A virtual coin toss for $40,000 in the $5000 No Limit Hold'em Shootout

I am thinking about entering the $5000 No Limit Hold'em Shootout. On impulse I check out the Satellite Room for the first time just as they announce "One seat left in a $525 No Limit Satellite." $525 seems like a civilized amount to gamble before breakfast and the first and only prize just covers today's event. In what seems like no time we are down to two players and I refuse to divvy up the prize just because the other guy, whom I regard as totally obnoxious, wants to. Usually this kind of hubris is rewarded with disaster but luck is on my side and I immediately march my prize money, 10 $500 tournament chips, over to the cage to buy in. I'm wondering to myself if this is a good idea, as the more expensive preliminary events generally have tougher fields.

I take my seat and Barry Greenstein, one of the regulars in the world's biggest regularly scheduled game, the $4000-$8000 Mixed Game at the Bellagio--where it is not unusual for players to win or lose a million in a long night--is immediately to my left. This is the worst possible position for him to be in, because he can pounce on any bet or raise I make that he thinks is weak and have the advantage of acting after me on every round.

We start with $10,000 in tournament chips and 100-200 blinds. I am card dead for the first to rounds, and down to $9400 in no time, as only half the players have arrived on time. The first two times I raise to 700 Barry immediately re-raises to 2200 and I don't have enough to call him. I have no lost 20% of my chips in 20 minutes and furthermore feel like I deserve it. Things get no better and my stack shrinks still further. I am in the big blind and the dealer raises to 900; I stretch out a call with Q 9. The flop comes K 9 3 and I lead out. The turn, a Jack, and the river, a 2 are met with checks from both of us. Now I am optimistic that I have the best hand and turn over my pair of 9s. Unfortunately the dealer has A 9 and just notches me. I am down to 4400.

The next hand, in the little blind, I pick up J J and everyone folds to me. This is a big hand, and only Barry is left in the pot, so I want to make some money. I hesistate, thinking about calling, and then realize that my hesitation, combined with my obvious frustration about the last hand, may make Barry do something foolish. I raise to 600 and Barry instantly moves in. With J J I have an easy call but I am still shocked to see Barry turn over 5 6 offsuit, saying "Oops." Just like that I am up to 8800, almost my starting stack, I have shown Barry a little something, and my mood is back.

There is one old guy who is completely hopeless, a classic calling station, who somehow gets hold of half the chips at the table. I grow my chips steadily, making a couple of very tough calls and a gutsy successful bluff. Soon the other seven players have all busted out and it is down to him, a 30-year old guy who is playing quite well, and me. The 30-year old and I patiently carve up the calling station and we are heads up. We spar for half an hour and the limits go up to 250-500 with $50 antes, still quite small. He has a slight lead when I pick up the A Q of hearts and raise on the button. He re-raises and I make a large re-re-raise to put him all in. He calls and shows 7 7. Although his chances are slightly better, it is a virtual coin flip. The winner will almost certainly advance to the next round, be guaranteed $16,000 with a shot to win much more. There is basically over $40,000 in cash equity to whoever wins the hand. I am optimistic but five cards come down without an A or a Q and I am out.

It takes a while for the disappointment to set in, as I am very pleased to have played well after the first half hour, and pleased to have put myself in a position to be merely a coin flip away from the next round. Slowly, however, the energy leaks out of me and I feel like a half-deflated birthday balloon three days later. There's not much one can do for consolation, but with difficulty I muster the energy to pound out a few laps in the pool while I start the long process of rebuilding my poker psyche.