. I dragged a few pots before stumbling with my top two pair losing to a set and me once again visiting my favorite town. Thankfully my opponent didn't just shove on me, I likely would've given him my whole stack.
And so, down to 15 bigs, I found a good spot to rip against a very active big stack. I was in the small blind with A10 and he had opened from the cutoff for the umpteenth time. This time though, he had queens. Oh well.
I finished off the night with another trip to T.I., though I was far too late in arriving to get into the tournament. I said goodbye to Noah and Jason, who had both failed to make day 2 in the Colossus, and headed for bed.
The flight out the next morning was uneventful and I was happy to be home with the fam.
I wish my results had been better on this trip, but I can honestly say that everything else was fantastic. If online poker somehow manages to become legal in California and then eventually the country, we are for sure headed into another poker boom.
The game to me seems almost as popular as it's ever been. Over 20,000 people played in the Colossus, and every other poker room I visited while it was going on was packed to the gills as well. Even better, even at my toughest table, the third table I sat at in the Colossus, I never felt intimidated in the least. Even in 2015, most people know how to play the game with only some amount of skill - there is a lot of profit to be made by playing aggressively and by paying attention as I know I can when I have had enough sleep and am in the right frame of mind.
So that said, when I return, maybe this year maybe next, I will do a better job of getting sleep the night before a big event, and I will schedule my return better in advance. This year I set my hotel and flight basically assuming that I would bust. Next year I'm scheduling my return on the day of the final table, so I'll be well into the money when and if I have to make any changes. I think this will help my mental state as well, as I don't think I was feeling competitive enough this time around. I also plan to fire multiple bullets like Jason did. Even though he failed to cash, he did get quite a bit farther than I did, and I know the multiple entries helped him play more aggressive and more effectively.
As for the looming Monster Stack in two weeks, I'm not sure if I'm going or not. That will all depend of course on family, job and other commitments - right now it is looking like about 50/50. We will see. In any case, I look forward to playing the Colossus again and again and again, as many years as they'll have it. I really think, despite the occasional wrinkles such as losing a few entry slips here and there (mine included) it could not have gone much better. We started on time, and the event, as 'Colossal' as it was - seemed to go exceptionally smooth.
Stay tuned, there may or may not be a part two.
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| Damn bugs. |
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| Spankin' new. |
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| Fortuitous? |
But before I could make my way over to pick up my pre-registered ticket to the Colossus - yes, the aforementioned BIGGEST TOURNAMENT IN POKER HISTORY, I had some degenerate gambling to do. No, not poker, well not a real tournament anyways. I met up with my pal Jason and together we indulged in the silliness that is the Treasure Island 10pm $65 Donk-A-Ment.
Though the starting stack has improved, they now give you 10,000 in chips instead of 4,000, the structure has not. If anything it is slightly worse, as they skip the 400-800, 500-1000, 800-1600 and 1500-3000 levels, among many others.
So it was, after the second break, Jason was long gone and I hobbled my way to the finish line, flipping coins for a min-cash of less than $200. Ah well.
It was almost 2am and I thought I would be smart and hightail it over to the Rio where the line for pre-registration pickup would surely be short.
WRONG.
After 45 minutes in line, followed up by another hour waiting in the casino cage area, they found my lost ticket and I was well on my way to a delightful 4am bed time.
Morning came 3 hours later and I had scrubbed my sweaty bits clean and made my way to Mecca.
As I approached the convention center area, I caught sight of some old school goodness in a rather shitbox car.
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| Binion's - bitches. |
And then, I was there...
I was quite a bit early, and so I commenced to people watching, occasionally staring at my golden ticket in hand.
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| And checking out the new Poker Hall of Fame banners - including cold blooded killer Benny Binion! |
Finally they let me into where I would be playing - the vaunted Amazon room. A bit smaller than the other two rooms with very cool lighting, this is typically where the higher buy in events and the day 2's take place. It also has the final table tv area, which was dark when I was there.
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| My section, around the corner, where I've more than once watched the 50K players championship. |
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| My table... |
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| And my stack. |
And we were underway. My first table was surprisingly tight and soft. I cued off of this and got engaged early, dragging a half dozen or so small pots within the first 40 minute level. Barely into the second level, the table broke, as I knew it probably would. We had been warned by the floor in our section that we would be first to go.
I found myself in the center of the main Amazon section, at a much more seasoned table, and this is where I took my first few couple of hits. Tangled up with a fellow who knew how to get me to come along to value town almost willingly.
There was another dude who thought he was God's gift to poker, I spanked him a bit, ripping my flopped broadway straight on the river and he paid me off. Despite my earlier missteps I found myself around 50 big blinds at the first break and I was excited. I was playing well and reading my opponents expertly.
Shortly after my return, our table, and about ten other tables around us, all broke at once, and we were in the Pavillion room. The Amazon room has the prestige, the Brasilia has the bracelets, but the Pavillion is still by far the most impressive.
Nearly 300 tables and 3000 poker players, going at it. Still gives me the chills. The first time I walked in to this room in 2010, I got a similar feeling that I had experienced at the Great Wall of China, the Taj Majal and the Pyramids of Giza. Echoes of that still lingered in 2015, as I realized that every single table save for about a dozen set aside for high stakes cash games, was dedicated to one tournament.
That included tables down at the opposite end of the casino in the Rio's everyday regular poker room...
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| All the cash game players were kicked out at 9am to make way for Colossus players. |
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| Oh I'm sorry, did you need to eat? Too bad. |
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| There were in fact a few well known pros in the Colossus, including Greg Reymer and Antonio Esfandiari, and this guy Dan Heimiller, winner of last years WSOP Seniors event and a WPT champ as well. |
And so it was that my third table was the toughest of all, with nary a limper in sight. 3 bets abounded and my stack began to shrink as the blinds and antes ate away. I was a bit frustrated at my dearth of cards, even though I have long learned that it isn't cards I should be looking for, but rather spots.
I found what I thought was a good one with a baby ace in the highjack. UTG, who was one of the only passive players at the table, had limped. Another player who had been fairly active flat called to my right. With 12 bigs I happily let it rip. It folded around to the flat caller who hemmed and hawed and somehow found a call to my shove with 10-8.
Well he had a monster stack right? Wrong. He barely had me covered. How he found that call, to this day I will never know. I had not been particularly active, I had even shown pocket queens once.
A 10 in the window and that was it, I was walking the long halls of the Rio.
It was a great playing experience, and best of all I had made no colossal mistakes in the Colossus. I now had time to decompress a bit. I decided against playing a 7pm tournament in favor of picking up my old homie Noah at the airport, a dear friend who was the best man at my wedding.
We had a great time catching up and getting our grub on before heading back to T.I. and the ridiculous but fun lottery that is their 10pm tournament.
Saturday morning came a bit later than Friday morning had, which was great because I needed the rest. I meandered down to the Rio just before kickoff; and rather than firing another entry bullet (which I couldn't have anyways because it was sold out) I chose to rail my buds.
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| Noah in the Pavillion |
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| And Jason, trapped in the regular Rio Poker room. |
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| The Colossus - Colossally impressive. |
Noah managed to bust out before I could leave to go play poker elsewhere, so he joined me on a sojourn downtown.
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| Dorkus-Maximus |
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| Old school shiz... |
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| The closest Noah or I ever got to a 7 figure score. |
So I bid Noah adieu, but not before I saw this guy sit down at his table.
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| Yep, a line. |
Still, I got to sit down in the third level with over 50 bigs, which wasn't too bad. I dragged a few pots before stumbling with my top two pair losing to a set and me once again visiting my favorite town. Thankfully my opponent didn't just shove on me, I likely would've given him my whole stack.
And so, down to 15 bigs, I found a good spot to rip against a very active big stack. I was in the small blind with A10 and he had opened from the cutoff for the umpteenth time. This time though, he had queens. Oh well.
I finished off the night with another trip to T.I., though I was far too late in arriving to get into the tournament. I said goodbye to Noah and Jason, who had both failed to make day 2 in the Colossus, and headed for bed.
The flight out the next morning was uneventful and I was happy to be home with the fam.
I wish my results had been better on this trip, but I can honestly say that everything else was fantastic. If online poker somehow manages to become legal in California and then eventually the country, we are for sure headed into another poker boom.
The game to me seems almost as popular as it's ever been. Over 20,000 people played in the Colossus, and every other poker room I visited while it was going on was packed to the gills as well. Even better, even at my toughest table, the third table I sat at in the Colossus, I never felt intimidated in the least. Even in 2015, most people know how to play the game with only some amount of skill - there is a lot of profit to be made by playing aggressively and by paying attention as I know I can when I have had enough sleep and am in the right frame of mind.
So that said, when I return, maybe this year maybe next, I will do a better job of getting sleep the night before a big event, and I will schedule my return better in advance. This year I set my hotel and flight basically assuming that I would bust. Next year I'm scheduling my return on the day of the final table, so I'll be well into the money when and if I have to make any changes. I think this will help my mental state as well, as I don't think I was feeling competitive enough this time around. I also plan to fire multiple bullets like Jason did. Even though he failed to cash, he did get quite a bit farther than I did, and I know the multiple entries helped him play more aggressive and more effectively.
As for the looming Monster Stack in two weeks, I'm not sure if I'm going or not. That will all depend of course on family, job and other commitments - right now it is looking like about 50/50. We will see. In any case, I look forward to playing the Colossus again and again and again, as many years as they'll have it. I really think, despite the occasional wrinkles such as losing a few entry slips here and there (mine included) it could not have gone much better. We started on time, and the event, as 'Colossal' as it was - seemed to go exceptionally smooth.
Stay tuned, there may or may not be a part two.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Recompense
So the year has gone on, I've played a bit here and there and I want to play more and more as the World Series of Poker approaches.
I've got my eyeballs on two events - the first will take place on May 29th, it's the Colossus. Click on the word to learn all about it. What will likely be the largest poker tournament in history, with at least 5 million dollars in prize money up for grabs as well as of course a bracelet - all for the low low price of only $565.
As a piece of history, and with my wife and kiddo out of town, I don't know that I could forgive myself for missing this one. I have recently pre-registered, the first time in my life that I have ever done this, and because of this I will for sure be playing in a bracelet event for only the second time in my life come Memorial day weekend.
The second event that I'd very much like to play in, and am planning on it, is the Monster Stack, two weekends after the Colossus. This bad boy bracelet event gives players, for the low low price of $1500, an amazing structure and a HUGE amount of chips to go along with it. Last year the winner took home 1.3 milly. There is some serious cheddar at stake, not to mention WSOP history.
Both of these promise to be once in a lifetime poker playing opportunities, and I am excited and very much looking forward to them. But there is the matter of recompense.
I feel somehow that I owe something to someone, perhaps the poker gods, perhaps THE God, or perhaps simply myself.
Of the half dozen or so events that I've played since my last post, I haven't seen nary a wisp of a cash. I haven't gotten anywhere near the money, in anything. Well, okay, after checking my ledger I see that I min-cashed at Commerce in the middle of March, but my notes point out that save for a crucial flip early on, I lost every race and picked up zero premiums on the way to my $355 pay day.
Last week I held my annual WSOP satellite in my garage. 9 of us plunked down $170 each for a $1500 bracelet seat. The winner gets a seat in the event of his choice, but also has to share any winnings with the rest of the group 60/40.
Well I was the first one out. With nearly a hundred big blinds, I could not fold my KK to a five bet shove pre-flop. Of course my opponent had AA.
Lesson learned. Even though I rationalized it at the time, correctly stating that the villain was one of the more aggressive and capable players in the satty, it was truly a horrible call-off by me. As aggressive and maniacal as the craziest of players can be - they are still never bluffing with 100 bigs behind pre-flop, unless for some reason they want to light their entry fee on fire. Put it this way, this particular opponent, and 99 out of 100 others, would not have re-shipped KK to a cold four bet.
My opponent in this case, is able to play like a maniac on occasion, and is tough and aggressive, but he was never, ever bluffing there. I should've flatted his three bet instead of four betting him. Failing that (I'm okay with a four bet as he would likely 3 bet JJ, QQ or AK to my UTG raise) I should have for sure tanked at the very least and took a read, then I very likely could've found a fold and proudly mucked my kings face up.
Instead I got to sit around for 7 hours as the rest of the guys played down to the WSOP seat.
So, not my finest hour.
But even worse, was the night before. I played in the Bike Quantum, an absurd multi-flight re-entry tournament that nonetheless is a cheap way to get in a lot of hands.
For 6 hours I played very well. Accumulating despite a dearth of starting cards and managing to avoid the experienced players, who as usual multiplied as the bubble approached.
Just before we redrew to 2 tables, I had a bit of an implosion. I went from 45 bigs to less than 15 over the course of 3 hands. I tried to get clever, make moves, whatever, and simply missed the flops spectacularly and compounded my misfortune by refusing to let go until long after it was too late.
It was a long walk back to the car for me, I was very frustrated after I have been playing so well, to so foolishly spew off chips by losing patience.
So here is my promise as my recompense.
I vow to play as much as I can between now and the 29th, while still putting my family and job first of course - and in doing so I will also promise to not push things, to not get impatient and try to 'outplay' my opponents when either A) I have very little or no equity in the hand, either by virtue of crap cards, a whiffed flop or bad position OR B) I find myself against one or more experienced players who will give little fear or thought about tangling with me.
The latter was really my downfall the other night. I have recently taken great pride at being able to avoid trouble, or at least extract myself from it early on to minimize the damage. This last time, I was simply being stubborn against opponents that I knew damn well played in the Quantum at least 5 or 6 times a week. No reason for my ego to get in the way and hang on when deep down I knew I needed to let go and look for better spots.
Ah well, poker. Just when you think you've got it licked, it comes back and kicks you right in the jackpot.
So I am sorry, poker gods or whoever, and I promise to do better. I promise to sit back and let good cards come when it is time to do so. I promise to sniff out the weak and prey on them, and to avoid the larger wolves that inevitably arrive along with the bubble. I promise to be the great player that I know I can be - if I stay within myself, and see the forest for the trees; the big picture ahead.
Actually, two big pictures.
The biggest tournament on record, ever. And another tournament that is massive and awesome.
Can't wait.
I've got my eyeballs on two events - the first will take place on May 29th, it's the Colossus. Click on the word to learn all about it. What will likely be the largest poker tournament in history, with at least 5 million dollars in prize money up for grabs as well as of course a bracelet - all for the low low price of only $565.
As a piece of history, and with my wife and kiddo out of town, I don't know that I could forgive myself for missing this one. I have recently pre-registered, the first time in my life that I have ever done this, and because of this I will for sure be playing in a bracelet event for only the second time in my life come Memorial day weekend.
The second event that I'd very much like to play in, and am planning on it, is the Monster Stack, two weekends after the Colossus. This bad boy bracelet event gives players, for the low low price of $1500, an amazing structure and a HUGE amount of chips to go along with it. Last year the winner took home 1.3 milly. There is some serious cheddar at stake, not to mention WSOP history.
Both of these promise to be once in a lifetime poker playing opportunities, and I am excited and very much looking forward to them. But there is the matter of recompense.
I feel somehow that I owe something to someone, perhaps the poker gods, perhaps THE God, or perhaps simply myself.
Of the half dozen or so events that I've played since my last post, I haven't seen nary a wisp of a cash. I haven't gotten anywhere near the money, in anything. Well, okay, after checking my ledger I see that I min-cashed at Commerce in the middle of March, but my notes point out that save for a crucial flip early on, I lost every race and picked up zero premiums on the way to my $355 pay day.
Last week I held my annual WSOP satellite in my garage. 9 of us plunked down $170 each for a $1500 bracelet seat. The winner gets a seat in the event of his choice, but also has to share any winnings with the rest of the group 60/40.
Well I was the first one out. With nearly a hundred big blinds, I could not fold my KK to a five bet shove pre-flop. Of course my opponent had AA.
Lesson learned. Even though I rationalized it at the time, correctly stating that the villain was one of the more aggressive and capable players in the satty, it was truly a horrible call-off by me. As aggressive and maniacal as the craziest of players can be - they are still never bluffing with 100 bigs behind pre-flop, unless for some reason they want to light their entry fee on fire. Put it this way, this particular opponent, and 99 out of 100 others, would not have re-shipped KK to a cold four bet.
My opponent in this case, is able to play like a maniac on occasion, and is tough and aggressive, but he was never, ever bluffing there. I should've flatted his three bet instead of four betting him. Failing that (I'm okay with a four bet as he would likely 3 bet JJ, QQ or AK to my UTG raise) I should have for sure tanked at the very least and took a read, then I very likely could've found a fold and proudly mucked my kings face up.
Instead I got to sit around for 7 hours as the rest of the guys played down to the WSOP seat.
So, not my finest hour.
But even worse, was the night before. I played in the Bike Quantum, an absurd multi-flight re-entry tournament that nonetheless is a cheap way to get in a lot of hands.
For 6 hours I played very well. Accumulating despite a dearth of starting cards and managing to avoid the experienced players, who as usual multiplied as the bubble approached.
Just before we redrew to 2 tables, I had a bit of an implosion. I went from 45 bigs to less than 15 over the course of 3 hands. I tried to get clever, make moves, whatever, and simply missed the flops spectacularly and compounded my misfortune by refusing to let go until long after it was too late.
It was a long walk back to the car for me, I was very frustrated after I have been playing so well, to so foolishly spew off chips by losing patience.
So here is my promise as my recompense.
I vow to play as much as I can between now and the 29th, while still putting my family and job first of course - and in doing so I will also promise to not push things, to not get impatient and try to 'outplay' my opponents when either A) I have very little or no equity in the hand, either by virtue of crap cards, a whiffed flop or bad position OR B) I find myself against one or more experienced players who will give little fear or thought about tangling with me.
The latter was really my downfall the other night. I have recently taken great pride at being able to avoid trouble, or at least extract myself from it early on to minimize the damage. This last time, I was simply being stubborn against opponents that I knew damn well played in the Quantum at least 5 or 6 times a week. No reason for my ego to get in the way and hang on when deep down I knew I needed to let go and look for better spots.
Ah well, poker. Just when you think you've got it licked, it comes back and kicks you right in the jackpot.
So I am sorry, poker gods or whoever, and I promise to do better. I promise to sit back and let good cards come when it is time to do so. I promise to sniff out the weak and prey on them, and to avoid the larger wolves that inevitably arrive along with the bubble. I promise to be the great player that I know I can be - if I stay within myself, and see the forest for the trees; the big picture ahead.
Actually, two big pictures.
The biggest tournament on record, ever. And another tournament that is massive and awesome.
Can't wait.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Finishing Strong
Another year of teh pokerz has come and gone and once more I feel good. Actually, I feel better than good. I feel great.
2014 for me was the year that it all came together. The previous years and years of playing, studying, thinking - obsessing - about the game, the game that is No Limit Texas Hold-Em Tournament Poker; have just now, at the end of this year, finally started to pay off.
I have genuinely reached the point in my game when I can turn my brain off to a certain extent and relax - and let the mantra consume me. "See ball. Hit ball." I've reached the place that Roberto Clemente talked about - I've worked enough, studied enough, absorbed enough. The game is on, it's time to let go and let the training take over. See ball. Hit ball.
By letting the information flow naturally, not forcing it - I'm free to concentrate on yet more variables; especially live tells. I am more than ever, consciously trying to get into the head spaces of the players around me. I can concentrate on "taking a read" on an opponents demeanor. Is he comfortable? Is he happy? Tilted? Angry? I look at these things specifically, and let my training take over on the other stuff.
Bet sizing, betting tells, betting patterns - including previous hands and their patterns - these have all become second nature to me. So too has stack sizes, mine and my opponents, their commitment thresholds and mine. How much pressure to apply to get someone off a medium strength hand. Don't have to really think about this anymore. And so, armed with this recent automatic flow of information, I have become a formidable poker player in the tournament arena.
This last holiday, I played three tournaments in three days. Three tournaments, three cashes, including my first ever absolute and utter take down.
First up was the $120 nooner at the fabulous Hollywood Park Casino. It took me awhile to warm up, but once I did I was able to play well and slough off being utterly card dead and rather snake bit. I squeaked into a min-cash, a nice bubble safety that the regulars at HPC always push for.
The next day, it was the Bike nooner. A $55 freeze-out (with re-entries of course) that typically makes it's 2.5K guarantee easily. With 91 runners, this one was no exception.
Once again it was slow going to start - I got tangled in a couple of ill advised tussles, but emerged unscathed enough to accumulate chips in the doldrum mid stages. But by 'slow start' I don't mean I sat back and played patient. I have finally shaken off the incorrect notion that it is right to be tight in the opening stages of low entry tournaments. When it's $100 or less with a fast-ish structure and 20 minute levels, there is no time to wait.
In 90% of the tournaments I play in, I don't wait to get involved - I get active, quickly. Chip accumulation has to start early in these events; and I now know more than ever that even more important that actually gathering chips, is planting the seeds at the table so that everyone is thinking "Who the fuck is this guy? He watches too much TV. I'm going to get top pair and NEVER FOLD."
It is crucial, for this to work, that the table be passive. I find in the lower buy in events, this is almost always the case. I get active quick, so I can get to plundering - but as long as I am careful, it doesn't matter that I win every pot. It is important though that I show my busted bluffs and weak starting cards.
Then, once the image is built, as it was on day 2 for me - it is only a matter of time until I get all the chippies. A grumpy button had finally had enough with my three bets and four bet shoved over 60 bigs, I snapped with KK. He had A10 which didn't hit.
A similar hand happened later as the money approached. A different grouch, but he again had a middling Ace that he called with to my 3 bet shove with QQ. My hand held and I was in a very good spot at the final table.
Dan Harrington talks about the main two styles of play, Tight Aggressive (TAG) and Loose Aggressive (LAG), in his seminal 3 part bible on tournament poker. He himself plays and extolls the virtues and value of playing TAG. But his books, as magnificent as they still are, are geared to WSOP events or similar. Long levels, deep deep stacks and tables loaded with experienced grinders. The rest of us don't play these, we play the $55 daily where $40 NL retirees are sitting down for a change of pace and are hoping to see a flop.
In this kind of tournament, playing TAG will get you a whole heck of a lot of min-cashes, and a whole heck of a lot of busting out 2/3 of the way through the tournament with no money in sight. Most agonizing of all, when you do wake up with a rare premium hand, more often than not you won't get paid.
In my opinion, which is founded on 8 years of semi-serious tournament experience at this point, LAG is really the only way to play these things; especially if your table is older and more passive. I bet, bet, bet and bet again - hardly ever limping - until they can't stands it no more; and I use my post flop skills (the aforementioned "see ball, hit ball" state of mind) to minimize my losses and/or maximize my wins - and occasionally take pots away with the worst hand.
In this second tournament it was really starting to crystalize - as you can see by my stack above when it was final table time. I was third in chips and had my eyeball firmly planted on the 1K + first prize.
Unfortunately I boned a hand early on that knocked me down a bit. I likely had less than a dozen big blinds when we all agreed to chop and I took down a not too bad $380 in fourth position of six remaining players.
Anyways - the hand. A micro stack in EP shoved all for less than a big blind and got one caller right away. I justified a fairly bad call in the hijack with A5os. This was a pretty big mistake because then of course the cutoff, button and both blinds came along. Six players plus another already all in. Blech. A recipe for disaster.
Now here is where most recreational players would say "check it down" and knock out a player to climb up the ladder. Well my degenerate brain doesn't' really work that way. As the flop came, I knew the pot was bloated, a large amount of precious big blinds and antes now bubbled in a juicy side pot - ripe for the taking. The micro-stacked player that was all in had less than a big blind, matched 6 ways, in the main.
The flop came with an Ace and a Five and two cards to a flush. The first player checked to me, I jammed. Too much money out there to let someone catch up, I likely had the best hand and I was getting all those chippies now.
The cutoff and button grumpily folded. Doesn't this a-hole know to check it down?
The small blind tanked and tanked. Really dude? You're going to call off your tournament life with a flush draw? Yep. He did it. And yep, he had a monster draw - a gut shot and a six high flush draw.
The BB folded and the board ran out - he spiked his baby flush immediately on the turn of course, and I was not quite crippled, but powerless to play any real poker until the aforementioned deal a half hour later.
I of course got lectured on my bad play, by the remaining big stacks. "Dude, check it down and let him bust."
Right. And surrender all that side pot equity in favor of letting a micro stack hang around for another ten minutes. Good idea.
Anyways, I was back for more the following day, with my compatriot Cali Al in tow this time.
This time around we only had 80 entries, so the prize pool was smaller. Also, Cali and I were a bit early, so we were seated at the very first table, which was full of other strictly recreational players who likely play mostly in home games.
It was truly one of the more passive and genuinely brain damaged group I had ever sat down with. Friendly enough at least.
I immediately started with the shenanigans, and the bulk of the table was fed up after only two or three of my sloppy stabbings.
As always, I eschewed limping for three betting large. This really worked out early on when I three bet from the cutoff, nice and chunky and got four callers. I flopped top pair, it was checked to me and I c-bet nice and juicy. All but the big blind folded.
This big blind was a special kind of home gamer that I have run into before. ULTRA passive and loose, and believes that everyone is trying to bully her. Her instances of success mostly come from snapping off maniacs like myself.
I value bet the shit out of her on the turn when it blanked and shoved the apparently harmless river which she instantly called off all her chips with. "Uh-oh" I thought... "I may be in trouble here."
Nope. She had second pair and was crippled. I had doubled up.
I firmly believe I would never have gotten all of that cheddar if I hadn't been dicking around on earlier hands.
Fish may be fishy, but they are more than capable of pegging someone like me as a maniac very quickly, and will put their minds to looking me up at all costs. They very much go out of their way to get involved, usually out of position, against the guy who watches too much poker on TV. Thank goodness for this. It is one of the easiest ways to accumulate chips without premium hands early on in a tournament.
Speaking of dicking around. A few hands later my friend Cali, who was three seats to my right, slung an over sized chip in after a few limpers and then said "raise". The table had a good laugh at his expense; he's a very good player, but hasn't played live in almost two months and much longer than that since his last foray into a card room.
So I got to limp with my 72 in the small blind and smash two pair on the flop.
My fishy friend from earlier called my chunky donk bet on the flop, and Cali reluctantly folded his aces or kings. I then checked the blank turn and by God she did fire with over half her remaining chips. I happily shipped it and then she tanked.
So help me God, with 3/4 of her chips already in the pot, she had to think about it. She finally slid the chips in and turned up a wired pair of fives. My two pair held and she was gone. I silently stacked my chips as Cali stewed in his juices.
A while later, a swarthy fellow whom I've never seen in my life but played with hundreds of times sat down on my immediate right. He was the first of many more serious players that would eventually replace all the rec players at my table.
We got tangled up early. He limped, I three bet chunky. He apparently didn't get the memo, that if he called he was supposed to fold or call my c-bet. He check raise shipped on me, an absurd over bet that I unfortunately couldn't call with zip and pip. I couldn't help but smirk a little and say "Okay, let me think about it." as I turbo mucked. I then made a little "hmm" with a cocked head, yes I was a bit irritated at his pointless play, which would earn him the minimum in value and maximum in loss if I had hit. He picked right up on my aggravation and responded in a thick Eastern European accent...
"You watch too much TV."
Yes. Yes I do sir.
So I resolved to pretty much avoid him as there were still plenty of ripe targets.
Eventually Cali waited way to long to get to shoving and had zero fold equity when he finally did and lost his race.
Time passed and I had no choice but to play more snug as better and better players sat down.
Too much TV guy actually turned out to be super tight, he barely played a hand. Turned out he had likely shipped on me with a set or an overpair.
At some point a young buck sat in the empty seat between me and TV Guy. He was a motor mouth semi-pro who proceeded to pull a Chris Manzoni with everyone else, me included.
Only problem for him was, the second time he raised my big I had A10 and was never ever folding. I three bet him chunky-ish (more of a standard 3x the size of his raise 3 bet) and he flatted. The board came all low and he ripped. I snapped. He had me covered.
We both turned over the same hand. He was shocked at my call and said so. "Sorry dude, actual poker player in this seat..." I muttered. He smirked, relieved to be chopping, as was I.
So he mostly avoided me after that. He pillaged a bit, but was unable to climb back up by the time I three bet shoved on him with AQ and he called off with deuces. Terrible call that saw him bust and donate the rest of his bullets to me.
The money approached and I sat on a whole grip o' chips. With uber active motor mouth gone, I could get back on the stick, so to speak; and I found that my maniacal image was still intact as I took a few minor hits from non-believers. Then I woke up with KK and got it all in pre-flop when a sweaty regular decided it was time to take a stand with QJ.
Well done sir, you're doing it.
I know had well over 50 bigs, at a time when the avg. stack was closer to 15. Because I had just played this tournament the day before, I knew I could fold my way to the final table and still be healthy when I got there. This really took the pressure off of me to remain active, and yet I didn't allow myself to pass up juicy spots when they arose, and this is a big difference in my game that has only recently surfaced.
Time was, if I knew I was set to make the final table healthy, I literally would only play QQ or better, even open folding AK. Today, when I'm in the same spot, I let go and let the small ball fly when premium situations, not premium hands, arrive.
If it is folded to me and I'm in the hijack or later, and the targets are good - I will raise with any ace, any broadway cards, any pair, or even a suited gap connector. Then I rely on my post flop skills to extricate me from trouble; this means I don't hesitate to give up with multiple opponents, but I also don't hesitate to c-bet with a favorable board if I'm heads up with an opponent who has been defending light but then fitting and folding.
It was a beautiful 10 8 suited that boated up on the turn that saw me amass a huge double knock out against two recreational players who were not nearly as good as they thought they were. One of them stacked off with an over pair, JJ I believe, that he had flatted with pre-flop to my raise, and the other I believe had a flush draw that he was drawing dead with. I know for a fact I got both of these stacks merged into mine because I hadn't just folded up my tent to wait for the final table. I played maybe half a dozen hands in an hour - and because of this they likely both saw me as a maniac. It also didn't hurt that I had busted the guy who the entire table saw as the biggest maniac of all.
So with that double knock out, we were almost at the final table. Another loud mouth sat down on my right, spewed off half of his stack (unfortunately not to me) and then we were at our final 10.
I immediately looked around and saw that most players were short, and I was one of only 3 that was robust. I was also the chip leader. I proposed we look at the numbers. Loud mouth demurred and so we played on.
When we were at six he finally called for a chip count. He had dwindled, I had actually chipped up, just by virtue of walks and little resistance to my opening raises. With most of my opponents, when I opened a pot - we were playing for stacks right from the get go. So really, I was playing tight - I was only playing hands that I was willing to call a re-ship from the shorties. It worked beautifully.
The numbers were run... and with this stack...
I would collect $750. I happily agreed. Though it was $250 less than first place money, it was great to lock it up because one hand could change everything instantly. No one, myself included, was at all deep. I had around 25 bigs, hardly enough room to maneuver with any real poker skill involved.
Everyone else agreed to their lesser amounts, including loud mouth who was happy to get $330. Ship it!
All of my tournament poker playing career, I have longed to be That Guy at the table. The one who accumulates without good cards, the one who runs over other players with a smile and avoids dumping off large amounts of chips for no reason. Tuesday night, I WAS that guy.
And it felt great.
My ledger says I'm up almost 2K in profit, which is a fantastic feeling for someone who only plays tournaments. I'm very much looking forward to another year on the felt - hopefully I'll make the WSOP this year. At the very least I'll be heading out to Vegas for sure.
2014 for me was the year that it all came together. The previous years and years of playing, studying, thinking - obsessing - about the game, the game that is No Limit Texas Hold-Em Tournament Poker; have just now, at the end of this year, finally started to pay off.
I have genuinely reached the point in my game when I can turn my brain off to a certain extent and relax - and let the mantra consume me. "See ball. Hit ball." I've reached the place that Roberto Clemente talked about - I've worked enough, studied enough, absorbed enough. The game is on, it's time to let go and let the training take over. See ball. Hit ball.
By letting the information flow naturally, not forcing it - I'm free to concentrate on yet more variables; especially live tells. I am more than ever, consciously trying to get into the head spaces of the players around me. I can concentrate on "taking a read" on an opponents demeanor. Is he comfortable? Is he happy? Tilted? Angry? I look at these things specifically, and let my training take over on the other stuff.
Bet sizing, betting tells, betting patterns - including previous hands and their patterns - these have all become second nature to me. So too has stack sizes, mine and my opponents, their commitment thresholds and mine. How much pressure to apply to get someone off a medium strength hand. Don't have to really think about this anymore. And so, armed with this recent automatic flow of information, I have become a formidable poker player in the tournament arena.
This last holiday, I played three tournaments in three days. Three tournaments, three cashes, including my first ever absolute and utter take down.
First up was the $120 nooner at the fabulous Hollywood Park Casino. It took me awhile to warm up, but once I did I was able to play well and slough off being utterly card dead and rather snake bit. I squeaked into a min-cash, a nice bubble safety that the regulars at HPC always push for.
The next day, it was the Bike nooner. A $55 freeze-out (with re-entries of course) that typically makes it's 2.5K guarantee easily. With 91 runners, this one was no exception.
Once again it was slow going to start - I got tangled in a couple of ill advised tussles, but emerged unscathed enough to accumulate chips in the doldrum mid stages. But by 'slow start' I don't mean I sat back and played patient. I have finally shaken off the incorrect notion that it is right to be tight in the opening stages of low entry tournaments. When it's $100 or less with a fast-ish structure and 20 minute levels, there is no time to wait.
In 90% of the tournaments I play in, I don't wait to get involved - I get active, quickly. Chip accumulation has to start early in these events; and I now know more than ever that even more important that actually gathering chips, is planting the seeds at the table so that everyone is thinking "Who the fuck is this guy? He watches too much TV. I'm going to get top pair and NEVER FOLD."
It is crucial, for this to work, that the table be passive. I find in the lower buy in events, this is almost always the case. I get active quick, so I can get to plundering - but as long as I am careful, it doesn't matter that I win every pot. It is important though that I show my busted bluffs and weak starting cards.
Then, once the image is built, as it was on day 2 for me - it is only a matter of time until I get all the chippies. A grumpy button had finally had enough with my three bets and four bet shoved over 60 bigs, I snapped with KK. He had A10 which didn't hit.
A similar hand happened later as the money approached. A different grouch, but he again had a middling Ace that he called with to my 3 bet shove with QQ. My hand held and I was in a very good spot at the final table.
 |
| Over 175K at the final table in the Bike $55 daily. |
In this kind of tournament, playing TAG will get you a whole heck of a lot of min-cashes, and a whole heck of a lot of busting out 2/3 of the way through the tournament with no money in sight. Most agonizing of all, when you do wake up with a rare premium hand, more often than not you won't get paid.
In my opinion, which is founded on 8 years of semi-serious tournament experience at this point, LAG is really the only way to play these things; especially if your table is older and more passive. I bet, bet, bet and bet again - hardly ever limping - until they can't stands it no more; and I use my post flop skills (the aforementioned "see ball, hit ball" state of mind) to minimize my losses and/or maximize my wins - and occasionally take pots away with the worst hand.
In this second tournament it was really starting to crystalize - as you can see by my stack above when it was final table time. I was third in chips and had my eyeball firmly planted on the 1K + first prize.
Unfortunately I boned a hand early on that knocked me down a bit. I likely had less than a dozen big blinds when we all agreed to chop and I took down a not too bad $380 in fourth position of six remaining players.
Anyways - the hand. A micro stack in EP shoved all for less than a big blind and got one caller right away. I justified a fairly bad call in the hijack with A5os. This was a pretty big mistake because then of course the cutoff, button and both blinds came along. Six players plus another already all in. Blech. A recipe for disaster.
Now here is where most recreational players would say "check it down" and knock out a player to climb up the ladder. Well my degenerate brain doesn't' really work that way. As the flop came, I knew the pot was bloated, a large amount of precious big blinds and antes now bubbled in a juicy side pot - ripe for the taking. The micro-stacked player that was all in had less than a big blind, matched 6 ways, in the main.
The flop came with an Ace and a Five and two cards to a flush. The first player checked to me, I jammed. Too much money out there to let someone catch up, I likely had the best hand and I was getting all those chippies now.
The cutoff and button grumpily folded. Doesn't this a-hole know to check it down?
The small blind tanked and tanked. Really dude? You're going to call off your tournament life with a flush draw? Yep. He did it. And yep, he had a monster draw - a gut shot and a six high flush draw.
The BB folded and the board ran out - he spiked his baby flush immediately on the turn of course, and I was not quite crippled, but powerless to play any real poker until the aforementioned deal a half hour later.
I of course got lectured on my bad play, by the remaining big stacks. "Dude, check it down and let him bust."
Right. And surrender all that side pot equity in favor of letting a micro stack hang around for another ten minutes. Good idea.
Anyways, I was back for more the following day, with my compatriot Cali Al in tow this time.
This time around we only had 80 entries, so the prize pool was smaller. Also, Cali and I were a bit early, so we were seated at the very first table, which was full of other strictly recreational players who likely play mostly in home games.
It was truly one of the more passive and genuinely brain damaged group I had ever sat down with. Friendly enough at least.
I immediately started with the shenanigans, and the bulk of the table was fed up after only two or three of my sloppy stabbings.
As always, I eschewed limping for three betting large. This really worked out early on when I three bet from the cutoff, nice and chunky and got four callers. I flopped top pair, it was checked to me and I c-bet nice and juicy. All but the big blind folded.
This big blind was a special kind of home gamer that I have run into before. ULTRA passive and loose, and believes that everyone is trying to bully her. Her instances of success mostly come from snapping off maniacs like myself.
I value bet the shit out of her on the turn when it blanked and shoved the apparently harmless river which she instantly called off all her chips with. "Uh-oh" I thought... "I may be in trouble here."
Nope. She had second pair and was crippled. I had doubled up.
I firmly believe I would never have gotten all of that cheddar if I hadn't been dicking around on earlier hands.
Fish may be fishy, but they are more than capable of pegging someone like me as a maniac very quickly, and will put their minds to looking me up at all costs. They very much go out of their way to get involved, usually out of position, against the guy who watches too much poker on TV. Thank goodness for this. It is one of the easiest ways to accumulate chips without premium hands early on in a tournament.
Speaking of dicking around. A few hands later my friend Cali, who was three seats to my right, slung an over sized chip in after a few limpers and then said "raise". The table had a good laugh at his expense; he's a very good player, but hasn't played live in almost two months and much longer than that since his last foray into a card room.
So I got to limp with my 72 in the small blind and smash two pair on the flop.
My fishy friend from earlier called my chunky donk bet on the flop, and Cali reluctantly folded his aces or kings. I then checked the blank turn and by God she did fire with over half her remaining chips. I happily shipped it and then she tanked.
So help me God, with 3/4 of her chips already in the pot, she had to think about it. She finally slid the chips in and turned up a wired pair of fives. My two pair held and she was gone. I silently stacked my chips as Cali stewed in his juices.
A while later, a swarthy fellow whom I've never seen in my life but played with hundreds of times sat down on my immediate right. He was the first of many more serious players that would eventually replace all the rec players at my table.
We got tangled up early. He limped, I three bet chunky. He apparently didn't get the memo, that if he called he was supposed to fold or call my c-bet. He check raise shipped on me, an absurd over bet that I unfortunately couldn't call with zip and pip. I couldn't help but smirk a little and say "Okay, let me think about it." as I turbo mucked. I then made a little "hmm" with a cocked head, yes I was a bit irritated at his pointless play, which would earn him the minimum in value and maximum in loss if I had hit. He picked right up on my aggravation and responded in a thick Eastern European accent...
"You watch too much TV."
Yes. Yes I do sir.
So I resolved to pretty much avoid him as there were still plenty of ripe targets.
Eventually Cali waited way to long to get to shoving and had zero fold equity when he finally did and lost his race.
Time passed and I had no choice but to play more snug as better and better players sat down.
Too much TV guy actually turned out to be super tight, he barely played a hand. Turned out he had likely shipped on me with a set or an overpair.
At some point a young buck sat in the empty seat between me and TV Guy. He was a motor mouth semi-pro who proceeded to pull a Chris Manzoni with everyone else, me included.
Only problem for him was, the second time he raised my big I had A10 and was never ever folding. I three bet him chunky-ish (more of a standard 3x the size of his raise 3 bet) and he flatted. The board came all low and he ripped. I snapped. He had me covered.
We both turned over the same hand. He was shocked at my call and said so. "Sorry dude, actual poker player in this seat..." I muttered. He smirked, relieved to be chopping, as was I.
So he mostly avoided me after that. He pillaged a bit, but was unable to climb back up by the time I three bet shoved on him with AQ and he called off with deuces. Terrible call that saw him bust and donate the rest of his bullets to me.
The money approached and I sat on a whole grip o' chips. With uber active motor mouth gone, I could get back on the stick, so to speak; and I found that my maniacal image was still intact as I took a few minor hits from non-believers. Then I woke up with KK and got it all in pre-flop when a sweaty regular decided it was time to take a stand with QJ.
Well done sir, you're doing it.
I know had well over 50 bigs, at a time when the avg. stack was closer to 15. Because I had just played this tournament the day before, I knew I could fold my way to the final table and still be healthy when I got there. This really took the pressure off of me to remain active, and yet I didn't allow myself to pass up juicy spots when they arose, and this is a big difference in my game that has only recently surfaced.
Time was, if I knew I was set to make the final table healthy, I literally would only play QQ or better, even open folding AK. Today, when I'm in the same spot, I let go and let the small ball fly when premium situations, not premium hands, arrive.
If it is folded to me and I'm in the hijack or later, and the targets are good - I will raise with any ace, any broadway cards, any pair, or even a suited gap connector. Then I rely on my post flop skills to extricate me from trouble; this means I don't hesitate to give up with multiple opponents, but I also don't hesitate to c-bet with a favorable board if I'm heads up with an opponent who has been defending light but then fitting and folding.
It was a beautiful 10 8 suited that boated up on the turn that saw me amass a huge double knock out against two recreational players who were not nearly as good as they thought they were. One of them stacked off with an over pair, JJ I believe, that he had flatted with pre-flop to my raise, and the other I believe had a flush draw that he was drawing dead with. I know for a fact I got both of these stacks merged into mine because I hadn't just folded up my tent to wait for the final table. I played maybe half a dozen hands in an hour - and because of this they likely both saw me as a maniac. It also didn't hurt that I had busted the guy who the entire table saw as the biggest maniac of all.
So with that double knock out, we were almost at the final table. Another loud mouth sat down on my right, spewed off half of his stack (unfortunately not to me) and then we were at our final 10.
I immediately looked around and saw that most players were short, and I was one of only 3 that was robust. I was also the chip leader. I proposed we look at the numbers. Loud mouth demurred and so we played on.
When we were at six he finally called for a chip count. He had dwindled, I had actually chipped up, just by virtue of walks and little resistance to my opening raises. With most of my opponents, when I opened a pot - we were playing for stacks right from the get go. So really, I was playing tight - I was only playing hands that I was willing to call a re-ship from the shorties. It worked beautifully.
The numbers were run... and with this stack...
 |
| Over a quarter million in chips - my biggest stack in recent memory. |
Everyone else agreed to their lesser amounts, including loud mouth who was happy to get $330. Ship it!
All of my tournament poker playing career, I have longed to be That Guy at the table. The one who accumulates without good cards, the one who runs over other players with a smile and avoids dumping off large amounts of chips for no reason. Tuesday night, I WAS that guy.
And it felt great.
My ledger says I'm up almost 2K in profit, which is a fantastic feeling for someone who only plays tournaments. I'm very much looking forward to another year on the felt - hopefully I'll make the WSOP this year. At the very least I'll be heading out to Vegas for sure.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
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...
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.
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.
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. |
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. |
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.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
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. |
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. |
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! |
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.
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| Roast beef, cheddar and horseradish. Outstanding. |
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. |
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. |
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!
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