The Origin Of Tiny B

Tiny B has been on me for not posting. Sorry. I keep wanting to post a massive defense of "The Tank," as I think going in the tank is not only a very misunderstood poker exercise, but vitally important for any good player. I want to take you inside a Celeste Tank, which is second only to a Dan Harrington book in terms of helping you become a monstrously winning player. For now, I'll just offer this thought on the matter: "Tank = good ... thoughts?"

In addition, here is a Batface e-mail exchange from August 12, 2004 that I dug up which explains the origin of Tiny B. Discussions of what TBR would like to do to certain coworkers has been deleted to protect his wage-earning-for-three-kids status. As with all e-mail chains, please read from bottom up:

-----Original Message-----
From: Shane Keller
"...hold me closer, tiny boxer..."

-----Original Message-----
From: Brown, Randy
I have never heard a better nickname than Todd "Tiny Box" Phillips, or "TB" Phillips, for short. Please, let's make this stick.

-----Original Message-----
From: Robert Wilonsky
Actually, I considered leaving with you just out of sympathy, till Eric demanded I stay so there was "at least one Jew bastard left at the table." Todd agreed and fashioned a yellow star of David out of crepe paper he keeps in his trunk, along with his golf clubs and case of cards and the tiny box in which he which he keeps his compassion and sense of humor. Shane, surprisingly, spent the rest of the evening complaining "it's not the same without Thum" and sobbed quietly into his tequila. Randy said only, "Michael who?"

-----Original Message-----
From: Eric Celeste
No prob. No one had anything bad to say about you except Robert, and he felt so guilty about it he pretended to be your friend shortly afterward. We’ve all been there, except for Todd, who has no friends, and Shane, whose mother is in heaven with Jesus and Mary and the long-eared donkey and the talking walnut.

-----Original Message-----
From: Michael Thum
Will you please forward this to the guys that played last night. I want to apologize for leaving in the middle of the game last night. A personal matter came up that I needed to take care of. I hope you understand.

Conditional Probability

Here's another good artice by Negreanu in which he examines a Shane-like call made by Ted Forrest when the only hand that could beat him was quads. To summarize Daniel, sometimes common sense (conditional probablity), not math, should be a more significant factor in making a decision at the table.

Online Articles: Bluffing into the Dry Side

During last night's no limit holdem telecast on ESPN (eventually won by Farzad Bonyadi), there was a "great" dry side bluff made by the great Dane, Lars Bonding, while the shortstack was all in with a superior hand. Fortunately, Bonyadi called with a gutshot, made a pair of kings on the turn and managed to get it heads up. I can't conceive of why Bonding made that move there, unless he just couldn't help it given what appeared to be a relentlessly aggressive approach. Danny Negreanu, in one of my all-time favorite articles, would not approve.

Missed out on a free trip...

and an entry into a $500 tourney last night at Mario's joint. These are nice little tournies where a small donation gets you a shot a quite a nice prize. Check out the United Event Planner's site, and note that the next big event is this Sunday, October 2nd, for a trip to play in a WSOP Circuit Event. Maybe you can get lucky and be like Mario.

Good TV Tonight

Tune in tonight for ESPN's telecast of the WSOP Event 27, $5,000 with rebuys Pot Limit Omaha. The incredible final table included Allen Cunningham, Surinder Sunar, Robert Williamson III, Phil Ivey and Phil Hellmuth. It would be a good idea for some of the Batfaces to watch as well, since we'll be having an Omaha only Thursday night in the near future.

So Honored

I can't believe that I have been asked to join this elite crew, by elite I mean writing skill not poker skill, of poker bloggers. I am one of the newer batfaces and constantly get criticized for my poor decisions, but usually leave with more money than I started with in our local game. Probably because I am a lucky bastard with cards and have an uncanny ability to call what is coming next. I am an obnoxious and giddy winner, working on that, but a very good loser.

Look forward to keeping you entertained with my insight even though I absolutely feel that all poker books are bullshit. There is also a chance this will be my last post since I was told that I'm on a short leash.

Suwheet Pat-tay-tah Chuheese Cayke

For some reason, Shane and Tulsa refuse to post. They should. They're entertaining. Here are Shane's favorite moments of The Batfaces trip to Tunica in January 2005, followed by Tulsa's slightly edited top 10 memories of the same trip.

1. I had a meltdown before we even left. Couldn't get my shit together couldn't get anything organized, even though I had plenty of sleep. Net result: I left my computer (which Todd had asked me to bring) sitting by the door to my garage.
2. Todd and his adventures with Delta, which led to a counter agent threatening to call security on him.
3. The bartender at Sam's Town apologizing to Eric and I because he had to tell us we would have to pay for our drinks (75 cents each) if we didn't play video poker.
4. Dan having the nerve to discuss how my errant play in the media tourney knocked him out, even though he was only made it that far because he rivered me six hands earlier.
5. Ballinger's lucky pigs and the abuse they subsequently took. Troy threw then across the high-stakes room, then he hid them in Ballinger's drink.
One of them also made a glorious trip between Clonie's tatties (see below).
6. My inverse reaction to the guy who got pissed when his pocket kings were accidentally raked into the muck by the dealer.
7. Todd having the nerve to call me a dick after I egg-rolled Randy with the "Todd wins a super-satellite" and "Eric is drunk and up $1400" stories. It was Todd's idea.
8. Dinner at the steak restaurant and Troy's call to Clonie with an offer of a limo ride from WHEREVER SHE WAS AT THAT MOMENT. Sing-a-long with me now, "Todd's gonna get a new mommy..."
9. Watching Todd big-time it at Sam's Town playing alone at the $25 blackjack table. I thought my yelling and screaming of "GO BIG TODD" and "WHOO!" was appropriate. Randy didn't. And just in case any one wasn't sure who Todd was (namely the people in the far reaches of the casino who could hear me, but couldn't see to the table area, I yelled "GO BIG TODD...AT THE $25 TABLE...IN THE RED HAT...WITH THE TAN SWEATER VEST!!!".
Randy didn't like that and tried to evacuate. So I shouted, "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, RANDY?!?!?! IN THE BLUE HAT WITH THE TERRIBLE SWEATER?!?!?!"
10. Todd's last dealer at Sam's Town was a midget. The minute Randy, Eric and I saw him, Randy looked at me and said "DON'T say it." Todd got up before I could suggest that he place his bets as close to the rail (and as far from the dealer's stubby little arms) as possible.
11. After I got knocked out of the $500 tourney, I saw Randy, Todd and Ballinger at the $1-$2 table. Todd told me his Dad was in the high-stakes room playing blackjack and asked me to go see how he was doing. I look up and Troy was high-fiving everyone in the room.
12. Once I'm inside the high stakes room, Troy explains that since Omaha sits just north of 21 degrees latitude, it is appropriate to say "Omaha" whenever the blackjack dealer busts his hand. He then screams "OMAHA" at the top of his lungs whenever the house busts. This wouldn't be a huge deal, but it was in the high-stakes room which is considerably more quiet than the rest of the casino.
13. The ill-fated cocktail party. Dan invites everyone he knows, but they all must have thought that the odds of Dan hosting a cocktail party in a high-roller's suite was preposterous, so they didn't show. As for the few souls who did make it (but were sorry they did), Dan was an excellent host showing up two hours late. Next time, we leave the inviting to Troy.
14. The Bluff Magazine cocktail party attendee who asked Dan, "Seriously, what did that cocktail party cost me? I don't have to have sex with anyone, do I?"
15. In the high-stakes room. I drank eight VO&7's in about 30 minutes. No drink was in my hand for more than 20 seconds. The waitress handed me the drink, I slammed it and put the empty back on her tray before she could move to another table. I immediately ordered another. Eric can attest to this.
16. Ballinger falling comfortably into the role of old pervert. Besides over-fondling every female who came within arms-length, when he showed off his lucky pigs to Clonie, he dropped one down her bra "for good luck". Clonie laughed it off, but I looked at her and said "me sooooo sorry!"
16. While walking to the Horseshoe bar with Dan M., Clonie, Karen and Rick, Dan unleashes his most brilliant line in forever by saying, "It is so obvious who I'm having sex with tonight. Rick."
17. Eric pulled the over-friendly act with Rick, then I completed the egg-roll by asking Rick, "So, you like to play cards?"
18. At the $1-2 NL table, Todd gets pocket aces and re-raises a moderate raise pre-flop. Another player goes all-in and Todd can't call quickly enough. Todd's aces hold up against Ad-10d despite a scary flush possibility on the turn. Eric asks me, "When did you know Todd had aces?" I replied, "When Todd almost dove onto the table after the other guy's all-in." A few hands later, Todd draws to a straight on the river, but a flush is on the board. The same guy from above makes a minimal bet on the river and Todd reluctantly calls throwing his cards on the table face-up. Thinking that Todd folded, the other player mucks his cards and starts dragging the pot. The dealer informs him that he just mucked and surrendered the pot. He then pushes the chips to Todd. I tell Eric, "The fake-fold is strong part of Todd's game." Mr. All-In/Errant-Foldy-Guy immediately moves to another table.
19. Still at the $1-2 NL table, the EASIEST PLAYER TO READ I've ever played with, is on Todd's left. He drank about 15 Michelob's and got cockier with each one, although his play couldn't have been any less courageous or more predictable. When Todd tried to hit a big hand by slow playing his aces, only to fall to a donkey hand of 9-4 that flopped two pair, Mr. Easy chastised Todd by telling him, "You can't give him a free card like that. You have to make him pay to see that." All this from a guy who: only called a $2 pre-flop bet with pocket kings; called but never re-raised a pre-flop raise; and, folded to every post-flop bet unless he had the nuts. Later, when he over-bet after the flop and a passive-weak player folder her hand, he inhaled through his nose and whispered to Todd, "I smelled fear." How Todd maintained his composure and kept from clobbering him is a complete mystery.
20. The whole bit about me lying to the Horseshoe concierge while trying to get Dan a car to the airport. I was impersonating Troy and making great headway until the nice lady asked me "What is your birthday?" Oops.
21. On our multi-ethnic flight back, Eric craps out by drawing a seat next to a Cajun building contractor who wants to talk in detail about the buffets in Tunica. To appease him, Eric tells the guy that we stayed at Sam's Town. The Cajun's audible reply was, "Yeah, that's a nice place, but too many blacks stay there." Eric pretended he was dead for the rest of the flight.

Tulsa:
1. One of our dealers was named Arssie. (Pronounced "ARSE-EY") That was her spelling. It was on her tag. When my buddy won a hand and tipped her a dollar, he said, "Thanks, Arssie!", then turned to me and said, "I couldn't WAIT to say that."
2. I won $300 total in 8 hours of 1/2 NL. (About 290, but I'm rounding up.) I loved that game. Good people, good play for the stakes, etc. I also loved flopping quad 2s and getting bet into by A-Q when the flop came Q-2-2.
3. At N'Awlins, the nice cajun restaurant at the Horseshoe, our waitress was a beautiful 20-year-old Asian woman named Alia who spoke with the thickest Mississippi accent you can imagine. Very odd and quite enticing when someone who looks like a geisha girl talks in that slow-as-molassess drawl and asks us things like, "Ya'll wahnt a slhyce o' suwheet pat-tay-tah chuheese cayke?" We all agreed to fall in love with her.
5. After that dinner, Dan (who had just gotten up at 7 o'clock or so, played 1/2 NL. When I went down to the get the key from him, he was angrily mucking his cards face up against the guy he was heads up against. I noticed a big pile of chips in front of them, which the guy began to rake. Dan starts saying, angrily, "Could you beat Queen-Jack!? Could you beat Queen-Jack?!" I leave and 10 minutes later Dan calls the room. "I'm on tilt!" he says. Says the other guy had Q-J and they woulda split (there was a straight on the board to the Q, which had come on the river, so dan thought he'd been sucked out on by a K.) He said the very next hand he was dealt A-A. "They didn't hold up" was all he'd say. At 5 a.m. when he came to the room to gather his stuff to head to the airport, he was muttering about how he'd "had my bluff called by this donkey three times" before "I finally realized I just needed to play my game." It was like a beautiful dream.
6. The entire night of blackjack, drinking, and fondling that included Me, Shane, Todd, Darling, Ballinger, Karen, Dan, Wei, et. al. Wei or course was the dealer that completely ran over Darling's table (except for Todd). There was Darling yelling to the entire high-roller area that he wanted "Wee or Way or Woo" outta there, not that it was personal. "Hell, he's good people!
I'll take him out for a beer, or a saki, or whatever he drinks!" There was Shane getting hit on by the Jewish princess. There was the VERY handsy Dan B. being told by a very angry woman, "MY space is HERE. Your space ends HERE!"
7. The food at N'Awlins.
8. The 47-year-old who wants to blow Dan M.
9. Todd's line about RF: "Do you think he'll start shaving soon?"
10. The Incredibles: aka, the breasts of Nicole the Cocktail Waitress

Trip Reports: Just because Greenstein hates him...

doesn't mean Simon "Aces" Trumper doesn't have some of the most detailed and thorough trip reports on the net (check out the "diary" ). Plus, Simon plays in most of the big tournaments in Europe, and increasingly, the WPT. Rumor has it he's a bit of an ass, but the jury is still out for me until I see him on the WSOP Main Event coverage. He was on the feature table Day 1 with Marcel.

The End

31st Clonie Gowen $14,987

Clonie Gowen was knocked out by Luke Chung. Gowen had AdTh, Chung had AcQh. They got it in on the turn with a board of Ah 2d 8d 3d. Chung had the better kicker, but Gowen had the nut flush draw. The river was a blank 2s, and Gowen was eliminated in 31st place.

Borgata Update...Go Clonie.

515 started, 62 remain, 36 get paid. Coming off a cash in the WSOP Main Event, honorary Batface, Clonie Gowen is 12th in the chips at the Borgata WPT Event. Others well-chipped include Matusow, D'Agostino, Arieh, Greenstein, Sunar, Ng, David Pham and the always Celestey, JC Tran.

The winner takes home $1,498, 650, which should allow the winner to pay of any outstanding debts he or she might have.

Poker Players

Here you see my favorite poker player and Tulsa's favorite poker player at the WPT Borgata Open Main Event. They're both among the chip leaders half way through the second day. Go poker.

Legal notice - Picture comes to us from cardplayer.com where they actually cover tournaments/poker instead of stealing other's coverage and using as their own like we do.

Time Flies

Not to say that TBR's posts about his WSOP play are less than timely, but the Rangers were 12 games over .500 and 2 games up in the AL West on the day he sat next to Farha.

The WSOP champ from 2002...

has an article in the latest edition of Cardplayer detailing Olga's Main Event. There are some notable ommissions that I will detail in Day 3, part 2 (namely Olga's huge suckout... and mine).

Online Articles: Numbers... head... hurt

When I started trying to get more serious about playing poker almost five years ago, I began by reading everything I could get my hands on. Books were great for a start, but over the course of the next year or so, I got more into the habit of reading tons and tons of articles and trip reports on the internet. I was reading 3-5 articles a day, or more, and pretty soon I started to think I was getting pretty studied on the game.

Then I ran across Lederer's site, which sadly hasn't been updated in over two years. But if you've got an hour or two to kill, it's worth it, if only to humble yourself a bit. My favorite is the great Razz article. If you don't come away from that feeling a little seasick, you should just turn pro.

2005 WSOP Main Event Trip Report: Day 3, Part 1--Farha ha haaa

Following Day 2 (which ended somewhere beyond 1 a.m.), Todd, Ricky and I enjoyed some late night Burger King on the strip, and then I tried to get some sleep (after I moved my flight back for the second time). An under-reported consequence of these tournaments (and I would assume particularly the Main Event) is how tired it makes you, how late you play, and at least for a novice like me, how hard it is to sleep.

As I lay in bed, I simply could not get cards out of my head. Did I play that right? Did I play it wrong? Should I get a lot more aggressive? Should I hang on desperately for the money? Will I play with someone I know tomorrow? Will I go out on the bubble (again)? What is time? Around 4 a.m. I finally drifted off.

Shortly before 10, I awoke feeling relatively rested and all kinds of nervous. No need for the 3 alarm clocks and two separate wake-up calls. Nine players left. Nine. All I had to do was outlast nine freaking players and I would make the money. Unbelievable. I quietly gave myself even money to get there, even though I’d found out from Dan (via Alicia, I believe) that I was in 450th place out of the remaining 569 with several tiny stacks that would surely be all in during the first orbit.

I also was informed that no one of note was sitting at my table… except immediately to my right in seat 5. That would be one Sammy Farha, sitting on over 170k in chips. Awesome. After throwing up several times I was almost looking forward to it.

We made the mistake of arriving at the Rio with about 45 minutes to spare. The last thing I needed to do before playing the most important hour of poker in my life was to mill around amidst all the fanfare getting completely psyched out. I was Shaning hard. My man-crushee, Gavin Smith, had told our table at the end of Day 2 that once you get into the money at the Main Event, it becomes the “greatest thing in poker.” With all the crowds and cameras everywhere, he claimed it was nothing short of electric.

On one of the many trips up and down the convention hall to kill time (and take care of my nervous stomach) I noticed Mr. Farha perusing what appeared to be a handwritten chip count for our table. Super. Now he’s actually preparing to devour me. Cue more throwing up.

Finally the witching hour arrived. I took my seat at Table 36, seat 6, opened my bag and self-consciously stacked my paltry chips. About 3 minutes before the level started, Mr. Farha arrived and clumsily dumped his enormous pile onto the table. He and a tournament director were still stacking his chips at the first deal.

[side-note: as much as the 2003 WSOP seemed to make Farha into a kind of made-for-tv gambler with the Cheshire grin and the one-liners, he is actually even more of a character in person. First, the presentation: designer jeans, perfectly polished Italian shoes, an unbelievable lace shirt and more bling than you can imagine. His watch had to have 120 diamonds on it. And the teeth! Amazing. Reminded me of Matt Dillon’s character from There’s Something About Mary.

But here’s the other thing. He’s also just a great guy’s guy. Funny, telling stories, laughing, poking fun, just basically holding court. And I’m sure it’s like that wherever he goes. It was just awesome to hang out next to him, and we hadn’t even started playing cards yet! He was beginning to rival Gavin…]

With the railbirds seeming to increase in number (somehow), and with the electricity of being that close to the money, I was starting to feel the pressure. REALLY feel it. I was nervous on Day 1, somewhat less nervous and excited on Day 2, and now on Day 3, I was close to becoming a complete wreck. At the same time, it was utterly exhilarating.

As it turns out, seat 3 and seat 1 became notable players by the end of the week. In seat 3 was Shahram "Sean" Sheikhan, who ended up finishing 11th. Sean had about 150,000 in chips. And in seat 1 sat a nervous-looking kid named Brad Kondracki with about 140,000 in chips. Kondracki made the final table, finishing 8th.

With the cards in the air, we began the slow process of playing hand-for-hand until we made it through the bubble. It turned out there were actually only 567 left, but amazingly, it took a little over an hour to get into the money. I think we played about 10-12 total hands. Most of these hands were taken down pre-flop by Farha or Sheikhan, each giggling about how the rest of us weren’t doing anything unless we held aces.

It was during this time that Farha and Sheikhan played the infamous game of high card. I’ll only add one more detail. After Sheikhan had won the $25,000 Bellagio chip, he was noticeably excited. He’d been matching Farha needle-for-needle to that point, and you got the impression that the money meant just as little to him as it did Farha. But the $25,000 chip changed that. Now he was pumped, and he needled Farha perhaps a little too far.

“Okay, Sean, let’s go for $100,000,” Farha finally snarled, stone-faced. Sheikhan stopped smiling and sat down, realizing the fun was now over. “Murmur,” I thought.


Once we broke through the bubble, I took down the blinds and antes a couple of times, but I was still losing ground. Finally, I made a stand when Sheikhan raised my big blind and moved in with QJ off-suit. It was only about $20,000 more for him to call, and he did so reluctantly with A-10. I caught a queen on the flop to double through to around $60,000 (look, my stack has grown!).

Shortly thereafter Kondracki, who’d already showed down a couple of big hands, got involved in a huge pot with seat 9, Kelly Kim, who had started the day with just over $100k in chips. Kim had doubled through Sammy when he flopped a set of 8s on an 8-high flop and Farha moved him in on a stone bluff (read: hurty). Both Kondracki and Kim had around $200k in chips at the time.

Kim open-raised from the cutoff and Kondracki called from the button. The flop came down 8-6-5 rainbow. Kim led out, Kondracki raised pot and Kim re-raised to $100k to go, leaving himself around $100k more. Kondracki went into a brief tank and then moved in. Now stop reading here for a second and tell me what you think they are likely to be holding in this spot.

As Todd can attest, Kim went into the tank of a lifetime. Seriously, it had to be at least 8 minutes, probably longer. I assumed we were dealing with set-over-set, or that maybe even Kondracki had made a loose call with the BONE (7-9o) and flopped a straight. What the hell could they have, and what could Kim possibly be sweating over? He HAD to have 6s or 5s, didn’t he? Sure, any easy call if it’s bet and raise all-in, but how about bet, raise, re-raise, re-re-raise all-in? Wow, that’s a tough spot for all your money, particularly when you were far north of average in chips to start the hand.

Add to that the fact that Kim seemed to be one of these countless young, solid, aggressive Asians from L.A., and Kondracki was, and no offense to Kondracki here, basically an internet punk/schmuck. You could almost see Kim sitting there thinking, “I can’t believe I’m going to get knocked out by this internet geek who flopped a garbage straight.”

Finally, Kim reluctantly called. Kondracki sighed as though beaten (which he clearly thought he was to pocket 6s) and turned over pocket 5s for bottom set. Then Kim turned over pocket queens! I almost fell out of my chair. What?!!? Amazingly, Kim caught another queen on the river to make the nut boat, but sadly for him, Kondracki had already turned four-of-a-kind. Wow!

While they counted out chips to see if Kim survived, Farha commented about Kim’s miserable play. For both players, I suggested, and he agreed, though he did motion to Kondracki (who was shaking so badly his sunglasses were following off his face) and said something to the effect of, “yes, but he’s clearly an idiot.” Kondracki had Kim covered by $100, and they re-counted to make sure. During that time Kim actually went up a prize level as players were being eliminated left and right.

In re-thinking the hand, I still think Kondracki was a little over-aggressive in that spot with bottom set. I know that sounds crazy, but given the action in the hand, and given where he was in chips, it just seemed like a spot where one wouldn’t have been certain bottom set was good there. More power to him, though, as aggression was rewarded (as it usually is), and he finished the day third in chips out of 185.

Shortly thereafter, our table broke, and I was moved to a new table featuring Ms. Robert Varkonyi and Aaron “Knock-out” Kanter, who finished 4th. More to come.

Into the Vault: Houston Trip

The following recap is for some background on our little poker group. Several Batfaces took a road trip to Houston a few years ago to compete in “Houston Holdem,” a charity poker tournament benefiting the Houston Food Bank. Here are various highlights from members of the group.


REPORT FROM RANDY "TBR" BROWN:

Friday night:

The weekend was kicked off nicely when several of our faithful converged upon Adam, Tim, Eric, and Gonz’s hotel room for a little friendly warm-up of pot limit holdem. I arrived at this little affair around midnight with Houston Creighton (a long-time poker player but relative novice). By that point, several things were apparent: (1) Adam was way, way, down; (2) Tim was way, way up; (3) both Tim and Eric were wearing pajamas (read: somewhat hurty); (4) the case of beer they begged that I bring went undrunk as there was already tons of beer there (read below for revenge); and (5) Gonz was, as usual, miserable and seriously contemplating a drive home.

The play was sporadic, loosey-goosey and scary. Adam kept losing, but for some reason failed to call a $32 bet I made on the river holding four nines. Troubling. Earlier, I suffered my worst beat of the weekend when I called an all-in bet from Tim holding AQ with a flop of A-6-4 rainbow. Tim held an impressive pair of sevens which got more impressive when an 8 and a 5 came on the turn and river for the straight. Later, Tim ate the lint from Eric’s navel for $15. Go figure.

Saturday:

We all arrive at Drink Houston for the tourney well in advance of the 10 a.m. registration. The first sign of organizational concerns?—only one scale to verify the food add-on. Even more unsettling, the Food Bank folks weren’t trusting the alleged weight on the packaging. Hmm.

Next, we get in line to register for the tournament and receive our table assignment via a pink chip with your table and seat written thereon. Second sign of trouble: we also have to buy our re-buy right there, not when or if we actually need it. It soon becomes apparent that the re-buy can actually be used from the get-go, basically meaning the tourney costs $310, not $210. Hmm.

Once inside Drink Houston, we mill around the impressive venue, grab some free food and drinks and watch Adam and Tim play a game of Golden Tee (both players inexplicably choose to play Peter Jacobsen—this remains a mystery). As the 11 a.m. start time comes and goes, rumors circulate that the dealers are being taiught the game in another room. Yikes. About this time I start drinking. Shane follows suit.

Finally, after some further confusion, we are asked to make our way to the tables. They are convened in three separate rooms. Peter, Adam, and I are in the largest, with some 10-12 tables packed together. As luck would have it, Adam and I are right behind each other. As luck would not have it, Adam’s table played around 3 hands an hour. I turns out Adam’s dealer had not only not dealt Holdem before, he’d never shuffled before. Typical Adam “beaten by world” expression ensues.

We were each given $2000 in tournament chips—12 green $25 chips, 7 black $100 chips and 2 blue $500 chips. We were also told, amid burgeoning confusion, that we could obtain our re-buy during the next 30 minutes and that somebody would be coming around to our tables for this purpose. Huh?? So, we can’t buy it right now like we assumed outside? Then more confusion with the revelation that the add-on (in the form of our highly plagiarizeable food coupons) would already be in play (as opposed to only available after the first break as indicated in the tournament rules). How would you play this, you ask? Easy. The piece of paper itself was said the be worth $2000 in TC. Wow. Two or three hands into the tournament, the tournament director asked the dealers to redistribute our pink chips for table assignments as $2000 chips for our re-buys. Net result starting chips: 12 green $25 chips, 7 black $100 chips, 2 blue $500 chips, 1 pink $2000 chip and 1 food receipt worth $2000. Evidence of the bizarreness that transpired: on the second hand a guy at my table went all-in with his initial $2000 in chips (no re-buy). While his opponent is contemplating the call, the guy says, “hold on a second,” pulls out his food receipt, adds it to his chips and says, “this, too.” Seriously, I’m not making that up. His opponent folds, and I seriously contemplate getting my money back.

The play at my table was, in a word, terrible. I watched as the guy to my left (who refused to protect his hand) called a $1000 bet on the river holding Q high with a pair, a flush, and a straight on the board and a bettor and raiser in front of him. Worst call I’ve ever seen. Very old Diennesy. Murmur. Later, the crazy, long-haired cowboy to my left (hereinafter “Cowboy”) called a pre-flop all-in bet (his final $4,100) holding 9-10 suited. Did I mention there were two people all-in in front of him? Well, they had pocket Js and As, respectively, but his two pair on the river took the hand. More murmur. Shortly thereafter he sends the only other decent player at our table home when he calls his all-in bet of $3000 holding… 3-5 offsuit. His three 3s on the turn send the pocket Ks packing. (by the way, you should have seen this poor guy. He had the Aces, above, so his pocket As and pocket Ks lost to 9-10 and 3-5 within about 15 minutes. Adam saw most of this. Randy continues to drink. Much, much more murmur….)

Another weak player at my table (let’s call him Clyde) kept winning hands and building his stacks. I like Clyde, mainly because he is very nice and doesn’t seem to notice when I start making fun of him to his face. (Also, and completely unrelated, Clyde and his trashy but sort of naughty in a Dan kind of way sister stay around until after I’m eliminated. She then commences hitting on me which I refuse to reveal to anyone until now.) Clyde and I ended up being the last two remaining players from our table. Towards the four-hour mark, he flopped a boat, kings over queens. There were two other players in the hand, neither of whom recognized Clyde could hardly stay in his seat he was shaking so badly (much less handle his chips which he fumbled uncontrollably). He took down the pot to go way, way up, and I scream to Adam (who is watching from the rail), “way to go RJ!” This went over well. Clyde says something like, “hey, I just had to bet it,” in an effort to console the losers. I’m not sure what this means.

Towards the second break, I was getting to be a pretty short stack at our table (around $5500). But I was staying patient and trying to look for a hand to double through. On the last hand before the break, I’m dealt pocket 10s. Okay. The blinds are 200-400 with $75 antes at this point, so I’ve got precious little room to move. Clyde makes it $2000 to go, Cowboy flat calls (with A-anything, I’m quite certain), and I make a weird move. Thinking that my 10s are good, but also realizing that neither of my opponents are going anywhere for another $3500 (even with my rock-like image), I simply call. They both had well over $15,000 at that point. I know I’ll have to move in on a flop sans Aces. Flop comes 5-10-5. Helpy. I managed to more than triple up and head into the break with around $18k. Sadly, during my phony tank trying to assure a call from Clyde after Cowboy goes all-in, I could never grab Adam’s attention. Dan would have also enjoyed this.

Following the break I manage to move my stacks to over $20k. A very good player from Todd’s table, wearing an adidas jacket and looking ever the part of the crazy arab, moves over to ours. He’s got a nice sized stack (a little bigger than mine) and proceeds to try and bully the table. Whoops. Hadn’t seen this table, sir! On about the third hand, he lose about 75% of his stack when Clyde’s raggedy ace pairs to trumps his overpair on the turn. Arab mumbles something about having bet him thousands of dollars pre-flop and on the flop. I tell him he hasn’t been playing at the table long enough to make any assumptions about the state of play. I then scream, “go RJ!!”.

Shortly thereafter, Kevin (ye of “get your horns up!” fame at the final table) whose been sitting at my left for about 2 hours and playing okay, makes an incredibly bad play into Clyde for all his chips. Clyde’s got him covered, and Kevin moves in on a flop of 7-7-8 holding A-8. Of course Clyde, shaking as ever, calls him with 7x. Kevin gets an 8 on the turn or his tournament ends right there. Kevin finished 2nd. I’m very disappointed with RJ at this point.

While Todd has alleged privately that my call of an all-in holding 6s at the final two tables was “Clonie-like” (with opponent holding A-6) I made two other more Clonie-like calls than those 6s. The first one was against the aforementioned Cowboys that had been drawing out on everybody. I had about 23k, he had about 6.5k, blinds are at 400-800, and he makes it 2000 to go pre-flop. I call with pocket 6s. Flop comes J-8-4 rainbow. I check, he immediately goes all-in and I quickly call. I had been playing tight all day, he had been trying to bully where he could, and I just knew he was trying to buy it. He turns over A-K, and gets no help on the turn or river. I'll never forget that moment. It was like, wow, that's good damn poker there, bubba. (I know, very Toddy of me.)

The second time, Shane had replaced the Cowboy at our table. I find A-Q suited in late position (maybe button) with the blinds at 500-1500, and Clyde raised it to 2000. I had about 25K and he had around 18K. I made it 4K to go and he hesitantly called. Flop comes 8d-9h-4d. I check he bets 2K and I quickly raise all in. He paused for a second and then folded. I show the AQ and say something like, "see, you can win with A-Q, Shane." I'm not really even sure that was the right play, but it was worth it to see the look on Shane's face.

Shortly after that hand, I moved to what would become my final table. At this point, it seemed like we were down to about 30 players. Tim was two to my right, looking as ridiculous as ever in his cowboy hat and shades. But he was getting some luck and staying alive (more below). The blinds were going up like crazy, and you had to make a move. I called an all-in bet holding K-J suited when I had the bettor cover by about 50%. He turned over A-x, and I made three kings on the turn to get to around $55k.

At that point, I thought I had a chance. This table was remarkably better than mine (since everyone had sunglasses on and a serious face). Still, I was quite certain that I was the best player at the table. Some slick-haired asshole to my immediate right (hereinafter “SHA”), who had quite a vocal contingent of hot girls supporting him, called an all-in bet hold K-9 offsuit shortly thereafter. He drew out on a pocket pair, and I started gushing to SHA, “man, what a great play.” Did I mention I was really, really drunk by this point? Incredibly, he just said, “thanks, man,” like it was a great play. SHA made the final eight. I hate myself. He could have at lest punched me in the face.

Our table is then moved the final two table room, where the dynamic and energy is awesome. It seems like tons and tons of people are watching us play. It was great to feel the support of everyone down from Dallas and maybe a few others (though Peter would allege that most others hated me). I made the big call with 66s and then I pushed a player off his raise from the big blind holding A-2. At this point, I made the ill-fated mistake of turning it over and screaming to no one in particular, “Ace-two wins again!!” Todd feels this was bad karma. I think he’s right.

At that point, I think I had around $90k with around 13-14 people left. I may not have been the chip leader, but I was certainly in the top three. I probably could have survived to the final table (and maybe even the final 8) by just sitting on my chips. However, blinds were already at 10k-20k, so even a stack of 90K was in trouble. On my fateful hand, I called an all-in bet (around $38K) holding A-10o. He flipped over J-10 and then drew out on me. Sure, I was a 70% favorite right there, but a by far better play would have been to sit on my chips and survive to 8. It was a critical, critical mistake—one that haunts me. Oh, I was also really, really drunk by this point.

After I busted out, Gonz busted out shortly thereafter. Though I didn’t see it, Todd tells me Gonz plays a short stack for a long time like a pro. I believe it. We stayed to watch some of the final table action, but soon after, bitterness got the best of me and I began to taunt Kevin by screaming “get your horns up!” Shane then punches me in the stomach twice.

After that, we left Drink Houston, Todd threw up about 9 times and I generally made an ass of myself. That is all.

Here are some other accounts:


FROM ERIC "TULSA" CELESTE:

1. Don't forget the Friday night game. Adam approaching Tim's one-game loss record ($550--he fell short by a hundy or more). The beat Rogers put on you with the pocket 7s, which straightened out (eerily foreshadowing the next day's events). The $15 I paid Tim to eat whatever I pulled out of my belly button (which ended up being a good chunk of lint and a single hair).

2. Before the tourney began, Aaron I and I were sizing up our table when a guy came to discuss something with his buddy near us. Overheard him say, "Did you hear that a bunch of guys from DALLAS drove down for this?" Fear was instilled.

3. Our dealer was so incredibly slow that we played three hands in the first 20 minutes or so.

4. To my right was a very, very large woman named Janice, who would go on to make the final three tables. She was very cool. She plays a lot with her husband, and is a much better player. "He gets bored," she told me. "Eventually, he's going all in with a 5-2 off-suit." Eerily foreshadows Tim's play later. (BTW: The T-Rog is the 10-3 spades ONLY. Not suited, spades. Just as the Cloutier is the J-9 clubs.) Janice was naming the jerks at our table names like "Reader" (dude who ignored everyone and read the NYT magazine) and "Psycho," the maniac who I will now describe.

5. Deciding hand at our table went down like this: Maniac at our table, who plays most hands and who has been getting incredibly lucky (beat me early on when I flopped top pair after a pre-flop raise, but had called my raise with his 7-4 off-suit and flopped two pairs). Aaron and I after the first break tell each other, Wait for the monster, then take him out. Anyway, Aaron and I in middle position, I look down and see A-9 suited. I raise four times the big blind. I've got a strong table image at this point, having won back a bunch of money and recently gone all in with a pair of sixes with an A-K on the board when I was first to act and moved out a good player. Aaron calls, which scares the hell out of me (he's just to my left), as we'd been dancing at opposite ends of the ballroom. Then maniac RAISES. Goddamnit. I think for a while, remember that Aaron had called me, tell myself anyone can wake up with Aces, and fold. Aaron thinks for a long time, then calls. I'm hoping he has the monster. Flop comes A-K-rag with two clubs. Aaron bets 2K. (Stacks are four to eight K at this point. I'm at about 7K, Aaron about 6K--this guy about 5K, I think.) The guy calls. Ace clubs on the turn. Aaron bets 2K. This puts the guy all but $175 in, and he just calls. (Moron.) Aaron whispers to me, "I think he's got me outkicked." Damnit, Aaron. I put Aaron on A-10 or A-9. River comes a 9. Aaron puts the guy all in, turns over the A-9 boat. The guy turns over his J-high flush--and starts sweeping the pot! Doesn't see the boat, and then doesn't realize the boat beats a flush. Awesome. Propelled Aaron into a high finish, totally screwed me out of another few thousand I coulda used. Aaron had the brass balls, I didn't, although I'd make the same play a hundred times again. Later, with 4.5K and the blinds at 500-1500 and antes at 200, meaning it's more than $3500 to play a round, I go all in as the big blind with A-K, Janice calls me as the little blind with 7-7 (Aaron reluctantly folded 5-5), and the pair holds up.

6. Late in the day, when it's down to 3 tables, I cheer Janice on, double Dewars in my hand. Shane looks at her, turns to me, smiles and says, "Goin' hoggin' tonight, big guy?"

7. Our rooting contingent was so excited when Tim went all in, confident he would double up and join Randy and Gonz at the final table. It's hard to describe the collective confusion that settled over us when he turned over the T-Rog. It was like when your girlfriend unexpectedly breaks up with you. We just stared at each other, mouthing "Why? WHY?"

8. That J-10 dude hitting the straight. That wasn't cool.

9. There is some confusion on Gonz going all in with the A-8. He was not in the small blind, he was in the big blind. The next hand, the small blind would have put him all in. So taking a shot with the A-8 short-handed was obviously the right play.

10. Quote of the century: "Me first, me first!"

11. Don't forget that Todd was doing everything he could to make sure we were hated by the crowd, including chanting at the final table, "O-VER-RA-TED!"

12. The final throw-up tally: Randy, once in the bathtub. Todd gave you his list.

13. The bathtub was necessary because Randy had stuffed the toilet with Miller Lite.

14. The funniest irony of the weekend was that Tim--who I've nursed through no fewer than 15 drunken, angry, benders--was irritated that Randy was acting so damn drunk. "When was the last time I acted like a jerk like that?" he asked me angrily. Oh, say, New Year's Eve, when he called his wife a whore and our Hispanic female friend a "dirty Mexican" while four couples were playing a board game.

15. My favorite phone call was the one I received from Becca, which she suckered me in with a sweet, "Hi, Eric!" I immediately started laughing, telling her, Hey, we're having a blast, trying to sober up your hubby. She then let into me with a detailed retelling of her shitty afternoon/evening. This went on for two solid minutes. Scared, I just handed the phone to Randy, who tried and failed to sound sober. Several sources report that Becca said something to the effect of, "I can't even talk to you right now, because your voice is so annoying to me."

16. Oh, and I lost my wallet. That was super sweet.

FROM GENTLE SHANE KELLER:

Only hand of interest I can recall is the one that nearly led to a fisticuffs at my table.

Here's the story...

The best player at my first table was something of a dick. Good at stealing blinds, but he openly commented when someone made a poor play. On one occasion another player at the table bets all the way through the river with pocket 8's with an Ace and a 10 on the flop. Of course the guy loses, but the dickhead states, "If you keep playing hands like that, you won't be here for long."

Anyway, he (hereinafter "Dick") has a 2-to-1 chip lead over the next highest stack and he bets heavily after the flop. The big blind, who is not a strong player (but has won some nice hands with BIG pocket cards) calls the raise which amounts to about one-fourth of the blind's chips. Flop is Ad-Jc-4d. Dick bets heavily again, and thinking about it for a while, the Big Blind reluctantly calls.

Now, I'm not very good at reading hands, but I figure that Dick is holding A-A, K-K, Q-Q, J-J, A-K or A-Q, but only if it is suited diamonds. I think the other guy is probably on a straight or flush draw or he has an ace with a marginal kicker.

Next card is the Queen of spades. Dick bets heavily again and the Blind quickly raises (which he has only done once earlier...and that was with pocket aces), leaving himself only about $1000 in chips. Dick calls. Now I'm thinking that the Blind just hit a straight (and at worst he hit two high pair, Aces and Queens, but I'm almost positive it is the former).

Anyway, the turn is the Queen of hearts. Again, Dick bets enough to put the Blind all-in and the Blind immediately calls. They show their cards and Dick is holding A-J (he flopped top two pair) and Blind rolls Kd-10d for a straight on the turn. The loss cost Dick about 80 percent of his chips, essentially crippling him.

I tell the blind that he played the hand well and Dick quickly states, "How can you say he played that hand well?!?" I replied with something about him staying in with a good drawing hand and then betting aggressively, but not recklessly once he made his hand. Again Dick says, "How can you say that?!? He called thousands of dollars in raises hoping for a gut-shot draw?"

I was about to state that guy also held the nut-flush draw, and that he only called two medium size raises before he made his hand AND it should have been obvious to Dick that he was going to need more than two high pair to win the hand. Instead, I got Shaney and said, "Well since he just raked most of your fucking chips into his stack, I guess I can pretty much compliment him any goddamned way I please." Tense silence ensued for the next 20 minutes or so until they called the break.

Dick later apologized, saying he didn't realize the Blind had the flush draw (13 outs) as well. I was less than gracious in my response saying something about knowing that it was a tough loss, but that I thought his condescending manner was capable of getting his clock cleaned in the parking lot if he wasn't careful.

I later found out he was a fucking Aggie, so I guess he had it coming.

Also, after Todd got knocked out he said he wanted to get drunk and I offered to buy shots. Todd told me could only drink "girl shots", so I went to the bar. Bartender was the pseudo-surly bald guy in the back room. After ordering a Dewars rocks for Celeste, a Shiner for McGill, a Turkey straight up (me), a Bud Light (chaser for me), and a Tanqueray and Tonic (Chaser for Todd)...I then say, "My faggot friend can't drink real shots, so I need you to make the worst-tasting girlie shot you can that will make him throw up." McGill witnessed this.

The bartender quickly complied with a grin saying, "One girly shot to make him throw up." Don't know what was in the murky, pinkish-brown concoction that followed, but when Todd drank it, he quickly reached for MY bud light so he could chase it accordingly.

Oh yeah, and I also liked it when I kept punching Randy because you were over-cheering for that dipshit at the final table wearing the Texas windbreaker.

FROM TIM ROGERS:

Before moving to the final room, I was short stacked, with only about $2k. Without looking at my hole cards, I went all in from early position. Got called with K-Q. I had 10-8 and flopped a boat, 10s full. That was my comeback. Fought back up to around $40k. Until the 10-3 all-in. That lost to K-J suited.

2005 WSOP Main Event Trip Report: Day 2

Following Shane’s demise on Day 1, we commiserated with him at the blackjack table while he alternated between screaming obscenities at unsuspecting patrons and wishing SARS on the world. We let him run with a loose leash for a while, made all the more helpful by an amazing run of cards. Todd and I quadrupled our stacks and Shane and Fawcett did well in their own right. Sadly, the Freeze continued to pay Mr. Caesar and pay dearly.

We knew the full-on suicide watch was coming sooner or later, and like clockwork, Shane inexplicitly left dinner and went up to the room to “self-medicate.” Thirty minutes later Todd drew the short straw and went to retrieve him. When they returned, I spent a good thirty more minutes talking Shane off the ledge about his play. Then we all went to bed, or something.

Coming into day 2 with only 13,975 in chips meant I was a short stack (as was becoming my custom). Since we had played 25 minutes into Level 8 at the close of day 1, for the first hour and forty minutes the blinds would stay at 250-500 with antes of 50. Since we were still 10-handed, it was costing 1250 per orbit to play, giving me just over ten rounds before I was blinded off. On the upside, with average at right around 30k, I would be right back at par if I could double up.

There weren’t any known pros at my table once again, though seat 5, directly to my left, was “pro” David Feldman, a 21-year-old recent graduate of George Washington who’d decided to take a shot at professional poker for a living following success on the internet. David’s claim to fame to date in live tournaments was a cash finish at a preliminary event in last year’s US Poker Championship at the Taj. He had around 50k and was far and away the chip leader at the table.

To make matters a little more interesting, David’s two buddies, recent graduates of Columbia, were making a documentary on his foray into professional poker. All three of them were very likeable guys, but it did strike me that his “media” was every bit as phony as Pokerati’s. But I digress.

Everyone else at the table appeared to be very happy to have made it to day 2 and hardly a threat to start running over the table. I resolved to try and take some blinds and get a little above water if I could. A couple of orbits came and went, and I managed to steal some pots and chipped up to around 16500 or so. Feldman had raised two or three pots and either won the hand right there or won it with a continuation bet on the flop. I was definitely monitoring his every move, hoping I could re-raise him and double through.

At the end of the second orbit I found pocket aces for the first time in the tournament in the small blind. I was begging for someone to open-raise, but of course, it folded to me. Given his image and given he might try and steal from my short stack, I elected to call. I thought it might scream strength, but it was early enough in the session that he couldn’t have had a real read on me. Fortuitously, he raised it to 2500. I hemmed and hawed a little and even looked around to see if his boys were filming the action (I think they were starting to feel some heat for filming from ESPN, holder of the exclusive rights). Finally, after about 30 seconds, I moved in for around 14000 more.

I was thinking I probably wouldn’t get called by anything short of a pocket pair above sixes or AK, and it was probably too aggressive, but there were several other things in play: (1) Feldman, like a lot of players who hone their skills on the internet, tend to overplay (and overcall) big cards, regardless of whether the circumstances dictate otherwise. That can actually create a very valuable fear factor but can also be exploited. (2) Since I felt calling was out of the question with such a big hand and short chips, the only choice was how much to raise. If I re-raised to just 5000 more, I was only leaving myself with around 9000, certainly committing myself to the pot. (3) I was okay with taking the pot down right there and moving close to 20k. I liked the table in spite of the chip leader to my left and felt I could continue to chip up without getting cute. (4) There was always the possibility that moving all in there would be seen as far less than aces: maybe a middle pair or KQ or even a complete steal. (5) Finally, as a big stack, Feldman may just get stubborn.

To my shock, Feldman called IMMEDIATELY and turned over AQo. Huh? Now if it was me, I can’t imagine a short stack is going to complete in front of the big stack without a hand he can stand a raise. And then, when that short stack then moves in on you for 2.5x the pot, can you call with AQ? And even then, can you call that fast? David flopped a gut shot straight draw with KJx, but I managed to avoid his 4 outs and doubled through to 38500 or so. Finally, finally, I was in business.

Nothing of note happened for the remainder of the level, and right about that time our table broke and I was moved across the room near the feature table.




I knew immediately that my luck had changed. Even though I was around average, several of the players at the table had bigger stacks than mine, and I was stuck with Seat 10 again. (This would prove to be almost fatal.)

To make matters even worse, Gavin Smith was in seat 4 with about 87k in chips. Gavin won the championship event at the Mirage Poker Showdown in May (the inaugural event of WPT Season 4) for $1.1 million. Oh, and for good measure, he’d won the $1500 NL event a week earlier for $155,000. Seated to his right was the guy who served as Robert Varkonyi’s “coach” before the 2002 and 2003 WSOP. He had about 50k. To his right, in seat 2 was Michael Kessler, who ended up finishing 18th. He had a huge stack, too. Finally, seat 1 turned out to be a very tough, young Asian guy from LA.

I went card dead for at least two hours. That coupled with the fact that I was a little unnerved by the competition meant my stack dwindled down to around 15k. Then I raised all in with KJs and got called by Kessler almost immediately. I threw over my hand and the corner of the king touched the muck. Someone said “it’s mucked” and panicking, I pulled the cards two inches over. Then someone screamed “call the Floor!”

“Oh, shit! I’m going to get eliminated from the Main Event by mucking my own fucking cards! Unbelievable!” I thought. (But yet, somehow fitting for a batface.) Kessler, like a true gentleman, waved it off and turned over Kjo with a smile. We chopped. 4000 people that entered the man event in Kessler’s situation would have been demanding to the Floor that my cards were mucked. Another 1500 would have been uncertain about the outcome and let the Floor decide. A handful, like Kessler, would have let me off that easy. It was a good-guy move from what turned out to be a very, very good player. I was glad to see him win $400,000.

[sidenote: as it turns out, the standard rule is that the dealers and Floor try to save a hand if they can, so since my cards were clearly visible, I suspect the result would have been the same. Unless, of course, Gonz was the Floor.]

Somewhere in this timeframe, Gavin Smith managed to get involved in a big hand with A9 against A10. He clearly doesn’t know how to flop two pair with A9 like Celeste and get out of a completely dominated situation. He lost about a quarter of his stack there and another half of it a couple of hands later doubling up a short stack with QQ vs. KK. Then he went on tilt, singing about it and talking about it to anyone and no one.

Not long after that I doubled up with pocket 8s vs. the Coach’s AJo. Then the coach raised from middle position and I came over the top all-in with QQ. I had about 32k at the time, and it was going to cost him about 26k more to call, or over half his stack. He thought about it forever, clearly doing all the higher mathematics in his mind. I guess he finally assumed there was just too much of a chance that I was moving with any pair again and he called with KJs. My queens held up and I was over 64k, the high point for the tournament thus far.

Shortly thereafter the Coach busted out only to be replaced by the highly deceptive J.C. Tran. Tran had close to 200k in chips, but it was late in the session and he appeared too tired to play many pots. He also had Gavin Smith on his left, and Gavin was stealing his way back close to 65k. By the way, I love the way Gavin plays poker, and he seems to be a very likeable, approachable guy to boot. He was very friendly and jovial with all the unknowns.

[sidenote: when JC Tran sat down next to Gavin with a huge stack, I was more nervous than the night Darling tricked us into his uber-high stakes, low max buy-in crapshoot. I know who JC Tran is. Anybody who follows poker does. But apparently Dan doesn’t. And I’m told he actually proposed the question to anyone who could hear in the media room, “hey, does anyone know JC Tran?” I mean, seriously, how they didn’t take away all of the absurd pokerati credential right there is beyond me.

So Todd retells this story to me while I’ve stepped away from the table, and then tells me that Dan’s looked up JC on pokerpages and wanted to come tell me he plays very “celesty”. Seriously, I’m not making that up. I could feel the life-force leaking out of my body.]

In any event, with Gavin and JC stalking pots, and my once again going card dead and dwindling, I basically sat out the last 2 ½ hours of poker, only occasionally raising pre-flop to take down the blinds and antes. At the same time, people were busting out like crazy, and suddenly we were under 600 people. With the top 560 getting paid at least $12,500, I was starting to believe I might actually make it into the money. When the clock expired at the end of level 12, I had just under 34k in chips, and there were only 569 players left.

WSOP # 43

If TBR can re-issue his tired posts, then I don't see why I can't. My WSOP consisted of a Mega Satellite entry into the Main Event, where I finished 95th of 450 with the top 45 getting spots in the Big One, and an entry into Event 43 ($1500 NLHE) which coincided with Day three of the Main Event. I was curious how many of the big pros would play after having been eliminated from the Big One. I guess the answer is that a bracelet is a bracelet and in my immediate area were, Devilfish, Seidel, Jesus, Men the Master, Cindy Violette, Mike Sexton, Humberto and others. After about 30 minutes of play, Marcel Luske joined our table, two to my left.

I soon found myself playing a hand against Marcel. I limped into a pot on the button with Marcel checking his big blind. I have A4 of clubs. The flop is AQ7, no clubs. It is checked to me and I bet $400, size of the pot and a third of my chips. Marcel is the only caller. The turn is another 7. Marcel checks, I check. the river is a blank. Marcel bet $750, putting me all-in. I tank it and fold. Marcel shows a Q. Maybe he had a 7, or AQ, but probably not. I played another couple of hours with Luske and after playing with him, I definitely wish I would have made the call with an ace. He took a stab at just about every pot he played, raising most pre-flop, which leads me to my exit. On the small blind and nearing a bump in the blinds, I am dealt AK. Marcel raises, as he had most hands, and is re-raised by the big chip stack, who had made similar moves with a variety of hands. I decided to move all-in giving myself a chance to triple up in a position in which I might be going in with the best hand. Wrong. The big blind immediately goes all-in, as does Marcel. Oops. Marcel - AA, Big Blind - QQ, Chip Stack - AJ. Marcel's aces hold up and I'm out. At lease I made a good read on the big chip stack. Who knew Marcel had finally picked up a hand. I like my play. Anyway, Marcel ended up finishing 10th, getting paid $13000+. Seidel finished 6th, for $59000+ and the even was won by Ron Kirk, not the mayor.

Special thanks to AM, Austin Pete, Tulsa, Gonz, Dan, Tum, TBR and TBR Sr, for backing me in my tourneys. Sorry I disappointed. Austin Pete and Gonz still owe me.

2005 WSOP Main Event Trip Report: Day 1, Part 2

The fourth level brought the $25 antes, and with blinds at $100-200, it was now costing $550 to play an orbit. My stack continued to dwindle without winning any reasonable pots, and as we headed to the dinner break, I was in bad shape at around $5800. After the dinner break, blinds would increase to $150-300, meaning it would cost me $700 (or about 1/8 of my stack) to sit out of the action. It also meant that when I entered a pot I’d have to be prepared go all the way with the hand. I’d played pretty badly to this point, and it looked like I was going to continue to melt away in a whimper.

To make matters worse, our table broke right before the dinner break, and I was moved to a new table, in seat 10 (argh), facing the rail. There were several chip stacks north of $25,000, and it appeared I was the short stack on the table. It hadn’t helped that I had been card dead for the better part of the day, but frankly, I’d played so badly and passively that I can’t imagine it would have mattered much.

The dinner break brought a much-needed moment to relax. Tiny B and the Freeze had been kind enough to reserve a table at a very tasty fish place in the Rio, and I lamented over my poor play as we dined. Farha was seated in a group two tables over, and rumor had it he was already north of $100,000 on the feature table. “Great, I have no shot,” I thought. I actually commented to Todd that I needed to start getting some hands to play or I was going to lose interest. He may or may not have punched me.

Dan’s buddy, Wendeen Eolis, who was sitting on a similar stack, allegedly told Dan she was moving in with any ace after the break. That sounded bizarre to me, and I resigned myself to playing a solid as I could and let the chips fall where they may.

Back from dinner, level 5 got under way with a bang. First, I got into a blinds war with 34o on a flop of 25x rainbow. The turn was the 6h, and we re-raised each other all in and turned over the same hand. Terrific. I finally see a flop, make a hand (the nuts, no less), and end up chopping up the blinds and antes.

Meanwhile, Seat 5, an older man (in black left), had been showing down a lot of marginal hands. He was fluctuating pretty wildly between 5000 and 14000, a lot like seat 6 from my first table. I continued to be stone cold card dead for about an hour, only once or twice able to steal a blind. With only 5200 left, I looked down at AQo on the button. Seat 5 made it 800 to go, and it folded to me. Even though he’d played plenty of marginal hands, something told me this hand was strong. In fact, if pressed, I’d say I thought his hand was AK. But the reality was I couldn’t wait for a better hand, and it was just as likely he was playing a middle pair, two Broadway cards or Ax suited, so without any hesitation, I moved in for the first time in the tournament. The blinds folded, and he called pretty quickly with, of course, AK. He had me covered by about 3000 at this point. Perhaps not uncoincidentally my father (who had a piece of my action) had just arrived on the rail to watch me flop a queen and stay alive. (The actual suckout is captured in this picture.) That would prove to be my big lucky draw of the tournament, catching on a 3-1 dog to stay alive early.

As soon as the pot had been pushed my way, we were racking our chips again. With just over 11000 and back out of the danger zone, I headed to my third table of the day.

This new table would also prove to be the first table where the play was recognizably better. I was seated in seat 2, and across the table in seat 7 was a cocky, 21-year-old kid, wearing a suit (with tie), sunglasses and a Red Sox lid. As I was stacking out my chips he called a pre-flop raise all-in from a short stack with AKo. Short stack had AQo, and his hand held up without improving. He screamed “ship it!,” and shoved the I-Pod earplug back in his ear. At about 35-40k, he was clearly in control of the table. Within another orbit he would take the blinds uncontested three times and call another all-in with AKo and again win without it improving. All the while he talked, talked, talked, to anyone or no one. He would have been incredibly annoying were it not for the fact that he appeared to be a pretty good player. Perhaps I would have been that kid at 21…

Sitting to Cocky kid’s left in seat 8 was a quiet, tight player who appeared to seldom enter pots. On my immediate right was a talkative high school teacher who ended up being a former history teacher of my wife and Tiny B. Small world. He was very short and playing extremely tight, so I took his blinds a couple of times to keep up.

In level 6, I finally played a decent hand. I raised UTG with pocket queens (which would become my defining hand) and got called by seat 8 after some deliberation. The flop came jack high with two spades, I checked, he bet the pot, and I aggressively moved in to represent AK, a flush draw or both. Seat 8 deliberated forever and finally called. I assumed he would turn over AJ, but to my dismay he turned over pocket tens. Good thing, too, as an ace spiked on the river. He mumbled that he thought I had AK. That got me to around $23k--my high point of the tournament to that point.

The very next hand I got AKo and re-raised Cocky kid’s raise of $1500 to $4000 straight. The flop came J-10-x, I checked, and he shook his finger “no-no” and fired out $8k. Like the small girl that I am, I mucked quickly. Maybe I should have made it $6000 to go pre-flop, but I’d just gotten those chips!

The next 3 hours I went back to being card dead, literally playing a hand or two, and only to stab at the blinds. I finished Level 7 at $15,000ish, and closed Day 1 (a few minutes into Level 8 at 2:30 a.m.) pretty short at $13,975. To start Day 2, average stacks were at 30k.

Though it was exhilarating to survive Day 1, I wasn’t at all happy with the way I played. I knew I’d have to get something going early in Day 2 to have any shot at making it through the day.

2005 WSOP Main Event Trip Report: Day 1, Part 1

After a fitful night’s sleep, I made my way to the Rio Pokerdome and Table 143, Seat 1. Initially, I had three concerns: (1) I HATE sitting in seats 1 or 10 at a full table. You can’t see anything and you’re constantly worrying about protecting your hand from the dealer. Greg Raymer wrote something about this once, and he argued that seats 3,4 7, and 8 are the best seats since you can see everything without having to turn your head. But I digress.

(2) One of my secret lucky weapons, my ugly, royal blue and white slicker FILA jacket (known to all as simply “the FILA”) was immediately neutralized by two of the first four players to sit down at the table who, incredibly, ALSO sported ugly slicker FILA jackets. (note: I ended up losing the FILA later that day when I left it at my second table. It was never worn.)

(3) I was extremely, extremely nervous. Having not come close to qualifying online or elsewhere, it finally occurred to me moments before the main event that I might not be that good a tournament player. Fortunately, my angst was drowned out by a horrific rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner, sung by a female poker pro who will go nameless. Shuffle up and deal!

During the first level, I played a beautifully textbook tight-weak game, seeing few flops and folding at the first hint of danger thereafter. I think I won one or two hand pre-flop and one hand with a continuation bet on the flop. At the end of the level, I was down to 9100. Most of the players at my table were online qualifiers, and the only two really good players appeared to seated on my left in seats 2 and 3, respectively. Seat 6 was overly aggressive and swung from 15000 to 5000 twice within the first level. He also stole my blinds six times in a row as Todd was quick to point out.


Seat 9 was a young Asian kid whom immediately became “that guy” due to his exaggerated facial expressions that mocked everyone’s play. (He's making one of these faces at left.) To his left, in seat 10, was a drunk New Yorker (with requisite Yankees lid, dangly cigarette and, incredibly, drunk railbirds) who took FOREVER to act. A typical hand played out like this: Seat 7 folds, seat 8 folds, seat 9 calls, seat 10 takes a deep breath, dramatically removes the chip from his card to look at his cards, looks at his cards, dramatically reapplies chips, crosses arms, exhales deeply, think, thinks, thinks (minutes go by), takes another swig from his 14th Miller lite and folds. It was ABSURD.

Seat 8 finally started calling the clock on him pre-flop, if you can believe that. Awesome. In hindsight, this ultimately worked in my favor as I was bleeding off chips at an escalated rate. Since we played about half as many hands as everyone else, I probably stayed in the tournament because of that jackoff.

In Level 2 I continued to hemorrhage chips. I called an unraised pot from the small blind with QTs and flopped two pair. I gave my opponent a freed card on the turn, and he made his straight on the river. Then, just to let everyone know how big a donkey I was, I called his pot-sized bet on the river. Dow to 8200.

In level 3, very little changed for me, but the tournament itself seemed to get out of the mud. With blinds at 100-200, people started to lose their minds and were making and calling huge bets. For example, the super aggressive guy in seat 6 raised pre-flop to 400 with around 5500 and the called another 1200 re-raise (or almost of fourth of his remaining stack) from the Asian kid in seat 9. The flop comes 9h 6h 5d. Seat 6 immediately goes all-in for his last 3800 or so. Seat 9 (who almost out-did seat 10 for time spent in the tank) finally called with pocket kings. Seat 6 turns over 7h.8h., for a flopped nut straight. Wow. Called off a quarter of his stack out of position with 78. Good flop for him. For good measure, he went ahead and made a straight flush on the river. At the end of Level 3, I was down to 7100.

At last...

I'm totally liberated. War batfaces. I'm all in (again).