I was pretty nervous going into day 2. I needed to think about strategy and how I was going to keep going. Lucky hands don't hold up forever. Someone sent me stats on other players at my table, but I didn't want to focus on who was a pro and how much they had previously won. I thought it might psych me out, so instead I focused on the fact that 6 other players had fewer chips than me. Three players had significantly more chips than anyone at the table. They were:
Seat 5 Denny L. Robinson, Las Vegas NV 57,100
Seat 9 Frank Rusnak Chicago IL 77,000
Seat 6 Micah Raskin Long Island NY 107,700
Frank in seat 9 would become my toughest competition, but then later I'd end up busting up his massive tower of chips..
One guy who had an amazing run of luck was:
Seat 3 Johannes Keoerber, Dortmund Germany 35,000 (seated to my immediate left, I was seat 2)
who started day 2 by raising all in. Turns out he had pocket QQ which held up against a caller with AK (Seat 5 Denny L. Robinson Las Vegas NV, starting stack: $57,100) Johannes ended up doubling his $35,000 immediately.
Later Johannes had KK which held up and he doubled again, and again later he had AA. He ended up finishing in 28th place with a payout of $19,000
Anyway back to Frank, seat 9... Frank was a super aggressive player who’s M.O. was playing from early position. I couldn't get too good of a read on his hands which was a problem because when we were two people away from being in the money I got pocket 10s. Pre-flop, Frank raised from the big blind, I believe I re-raised or called. The flop came, something like a 5, 7, and a K.. Frank bet big, I re-raised, again I was sure I was ahead, he called. Finally on the turn Frank just grabbed a huge stack of chips and pushed..I was sure I had him beat, but I was two people away from being in the money...I couldn't push over the top all in, plus there was a K on the board. I had to let the chips I had thrown into the pot go and wait for a more sure hand. It killed me to do it, but I got a chance to redeem myself later..
At dinner I needed to come up with strategy. My friend Josh kept telling me that doubling up would really help. I kept thinking, "How am I just going to double up? I've got to have hands", but my friend's advice was good and the opportunity came up, not just to double up, but triple up, and more..
After I made it into the money the same scenario came up with Frank, where he raised under the gun and was super aggressive, but this time I came over the top and pushed all in with top pair, Jacks and a K kicker, two 2s were showing on the board...Frank audibly let out a "Fuck!" when I re-raised all in. He contemplated my all in raise for quite some time and decided that he wasn't willing to risk more chips to find out whether I had trip 2s or not. He folded, losing a significant portion of his stack.
It turns out that most of the hands he played under the gun were AJ, at least from what I could see the times he showed down. He may have had me beat on that last hand, but he let it go because of the 2s on the board. I think when I had pocket 10s previously before dinner he may have had AJ and missed the board. I probably had him beat but wasn’t able to push all in to find out.
I knew that he'd push all in soon as he had about 1/4 of the stack he had previously, so I waited till I had QQ or better to pop him. Sure enough, like it was scripted out of my head, he pushed all in under the gun with AJ and I had QQ. I called and my QQ held up. I was amazed when Frank, tough competition at the table who made me fold earlier losing $10k in chips, was busted and stood up with a dazed look on his face..
I won a few more pots (one from winner Ray Foley 7/1709 Ante-Up podcast. He recounts key hands and mentions one key hand he lost at about 36:30 of the MP3 http://www.anteupmagazine.com/podcast.html ) and was up to $200K in chips!
It was getting to be 9 and then 10pm possibly even later, maybe 10:30pm, one of the larger starting stacks:
Seat 6 Micah Raskin Long Island, NY 107,700
had long been busted out when his bluff was called by the German guy, Johannes Keoerber, seat 3 who kept doubling up, this time with pocket AAs.
Seat 7 had previously busted out and was replaced by another player who was pretty quiet. Nam Le had also come to our table by then and had replaced Frank in seat 9. Nam didn't have a significant stack when he came to our table, but that would change.
Nam kept looking at my chipstack. Even when I wasn't in a hand he'd look over at it as he reached into his stack to make a bet. I thought, "Uh uh, you're not getting my chips...if I don't get into a hand with you there's no way you can take them" lol. He eyed me every time I folded to see if he'd get the opportunity, but he and I never got into a hand together.
So I'm sitting on $200K in chips and I'm looking at the board and seeing what the payouts are and realizing that if I make it to 54th place I'd be into the next prize level at $9K (There were 60 or so people still in the game). I think ok, just fold, fold, fold, and pay blinds till 30 more people bust then I'd be in the final 3 tables. I'm not sure what happened to that logic..
Shortly after I have my plan all figured out, I get AK, Ace of Spades and King of Clubs. Seat 7 raises 3 times the bb to $12,000, Nam Le calls, I re-raise to $36,000, seat 7 re-raises all in, Nam folds. Seat 7 had previously gone all in twice with pocket QQs. I figure that he had Queens again, and that my AK is good. Plus he says he has about $100K. I’ve got double that. I figure that even if I lose the hand I've got another $100k to work with...
Bad, bad news...this time he's got Aces. Not only that but an Ace of Clubs. The hand that eventually wins the pot is an Ace high club flush. Even if I had had aces I couldn't have won the hand. The only thing that would have saved me is if he hadn't had that CLUB! I had the King high club.
Any way that really hurt. I think that as an 8-5er my brain shut down around 11pm. I knew not to just make all in pre-flop calls. I had been careful on day one when I had pocket aces to check on the flop and feel out my opponent, not this time. I think I also got caught up in all in pre-flop calls because I had seen a lot of that kind of action from other players throughout day 2...
It also turns out that Seat 7 who said he had a little over $100K really had $128K which left me with $78K. Even though this was not the hand I busted out on, I feel that it was the one that basically ended my tourney. Shoulda, coulda woulda.. all you can do is learn from fatal mistakes..
Here's an article about those kinds of all in coin flip situations:
http://www.pokernews.com/strategy/tournament-poker-with-jeremiah-smith-to-flip-or-not-to-flip-6818.htm
Seat 7 now has over $250K in chips, I keep painfully eyeing them, my chips, across the table, and looks like he doesn't know what to do with them, he's looking all over the place and blinking like crazy. Think it gets to his head because then he calls an all in raise from Nam Le with pocket 10s. Nam to his immediate left has KKs. Nams' KKs hold up and now suddenly Nam's got all my chips. Guess all that eyeing worked, my chips are now in Nam's stack..
http://www.pokernews.com/wsop/2009/event-39/day2/page4.htm
Played a little longer then I was down to $48K, shortstacked as blinds were now $4K-$8K. A thought popped into my head pretty strongly, "Next pocket pair and I have to push all in".
Sadly, with $8K out in the bb, I got a pocket pair, the worst one possible, pocket 2s, but I had to go for it. I wonder if anyone read it on my face because..
Amazingly the player 2nd to act, Ray Foley, who had come to the table about an hour or so earlier and who would go on to win the tourney, goes all in with A 4 (can’t remember if it was suited, very well could have been). Very risky move considering there are 5 other players to act after him (we were 9 handed). Someone could have come up with a hand. I think he was just trying to steal the blinds.
I've got a bad hand, but I have a pocket pair, I call. Ray's nervous as he announces, "I've got overs"..time to flip that coin..
4 comes on the flop and no more 2s for me and no straight..
Ray and everyone at the table were very nice and so professional and all stand up to shake my hand and tell me that I had played well. Nice compliment coming from those guys!
I was disappointed, but hey, I made it further than I ever thought I would. It was an incredible first run at WSOP 2009! I’m setting my sights on the ladies event next year.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
WSOP 2009 - I feel like Alice in Wonderland
Hey folks,
What can I say, life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what is going to come your way..
First of all I was so stoked just to win the freeroll tourney and get a chance to go to WSOP. Thanks to Pfaff for setting up such an amazing set of tourneys. I never would have dreamed that I would be sitting at a table with Nam Le on Day 2, (he's so hot!) and later watching all my chips magically go over to his stack without ever getting into a hand with him. He's THAT good lol. Actually he wasn't at our table for long. He played two tournaments that day. The other, I think, was a HORSE tourney, so he'd leave for a while and come back. Who knew you could do such things..
Ironically I had planned to go to Vegas independently of WSOP. Scott Blashek happened to throw out an e-mail asking if anyone wanted to go to Vegas June 21st-25th. I got a cheaper airline ticket by booking a day early, so there it was, I was going to Vegas to play small tourneys downtown and be a spectator at WSOP. Then came the whirlwind Poker in the Rear freeroll tournament and I picked a WSOP event occurring at the time I had originally planned to go...Event #39.
When the tourney started, my table, #7, was short 6 players, so for the first half an hour or so we were four handed, which allowed me to play heads up with one other player. I was able to build my stack by immediately taking small pot after small pot, slowly chipping away at him. This is probably why he wasn't too friendly later on when I took a good 3/4 of his stack in one hand.
Slowly the rest of the players at our table filtered in and one was particularly late. Before he showed up, the table had speculated that maybe he flew in that day and that was the reason he was so late, but as he was getting settled in and after he announced that he was now going to take us down one by one, I casually asked if he had flown in that day, but he said he had already been in town. Maybe he had had too much of the Girls of Glitter Gultch the night before...? Not sure of the reason for his tardiness, but the early bird gets the worm and this was bad luck for our latecomer...he ordered a cappuccino, and unfortunately wouldn't get a chance to let it cool down to drink it..
My hand was A 7. Two 7s come out on the flop. I think I'm in good shape, so I check to slowplay a little and feel out the table. Mr. Johnny come lately to my immediate left checks as well. This hand gets tricky as I didn't realize I was about to get into trouble from the 6 that comes on the turn. Later I found out that my opponent was sitting on 6, 7. I can't remember what sort of betting happened after that but he didn't come out very strong, guess that was good for me because I caught an A on the river to fill out my boat with 7s over As . My opponent raised but it was too late. After committing all of his chips with his smaller boat of 7s over 6s, I called and he read the sick news and picked up to leave before his cappuccino even came to the table. I felt for him, but had to be tough.
Back to the single player I had been taking small pots from initially. I flopped a straight and bet heavily, but my opponent was stubborn. He called, again I bet out, but couldn't push him off his hand and convince him that he was beat. He was like Cool Hand Luke, just kept getting up for a beating. I was beginning to get a little nervous though as now the board was paired up with 9s. I eased up a bit to feel him out, but still sensed weakness. As a third 9 came on the river I just checked it and so did he. Turns out he was chasing a flush and "never got there" as he put it. Later a player who came to replace a player to my immediate right finished off the rest of my opponent's stack. There had been a few tense words between my opponent and I when I had asked later about his hand, so I didn't congratulate the player to my right who knocked him out out of respect until my opponent left the table ..
Later I knocked out a player who must have been a pro who I have not heard of. Here is the excerpt from Pokernews.com. I am listed as "a player two seats to his left".
4 days 16 hours ago Posted by F-TrainAlexandre Gomes - BustoAlexandre Gomes
Eliminated
'Just as we spotted Alexandre Gomes' new table in the Blue Section of the Amazon Room, he moved all in for his last 6,000 chips. A player two seats to his left called with J J ; Gomes showed A Q and the race was on. There was no help for anyone on a flop of 10 5 9 . The turn 8 took away Gomes' outs to a queen, and it was a good thing for his opponent; the Q hit on the river to give Gomes top pair and to make a queen-high straight for his opponent. With that, Gomes said a few words to a friend at a nearby table and left.'
I called with jacks because earlier I had seen Gomes go all in with Q 4 suited, I figured my jacks were good.
Another memorable hand was when I woke up with pocket aces! I raised pre-flop to $4k, bb was $1K, and got one caller. The flop came with a K high. I checked to see if he had a set of kings and he bet out with another $4k, I figured that since he didn't go all in at that point or bet out stronger that he didn't have it. I re-raised all in and he called with AK, top pair, top kicker. His hand didn't improve and I doubled up.
The day was long, and I guess I was on a high and didn't really feel it. I spent the final two hours just folding to make it to the money, but realized that I needed to keep accumulating pots, so I gambled a bit on the very last hand of the day which could have been the death of me, but I guess I was a little loopy by then and was thinking, "if I bust out now, it's been a great run.."but fate would have other plans for me..(is that corny enough for y'all?) (dramatic music..)
At the end of day one I got incredibly lucky and sucked out with the worst hand in a three way all in. I wasn't planning it that way, but sometimes you get drawn in..
The player to my right, who incidentally after dinner break had his eyeglass lens sitting on his cards as a card protector..come to find out, as I look up and see one lens in his frames and ask laughingly what happened to him, that at dinner he had picked up his daughter and had his glasses in his pocket and smashed them. Luckily his wife had a similar prescription and he called her to bring in her backup pair..
Back to the last hand of day 1: The player to my right announces several times that he doesn't want to come back tomorrow with 4K in chips, so he is basically begging for a caller. I had just counted my stack of $22K not too long ago and I figure he doesn't have much of a hand. For $4k it was worth it to call. After I make the call ( incidentally his short stack of $4K turned out to be $6K so always ask for a chip count I learned) to my surprise the player to my left suddenly announces, "well now I have to go all in". I know now that my A J is probably running against A K, but I already have 6K in the pot and it turns out that I only have 9K left. (I thought I had $22K but my stack had shrunk a little and I actually had about $15K), so I think, “It's time to gamble and see what happens”. I call. Lucky for me and also sorry for me cause now I’ve got two guys pissed off... because...I end up flopping a J and another comes on the turn or river, can't remember. All I know is that I got lucky as hell with trips with the worst hand of the three of us, A Q to my right (the short stack) and A K to my left. I end day one with $37,400 in chips..
What can I say, life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what is going to come your way..
First of all I was so stoked just to win the freeroll tourney and get a chance to go to WSOP. Thanks to Pfaff for setting up such an amazing set of tourneys. I never would have dreamed that I would be sitting at a table with Nam Le on Day 2, (he's so hot!) and later watching all my chips magically go over to his stack without ever getting into a hand with him. He's THAT good lol. Actually he wasn't at our table for long. He played two tournaments that day. The other, I think, was a HORSE tourney, so he'd leave for a while and come back. Who knew you could do such things..
Ironically I had planned to go to Vegas independently of WSOP. Scott Blashek happened to throw out an e-mail asking if anyone wanted to go to Vegas June 21st-25th. I got a cheaper airline ticket by booking a day early, so there it was, I was going to Vegas to play small tourneys downtown and be a spectator at WSOP. Then came the whirlwind Poker in the Rear freeroll tournament and I picked a WSOP event occurring at the time I had originally planned to go...Event #39.
When the tourney started, my table, #7, was short 6 players, so for the first half an hour or so we were four handed, which allowed me to play heads up with one other player. I was able to build my stack by immediately taking small pot after small pot, slowly chipping away at him. This is probably why he wasn't too friendly later on when I took a good 3/4 of his stack in one hand.
Slowly the rest of the players at our table filtered in and one was particularly late. Before he showed up, the table had speculated that maybe he flew in that day and that was the reason he was so late, but as he was getting settled in and after he announced that he was now going to take us down one by one, I casually asked if he had flown in that day, but he said he had already been in town. Maybe he had had too much of the Girls of Glitter Gultch the night before...? Not sure of the reason for his tardiness, but the early bird gets the worm and this was bad luck for our latecomer...he ordered a cappuccino, and unfortunately wouldn't get a chance to let it cool down to drink it..
My hand was A 7. Two 7s come out on the flop. I think I'm in good shape, so I check to slowplay a little and feel out the table. Mr. Johnny come lately to my immediate left checks as well. This hand gets tricky as I didn't realize I was about to get into trouble from the 6 that comes on the turn. Later I found out that my opponent was sitting on 6, 7. I can't remember what sort of betting happened after that but he didn't come out very strong, guess that was good for me because I caught an A on the river to fill out my boat with 7s over As . My opponent raised but it was too late. After committing all of his chips with his smaller boat of 7s over 6s, I called and he read the sick news and picked up to leave before his cappuccino even came to the table. I felt for him, but had to be tough.
Back to the single player I had been taking small pots from initially. I flopped a straight and bet heavily, but my opponent was stubborn. He called, again I bet out, but couldn't push him off his hand and convince him that he was beat. He was like Cool Hand Luke, just kept getting up for a beating. I was beginning to get a little nervous though as now the board was paired up with 9s. I eased up a bit to feel him out, but still sensed weakness. As a third 9 came on the river I just checked it and so did he. Turns out he was chasing a flush and "never got there" as he put it. Later a player who came to replace a player to my immediate right finished off the rest of my opponent's stack. There had been a few tense words between my opponent and I when I had asked later about his hand, so I didn't congratulate the player to my right who knocked him out out of respect until my opponent left the table ..
Later I knocked out a player who must have been a pro who I have not heard of. Here is the excerpt from Pokernews.com. I am listed as "a player two seats to his left".
4 days 16 hours ago Posted by F-TrainAlexandre Gomes - BustoAlexandre Gomes
Eliminated
'Just as we spotted Alexandre Gomes' new table in the Blue Section of the Amazon Room, he moved all in for his last 6,000 chips. A player two seats to his left called with J J ; Gomes showed A Q and the race was on. There was no help for anyone on a flop of 10 5 9 . The turn 8 took away Gomes' outs to a queen, and it was a good thing for his opponent; the Q hit on the river to give Gomes top pair and to make a queen-high straight for his opponent. With that, Gomes said a few words to a friend at a nearby table and left.'
I called with jacks because earlier I had seen Gomes go all in with Q 4 suited, I figured my jacks were good.
Another memorable hand was when I woke up with pocket aces! I raised pre-flop to $4k, bb was $1K, and got one caller. The flop came with a K high. I checked to see if he had a set of kings and he bet out with another $4k, I figured that since he didn't go all in at that point or bet out stronger that he didn't have it. I re-raised all in and he called with AK, top pair, top kicker. His hand didn't improve and I doubled up.
The day was long, and I guess I was on a high and didn't really feel it. I spent the final two hours just folding to make it to the money, but realized that I needed to keep accumulating pots, so I gambled a bit on the very last hand of the day which could have been the death of me, but I guess I was a little loopy by then and was thinking, "if I bust out now, it's been a great run.."but fate would have other plans for me..(is that corny enough for y'all?) (dramatic music..)
At the end of day one I got incredibly lucky and sucked out with the worst hand in a three way all in. I wasn't planning it that way, but sometimes you get drawn in..
The player to my right, who incidentally after dinner break had his eyeglass lens sitting on his cards as a card protector..come to find out, as I look up and see one lens in his frames and ask laughingly what happened to him, that at dinner he had picked up his daughter and had his glasses in his pocket and smashed them. Luckily his wife had a similar prescription and he called her to bring in her backup pair..
Back to the last hand of day 1: The player to my right announces several times that he doesn't want to come back tomorrow with 4K in chips, so he is basically begging for a caller. I had just counted my stack of $22K not too long ago and I figure he doesn't have much of a hand. For $4k it was worth it to call. After I make the call ( incidentally his short stack of $4K turned out to be $6K so always ask for a chip count I learned) to my surprise the player to my left suddenly announces, "well now I have to go all in". I know now that my A J is probably running against A K, but I already have 6K in the pot and it turns out that I only have 9K left. (I thought I had $22K but my stack had shrunk a little and I actually had about $15K), so I think, “It's time to gamble and see what happens”. I call. Lucky for me and also sorry for me cause now I’ve got two guys pissed off... because...I end up flopping a J and another comes on the turn or river, can't remember. All I know is that I got lucky as hell with trips with the worst hand of the three of us, A Q to my right (the short stack) and A K to my left. I end day one with $37,400 in chips..
Sunday, January 11, 2009
wherein our hero eats cake
PART THE SECOND
2009.01.11
I've been on a Vegas tournament hot streak, chopping four of the last six I've played, including the Venetian nooner on my previous visit. Let's keep it rolling!
No sooner do I walk out the door of the Tropicana than I see the Deuce pulling up. I run as fast as my gimpy legs will allow, smiling and waving at the bus, which seems to be waiting for me. As I close in, it picks up and pulls away. Mother pus-bucket. I hope everybody watching enjoyed a nice chuckle from it, I have plenty of time.
I arrive at the Venetian and sign up, an old pro by now. I'm even able to avoid the nasty corridor of perfumed stink that causes angry nose and itchy skin. I've an hour before it starts, time to walk the canal and shop the windows. I wonder if the Eternal Dusk lighting scheme is effective in generating that "just about to go out" excited state. I stop in at a hat-seller (hatter? hattier?) and spy a specimen that would look rather fetching on my noggin. Tournament Victory Hat, that's what it'll be. I shall return this evening.
Having exhausted this activity (with no luck finding leftover attendees of the Adult Video conference), I elect for some exercise. Laugh if you must, but I feel getting the blood pumping before a strenuous mental activity is beneficial. The brain needs oxygen, and I'll be sitting on my duff all day. To that end, I find an extra-tall staircase in the casino and run down and up. And again. And again. I do this perhaps a dozen times, people on both escalators giving me the hairy eyeball. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Keep it flowing, body in balance. I'm pumped, I'm primed, I'm ready.
Despite the name, this tournament isn't all that deep-stacked. The 7500 in chips is nice, but after a few rounds it's like any other cheap tourney. Because of this, I'm not getting out of line with trouble hands. Suited connectors maybe on the button, but other than that, only pairs and big Aces. Stab me in the throat if you find me with KJ. I catch AA twice in the first round, both times re-raise the same person preflop, take it down on the flop. Up to 9400. Unfortunately, in the next few rounds I have an AK that doesn't hit and an A8s that gets me in trouble, so I'm down to 5100 at the first break.
Bloodflow! This time the staircases just outside the poker room. Up one, down the other. Up and down. After half a dozen times, the folks in the booth at the top must be wondering who this crazy person is who keeps running past them, but oh well. A few mental exercises and psyche-ups, time for more cards.
Several of the dealers have been excellent, including Eric, Shane, and Rachel. Unfortunately, now we have Kathleen in the box, who seems generally competent until the following: Seat 1 says "Raise" and Seat 3 (same guy I kept 3-betting with my Aces) folds before an amount is clarified. Earlier, Rachel had admonished players for this and explained why. Nothing from Kathleen. I pipe up from Seat 7 with, "Hey, mind waiting until he's done next time?" and the player is all, "WTF, he said raise, piss off." At this point I expect the dealer to pick up the slack, but instead she turns to me and lectures that the player said raise so the fold is not out of turn. I protest that the raise wasn't complete and she asks if I want to call the floor. I want to move on, so I shrug and let it go.
I'm getting hungry and I don't think I can wait until the next break to eat, so I call food service. I see a new dealer before I see a menu, so I call again. I get the floor involved, who apologizes that he's doing what he can. I understand, but my tummy feels differently.
It's not quite fit-or-fold time, but I like to push a little earlier than most tend to think about it. Any reasonable raise makes it more likely someone will be committed, and I don't like calling all-in. Nobody wants to bust out in this phase, so my AK and JJ pushes pull in the blinds and some limps, keeping me alive.
At this point the lack of food service would be comical were not my stomach eating itself. I pass on the offer of a mostly-consumed quesadilla someone had left behind, but then the floor announces that there's an unclaimed cheeseburger sitting around. "I'll have it!" I yell from the back of the room. Then I reconsider: "Do I have to pay for it?" Yes. I'll take a free pile of heart-clogging grease, but I'm not buying it. Considering how vocal my food requests have been, I get some ribbing for this, but I simply don't feel it will keep me alert for the game.
Finally I get it. No, not food. AA on the button. Everybody folds to me. Grr. The BB seems tired of my aggression, so I make a standard raise, my best to make it look like I'm afraid of pushing again. He raises to about half my stack, so I count down my chips with a "well, if I'm gonna call..." shrug and throw them in. He calls with KK. Hollywooding probably made no difference here, but I can at least feel like it played a part. He has me barely covered, and now I'm sitting more comfortably with over 10k.
The floor informs me that the food server is in the room and will be over to me shortly. Score!
I peel up KK with 9500 and see a couple of limps of 400. Push. Take it down. Should I have bet less? I'm so hungry.
I look around the room and see no food servers whatsoever. Boo. Last time I played this tournament, they stole the sandwich a friend had bought for me. Not falling for that one again, I'm trying to order within the room, but they won't have it. The Venetian doesn't want me to eat.
My hand is 77 with 8500 and I face two limps of 600. Push. Take it down. I'm happy with this result.
Wait, who's that? Someone wearing a vest and holding a menu? Standing next to me? It can't be! I have cards and the button, so I tell her that she should stand and wait right there until I order, otherwise she's going to find herself tackled on the floor. I find 64s and nobody in the pot. I have a twinge about it, but feel I'm short enough to make a move yet big enough to scare people off, and I'm distracted by my desire to order food, so I throw the chips in. Called by the BB, same guy who almost went broke with KK. Crap! He has 77, I don't even come close to improving, now I'm a microstack.
I order the Minestrone. More ribbing. After all that whining, I'm only getting soup? Hey, I eat a little throughout the day, it has vegetables, and it's cheap. Besides, how long can it take to prepare? Tummy needs nourishment!
The blinds are 400/800 with antes, I have A4o and 2575, let's get 'em in. Called by the BB who shows 52o. A flop of KK6 and I'm looking good until the turn pairs the 5. A miracle 6 on the river and I yell "Ship it!" while the dealer points out to me that he paired his 5. "That's nice, but I'll take Kings and Sixes, along with the pot." Never release your cards until you have the chips. Ever. Another push with AKs, no callers, and my stack is where it was before my earlier fumble.
Still no food, but at least she brought crackers and a spoon! I ration one saltine to tide me over and our table breaks. The floor assures me he'll let the server know where I am. We'll see.
I'm off to Table 37, Seat 9. This spot is a good candidate for Final Table, which is nice because it means chips come to us and I don't have to move again. I'm a big fan of the 9 seat because I can see everybody while being out of the way, and my view of the action isn't blocked as with Seats 1 or 2. However, it's not long before I discover the fatal flaw: It's afternoon. That big row of glass doors provides the setting sun ample room in which to blind me. Awesome.
People ask me why the hell I'm slowly eating crackers, and I explain my situation. The dealer chuckles and says that while it sometimes takes a while, the food is delicious. It had better be. We go on a break and I worry that they'll show up and leave with my food before I get back. The food I was trying so desperately to order long before the break.
Finally, twenty-five minutes after I've ordered and well over an hour since I first requested service, my soup arrives! It's hardly a soup, it has so much hearty stuff in it. The blinds are high and I'm short-stack again, so I feel A6o is good enough for pushing. A4o feels it's good enough for calling, but unfortunately so does AKo. No improvement for anybody and I'm done in 45th place. No hat for me. I stay in my seat and finish my soup.
It's delicious.
... next up: Who is this young woman tearing up the V's high-stakes cash games? ...
2009.01.11
I've been on a Vegas tournament hot streak, chopping four of the last six I've played, including the Venetian nooner on my previous visit. Let's keep it rolling!
No sooner do I walk out the door of the Tropicana than I see the Deuce pulling up. I run as fast as my gimpy legs will allow, smiling and waving at the bus, which seems to be waiting for me. As I close in, it picks up and pulls away. Mother pus-bucket. I hope everybody watching enjoyed a nice chuckle from it, I have plenty of time.
I arrive at the Venetian and sign up, an old pro by now. I'm even able to avoid the nasty corridor of perfumed stink that causes angry nose and itchy skin. I've an hour before it starts, time to walk the canal and shop the windows. I wonder if the Eternal Dusk lighting scheme is effective in generating that "just about to go out" excited state. I stop in at a hat-seller (hatter? hattier?) and spy a specimen that would look rather fetching on my noggin. Tournament Victory Hat, that's what it'll be. I shall return this evening.
Having exhausted this activity (with no luck finding leftover attendees of the Adult Video conference), I elect for some exercise. Laugh if you must, but I feel getting the blood pumping before a strenuous mental activity is beneficial. The brain needs oxygen, and I'll be sitting on my duff all day. To that end, I find an extra-tall staircase in the casino and run down and up. And again. And again. I do this perhaps a dozen times, people on both escalators giving me the hairy eyeball. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Keep it flowing, body in balance. I'm pumped, I'm primed, I'm ready.
Despite the name, this tournament isn't all that deep-stacked. The 7500 in chips is nice, but after a few rounds it's like any other cheap tourney. Because of this, I'm not getting out of line with trouble hands. Suited connectors maybe on the button, but other than that, only pairs and big Aces. Stab me in the throat if you find me with KJ. I catch AA twice in the first round, both times re-raise the same person preflop, take it down on the flop. Up to 9400. Unfortunately, in the next few rounds I have an AK that doesn't hit and an A8s that gets me in trouble, so I'm down to 5100 at the first break.
Bloodflow! This time the staircases just outside the poker room. Up one, down the other. Up and down. After half a dozen times, the folks in the booth at the top must be wondering who this crazy person is who keeps running past them, but oh well. A few mental exercises and psyche-ups, time for more cards.
Several of the dealers have been excellent, including Eric, Shane, and Rachel. Unfortunately, now we have Kathleen in the box, who seems generally competent until the following: Seat 1 says "Raise" and Seat 3 (same guy I kept 3-betting with my Aces) folds before an amount is clarified. Earlier, Rachel had admonished players for this and explained why. Nothing from Kathleen. I pipe up from Seat 7 with, "Hey, mind waiting until he's done next time?" and the player is all, "WTF, he said raise, piss off." At this point I expect the dealer to pick up the slack, but instead she turns to me and lectures that the player said raise so the fold is not out of turn. I protest that the raise wasn't complete and she asks if I want to call the floor. I want to move on, so I shrug and let it go.
I'm getting hungry and I don't think I can wait until the next break to eat, so I call food service. I see a new dealer before I see a menu, so I call again. I get the floor involved, who apologizes that he's doing what he can. I understand, but my tummy feels differently.
It's not quite fit-or-fold time, but I like to push a little earlier than most tend to think about it. Any reasonable raise makes it more likely someone will be committed, and I don't like calling all-in. Nobody wants to bust out in this phase, so my AK and JJ pushes pull in the blinds and some limps, keeping me alive.
At this point the lack of food service would be comical were not my stomach eating itself. I pass on the offer of a mostly-consumed quesadilla someone had left behind, but then the floor announces that there's an unclaimed cheeseburger sitting around. "I'll have it!" I yell from the back of the room. Then I reconsider: "Do I have to pay for it?" Yes. I'll take a free pile of heart-clogging grease, but I'm not buying it. Considering how vocal my food requests have been, I get some ribbing for this, but I simply don't feel it will keep me alert for the game.
Finally I get it. No, not food. AA on the button. Everybody folds to me. Grr. The BB seems tired of my aggression, so I make a standard raise, my best to make it look like I'm afraid of pushing again. He raises to about half my stack, so I count down my chips with a "well, if I'm gonna call..." shrug and throw them in. He calls with KK. Hollywooding probably made no difference here, but I can at least feel like it played a part. He has me barely covered, and now I'm sitting more comfortably with over 10k.
The floor informs me that the food server is in the room and will be over to me shortly. Score!
I peel up KK with 9500 and see a couple of limps of 400. Push. Take it down. Should I have bet less? I'm so hungry.
I look around the room and see no food servers whatsoever. Boo. Last time I played this tournament, they stole the sandwich a friend had bought for me. Not falling for that one again, I'm trying to order within the room, but they won't have it. The Venetian doesn't want me to eat.
My hand is 77 with 8500 and I face two limps of 600. Push. Take it down. I'm happy with this result.
Wait, who's that? Someone wearing a vest and holding a menu? Standing next to me? It can't be! I have cards and the button, so I tell her that she should stand and wait right there until I order, otherwise she's going to find herself tackled on the floor. I find 64s and nobody in the pot. I have a twinge about it, but feel I'm short enough to make a move yet big enough to scare people off, and I'm distracted by my desire to order food, so I throw the chips in. Called by the BB, same guy who almost went broke with KK. Crap! He has 77, I don't even come close to improving, now I'm a microstack.
I order the Minestrone. More ribbing. After all that whining, I'm only getting soup? Hey, I eat a little throughout the day, it has vegetables, and it's cheap. Besides, how long can it take to prepare? Tummy needs nourishment!
The blinds are 400/800 with antes, I have A4o and 2575, let's get 'em in. Called by the BB who shows 52o. A flop of KK6 and I'm looking good until the turn pairs the 5. A miracle 6 on the river and I yell "Ship it!" while the dealer points out to me that he paired his 5. "That's nice, but I'll take Kings and Sixes, along with the pot." Never release your cards until you have the chips. Ever. Another push with AKs, no callers, and my stack is where it was before my earlier fumble.
Still no food, but at least she brought crackers and a spoon! I ration one saltine to tide me over and our table breaks. The floor assures me he'll let the server know where I am. We'll see.
I'm off to Table 37, Seat 9. This spot is a good candidate for Final Table, which is nice because it means chips come to us and I don't have to move again. I'm a big fan of the 9 seat because I can see everybody while being out of the way, and my view of the action isn't blocked as with Seats 1 or 2. However, it's not long before I discover the fatal flaw: It's afternoon. That big row of glass doors provides the setting sun ample room in which to blind me. Awesome.
People ask me why the hell I'm slowly eating crackers, and I explain my situation. The dealer chuckles and says that while it sometimes takes a while, the food is delicious. It had better be. We go on a break and I worry that they'll show up and leave with my food before I get back. The food I was trying so desperately to order long before the break.
Finally, twenty-five minutes after I've ordered and well over an hour since I first requested service, my soup arrives! It's hardly a soup, it has so much hearty stuff in it. The blinds are high and I'm short-stack again, so I feel A6o is good enough for pushing. A4o feels it's good enough for calling, but unfortunately so does AKo. No improvement for anybody and I'm done in 45th place. No hat for me. I stay in my seat and finish my soup.
It's delicious.
... next up: Who is this young woman tearing up the V's high-stakes cash games? ...
Saturday, January 10, 2009
wherein our hero learns a little about human nature
PART THE FIRST
2009.01.10
It's been a busy few weeks.
Barely home from my previous Vegas trip in time for Chranukwanstice and all the goofiness that entails. After that, New Year's parties. As a stinky hippie, my plans involve music concerts and there were plenty of choices in my home region of San Francisco. Good stuff, if you like that kind of thing, and I do, so it worked out well. Barely time to rest, on New Year's Day I packed and left for Florida, from where I set sail on Jamcruise: a music festival on a cruise ship. This year we went to Belize, dancing and tripping the week away. Returned to port on January 9, then another cross-country flight home.
That brings us to this morning. Time to clean and pack and leave again for Vegas! I've yet to make solid plans for lodging, so I ring up Budget Suites. I had spoken with someone a few weeks ago who suggested I try again in January because rates might go down. No go. I'm only in town for four days, but I still need to pay for a week, which will come to over $300. While the idea of lodging with strippers is appealing, the rate combined with its off-strip location relegates it to backup plan.
I stayed at MGM last time for $40/night, so let's give that a whirl. I talk to a person in reservations who says the current rates are under $70/night, and that I could probably get more of a discount if I talk to the poker room. I do and get told the lowest they can do is $90/night. But the regular rate is less than that, and last time I was in town I got $40/night just from asking. Apparently last month had a tear in time and space because the mere concept of this is completely foreign. Back to reservations, where the rate is now over $100/night. But it was cheaper only five minutes ago! You snooze, you lose.
A friend points me to expedia, with Stratosphere at $30, Flamingo around $50. Now we're talking. I remind myself about hotwire. They give discounted rates, but I don't know the exact location until after I book. The description of a $32 room is a 3-star South Strip location. The map they provide is a little vague about how far off the Strip this includes, but if it's on the Strip it's perfect. I throw caution to the wind, close my eyes, and book it.
Tropicana! Score! Some people have issue with burn marks on the furniture and bloodstains on the shower curtains, but I'm not one of those people. I love the Old Vegas charm. I had spent a chunk of my roll on the aforementioned cruise to Belize, and I'm trying to keep expenses at an absolute minimum, so this works for me. To continue the cheapskate theme, I hit up the grocer for granola, yogurt, bagels, schmear, and fruit. I'm tired of paying $20 for an omelet. Money saved at breakfast spends the same as money won on the table. If I'm going to do this seriously, I need to take this seriously.
Ah, airports. If you need proof regarding the pending collapse of civilization, look no further. People seem determined to focus on immediate selfish needs, even if by doing so they work against themselves. For example, baggage claim. Everybody is clustered against the carousel. This means hardly anybody can see and everybody has to push and shove to get a bag out. If everybody simply steps back ten feet, then everybody has a wider viewing angle and everybody can easily walk up when the appropriate bags come down the line. It's a game that everybody can win, but hardly anybody goes along with me when I suggest this. We're doomed.
At the Trop! Determined to be holla balla, I try the $20 trick and score! I don't think the rooms are any better, but it gets me a spot in the tower. You can spend your $20 on suites in the posh places, I'll use mine to save me four days of walking to the ass end of their compound. I'm doubly pleased when I discover a refrigerator in the room, which means I won't have to keep loading up my cooler with ice. This is more than I had in a "nice" room on my last trip, and I can see from my window that I'm closer to the MGM poker room than I was when I stayed at the MGM.
Time (finally) for some poker! MGM, right? Bzzt, nope, I'm headed to Excalibur! The .5/1 tables are just my speed right now, and I dig the vibe of the clientele. I call up a local friend who meets me down there and it's a casual night of electronic cards.
I'm doing fairly well until my brain seizes up and I make a crying call with 22 on a board of 92888. What the hell? I might as well have 4-high. That's what I get for trying to milk it. Other than that I have some nice hands and build up a stack. I get some value with AQ top pair versus both straight and flush draws that don't come. My buddy, who usually plays bigger games, can't take this one seriously and ultimately busts out due to trying to bully with 5-high. Three times. At least he got some beers.
I take a bit of a hit when I limp/call with 77 in EP. Three-way flop of J62, all diamonds. Checked to me, I figure I'm ahead. Villain stacks are barely larger than the pot, so I push. One fold, but I get a call from middle set. At least I have the 7d, but it wasn't meant to be.
I'm able to build back up and the table has become rather loose and aggressive, so I limp AA in EP. The woman directly to my left makes it $12 to go (on a $1 BB, mind you), which she's been doing with medium pocket pairs. She astonishingly gets four callers, and now it's back to me. The pot is over $60, I have about $120, so I push, muttering under my breath that I should've done that with my 7s. Another player is egging people to look me up. After a couple of times I say, "C'mon, one player to a hand." This does the trick because the guy tanking with JJ calls me and I'm able to add a nice chunk to my stack.
Another fun hand, the big stack to my right limps, I make a questionable raise with AJo. A couple of callers including the big stack and the flop is AJJ. Glorious. Even better is that he's betting into me. I call the flop, raise the turn, bet the river, and take almost all of his chips when he shows AQ. This game is easy!
After a while the table has dried up, I'm up a couple of buyins, and I feel I've had enough. I want to take my profits and play the Venetian nooner tomorrow, so I call it a night, collect my food comps, and head back over the bridge. So far the trip is turning out quite well. We'll see if I can maintain.
... next up: Repeat at Venetian? ...
2009.01.10
It's been a busy few weeks.
Barely home from my previous Vegas trip in time for Chranukwanstice and all the goofiness that entails. After that, New Year's parties. As a stinky hippie, my plans involve music concerts and there were plenty of choices in my home region of San Francisco. Good stuff, if you like that kind of thing, and I do, so it worked out well. Barely time to rest, on New Year's Day I packed and left for Florida, from where I set sail on Jamcruise: a music festival on a cruise ship. This year we went to Belize, dancing and tripping the week away. Returned to port on January 9, then another cross-country flight home.
That brings us to this morning. Time to clean and pack and leave again for Vegas! I've yet to make solid plans for lodging, so I ring up Budget Suites. I had spoken with someone a few weeks ago who suggested I try again in January because rates might go down. No go. I'm only in town for four days, but I still need to pay for a week, which will come to over $300. While the idea of lodging with strippers is appealing, the rate combined with its off-strip location relegates it to backup plan.
I stayed at MGM last time for $40/night, so let's give that a whirl. I talk to a person in reservations who says the current rates are under $70/night, and that I could probably get more of a discount if I talk to the poker room. I do and get told the lowest they can do is $90/night. But the regular rate is less than that, and last time I was in town I got $40/night just from asking. Apparently last month had a tear in time and space because the mere concept of this is completely foreign. Back to reservations, where the rate is now over $100/night. But it was cheaper only five minutes ago! You snooze, you lose.
A friend points me to expedia, with Stratosphere at $30, Flamingo around $50. Now we're talking. I remind myself about hotwire. They give discounted rates, but I don't know the exact location until after I book. The description of a $32 room is a 3-star South Strip location. The map they provide is a little vague about how far off the Strip this includes, but if it's on the Strip it's perfect. I throw caution to the wind, close my eyes, and book it.
Tropicana! Score! Some people have issue with burn marks on the furniture and bloodstains on the shower curtains, but I'm not one of those people. I love the Old Vegas charm. I had spent a chunk of my roll on the aforementioned cruise to Belize, and I'm trying to keep expenses at an absolute minimum, so this works for me. To continue the cheapskate theme, I hit up the grocer for granola, yogurt, bagels, schmear, and fruit. I'm tired of paying $20 for an omelet. Money saved at breakfast spends the same as money won on the table. If I'm going to do this seriously, I need to take this seriously.
Ah, airports. If you need proof regarding the pending collapse of civilization, look no further. People seem determined to focus on immediate selfish needs, even if by doing so they work against themselves. For example, baggage claim. Everybody is clustered against the carousel. This means hardly anybody can see and everybody has to push and shove to get a bag out. If everybody simply steps back ten feet, then everybody has a wider viewing angle and everybody can easily walk up when the appropriate bags come down the line. It's a game that everybody can win, but hardly anybody goes along with me when I suggest this. We're doomed.
At the Trop! Determined to be holla balla, I try the $20 trick and score! I don't think the rooms are any better, but it gets me a spot in the tower. You can spend your $20 on suites in the posh places, I'll use mine to save me four days of walking to the ass end of their compound. I'm doubly pleased when I discover a refrigerator in the room, which means I won't have to keep loading up my cooler with ice. This is more than I had in a "nice" room on my last trip, and I can see from my window that I'm closer to the MGM poker room than I was when I stayed at the MGM.
Time (finally) for some poker! MGM, right? Bzzt, nope, I'm headed to Excalibur! The .5/1 tables are just my speed right now, and I dig the vibe of the clientele. I call up a local friend who meets me down there and it's a casual night of electronic cards.
I'm doing fairly well until my brain seizes up and I make a crying call with 22 on a board of 92888. What the hell? I might as well have 4-high. That's what I get for trying to milk it. Other than that I have some nice hands and build up a stack. I get some value with AQ top pair versus both straight and flush draws that don't come. My buddy, who usually plays bigger games, can't take this one seriously and ultimately busts out due to trying to bully with 5-high. Three times. At least he got some beers.
I take a bit of a hit when I limp/call with 77 in EP. Three-way flop of J62, all diamonds. Checked to me, I figure I'm ahead. Villain stacks are barely larger than the pot, so I push. One fold, but I get a call from middle set. At least I have the 7d, but it wasn't meant to be.
I'm able to build back up and the table has become rather loose and aggressive, so I limp AA in EP. The woman directly to my left makes it $12 to go (on a $1 BB, mind you), which she's been doing with medium pocket pairs. She astonishingly gets four callers, and now it's back to me. The pot is over $60, I have about $120, so I push, muttering under my breath that I should've done that with my 7s. Another player is egging people to look me up. After a couple of times I say, "C'mon, one player to a hand." This does the trick because the guy tanking with JJ calls me and I'm able to add a nice chunk to my stack.
Another fun hand, the big stack to my right limps, I make a questionable raise with AJo. A couple of callers including the big stack and the flop is AJJ. Glorious. Even better is that he's betting into me. I call the flop, raise the turn, bet the river, and take almost all of his chips when he shows AQ. This game is easy!
After a while the table has dried up, I'm up a couple of buyins, and I feel I've had enough. I want to take my profits and play the Venetian nooner tomorrow, so I call it a night, collect my food comps, and head back over the bridge. So far the trip is turning out quite well. We'll see if I can maintain.
... next up: Repeat at Venetian? ...
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
PART THE LAST
wherein our hero lives happily ever after
2008.12.16
I wake up and feel like a giant heel from a Merrie Melodies cartoon. After a spell of lying in bed smothered in self-pity, I realize that I really do need to check out and go to the airport at some point today, and all this wallowing is cutting into my play time. It doesn't help that the view from my room looks directly down onto the poker room, just sitting there, taunting me. I don't generally like playing with a deadline, as it encourages ugliness, but I'm past that point. I'm not looking to get even, I'm simply looking to remind myself that I can play this game.
I walk up to the board where they point me to a game so fresh they haven't finished selling chips. I'm always happy to join a new game, so I sit in my second-favorite seat, #9. Number nine. Number nine. The button is drawn and I'm UTG. New game, first hand. I cannot resist. Straddle! A few limpers to my QTo, and a pot-sized raise takes it down. Cocktails!
May I please have an orange juice and a bottle of water?
With a crazy gambling image firmly established, I tighten up while doing my best to give the appearance of action. I'm mildly chatty, but not nearly the endlessly rambling douchebag I can sometimes become. I aim for affable without becoming overbearing. I reconsider my previous aversion to daytime play, as I'm finding the table rather soft and predictable, without the crazy high-variance drunken moves that appear at 2am.
My nemesis is a friendly fellow in the 5 seat who seems to have a clue of what he's doing, but takes it a little far sometimes. I've built up a bit and fire with AK on a K-high drawless flop. This elicits a raise from him, so I push with a low SPR. He tanks for a while, and I do my best to throw out a confusing yet subtle array of tells and false tells, until he finally calls with KJ. His excuse is that my straddle raise on the first hand got him to do it. Kickass. The fates piss on my head when his J hits on the river, but hey, that's poker. Rebuy! Later in the session, after I've built up a bit, I'm able to get the chips in again, this time with top two against his top pair, only to watch the bottom card run for trips. I feel the fates spraying my face with urine, smearing it on my glasses, all the while chanting, "I'm not touching you! I'm not touching you!"
I can make no hands. I still haven't seen AA (or even a big pair), and I either miss completely with everything else or suffer suckouts. Despite this, I'm able to build up a mild profit when I see it's about time to leave for the airport. Figuring I should get the most for my money, I order one last white russian for the road. After consuming it I prepare to leave, which includes checking the flight status. Delayed! I raise! Cocktails!
With a second white russian in my hand, it's now truly time to leave. Considering how cold the deck has been to me, I consider my mild loss a success compared to last night. As I'm standing up the dealer pitches me a card. This never ends well.
QTo! I did so well on it with the first hand, might as well play it hard now. I have my chips racked and my jacket on, but surely they'll think I have a real hand, rather than a desperate play at one last score before leaving town. Flop of AJx and I bet out only to get called and raised, and I'm done. "This is my least favorite dealer ever," I say with a smile and a wink, taking my now slightly-less-mild loss to the cage.
A plane, train, and automobile later (not in that order), I'm home safe and sound, scratching my cat behind his ears. Despite the pain of my spiraling nosedive the previous night, my cash play the rest of the week softens the losses, and the tournament puts the overall trip as a solid leader. I've laughed, I've loved, I've learned. I've gotten in more live cash game play than I've seen in a long time, and after a few stumbles played one of my best tournaments, resulting in my biggest single-game payday to date. I've returned home with renewed confidence and vigor, ready to take on the world. All without killing a stripper.
How much are flights in January?
THE END
... ? ...
2008.12.16
I wake up and feel like a giant heel from a Merrie Melodies cartoon. After a spell of lying in bed smothered in self-pity, I realize that I really do need to check out and go to the airport at some point today, and all this wallowing is cutting into my play time. It doesn't help that the view from my room looks directly down onto the poker room, just sitting there, taunting me. I don't generally like playing with a deadline, as it encourages ugliness, but I'm past that point. I'm not looking to get even, I'm simply looking to remind myself that I can play this game.
I walk up to the board where they point me to a game so fresh they haven't finished selling chips. I'm always happy to join a new game, so I sit in my second-favorite seat, #9. Number nine. Number nine. The button is drawn and I'm UTG. New game, first hand. I cannot resist. Straddle! A few limpers to my QTo, and a pot-sized raise takes it down. Cocktails!
May I please have an orange juice and a bottle of water?
With a crazy gambling image firmly established, I tighten up while doing my best to give the appearance of action. I'm mildly chatty, but not nearly the endlessly rambling douchebag I can sometimes become. I aim for affable without becoming overbearing. I reconsider my previous aversion to daytime play, as I'm finding the table rather soft and predictable, without the crazy high-variance drunken moves that appear at 2am.
My nemesis is a friendly fellow in the 5 seat who seems to have a clue of what he's doing, but takes it a little far sometimes. I've built up a bit and fire with AK on a K-high drawless flop. This elicits a raise from him, so I push with a low SPR. He tanks for a while, and I do my best to throw out a confusing yet subtle array of tells and false tells, until he finally calls with KJ. His excuse is that my straddle raise on the first hand got him to do it. Kickass. The fates piss on my head when his J hits on the river, but hey, that's poker. Rebuy! Later in the session, after I've built up a bit, I'm able to get the chips in again, this time with top two against his top pair, only to watch the bottom card run for trips. I feel the fates spraying my face with urine, smearing it on my glasses, all the while chanting, "I'm not touching you! I'm not touching you!"
I can make no hands. I still haven't seen AA (or even a big pair), and I either miss completely with everything else or suffer suckouts. Despite this, I'm able to build up a mild profit when I see it's about time to leave for the airport. Figuring I should get the most for my money, I order one last white russian for the road. After consuming it I prepare to leave, which includes checking the flight status. Delayed! I raise! Cocktails!
With a second white russian in my hand, it's now truly time to leave. Considering how cold the deck has been to me, I consider my mild loss a success compared to last night. As I'm standing up the dealer pitches me a card. This never ends well.
QTo! I did so well on it with the first hand, might as well play it hard now. I have my chips racked and my jacket on, but surely they'll think I have a real hand, rather than a desperate play at one last score before leaving town. Flop of AJx and I bet out only to get called and raised, and I'm done. "This is my least favorite dealer ever," I say with a smile and a wink, taking my now slightly-less-mild loss to the cage.
A plane, train, and automobile later (not in that order), I'm home safe and sound, scratching my cat behind his ears. Despite the pain of my spiraling nosedive the previous night, my cash play the rest of the week softens the losses, and the tournament puts the overall trip as a solid leader. I've laughed, I've loved, I've learned. I've gotten in more live cash game play than I've seen in a long time, and after a few stumbles played one of my best tournaments, resulting in my biggest single-game payday to date. I've returned home with renewed confidence and vigor, ready to take on the world. All without killing a stripper.
How much are flights in January?
THE END
... ? ...
Monday, December 15, 2008
PART THE SIXTH
wherein our hero takes it long and hard
2008.12.15
Convinced that evening is the best time for poker, I sleep in. Not wanting the delicious weed to go to waste, I roll up a fatty and spend the afternoon gazing out at the snow on the mountains and contemplating the usual stuff: life, the universe, everything. You know how it goes. After a couple of hours of giving my navel a complete and thorough gazing, I realize it's getting late and I'm hungry. I tidy up, shower, dress, and head out. On the elevator I'm treated to "The Girl From Ipanema", so I know it's going to be a good night. Dinner at the Stage Cafe, then right to the tables.
I sit down at a good one. There's an iPod grinder, but it's mostly nice older gentlemen, younger folks yukking it up, and the requisite Asian gamboolers. They're all pushing a lot of chips around, and I want a piece. Several large stacks on the table, but they're more lucky than good. At center stage is a world-traveler kind of girl, apparently just in Vegas for a while, no permanent address. I'm reminded of the Canadian woman I met my first day who was still in town due to a lost passport. Then of myself, who's here longer than planned and spent part of the afternoon working out how to share a permanent residence. This town sucks you in. Practically every vice is socially acceptable. Encouraged, even. I'm going to end up dead in a ditch some day.
I straddle my first hand and find QQ. Sensing that I'm a stoned goofball, the grinder tries to push me off of it, but I stand firm and take it down. This game is easy!
I order a white russian because they're oh so delicious. I've noticed they tend to inspire others to order the same once they see me enjoying it so thoroughly. It's not long before I discover the fatal flaw of this plan: by the time the new drinks arrive, I've finished mine, and those fresh beverages look so tasty I want one for myself. Where'd I put that petard?
By this point I've won a Venetian tournament, I've done okay at the cash games, and I'm generally getting along well. Needless to say, I'm pretty high on myself. Or maybe it's the pot. Either way, my game falls apart. I'm straddling, raising with any ace, pushing suited jacks hard, betting all flops and all draws, calling trouble hands out of position, check-raising with thin semi-bluffs, so forth and so on. I'm a good player, I can make it work! Gotta spend money to make money! This is all building my image for those big hands later! I'm a master of psychology! Who says it makes no sense to be crazy action on a crazy action table? Waitress, may I please have another white russian?
The seat to my left opens and the iPod grinder trips over himself moving to it.
In addition to my rather suspect play, I can't make a hand. I lose a few flips, suffer a couple suckouts. I don't think I've seen AA since the tournament a few days ago. Cocktails!
Now I've put a few buyins on the table and have managed to build above starting stack when I peel up KK in EP. Finally! I raise and pick up a few along the way, including a timid middle-aged man across the table and the calling station to my right. Flop KK8, jackpot! If I check now they'll get suspicious, right? Time to triple up! I bet! Does the word "crippled" mean nothing to me? Do I really think anybody's going to bluff-raise me or draw to anything? Folded to the timid guy with the short stack who pushes. Folded the rest of the way to the calling station who has me covered and may be crazy but is no fool. He folds. I call and instantly say, "I have quads." Guy vomits a little in his mouth as he walks away, leaving his 88 to die.
Win the minimum, lose the maximum, that's how I play it. Considering the preflop action and the shallowness of my stack, I very likely could have gotten more dead money in there from the station at the very least. I don't like slow-playing and it seems whenever I do it's a slow-play contest between me and a second-best, and the lack of action prevents stacks from going in. But here slow play is the only move, and I screw it up. I'm awesome at teh pokerz. Cocktails!
Soon I'm bleeding so much, I need an extra-wide with wings. I may as well curl up in a fetal position while they take turns wailing on me with a crowbar. I'm watching it happen and know I need to buckle down and show patience and discipline, but I'm too deep into this table. All I need are a couple of big lucky hands, then I'm back on top! I usually have a decent instinct about the game, and whenever I go against it I lose. I know this. But that little bit of gray matter governing my rationality has long been hogtied and gagged by the mischievous duo of vodka and kahlua. Alcohol makes me feel I'm smarter than myself, which is dangerous considering that's not a high bar in the first place.
It's not long before I'm down to $100, in for three and a half buyins. I pull the last bill from my pocket and order another stack of red. The dealer pauses. "It's cool, I'm under the cap." That's not the problem. I look to the felt and spy a sad lonely $20. You know those pathetic guys you see pulling their last crinkled bills from their pockets and pissing them on some desperate longshot play? There but for the grace.
Unsurprising to anybody, I finally bust, slinking away from the room, sad and dejected. How could this have happened? I'm better than this! I know how to play this game! I retreat to my room to reload and head back down. It's well past midnight by now, only the degenerates left, and I have a flight the next day. I can climb back!
A few hours and a few bills later, my table breaks and I accept my fate. I'm done.
I should have stood up the moment I sat down, but I didn't, and this is the result. I violated my Rule A#1: Respect The Game. No matter the stakes, no matter the situation, no matter the opponents, I must respect the game. I didn't do that. I became over-confident. I was cocky. It's easy to blame the alcohol, but I made the choice to consume it. I thought I was better than that, I thought I could handle it. I watched Grumpy succumb to the very same affliction less than a week prior, and I somehow thought the rules didn't apply to me. To become good at this game one must numb the pain of losing. As Grumpy told me, he's so used to that, he forgot that it's okay to win sometimes. We all of us convince ourselves that we're better than we are, and we give ourselves over to the party atmosphere of Vegas. No wonder the games are so soft here. People like me play in them.
Exhausted and well past the threshold of misery, I dry the tears from my pillow, pay $14 for a pan & scan version of Pineapple Express, light up the roach from earlier, and promptly fall asleep.
... next up: Can I make it to the airport with any money left at all? ...
2008.12.15
Convinced that evening is the best time for poker, I sleep in. Not wanting the delicious weed to go to waste, I roll up a fatty and spend the afternoon gazing out at the snow on the mountains and contemplating the usual stuff: life, the universe, everything. You know how it goes. After a couple of hours of giving my navel a complete and thorough gazing, I realize it's getting late and I'm hungry. I tidy up, shower, dress, and head out. On the elevator I'm treated to "The Girl From Ipanema", so I know it's going to be a good night. Dinner at the Stage Cafe, then right to the tables.
I sit down at a good one. There's an iPod grinder, but it's mostly nice older gentlemen, younger folks yukking it up, and the requisite Asian gamboolers. They're all pushing a lot of chips around, and I want a piece. Several large stacks on the table, but they're more lucky than good. At center stage is a world-traveler kind of girl, apparently just in Vegas for a while, no permanent address. I'm reminded of the Canadian woman I met my first day who was still in town due to a lost passport. Then of myself, who's here longer than planned and spent part of the afternoon working out how to share a permanent residence. This town sucks you in. Practically every vice is socially acceptable. Encouraged, even. I'm going to end up dead in a ditch some day.
I straddle my first hand and find QQ. Sensing that I'm a stoned goofball, the grinder tries to push me off of it, but I stand firm and take it down. This game is easy!
I order a white russian because they're oh so delicious. I've noticed they tend to inspire others to order the same once they see me enjoying it so thoroughly. It's not long before I discover the fatal flaw of this plan: by the time the new drinks arrive, I've finished mine, and those fresh beverages look so tasty I want one for myself. Where'd I put that petard?
By this point I've won a Venetian tournament, I've done okay at the cash games, and I'm generally getting along well. Needless to say, I'm pretty high on myself. Or maybe it's the pot. Either way, my game falls apart. I'm straddling, raising with any ace, pushing suited jacks hard, betting all flops and all draws, calling trouble hands out of position, check-raising with thin semi-bluffs, so forth and so on. I'm a good player, I can make it work! Gotta spend money to make money! This is all building my image for those big hands later! I'm a master of psychology! Who says it makes no sense to be crazy action on a crazy action table? Waitress, may I please have another white russian?
The seat to my left opens and the iPod grinder trips over himself moving to it.
In addition to my rather suspect play, I can't make a hand. I lose a few flips, suffer a couple suckouts. I don't think I've seen AA since the tournament a few days ago. Cocktails!
Now I've put a few buyins on the table and have managed to build above starting stack when I peel up KK in EP. Finally! I raise and pick up a few along the way, including a timid middle-aged man across the table and the calling station to my right. Flop KK8, jackpot! If I check now they'll get suspicious, right? Time to triple up! I bet! Does the word "crippled" mean nothing to me? Do I really think anybody's going to bluff-raise me or draw to anything? Folded to the timid guy with the short stack who pushes. Folded the rest of the way to the calling station who has me covered and may be crazy but is no fool. He folds. I call and instantly say, "I have quads." Guy vomits a little in his mouth as he walks away, leaving his 88 to die.
Win the minimum, lose the maximum, that's how I play it. Considering the preflop action and the shallowness of my stack, I very likely could have gotten more dead money in there from the station at the very least. I don't like slow-playing and it seems whenever I do it's a slow-play contest between me and a second-best, and the lack of action prevents stacks from going in. But here slow play is the only move, and I screw it up. I'm awesome at teh pokerz. Cocktails!
Soon I'm bleeding so much, I need an extra-wide with wings. I may as well curl up in a fetal position while they take turns wailing on me with a crowbar. I'm watching it happen and know I need to buckle down and show patience and discipline, but I'm too deep into this table. All I need are a couple of big lucky hands, then I'm back on top! I usually have a decent instinct about the game, and whenever I go against it I lose. I know this. But that little bit of gray matter governing my rationality has long been hogtied and gagged by the mischievous duo of vodka and kahlua. Alcohol makes me feel I'm smarter than myself, which is dangerous considering that's not a high bar in the first place.
It's not long before I'm down to $100, in for three and a half buyins. I pull the last bill from my pocket and order another stack of red. The dealer pauses. "It's cool, I'm under the cap." That's not the problem. I look to the felt and spy a sad lonely $20. You know those pathetic guys you see pulling their last crinkled bills from their pockets and pissing them on some desperate longshot play? There but for the grace.
Unsurprising to anybody, I finally bust, slinking away from the room, sad and dejected. How could this have happened? I'm better than this! I know how to play this game! I retreat to my room to reload and head back down. It's well past midnight by now, only the degenerates left, and I have a flight the next day. I can climb back!
A few hours and a few bills later, my table breaks and I accept my fate. I'm done.
I should have stood up the moment I sat down, but I didn't, and this is the result. I violated my Rule A#1: Respect The Game. No matter the stakes, no matter the situation, no matter the opponents, I must respect the game. I didn't do that. I became over-confident. I was cocky. It's easy to blame the alcohol, but I made the choice to consume it. I thought I was better than that, I thought I could handle it. I watched Grumpy succumb to the very same affliction less than a week prior, and I somehow thought the rules didn't apply to me. To become good at this game one must numb the pain of losing. As Grumpy told me, he's so used to that, he forgot that it's okay to win sometimes. We all of us convince ourselves that we're better than we are, and we give ourselves over to the party atmosphere of Vegas. No wonder the games are so soft here. People like me play in them.
Exhausted and well past the threshold of misery, I dry the tears from my pillow, pay $14 for a pan & scan version of Pineapple Express, light up the roach from earlier, and promptly fall asleep.
... next up: Can I make it to the airport with any money left at all? ...
Sunday, December 14, 2008
PART THE FIFTH
wherein our hero does nothing exciting at all
2008.12.14
I don't wake up from sleep. What do they call it when you stop being passed out? Whatever that is, I do it at noon.
The plan today is poker, just poker. Whatever I feel like playing, I'm going to play. No pressure, no goals, keep it solid.
I find a passive NL game and run the table. I get a few others to straddle, and I repeatedly take down a pile of limps. It helps that I run well (good? no adverbs in poker?), and I steadily build up a few buyins. Nothing major, just a lot of pressure plus a few decent hands. The tables dry up a bit and I take a break for dinner.
I'm in the mood for Fixed Limit. The juicy games in the Bay Area are FL and I need some practice at it. The 3/6 looks incredibly nitty, but the 2/4 is chock full o' of yuks and I sit down, also throwing my name on a 4/8 interest list. (I need to stay mid-strip next time.) They're also taking signups for a tournament in a couple of hours, $80 for 3k in chips, 20 minute rounds. What the hell, I'm a tourney rockstar, right?
The table is typical intro-stakes Limit, and I surprise myself by showing incredible patience yet applying appropriate aggression and not missing those river value bets. The key is respecting the table: when I fail at that, I lose. I'm near a few fun folks of various ages, talking about music, cruises, resorts, videogames, writing, and hippies. One woman keeps taking cigarette breaks with a buff stud fifteen years her junior, claiming when she returns that nothing's going on despite her husband not having joined her this trip. I'm able to break even in two hours, which is a success as far as I'm concerned, considering I usually bleed at these tables.
I take special note of a young dealer named Chris whose attitude is the best of all I've seen at MGM. Someone makes a comment about dealers not wanting to deal the low limits, and presses Chris for his feelings on it, to which he replies that he enjoys welcoming new players and takes pride in adapting to the particulars of a game. I toke him a few extra in the down just for that. Many dealers seem annoyed to be working at all, let alone the low stakes tables, which is all there is at MGM so they have a rough road ahead if it pains them so much. Chris runs a good game.
Called for tournament, here we go! I'm on Table 1 Seat 2, my exact favorite spot. Building up slowly for a while, a few people bust out and they bring in alternates. One guy has what seems like more than starting stack, and I ask what table busted. None, he just came in. His hands stay in front of his chips, so after he folds his first hand I ask for a count. Despite others at the table assuring me it's 3k, he's 200 over and quickly hands them to the dealer, who calls the floor to take them. The kid seems to know everybody there, even discussing with a dealer at great length about something or other they had going on somewhere. I'm not pointing fingers, I'm just saying this all seems a little strange.
I can't make much happen, but the kid goes on a tear, hitting monster hands and brutal suckouts. My starting stack doesn't grow much, so I'm short after a few rounds of play. The best hand I've seen in a while, I open-push 87s in LP to have the kid tank from the BB. He calls with T9 of my suit and I'm done. Oh well.
Back to cash, where I pump away at NL. I find a festive group with some cute thirty-something hipster girl with a penchant for a pants-off dance-off. She's fun and flirty and snorts when she giggles. Everybody's loose, having a good time. I'm playing it a little wild, pushing the boundaries of what I was working earlier, and it's paying off fairly well. I'm playing almost a third of my hands but making it seem like every hand. The local young grinder to my left clearly has it in for me, and can't believe it when I use a pair of 4s to pick off his busted draw river bluff into four people. I had a read. He's similarly shocked later in the night when I fold my TPWK nut draw on a board of AT84 when he pushes into my turn bet, but I don't have enough clean outs to go the distance.
I lose a couple of other key pots, including one in which I misplay AJ TPTK (some would say by playing it at all). I misunderstand who has what stack. I see a bet and an all in. One is an older gentleman who I'm pretty sure has a Jack. The other is a calling station who could have anything. Thinking the station is all-in, I sadly learn when I push that I have it backwards and the kid had merely called the all-in, taking another chunk of my stack with his slow-played AA. He hits me for considerably less later with AA in a similar situation: I learned my lesson the first time. Were it not for my mistake I'd have left up, but as it was lost half a buyin for the night. As I'm experimenting with expanding my play, I consider it a draw.
These drinks are getting tastier every time.
... next up: You make a mean Caucasian, Jackie ...
2008.12.14
I don't wake up from sleep. What do they call it when you stop being passed out? Whatever that is, I do it at noon.
The plan today is poker, just poker. Whatever I feel like playing, I'm going to play. No pressure, no goals, keep it solid.
I find a passive NL game and run the table. I get a few others to straddle, and I repeatedly take down a pile of limps. It helps that I run well (good? no adverbs in poker?), and I steadily build up a few buyins. Nothing major, just a lot of pressure plus a few decent hands. The tables dry up a bit and I take a break for dinner.
I'm in the mood for Fixed Limit. The juicy games in the Bay Area are FL and I need some practice at it. The 3/6 looks incredibly nitty, but the 2/4 is chock full o' of yuks and I sit down, also throwing my name on a 4/8 interest list. (I need to stay mid-strip next time.) They're also taking signups for a tournament in a couple of hours, $80 for 3k in chips, 20 minute rounds. What the hell, I'm a tourney rockstar, right?
The table is typical intro-stakes Limit, and I surprise myself by showing incredible patience yet applying appropriate aggression and not missing those river value bets. The key is respecting the table: when I fail at that, I lose. I'm near a few fun folks of various ages, talking about music, cruises, resorts, videogames, writing, and hippies. One woman keeps taking cigarette breaks with a buff stud fifteen years her junior, claiming when she returns that nothing's going on despite her husband not having joined her this trip. I'm able to break even in two hours, which is a success as far as I'm concerned, considering I usually bleed at these tables.
I take special note of a young dealer named Chris whose attitude is the best of all I've seen at MGM. Someone makes a comment about dealers not wanting to deal the low limits, and presses Chris for his feelings on it, to which he replies that he enjoys welcoming new players and takes pride in adapting to the particulars of a game. I toke him a few extra in the down just for that. Many dealers seem annoyed to be working at all, let alone the low stakes tables, which is all there is at MGM so they have a rough road ahead if it pains them so much. Chris runs a good game.
Called for tournament, here we go! I'm on Table 1 Seat 2, my exact favorite spot. Building up slowly for a while, a few people bust out and they bring in alternates. One guy has what seems like more than starting stack, and I ask what table busted. None, he just came in. His hands stay in front of his chips, so after he folds his first hand I ask for a count. Despite others at the table assuring me it's 3k, he's 200 over and quickly hands them to the dealer, who calls the floor to take them. The kid seems to know everybody there, even discussing with a dealer at great length about something or other they had going on somewhere. I'm not pointing fingers, I'm just saying this all seems a little strange.
I can't make much happen, but the kid goes on a tear, hitting monster hands and brutal suckouts. My starting stack doesn't grow much, so I'm short after a few rounds of play. The best hand I've seen in a while, I open-push 87s in LP to have the kid tank from the BB. He calls with T9 of my suit and I'm done. Oh well.
Back to cash, where I pump away at NL. I find a festive group with some cute thirty-something hipster girl with a penchant for a pants-off dance-off. She's fun and flirty and snorts when she giggles. Everybody's loose, having a good time. I'm playing it a little wild, pushing the boundaries of what I was working earlier, and it's paying off fairly well. I'm playing almost a third of my hands but making it seem like every hand. The local young grinder to my left clearly has it in for me, and can't believe it when I use a pair of 4s to pick off his busted draw river bluff into four people. I had a read. He's similarly shocked later in the night when I fold my TPWK nut draw on a board of AT84 when he pushes into my turn bet, but I don't have enough clean outs to go the distance.
I lose a couple of other key pots, including one in which I misplay AJ TPTK (some would say by playing it at all). I misunderstand who has what stack. I see a bet and an all in. One is an older gentleman who I'm pretty sure has a Jack. The other is a calling station who could have anything. Thinking the station is all-in, I sadly learn when I push that I have it backwards and the kid had merely called the all-in, taking another chunk of my stack with his slow-played AA. He hits me for considerably less later with AA in a similar situation: I learned my lesson the first time. Were it not for my mistake I'd have left up, but as it was lost half a buyin for the night. As I'm experimenting with expanding my play, I consider it a draw.
These drinks are getting tastier every time.
... next up: You make a mean Caucasian, Jackie ...
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