World Series Of Poker Blog

Out!

2010-07-13T17:33:00.000-07:00

My roommate John's table draw is very tough, with Full Tilt sponsored pro Gavin Smith and 1996 World Champion Dan Harrington. ESPN selected it to be the secondary feature table, and John is getting cold-called by agents with endorsement offers. I'm very happy for him and he's excited and a little nervous. He's got a huge stack of chips and plenty of room to maneouver; he should be very dangerous.

I felt great once the cards were in the air but couldn't ever get it going today and was always the shortest stack at my table. Felt like a spectator while the rest of them played huge pots, nearly all of them with over 100,000 in chips in them. I was forced to make a move while I still had enough chips and a good reputation and went in with Q 8 of spades. Everyone folded, but the big blind woke up with two Jacks. I hit an eight but it wasn't enough.

Five seconds after I busted I felt an extreme weariness and incipient headache. Suddenly reduced from hopeful participant to spectator, I head over to watch John. He's miked up at a fancy table on a dias with really cool blue lighting, ESPN cameras all around, and plenty of space and spectator seats. I'm very, very happy with him, and the 3% of any win he comes up with more than makes up for any envy I feel.

I'm feeling a bit discouraged when John and Gavin Smith both totally misplay a hand where John has Aces. Somehow that reassures me that what I lacked this year wasn't so much strategy, but cards. As poker players we strive for perfection, and it's probably theoretically possible for anyone to win the tournament, but we are all so far from perfect play that even the best pros don't stand much more of a chance than I do.

John's finally moved from the feature table, pocketing a minimum $5000 for sitting there for an hour. I hope they show him on TV, but I'm not sure he'll make it. I can't see him at his new table, and layer after layer of weariness is settling in on me. I bolt for the hotel and pack for the airport, once again leaving in a mad rush to try to make the 5:35 for home.

I'm on standby and just about to board the flight when the last passenger sprints up to take it from me at the last minute. This feels like another bad beat!

Somehow or other my spirits are still pretty high as I write this last blog post. One of my poker friends gave me a little pain pill and this seems like exactly the right occasion for it. I am starting to come down, but I've still got a very, very long way to go.

Right now it feels like I can take some of the fantastic energy I've felt and expended and put it to good use in my life back home. There's certainly plenty of room for improvement on a lot of fronts! Still, looking into the future a little, I'm sure I'll spend most of the next few days compulsively checking the tournament status and following John's progress.

As I write this they only have to lose about 60 more players before they're all in the money. John's the chip leader at his table, in his element, picking on the short and especially the medium stacks, as no one wants to bust out of the tournament at this point. I'd give almost anything in the world to be there, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be this year. No surprise, that's how tournaments almost always end. Now remind me again, why do have my heart set on playing this every year?

Thanks for following along with me. I hope you've had some fun and felt like you were there with me.

Until next year,

Luckyscum

Morning, Day 4

2010-07-13T10:40:00.000-07:00

I drank a Coke after the dinner break last night, and slept terribly as a consequence. Nevertheless I wake up in a fantastic mood, thrilled to be alive. Having a relatively short stack is in some sense liberating, as there's less pressure and play is less complicated.

My roommate has 361,000 in chips and is seated at a table where the combined poker tournament earnings are $15,000,000.

With 5/6 of the field gone, it's remarkable that both John and I are still alive. It feels, however, like we are headed in opposite directions: I am facing a tough, gritty struggle to survive to the money while John is trolling the internet sites looking for sponsorship deals. Tournaments are so volatile, however, that this could change in just a few hands.

Just came back from a few laps at the pool. This is the seventh day I've been in Vegas. I bought the New York Times but don't even care enough to read the headlines on the front page. Hell, I can't even bring myself to read Glenn Greenwald, my favorite author.

As always, good thoughts, visions of mountains of chips, energy beamed my way, and even prayers are most welcome.

PS If you haven't seen the golf video, figure out to do it. Colored links are mouse-clickable. And I will be posting to twitter.com/luckyscum throughout the day. If you want to follow the action more closely, check out pokernews.com and click on the $10,000 Main Even live updates link.

Main Event, Day Three

2010-07-13T10:28:00.000-07:00

I didn't have a whole lot of fun on Day 3. The bright spots and big pots were few and far between. I got caught red-handed on two steals and one particularly expensive resteal. I do give myself kudos for continuing my larcenous ways after that, particularly on following up a big blind re-raise with a spadeless A 9 offsuit with a confident healthy flop bet on a Ks Js 10s board. Also, right before the dinner break, I raised in late position with K 10, got called by the big blind, checked back a A J 2 flop, and then when he led into a 6 on the turn, re-raised him all in on a stone cold bluff. (He folded instantly; a call knocks me out of the tournament unless a Queen comes on the river.)

When it comes to bluffing, a smallish raise frequently looks stronger than a larger or all-in raise. I used this to my advantage late in the day, raising an active player from 6000 to 15000 leaving myself 20 behing instead of moving all in. I'm convinced this made the difference; with just Kh Jh I was certainly glad of a fold.

All in all, it was a grim day, watching bigger stacks joust for huge pots and spending most of the day with a smaller stack than I started with while the average stack went from 84,000 to 175,000. I was fortunate and thrilled to end on a good note, moving from 35,000 to 75,000 in the last hour.

Even poker is going high tech

2010-07-12T00:26:00.000-07:00

When John played a big pot with a guy from Holland, the reporter from Pokernews.NL came by and asked about the hand. They were talking in Dutch, so John couldn't figure out what they were saying, but he went on his I-phone to the pokernews.nl website and found out exactly what the guy had!

John and I are paying a friend of his $40 each to do a pretty thorough internet search on tomorrow's tablemates. I've been careful not to use my name on this blog, but may have to take it down rather than have someone able to glean even a little bit about my strategy. (John had to disable his blog after it started coming up when you googled "John Armbrust Poker.") I should be safer, as I am going by "LuckyScum."

In any case, we now play every day and I won't have as much time for blogging or calling. You can get updates by going to http://twitter.com/luckyscum and you can even get updates sent to your cellphone by registering for a twitter account yourself. I'll try to tweet at least six times a day.

To my tweets delivered automatically as text messages to your cellphone, do the following:
1) open a twitter account at twitter.com
2) register your cellphone (use the "mobile" tab to do so)
3) text "follow luckyscum" to 40404 (without the quote marks)

Dreams of Glory

2010-07-11T23:35:00.000-07:00

I usually room with Stephen for a few days at the beginning of the tournament, I've always soloed for the Main Event. This year I'm staying with John Armbrust, a good friend who I first met in the 2007 Main Event, the year I had the overall Day 1 chip lead. John (as he likes to remind me) went on to finish 18th and collect $383,202...and if it weren't for a pretty unlucky last hand might have won the whole damn thing. After we played together that year we went out for a few drinks and have become good friends; I went to his wedding and have gone up to teach some math and finance in his classroom. We are fiercely competitive, playing each other heads up for small sums until three in the morning, and even debating the merits of each other's blogs. (Here's his blog, with a nice description of both the Obama incident and our golf game.) Even though I have 3% of his action and he has 3% of mine, it rankles me slightly whenever he has more chips than I do and I'm sure he feels the same when I'm ahead. John constantly needles me about my age, eyesight, and technical know-how, and I tease him about his fastidiousness and overconfidence.

Even though we compete at everything, we are very protective of each other and would do absolutely anything anytime to further the other's chances. John also let me off pretty easy on the golf course and even made this nice testimonial to my prowess on the links.

The Romans were famous for their baths, and Caesar's spa feels like an underground cave with pools everywhere, water dripping from the cieling, and beautfully lit steam, sauna, and even an arctic cold room. On John's first trip to a spa he's stumbled into the nicest one I've ever seen. I tease John for thinking we need to bring towels to the spa but go easy on him in light of his mercy to me on the links.

It's already somewhat improbable that we would both have made it this far, but we hope to be roommates for another week. If so, we'd be in poker's promised land, guaranteed a million dollars for ninth place and with four full months to look forward to playing in front of all our friends and family at the Final Table for the title of World Champion. By the way, if you're reading this, you're invited!

Our nervousness manifests itself in different ways: John has a queasy stomach before we play and I sleep fitfully after about four in the morning. Once the cards are in the air, we both feel much better.

Day 2

2010-07-11T22:35:00.000-07:00

For the first half hour of day 2 I didn't win a single pot, tensed up a little and became dispirited. I knew I had plenty of chips and hadn't done anything wrong, but couldn't snap out of it until I finally picked up K K and J J on subsequent hands. It's amazing how much winning even a small pot or two will lift your spirits.

The hand of the day came right after the first break. In early position, I make a speculative (as opposed to value) raise with the 10 8 of clubs and get called by both blinds. The big blind hesitates for just a moment, apparently contemplating a raise. The flop comes As Qc Jc, not at all what I was hoping for but giving me a two-way straight draw (either a K or a 9 makes me straight) and a flush draw. Both players check to me, I bet 4300, the small blind folds but the big blind raises to 11,000. This is already a large pot and we've got lots more betting to come. My draw is strong enough that re-raising is an option, but I feel very strongly that my opponent won't fold. In fact, I suspect from the fact that he thought about re-raising before the flop that he has either two Jacks or Ace Queen, neither of which I would be able to get him to fold. So I'm better off calling, and trying not to go broke on the hand if I miss my draws.

The turn is the 2 of hearts, a complete miss for me. Now he bets 16,200 and I have 38,000 left. Similar logic argues against a raise here. I have enough outs to call but if the river is another blank I will only have 22,000 left. The last card is the King of Spades and I make the straight! My opponent clearly doesn't like this card, but he's not folding his hand and can't really expect me to have a ten here (I wouldn't put this much money in with A 10 and I would have reraised on the turn with K 10.) He moves all in and I gladly call. Just as I suspected, he has three jacks and instead of 22,000 I am stacking a pot with over 100,000 in chips!

I'm in poker heaven briefly, as I'm already where I hoped to end the day and we've got lots of poker left. I try to press my luck a little and spew about fifteen thousand chips. I tighten up and slow the slide, but a half an hour before dinner I am down to 55,000, feeling out of synch, tired, and discouraged. I find myself glancing at the clock every two minutes, longing for a chance to regroup.

The dinner break is wonderfully restorative. We race back to Caesar's, where my friend Rainbow has generously arrived early to reserve us a table at Rao's, his favorite Italian restaurant. I order and race back to the room to shower. I shave, shampoo, change my hairstyle and replace all of my unlucky clothes with new ones, including my favorite flashy shirt.

Dana has taught me a little EMDR and a little bilateral stimulation completes my mood change. A couple of small early postprandial pots and I am a new man. A large pot develops when the button raises to 2000 and I look down in the big blind to a pair of tens. I re-raise to 7000. He thinks, pauses, and makes it 17,000, leaving himself about 38000. I do not like this raise at all and am wishing I'd just called instead. Before folding, I take my time and think for a while. Finally, acting on a very dangerous impulse, I re-re-raise enough to put him all in. If he calls and I lose, I will have only 20,000 left. He thinks for a long time and folds. (In discussing this with my friends later, we think his most likely hands are two jacks or ace queen. If he folded Ace Queen, he's making a medium-sized mistake; if he folded two jacks, he had an 82% chance of winning!)

Finally, the night is over. I convince a couple of the players at my table to head up to the Voodoo Lounge. After that, my friend Bill Phipps calls, and I head over to the Bellagio at 1:00 a.m. to meet up with him, his girlfriend, and his poker celebrity friends, "Unabomber" Phil Laak and his girlfriend, actress Jennifer Tilly. Jennifer has just won $120,000 in a Bellagio poker tournament and is flying high. I ask her for a one-minute tournament summary and she talks in detail about poker hands for twelve minutes, somewhat bugging Phil, who's probably heard this all several times before.

summary, more later

2010-07-11T10:41:00.000-07:00

Made it through day 2 with 84,000 in chips, almost exactly average. About 2500 people left, 747 will make the money sometime on day 4.

Played golf on the off day, drop whatever you are doing and check out this golf action:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ct9pOWAOZY

(paste the link into your browser)

Main Event, Day One

2010-07-09T23:30:00.000-07:00

I felt cool, calm and collected and enjoyed Day 1 immensely. I never really got a major rush of cards, but looked for spots where raises and re-raises would have credibility. I like to think I picked my larcenous moments perfectly, but I was clearly lucky not to run into big hands when I did so. The man on my right, an options trader from Chicago, would flick the chips into the pot with a little clockwise spin sometimes, a "tell" I have noticed before that frequently indicates weakness or a speculative grade hand. The second time he did it I re-raised him and he folded, so I tried it twice more over the course of the evening with the same result. The only time I got in trouble all day was when he raised on the button and I had A Q, a potential trouble hand, but strong nevertheless in against a button raise. I sensed trouble, hesitated, thought about folding, and then thought about calling before deciding my hand had enough value to justify I raise. He called, and then called again on an 8 8 7 flop. I gave up on the turn (J), and he moved in, hinting later that he had A A or K K.

The last couple of levels I didn't make much progress, catching just enough legitimate hands to go with a few small steals and hold my ground. I dipped slightly before ending the night right where I'd been most of the day, a little above average with 52,000.

I was pretty tired, but for some reason John and I ended up staying up until three thirty in the morning, drinking wine and playing each other heads up.

Woke up pretty early, very grateful for an off day. Got a haircut, and then played golf for the first time in many years. John's a 6-handicap and I'm a total duffer, so he gave me a huge handicap: each of his strokes counted as two. We bet very small amounts of money on each hole and came out virtually even. It was tremendous fun, well worth a little scorn from the homefront about the wisdom of playing in the 107 degree heat.

Very tired, might make it to bed before midnight.

Old Guy fools everyone, especially me

2010-07-09T22:57:00.000-07:00

On the first day of the Main Event, there's one old guy at our table who doesn't seem to have a chance. He's got a hat on commemorating the 60th anniversary of some World War II battle in 2004. He can't see the cards ("Is that a queen?" he asks after the dealer puts a King out there), has to be reminded to hold his cards so his neighbors can't see them, and falls asleep twice in the first two hours of play. He's got a very passive style, always calling and never raising. I'm quite confident he won't even make the dinner break, but somehow he does.

After dinner, though, it's a whole different story. Now he's raising, re-raising, seemingly making some astute folds. In the span of about forty-five minutes he takes down about 5 big pots without ever having to show his cards. We're all wondering what the heck he has and when someone finally calls him he's got a monster full house! He not only makes it all the way through day one but torments our one legitimate internet star with a re-re-reraise to take a big pot from him.

A tournament setback from President Obama

2010-07-08T22:45:00.000-07:00

This year I'm staying at Caesar's, a significantly nicer hotel than the Rio, but still frowned upon by my high-rolling friends who prefer the Bellagio or the Venetian. We make the quick drive from the Rio on the dinner break but quickly notice that there are cops everywhere--in the elevators, guarding the rest rooms, and by all the doors. It turns out Obama is staying here overnight and giving a speech on behalf of Harry Reid at the Aria. Well, Mr. Phipps and Mr. Rosenbloom, if it's good enough for Obama it's good enough for me.

On our way back the parking garage is snarled in motionless traffic. The police tell us we won't move for half an hour until Obama's motorcade is clear. We decide to walk back, but aren't allowed out of Caesar's except at the front entrance on the wrong side of the Casino. I bribe the folks at the head of the cab line $20 for their spot in line, but the taxi is immediately stuck on the strip. We pay him $5 and decide to run the mile or so to the Rio in 95 degree heat. We have missed the start time and are anteing $25 a hand, and paying an average of $50/hand in blinds. (These are tournament chips, but it's really costing us about $750/hour to be absent.) It's pretty stressful, but we both have lots of chips and we're laughing as we jog. Just as we get to Flamingo we can see them open the street to traffic so I buttonhole a woman who's driving with her 12-year old son and offer her $30 to drive us to the tournament. She's not sure what to make of us, but her son persuades her to take the money. We hop in, hit all the right lights, and make there only about 8 minutes late.

World's biggest asshole--almost

2010-07-05T21:10:00.000-07:00

Monday morning I wake up, more than a little groggy. I have to admit that the short break between two trips has not been sufficiently rejuvenating, and I am not playing my best and not feeling my best. It's time to go home. Impulsively, I jam all my belongings into my suitcase and head for the airport, once again changing my $29 internet special flight to a $154 full fare to fly home 5 hours ahead of schedule.

Dana greets my early arrival with enough enthusiasm that I know instantly I've made the right decision.

In the days that follow, my exhaustion from the two trips to Vegas nearly equals her post-surgery recovery. I am oh-so-glad I came home and somehow find the energy--helped by copious naps--to earn her admiration for my efforts to nurse her back to health.

I'm writing this nearly two weeks after my last Vegas visit, finally able to accomplish a few things after ten days of compulsively searching World Series of Poker results, poker gossip, political machinations, and other trivia.

Just in time to head back to Vegas for the Main Event on Wednesday.

Looking too damn young

2010-06-21T20:57:00.000-07:00

Sunday I play in a 3700 person tournament, the $1000 "donkament." I last quite a while, milking my "tight old guy" personality while robbing them blind when they're not looking.

Halfway through the day two of my opponents make a bet on how old I am. One of them says 40, and the other says 44. (I'm actually 54.) Normally, their misestimates would be cause for jubilation. But given my default strategy of playing a tight old guy, I really prefer to look older. Oh well, let's just take the compliment and move on.

Unraveling

2010-06-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

Everyone falls apart in their own way when they get overtired. I forget my toothbrush this trip, then break a new one in half when I tried to rip it out of the plastic it came in, leaving myself a two inch stub that’s barely workable. Now I’ve even lost that, and though I vow to buy a new one every time I leave the room I somehow haven’t gotten around to it. I brought four pairs of glasses on the trip, sat on one pair, lost another, and I’m down to my last two.
More disturbingly, three times today someone has tapped me on the shoulder to tell me I’ve dropped a dollar out of my pocket. Now, the ratio of hundred dollar bills in my pocket to one dollar bills is something like fifteen to one, but no one’s told me yet that I’ve dropped a hundred. Could it be that I’m subconsciously more careful with the big bills, or is that people will be more honest for a dollar than a Franklin? If I make the seemingly reasonable assumption that people will be 50% honest about a $1 bill and just take the hundred, then I have theoretically dropped $9000 out of my pocket. Perhaps it's best not to dwell on this; the bulge in my case money pocket is still reassuringly thick.

Michelle, part II

2010-06-20T01:00:00.000-07:00

I've thought a lot about Michelle, the bartender at the Crown night club, and wondered whether our chance encounter was a genuine friendly moment or just a night club hustle. I haven't been to a strip club since my brother-in-law's bachelor party in 1995 and find them utterly distasteful. Still, I recollect from reading about them in some Bukowski novel that a classic hustle is for the the girl to invite you to buy drinks for two; you end up buying a $25 glass of champagne while she drinks an equally expensive glass of ginger ale. Could it all be an elaborate hustle? I'd prefer to believe it wasn't, but I really need to know. It's not that I mind being hustled--I enthusiastically bet $20 the first time I saw a Three Card Monte game in Manhattan, knowing I was going to be hustled. It's just that I don't want to think I've stumbled on to something real when in reality I'm just being taken for a mark.

My friends are still playing cards at midnight, but it's back to the Crown for me to find out.

At a mere 12:30 a.m. the Crown is in full swing. The narrow bar is totally packed, and Michelle is confidently perched there , dishing out cocktails at 90 mph while delightfully dressed in the same raunchy outfit as before. The left hand side of the bar is packed with NFL-sized black guys in suits, while the right side is 4 deep with a wedding party I guess to be from somewhere in Orange County. There's just enough psychic distrust between the two groups that I can get all the way to the bar between them, where I find myself next to a very inebriated bride.

You can really only appreciate what happens next if you've been 5'5.5" and tried to get a busy bartender's attention. In this case, the bride can't be ignored, so Michelle comes over and asks what I want. "A Heineken," I venture, and then add somewhat shyly "unless you're ready for a couple of shots." Finally recognizing me, she reaches over the bar, grabs both my wrists and squeals "You came back!" Next thing I know there's a Heineken in front of me and she grabs a couple of 6-oz glasses. She grabs a bottle of an exotic blend of Vodka I've never heard of and starts making some concoction. The NFL linebackers are thirsty, the wedding party is restless, but the bartender is ignoring all of them and whisking around a collection of mostly pink-colored liquids (grapefruit juice? sloe gin?) and taking her damn sweet time. Finally, while the rest of the bar is staring at me and having a WTF moment, the witches brew is complete, we clink our glasses in a toast and down the hatch, they're gone. It is at once an ultimately inconsequential and trivial moment and at the same time somehow triumphant; for some reason I get a huge kick out of it, and even today it is one of the fonder memories of my second Vegas trip.

Now it's time to pay the piper. I reach down into my pocket and wonder if, after leaving a huge wad in the hotel safe, I will have enough to pay for it. I am somewhat confused when it comes to $7 until I realize that Michelle has charged me only for the Heineken. I leave a huge tip and walk away, but all of a sudden I am immensely tired and want to be with my friend Stephen. I leave immediately, and go back to the room, still chuckling to myself.

Jerry Buss

2010-06-19T23:30:00.000-07:00

Having chopped up two satellites, I play one more smaller one, a desultory affair for which I lack the necessary heart and drive. Jerry Buss, the owner of the Los Angeles Lakers and a frequent poker fixture, is at the table. He’s in a great mood, since the Lakers beat the Celtics in game 7 yesterday. Jerry is a slightly sleazy but ultimately benign 75-year-old much loved by the poker community for his sloppy play and courtside tickets to the Lakers games. Jerry frequently shows up with ridiculously exotic ethnic escorts he invariably introduces as his “nieces.” Fifteen years ago I was playing in a tournament at the Bicycle Club in Los Angeles when a man had a heart attack or food poisoning (we never learned which) and had to be carried out on a stretcher. Except for the table in question, the tournament continued with no interruption and without much discussion. Five minutes later Jerry’s two escorts arrived and the entire room stood up and cheered for three minutes. Ah, poker players, such a classy bunch.

Brilliant Play, Pathetic Negotiation

2010-06-19T21:48:00.000-07:00

Bigger than a football field, the Pavilion room dwarfs the aptly-named Amazon room used in previous years. Just as I walk in they announce "two seats left in the next $1035 satellite for the Main Event." I grab the second-to-last ticket with enthusiasm, but when I get to my table I am in for a real surprise. Normally, some of the players will have a last longer bet for a hundred or two, but in this case the entire table has a thousand dollar last longer bet and the obvious table captain has 4 or 5 individual last longer bets with other players. When I decline he offers to put me in for $900 and put up the last $100 himself. I wonder what kind of table I've stepped into and wimpishly decline his very sporting offer. To give myself cover, I offer to make a "last shorter" bet--essentially betting I'm going to lose right away--which no one ever accepts. Three people immediately want to do that with me and now I have to back out of that as well! It's clear I've come to a gambling table, but also clear that the entire table is full of solid professionals. The last player to arrive just looks a little weak and I find myself hoping that he and I are the last ones standing.

The very first hand, the weak player has K 10, the table captain has K Q, the flop comes K Q 5, the weak player makes a very foolish call of the captain's raise. The turn is a 10 and now they both have two pair and get all their chips in the pot. Oops, the weak player can only win with another 10, which promptly appears as the last card. Just like that, on the very first hand, the table captain is busted; to his credit he takes this atrocious bad beat in stride, pays off the four thousand in last longer bets he just lost and tells us to come find him when we're ready to gamble.

The rest of the table is actively gambling, but I get such a string of bad cards I hardly play a single hand. Finally, I decide it's time to take advantage of my presumed tightness and, when the short-stacked button raises, I move all in with K 4. He folds immediately and then goes on a tirade about what a nit I am: "You act like you came to gamble and offer to make a last shorter bet, but that's the first hand you've played."

The next hand is one of my all time favorite hands. With his words still hanging in the air, everybody folds around to me in the small blind. I look down at A 9, normally not much but given that everyone has folded a decent but not great hand, probably worth a raise. Instead of raising, however, I have this weird feeling that if I just call, the player to my right, subconsciously influenced by the tirade about what a nit I am, will bet his whole stack figuring there's no way this old nit will call. I call the additional 100, the guy to might right reaches for a handful of chips, and then, exactly as I surmised instead of making an equally effective but less risky 500 dollar raise, pushes his 4000 dollar stack into this mere 200 dollar pot. I snap-call (instantaneously call) for added effect, he shows 10 9, and my A 9 is a huge favorite and, indeed, holds up. What I like about this hand is that I was able to pick up on the effect that the comment about me being a nit would have on my opponent, and change my strategy to capture his whole stack.

The tournament takes another hour to complete, and, taking advantage of my tight image to rob the other players mercilessly, combined with a run of good cards and good luck when needed, leaves just me and the player I mentally labeled as weak as the only two left. The satellite is $10,000 winner take all, but it's very common to settle when there are just two players left, as walking away empty-handed at that point is one of the worst feelings in the world. He really wants to settle, imploring me not to court disaster by continuing, and offers me a slightly better settlement than our chip stacks would indicate. Even though I noted before the satellite started that I wanted to play him heads up, in a moment of weakness I agree to settle.

As we wait for them to bring us our prize money, we get to talking and he reveals that he's runs a junkyard as a scrap dealer. For some reason this really galls me: I could have played on, risking unpleasantness but as a significant favorite, and instead I settled with a junkyard scrap dealer!> This both amuses me and sickens me; I am not even mollified when I walk away from the table with an extra $5000 in my pocket. A scrap dealer, for goodness sakes. What was I thinking?

Vegas Logic

2010-06-19T19:29:00.000-07:00

Back in Pokerland, my well-intentioned friends are trying to convince me to re-evaluate my decision to skip my favorite poker tournament coming up this Monday to fly home to be with my wife, Dana, who's having back surgery on Wednesday.

The "Vegas Logic" argument:
(1) The tournament starts on Monday, and she's not having surgery until Wednesday. 9 out of ten times you'll be out the first day anyway.
(2) 99 times out of 100 you'll be out the second day and you can still make the surgery.
(3) If, by some chance, you survive until the third day you'll be at the Final Table and in for enough money that it will all be worth it.

I will mull this over.

But first, it's Saturday night in Vegas and I'm spending my time blogging. Let's get out of here and hit the poker tables!

The Seniors tournament

2010-06-18T00:21:00.000-07:00

Old guys get no respect at the World Series of Poker, and for the most part they don’t deserve much. The stereotype is that they play extremely tight, nitty game and completely disintegrate mentally halfway through a long day. Normally, if I see an old guy at my tournament table, I'm expecting him to get culled from the herd pretty quickly. Of course, now that I'm older I'm sure that's what they all think when the look at me.

I am 54 and I now need glasses to be sure what my cards are. (I’m 95% sure without them, but that’s nowhere near good enough. Also, they look better, stronger, and more inviting when the marks are larger.) My hair’s a little grayer, and I use a lumbar support pad for my back. And yes, I get pretty tired at the end of a long day. But the stereotype of old guys is so pervasive that it presents an opportunity: if they assume you are really tight, play like a maniac and watch them all fold. This works particularly well in a tournament setting when you are playing with complete strangers and change tables frequently. I’ve even seriously considered dyeing my hair white to look older.

Today, though, we're playing the Seniors event and everyone is over 50. I played in it for the first time last year and was shocked at what a weak field it was. This year the guy to my right tells me before we start that he looks forward to this all year long. He gets the whole table to autograph is receipt and tells us that last year he wore the colored wristband you get so they know you're a player for three weeks. He obviously doesn't realize it, but he's given away a perfect roadmap for how to play against him: put him to a quick test for all of his chips and unless he's holding something super strong he's going to throw it away automatically.

I get virtually no cards for nine hours but survive by robbing them to death. But the worst part is listening to their stories. Am I going to be that boring at the poker table some day?

Finally, I get low on chips yet again only this time I run into a real hand. Adios, viejos! Hasta la proxima vez!

Home, briefly

2010-06-15T00:19:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my extended tournament run, I arrive 24 hours late on Sunday evening with just a few days to rest before my Thursday return to Vegas. Dana and the kids are great, full of congratulations but more importantly letting me sleep in. For my part, I try really hard to be helpful around the house, cleaning, cooking, blowing the Jacaranda leaves off the porch and trying to avoid complicated conversations.
I can see a problem looming on the horizon, though. Dana is scheduled for back surgery a week from Wednesday, and my favorite tournament starts Monday, with the final table on Wednesday. After all the extra work I’ve made Dana do for the World Series this year, though, there’s just no way I can justify playing in it.
Thursday rolls around all too fast, and almost before I know it I’m back on a plane to Vegas for part II.

Day 3, $2500 limit six-handed

2010-06-14T00:17:00.000-07:00

Coincidentally, at the same time I start Day 3 of the 6-handed limit tournament, Zane’s high school surf team is in the National Finals of Surfing—The Game. This event is the highlight of the surf year I wouldn’t miss it for anything…except this. I like the idea that we’re both competing at the very top of our sports at the same time.
Twelve of us start the day at two six-handed tables. Initially, it goes really well for me. I win the very first hand with A K, then re-raise the old guy with A A and he calls me down all the way. I win another pot with 6 6 by betting twice on a K Q 7 2 board and suddenly I’ve nearly tripled up, going from 110,000 in chips to 280,000 in the first half an hour. Not only that, but Rainbow and his friends are watching my rush from the rail.
I’m not by nature a cocky guy, tending instead to be a bit of a pessimist. At this moment, though, I feel as centered, serene, and confident as I’ve ever felt at the poker table. I feel clear-headed and poised, in control, and almost clairvoyant. I don’t necessarily think I’m going to win the whole thing, but I feel very confident I’ll make the final 6.
It’s a wonderful sensation, but all too brief. As it turns out, I’ve actually just won my last hand of the tournament. A half an hour later, I’m all in before the flop with A J against K 2, a respectable 65% favorite that becomes a big underdog when the first card up is a King. I’m out in 9th place, and wander over to the cashier to collect my $16,300.
It’s a very respectable finish, a nice pile of cash, and I don’t really feel too bad about it. A couple of hours more of decent cards, however, and I’d be playing for a couple of hundred thousand dollars and my first World Series win.
But there’s no time for regrets. I’ve got myself booked on an 8:00 pm flight home, and I’ll have to hurry to make it. Somehow, every Vegas trip ends the same way: a few wistful thoughts about what might have been, and a mad scramble to throw one’s things in the suitcase, lock down the cash securely, and bolt for the airport.

Vegas, 4:00-5:30 a.m.

2010-06-13T06:37:00.000-07:00

The last hour, following Dana’s suggestion, I have a margarita and then a beer while we rack up our chips, but I am still way too wound up to even think about sleeping when I finally leave the poker room at 3:45 a.m. I rush back to my room, drop off my stuff, and race off to try to make Last Call at the Voodoo Lounge. I’m too late, and out of desperation check out Court, the Rio’s attempt at a hot night club. It’s on its last throes, a half dozen couples making out in the lounges or weaving aimlessly on the dance floor. I sidle up to the bar to virtuously order a bottle of water. The bartender is tall and very attractive in a fierce sort of way. She’s dressed in a variant of Vegas sleaze that’s strikes a resonant chord somewhere near my root chakra: a black halter top low enough to cover almost nothing of her pink bra, short black leather pants, coarse fishnet stockings, and black leather boots. I hand her $8 for the $6 bottled water and figure that’s the end of it—after all, I’m at least twenty years older than anyone else in the joint, I’ve been sweating profusely playing poker for thirteen hours and I’m dressed in my faux-businessman wrinkly collared shirt. For some reason she strikes up a conversation with me and wants to know what I think of her club. Then she offers to treat us to a couple of shots on her tab and I hesitate for a nanosecond before thinking “Hey, this is Vegas.” I suggest tequila and she makes a face and counters with Vodka and Red Bull. I tell her the Red Bull would keep me up for days and I have a poker tournament at noon (a slight exaggeration, but I want to make it clear this is my last shot). It’s settled: a Vodka Red Bull for her, and a vodka cranberry shooter for me. We knock them back and, not wanting to overstay my welcome, I start to drift off. “Come on back when you’re not in a tournament,” she says, and adds “Tell the bouncers you’re Michelle’s guest and you won’t have to pay anything.”

On my way back to the room I notice two very attractive and quite tipsy young Asian girls getting more money at the cashier’s line. I think nothing of it until I see them five minutes later in the gift shop. One of them is taking a picture of the other fanning a sheaf of hundreds and acting like she just won it all at the tables. As I always do, I offer to take their picture together and of course they agree. I can’t help busting them by mentioning that I saw them withdraw all that money at the cashier’s cage. They’re not the least beat sheepish about it and flash me a big grin. It takes me a while to locate a toothbrush and the other sundries I’m looking for. When I finally make it to the cash register, they’re in line ahead of me with a bottle of vodka, a bottle of Kahlua, and a six-pack of beer, obviously meant for immediate consumption.

At times like this I wish I’d discovered Vegas when I was single.

$2500 6-handed limit hold'em, Day 2

2010-06-12T18:58:00.000-07:00

My starting stack of 11,000 is not very much, but I was in trouble all day yesterday and am just going to try to play well and have fun. Most of the day I am short-stacked and facing elimination, but each time I go all in I win. It's fun being in the Amazon room, and I eye the final table area with growing hope as the day goes on. They pay 36 places, and normally play comes to a halt as the money bubble approaches. But with 39 left, 2 people bust on the same hand at our table and someone immediately afterward goes broke on the adjoining table. Everyone is momentarily confused, and the floor staff remarks that this is the fastest bubble they've ever seen! We're in the money now, all of us guaranteed at least $5,200.

Next hand I pick up K 10 and am three-bet by an aggressive Vietnamese woman. The flop comes J 10 4, turn a 3, and river a King. I actually thought I was ahead the whole time and the King makes me a little nervous, so I just call her on the end. She triumphantly turns over aces, and can't believe I didn't raise on the end. She glares and me and for the rest of the tournament talks like she's out to get me.

I'm moved to another table with yet another aggressive oriental woman, JJ Liu, with whom I have an extensive history. On the hand of the day, I raise with A 2 only to be re-raised by JJ Liu. The flop comes 7 7 4. I check, she bets, I call. The turn is a Queen. I check, she bets $8000. I have only $25,500 left, but I decide impulsively to check-raise her here, pushing $16,000 of my chips into the pot and leaving myself just barely enough for one more $8000 bet on the river. I am representing a huge hand here, a pair of Queens at least. JJ asks how many chips I have left, and pauses for a long time. She is talking to herself, trying to work out whether she could still have the best hand. Three, four, five minutes go by. I am trying to remain calm, but I know that she has the best hand, and if she calls or raises my tournament life is over. Finally she says, "I just don't think you'd risk your last chips without a real hand" and folds. I exhale a huge sigh of relief as the dealer pushes 60,000 in chips my way.

JJ really wants to know what I had. I tell her I can't tell her now, but will tell her when the tournament is over. She spends every free second staring at me, and gradually convinces herself that I have bluffed her.

Finally, another similar hand comes down against Ahn, the Vietnamese woman. In this hand, I call her button raise with J 9 out the big blind, and check-raise the A 8 7 flop. She re-raises and I call. The turn is a Jack, and I check-raise her again, leaving myself just 3 chips which I bet on the blank river. JJ is looking at me horrified, as the similarity in the action on this hand now and the hand I played against her now has her 100% convinced I bluffed her. Except for JJ, the entire table is convinced I have the nuts and for some reason I decided to show my meager two jacks. JJ is livid; fortunately, we are down to 27 players and redraw for seats.

My new table is tougher, and the chip leader to my right is an overweight 24 year old internet kid named Brian Meinders, who is brilliantly analyzing every hand. Three other internet turks and a 35-year old Russian complete the table. Brian is disappointed when he finds out the 35-year old is Russian. "Is Russia the new Finland?", I ask, referring to the influx of very talented Finns in the last five years. "Worse," says Brian. "They're all very, very good." Brian also says that at 24 he's not as sharp as he used to be, but that he's going to keep on raising until he's an old geezer getting check-raised by a bunch of kids. "Tell me about it," I say, and the table laughs.

Near the end of the night I get 10 10 on the button, 3-bet, and am check-raised on a K 5 2 flop. I have way to much of a shot to fold, so I call and call again on the turn before the river is the sweetest looking 10 spot I've ever seen. He bets, I raise, and he gets completely disgusted as he knows I must have beaten him. The next hand he puts his last chips in the pot with 6 6 against my A Q, and I spike a Queen on the turn. Just like that I'm up to 200,000, my high so far.

Unfortunately, I am whittled down a little and we end the night with 12 people left. I am in 11th place with 110,000. But since I've been playing short the whole tournament, it doesn't really bother me. We bag up our chips for Day 3, I rework my hotel and airline reservations, and leave the Amazon room about 3:45 a.m.

The Pool

2010-06-12T18:46:00.000-07:00

By mid-afternoon the desert winds are so strong that the pool is filled with cups, plastic bags, and debris from the many palm trees. Sometimes it's so windy that the chairs are blown around and they have to close the pool. It's crowded, filled with already-drinking college students and families with kids.

At ten a.m. it's tranquil and nearly empty, a few committed sun-worshippers oiling up and a handful of regulars reading newspapers and racing forms. It's hot but not yet unbearable, and the cloudless sky is a trippy cerulean hue. The water temperature is surprisingly, almost shockingly cold. I never swim laps the rest of the year, but find the exercise oddly calming. Instead of counting laps, I imagine the various blind levels, thus "25-50" is the first round trip, "50-100" the second, and so on.

After banging out a mile, I am enjoying myself so much that I violate one of my rules and spend a whole hour in the enervating sun.

Day 1 -- $2500 limit six-handed

2010-06-12T18:37:00.000-07:00

My third tournament is one of my favorite events, a game I have played countless hours of at home. I am relaxed and ready for the 5 pm start, and pick up K K for my very first hand. After that, unfortunately, it is all downhill for a while and I am very short on chips at the dinner break. Shortly after that I go all in for my last 1100 (out of a starting stack of 7500) in a five-way pot with Q J. The flop comes Q 4 2, turn K, river K, and my hand is good. Just like that I'm back in it, though still quite short. It's a see-saw ride all night long and I am all in many times. At 3 a.m. when we quit, there are 108 players left out of 384 entrants. My 11500 in chips is well short of average, but I am thrilled to finally make a Day 2.

I barely have time to make it before closing time to the Voodoo Lounge, 50 floors up with the best view in Vegas. It's still 85 degrees, with a strong desert breeze. Just as I arrive, they play my current favorite Lady Gaga song, Bad Romance. As I listen to it, staring out at the skyline silhouette of the Strip, I am happy and content with the world.

A miserable start

2010-06-11T00:06:00.000-07:00

I'm out fairly quickly in my first two tournaments. In the $2000 limit, I lose a little the first hand and never again have as many chips as I started with. I play a little tight the first hour to solidify my impression as a nit, but after that get no cards and my stack gets ground down little by little in a most unsatisfying fashion. In the $1500 Pot Limit Omaha, things go a little better. I last about 6 hours, and have increased my chips about 50%, a little less than average but quite respectable. I pick up As Qs 10s 4c and raise the cutoff limper, bringing the big blind along for the ride. The blop is a beautiful Kc Jh 9c, giving me the best possible hand with redraws to a better hand if a Q or a 10 come. The big blind bets 2500, the limper calls, and I have just enough to make a pot-sized raise to 12000. Both of them call. If I win, I will triple up and be the table leader. But this is Omaha, and flopping the nuts is no guarantee. When the river is the 8c I know at least one of the other two has the flush and before the limper turns it over I am out of my chair and packing up my things. A fun run, and a classic last hand. My mood is not too bad, as I have one more tournament tomorrow to finish up my first trip. Still, it's a long trudge back to the room.

Finally, off to Vegas!

2010-06-09T09:00:00.000-07:00

I look forward to the World Series of Poker all year. The World Series is most inviting a month or so away, when it's easy to dream of life-changing riches and imagine all the fun and adventure. As it approaches, I worry that I might play bad. I worry that I might run bad. And I worry that I will have looked forward to this for many months and that it won’t be any fun, just a grim succession of uninspiring short tournament runs. So I am somewhat gloomy when I wake up on the day of my flight. But when I check my e-mail, I perk up considerably. My good friend Ken, who will join me on my second trip, is scheduled for a colonoscopy today. Hey! I’m going to Vegas and he’s getting a colonoscopy! All of a sudden I’m in a fantastic mood, so good I finally dare open the IRS notice I’ve been ignoring. For once it’s mostly positive news: instead of overcharging me $35,000, they’ve agreed to overcharge me $1000. And just the night before I had my best night online in a couple months. All these are welcome signs that my luck may be changing, but it's been tough for so long I'm still skeptical.

More trouble at the bank

2010-06-05T23:45:00.000-07:00

Two years ago I wrote how difficult I find it to go to the bank and withdraw the necessary cash for Las Vegas. It’s gotten worse. The UIGEA (Uniform Internet Gambling Enforcement Act) makes it a crime for a bank to knowingly assist poker players in their transfer of funds. I’ve been playing cat and mouse with the bank in this regard, sending and receiving money from a handful of ephemeral payment processors that stand in between me and the internet sites. In addition, my trading and investment activity call for frequent international wire transfers. Then there are withdrawals and deposits of large sums of cash for poker, and the wire transfers to Las Vegas. The last straw was the purchase of a surf house in Nicaragua. When I asked for a copy of the wire transfer form they wouldn’t give it to me—but I snuck a peak as she held it in her hand and saw that it had been flagged as suspicious. I so dread dealing with them that I go to a different branch to wire funds to the Rio and get my cash. I am pleasantly surprised when the teller is himself a poker fan, very impressed that I am playing in the World Series and friendly and helpful instead of gruff and suspicious.

Poker advice from the LPGA

2010-05-15T23:42:00.000-07:00

My good friend Evelyn was on the LPGA tour for seven years and her partner still plays but is also having a tough go of it. There are a lot of similarities between the mental aspects of golf and poker and when Evelyn describes her partner’s struggles she might as well have been talking about me. “You lose a few times and shake it off. After a couple more losses, however, you start to expect to lose, which makes it harder to win. Before long, you start thinking you deserve to lose, and then you have no chance.” Fortunately, Evelyn has a prescription. “The way to break this pattern is to attack the notion that you deserve to lose. Make a list of ten things to do every day and make sure you do them. Get up early and go to the gym. Do this for a couple of weeks and in the back of your mind you’ll start to believe you deserve to win again.”

I’ve been to the gym more than I ever thought I would. You know what, Evelyn? I almost think I deserve to win again.

To blog or not to blog

2010-04-30T23:37:00.000-07:00

From 2003-2006 the combination of massive television exposure and the explosive growth of internet poker created a poker boom of easy money that will never occur again.
It’s been nearly two years since my last blog entry and, sadly, my pessimistic predictions about the poker world have largely come to pass. I can no longer count on a six-figure income from playing an hour and half a day of high stakes limit hold’em on my home computer while sipping my third chardonnay. The 200-400 games rarely go these days, and when they do they are extraordinarily tough. Like me, most of my opponents have dropped many levels, playing 30-60 and even 15-30 to remain consistent winners. The live poker games have toughened up quite a bit as well.
It’s also been two and a half years since I saw a paycheck. I had a great year trading in 2008 while the rest of the world suffered, but 2009 was lean and 2010 is off to a very rough start.
I look forward to the World Series of Poker like nothing else, but this year it looks like it’s coming in the middle of a major losing streak. It’s not going to be fun to write or read this blog if it’s one lugubrious losing entry after another.

Poker blog coda

2008-07-19T04:38:00.000-07:00

I've been back home a week putting it all in perspective. At the bustout moment, 487th place might as well have been 4870th place, but here in Encinitas it's the difference between being a colorful degenerate and a minor rock star. Other than forgetting I had tickets to Tuesday's Pageant of the Masters and a couple of annoying $38 late fees on credit cards I've functioned quite well. I've got a ton of enthusiasm for taking my commodities fund to the next level and I've been trading really well.

Writing this blog has been equally satisfying and almost as much fun as playing poker. I will miss it as much as the World Series of Poker, but it's time to say good bye until next year.

Good luck, everyone!

Poker's little secret

2008-07-19T04:04:00.000-07:00

The big $4000-$8000 game in Las Vegas rarely starts these days. Susquehanna's top traders can't make money any more online. (Susquehanna is the gamer's Wall Street firm--they hire backgammon players and actually teach poker as part of their curriculum. A few more months on my own and they'll be my only realistic career option.) Chat boxes online tell the same story. Internet poker as an ATM is dying.

My own experience, with this year off to a record start and a little over ten thousand in the week I've been back, seems more and more like positive semivariance and less and less like a promising career choice.

The root of the problem lies at the bottom of the poker pyramid. The much-loathed UIGEA (Uniform Internet Gambling Enforcement Act) has made it much more difficult for casual players to deposit money online. The smaller stakes games are now filled with poker bots, automated programs with increasingly sophisticated poker strategies, that suck money from the players at the low end of the poker food chain. With a greatly diminshed ability for rank amateurs to get lucky and try their hand at larger games, the supply of easy money in the bigger games is choked off.

It's a vicious cycle. Without fish in the $500-1000 game, those players drop down a level or two to compete with me in the $100-200 and $200-400 games, making them that much tougher.

This process won't happen overnight, but over the course of the next several years. There's going to be an awful lot of 24-year olds applying to Susquehanna after that!

It's been a great ride, a career highlight, and I hope I can extract a half million or so more before it's all over.

Out!

2008-07-11T02:42:00.000-07:00

487th, $25,000, out on the last hand of the night...the crippling blow came much earlier, when the first to act raised to $15,000 and I found myself with two Kings in the big blind. While I was contemplating what to do, he said "I'll give anyone who doubles me up one percent of my action." This obviously meant that he would call, so I moved in and he called with A K. At the time, I was about a 70% favorite, looing like a 91% favorite when the first four cards were J J 3 J. Unfortunately, an Ace came on the river and the dealer shoved the $225,000 pot to him. Ouch!

I had only $65,000 left, about one fourth of the average stack, but played it carefully and shrewdly and worked it up to $150,000 again. I then lost three successive coin flips,finally busting out on the very last hand of the night to the A K guy when I had 8 8 and he had A K again. Once I was out, everyone erupted in cheers, as they were all moving on to day 4. There were so many bustouts it was going to take a tortuous hour of standing in various lines to get paid. I wisely bolted, but now have to wait until they re-open at 1 pm.

There are no words to describe the sadness I feel, hopes and dreams crushed. A couple drinks, a late meal, and a sleeping pill are the best I can do. Tomorrow, perhaps, I will have some appreciation for my Vegas trips this year, which have now been not only a wild ride, but also a modest financial success.

A few memories from today: seeing Forest Griffin, who just won a huge upset Ultimate Fighting championship victory and played in the world series of poker with cuts on his face and a black eye. An attractive woman in a modern burkha (otherwise you couldn't tell) on the rail at the table next to me, reading the Koran out loud as she roots for her partner. Evelyn Ng and Shannon Elizabeth at the same table. A man who misread his A 4 as A A -- you can see from the typefont how they can easily be confused--and went all in for $90,000 against an opponent who had the real A A. "I have A A too," he said, and rolled over A 4. Ooops! No problem, the flop comes 4 4 4 and the A A is drawing completely dead.

My brother is fond of saying "That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I believe this will be true about my Vegas trip.

I just would have liked to have lasted a little while longer.

Brief update, dinner break, Day 3

2008-07-10T20:02:00.000-07:00

Out of a starting field of 6844, we are down to around 750. Of these 750, 666 will walk away with a guaranteed $21,000 and a shot at $9.1 million. The other 84 will get nothing. Play will be very tense for the next three hours until we hit 666.

I've played like a nit for the past few hours, not entering many pots and occasionally exploiting my tight image for a reraise steal. It hasn't been fun. I got ground down to around $140,000 before winning a huge pot from Robert Mizrachi when my J J connected strongly with a Q Q J flop. Now I've got $200,000 in chips, a little above average.

If I were playing optimally, I'd go crazy here trying to rob people. Unfortunately, I suffer from a common amateur drawback--making the money has too much non-monetary utility to really risk it. So it's back to being a bit of a nit until the bubble breaks.

On to day 3...with a boatload of chips!

2008-07-10T01:24:00.000-07:00

Almost 3 am and we replay again at noon, with half the field fresh from a day off, so this may be brief. I rode a sick roller coaster for the last four hours of the day, losing 28,000 on the very first hand when I made what can only be called a speculative all-in re-raise of a very tight player who raised in the cut-off. He had K K. Oops! I chip my way back to $32,000 and order a massage from my masseuse from 10 days ago. Immediately, one of the old fishes min-raised to $2000 in the hijack and I smooth-called with 8 8. The big blind raised $5000 more, the old fish called, and I moved in for 25,000 more. The big blind folded, and the old fish hemmed and hawed and finally called with A K. I flop a set and am back to $70,000.
For the first time all tournament I shift into maniac mode and steal with 7 2 and 10 2 just because the situation calls for it. The kid on my right is a human card rack, re-raising me almost every time. The few hands he shows are legitimate, so I give him credit for a while. Finally, I feel I can no longer raise, so I limp on the button with K J. He raises to $6,000. I'm sick of it, so I re-raise to $20,000. He folds K J face up, so of course I show him the same hand.

We're all pretty ragged after 9 1/2 hours of play. I keep vowing to steal and re-steal more, but can't always pull the trigger. Usually, too, it would have worked. Finally, in the last 10 minutes I pick up A A and raise a limper to 5500. The small blind, min-raises to 11,000, signifying a really strong hand. Against most players, I would smooth call here, but he is a banana so I raise to $30,000. He moves in instantly and I call my remaining $45,000. He has K K, of course. If a King comes, I will be out of the tournament.................but the board is safe and I double up to $158,000. I was quite content to end the day at $75,000 so this is huge!

We are down to 1324 players out of the original 6844. The average stack is $103,000, so I am in great shape. Tomorrow should be fun. There's just one problem--I am totally wound up and celebrate 55 stories up at the Voodoo Lounge, where 30 mile an hour winds, 95 degree heat, and the best view in Vegas compliment my mood.

Time for sleep, let's hope a couple Tylenol PM can get the job done.

Quick update, dinner break, day 2

2008-07-09T20:19:00.000-07:00

47K, average is 75K. Some old guy is so tight I'm raising his big blind without looking at my cards in the cutoff. Another old guy was moved to our table and nearly always limps, folding to a raise 90% of the time. The dangerous internet kid has donked off 3/4 of his chips to an Asian maniac who is now trying to take over the table.

Four more hours.

Now I know why I put up with the Rio--I've had time to eat, shower, blog, and even a quick nap. Try doing that at the Bellagio, you high rollers!

Day 2, four hours in

2008-07-09T16:49:00.000-07:00

After a nice rush up to $50,000 I am moved to a tough table where I have yet to win a hand. Down to $40K after four hours. We're getting rid of the now-unnecessary $25 chips so I have an extra ten minutes--time enough to hit the room, take a rejuvenating shower, and change clothes.

I'm well below average, but the beauty of this event is that there's plenty of play left.

Feeling good, ready to get a little frisky if the right opportunity comes along.

Why play poker, especially tournaments?

2008-07-08T22:11:00.000-07:00

OK, this probably isn't the post you're expecting on the eve of Day 2 of the World Championship, but it's a fair question so let's take a stab at it.

Poker itself is highly debatable, but the case against poker tournaments is trivially easy to make. They are extraordinarily stressful (it's like having your testicles squeezed in a slowly tightening vice for a week), exhausting, time-consuming, and only marginally profitable at best. At least 80% of the time you'll put in a lot of hard work for absolutely no return. You spend hour after hour with a bunch of mostly sleazy characters whose idea of love is hookers, whose idea of culture is sports betting, whose only goal is to take as many of your chips as quickly and efficiently as possible. Repeated exposure ruins one's attention span, messes with your dopamine balance, and makes conventional work pretty much unthinkable.

Final tournament preparations obviously preclude a complete response here, but here's four plausible reasons.

Escape--The game of poker is so compelling it's the ultimate escape. Whether it's a tough day at the office, a spousal argument, or even a 102 degree fever, once the cards are in the air you are magically transported to a world where nothing else matters.

Masochism--If you're at all familiar with Amos Tversky's work on loss aversion then you know that people are hurt by losses twice as much as they feel good by the corresponding gains. Who but a masochist would enter a poker tournament, where the payoff structure is guaranteed to give 90% of the entrants nothing and leave everyone else except the first place finisher somewhat disappointed as well?

Addiction--Let's face it, poker is highly addicting. I can't count the number of times I've gone downstairs at night to "peak in on the kids" or sat down at my desk intending to check the markets and five minutes later found myself playing three games at once.

It's the best game ever--Sorry, chess players, but a simple alpha-beta pruning algorithm makes your game computationally equivalent to tic-tac-toe while all but the very simplest poker problems are computationally infeasible even before you throw in the most compelling part of poker: adapting your game to the psychological make-up of the players around you and weaving as much larceny as possible into a plausible narrative that takes into account the recent history of the game. Finally, while I've only slightly exaggerated the sleaziness of the average poker player, at the higher levels there are increasingly many clever, imaginative, daring, and totally honest human beings with a razor-sharp wit honed to sharpness by the whims of randomness.

I'm going with the fourth explanation, but I suspect a more honest answer is more like "all of the above."

Vegas without Poker

2008-07-08T17:31:00.000-07:00

Two days in Vegas without poker takes a toll. If I see one more platinum blonde who's moronically enhanced her chest to DDD size I may lose it. Ditto for overweight poker slobs with stupid T-shirts and poor hygiene.

I really, really need to change my cellphone ringtone. The slot machines I pass every time I step out of the elevator sound just like it, discombobulating me momentarily every time.

Last night I went to PokerStars' party at The Palms' fancy new nightclub, Rain. John and I timed it perfectly, catching the contortionist Dita von Teese's sexy moves on a ring high above the dance floor. Other dancers on spotlit platforms gyrated madly with Vegas' patented bump 'n' grind thrusts--but all I wanted was to be back in my room finishing Vanity Fair's excellent article on Bear Stearns.

I've been eager to eat brunch at the Venetian's Bouchon for a long time. Twice in the past I've been there just as it closed with only a chocolate croissant for consolation. Today Rainbow and I agreed to meet there, but when I arrived it was closed for renovation. I joked that eating brunch at Bouchon was tougher than making the Final Table!

If all goes well, six 12-hour days of poker await me. So tonight I'll hit the sack early after watching a half-hour or so of the tournament, eating a light dinner, and doing a few review exercises on all-in calling odds.

Without a lot of chips, I'll probably be flying under the radar but you can get some tournament updates from either Card Player or the official World Series of Poker website.

Thrilled to be alive for day 2!

2008-07-07T03:39:00.000-07:00

Somehow or other I stuck to my plan of being patient (not at all easy for me!) even as my stack dipped dangerously low to $7500, making me the low man at the table. A cleverly played AQ doubled me up and I took full advantage of my (justified) tight old man image to steal a few pots. I got lucky twice, once when I found AK on the button and the big blind re-raised me all in with AQ and my kicker played on a 3 4 5 6 8 board and late in the evening when I had A A and busted the player to my right who had K K. The last two cards were Queens and I have never ever seen cards look so much like Kings before!

To make a long story short I ended the night with $37150 in chips, near average for Day 2. I now have two full days off to catch up on sleep and blogging, so expect some good stories.

I'll leave you with this one, courtesy of my good friend Bill Phipps. One of his buddies spent four hours before today's event getting himself made up as an old guy and has been disguising his steal attempts with classic old guy moves. (For example, sighing, frowning, and then moving all in with shaking hands.)

Needless to say, this makes me think I should take more advantage of my default image as "some random tight old guy" and rob these youngsters blind.

Bill is one of my true high-roller friends, who would think nothing of betting $10,000 on a blackjack hand to get a comp to cut a cab line, and who regularly bets six figures on absurd Super Bowl prop bets. Like all the rest of him, he sneers at my room at the Rio, preferring to alternate between classier places such as the Bellagio and the Venetian. I'm willing to stay at the Rio because it's more convenient and I can dart up to my room for a shower at the dinner break, but every time I venture out I see their point. I thought I had Bill for a minute when he mentioned he had a room at the Rio last year, but when I called him on it he one-upped me by letting me know he also had a room at the Bellagio. Sigh. I'll never be a real high-roller, certainly not as long as I keep my Honda Civic and put up with the grime at the Rio.

In any case, we had a marvelous time, quaffing a few well-deserved beers with Bill, his devastatingly beautiful black 6' 22 year-old nursing student girlfriend, and my friend John Armbrust, who was totally miserable about a few key hands at the end of the night even though he ended up with more chips than me.

As for me, having virtually counted myself out at the dinner break, I am beyond ecstatic to have mounted a serious comeback and be fully in contention when the tournament resumes in two days.

Prize Pool Announced

2008-07-06T20:01:00.001-07:00

The announcement of the prize pool should be motivation to play intelligently and not steam off the last of my chips. I still have $5000 in equity; here's what we're playing for:

1st: $9.1 million
...
9th: $910,000
...
666th: $21,000

OK...let's have at 'em!

Off to a terrible start

2008-07-06T19:20:00.000-07:00

The first hand I played was AA and milked 8,000 (out of starting stacks of 20,000) from a player with JJ. At the first break I still had 21,000, but didn't really feel in the groove and definitely wasn't having fun. Four hours later, I'm down to half my original stack, but oddly, I'm having fun again and like the way I'm playing. Things will have to turn around fast after the dinner break as we hit 150-300 blinds with 25 antes. Here's the plan:

1. Meditate
2. Shower
3. Change out of these clearly unlucky clothes--every article must go!

Go back and wait patiently for a good spot for a few orbits. If nothing's happened in 45 minutes or so, I will have to force the issue while I still have a chance to make them fold. If called, I'll probably be a 2-1 dog and have to get lucky.

Your positive thoughts are most welcome at this juncture.

Vegas, one more time

2008-07-05T22:06:00.000-07:00

For the first time in 20 years instead of flying by myself to Las Vegas I ride with John Armbrust, last year's 18th place finisher, who has spent the last few days arranging his upcoming marriage in San Diego. Time passes quickly and easily until we find our gas gauge low in the most remote part of the trip. There's gas 12 miles ahead, but John's digital readout slips from 10 to 5 and then 0 all too quickly. It's 108 degrees out, but we slow to 60 and turn off the air conditioning to save fuel. For some reason I'm supremely confident we're going to make it; John thinks otherwise but doesn't want to bet against it. We go a full 8 miles with "0 miles" displaying before we find gas for $5.59, and put 16.52 gallons into his 16.5 gallon tank. After that, the Vegas skyline pops up as we crest the next couple of hills and we're there.

John suggests going to Binion's to pay homage to the poker days of old, so for the first time in five years I head downtown to Glitter Gulch. On the surface, not too much has changed--one addition I'd like to try is a water slide ride that takes you through a shark tank in an acrylic tube.

Poker, however, has come a long way. When I started coming in the late 80s, the players were mostly Texans and New York Jews, nearly all of whom smoked incessantly at the tables. In the 90s poker went international, and suddenly it was far from unusual to be the only Caucasian at the tables. (Interestingly, Vietnamese and Chinese love to gamble, while Japanese and Koreans rarely do.) The new century brought an equally seismic shift--Poker became highly popular on television at the same time technology enabled 24/7 play on the internet. The number of players tripled one year and doubled the next and the median age dropped from 45 to 30. At first these internet players were laughably bad, but by playing ten times as many hands per hour and with tournaments available anytime, they have quickly surpassed all but the very best "live" players.

John and I sit down for an hour or so in a 2-5 no limit game, mainly to get used to playing again with bad players. Somewhat surprisingly, the World Championship still has one of the weakest fields of any large buy-in tournament. I have another motivation for playing--two nights ago I had a disastrous night at 200-400 limit and I'm eager to put some psychic distance between that session and the start of the Main Event. John and I quickly win a few hundred each and leave on a high note.

I'm planning to retire early and watch the Federer/Nadal final at Wimbledon to rouse my competitive juices in the morning.

The Championship has started!

2008-07-03T08:54:00.000-07:00

Play started a couple of hours ago in the World Championship. A few notables have already busted out, so just by sitting here at home I feel like I'm advancing :-)

I start Sunday morning, and if all goes well I continue Wednesday July 9th through Monday July 14th. At that point I will have been in Las Vegas for 24 of the past 40 days, and spent half of the rest recovering from Vegas. As you might expect, bills, work and chores are piling up and Dana's getting a little tired of managing the home front herself, particularly since I snuck in a 2-day trip to Los Angeles this week.

While the Main Event is a guaranteed thrill, it's hard not to have a little dread mixed in with the anticipation. After all, once it's over there's no more World Series for a whole year, and without a spectacular finish all hopes and dreams are dashed.

Getting knocked out of the World Series is supposed to be the worst day of the year for poker players. I've always found that the adrenaline and excitement of playing in poker's pinnacle carries me through for a few days. At this point I typically feel resolved to improve my life, my work, and my health. For me the worst part comes a few days later, when the utter exhaustion sets in, I find myself unusually irritable, conversations are difficult, and I repeatedly find myself doing silly things like putting the milk in the pantry or walking in circles trying to remember what I was doing.

But enough of such thoughts! My physical preparations are almost complete. Now it's time to work on a positive, patient, winning attitude, confident that I will take my time, reach the right decision, and that good fortune will come my way.

An Unconscionably Belated Update

2008-06-30T14:48:00.000-07:00

Apologies for waiting a week to update the blog, particularly since I left it at a cliffhanger. Suffice to say you would have heard from me by now if anything spectacular had happened. I ended up finishing 17th out of 731 entrants, good for $7483. What fun to play $2500-$5000 limit hold'em and 800-1600 no limit hold'em with $200 antes! Once again, though, I ran short on luck just out of the real money. I'm feeling "always the bridesmaid, never the bride."

Still, in all 10 tournaments I've played in, I've outlasted 75% of the field in 7 of them, come within one hand of the money in 2 and outlasted 98% of the field in another 2 of them. And there's still one tournament left that can make all the difference in the world--the Main Event starts Thursday. They are anticipating so many entrants they've scheduled 4 first days; mine is Sunday, July 6th.

For two full days after I arrived home I felt more exhilirated than exhausted, and couldn't get more than 4-5 hours of sleep; the poker flu proved short-lived and was gone in two days. Finally, I've calmed down and am able to rest a little.

A few key hands from the tournament:

Best bluff ever: Playing $2500-$5000 limit hold'em, the cutoff raises. Although he is tight, I am short-stacked in the big blind so I don't put him on a big hand. I call with K 8 offsuit, intending to make a play for the pot. The flop is 10 7 5 with two spades, I check-raise him and lead the turn when the Jack of Spades hits. The river is a Queen, and with $21,250 in the pot I have only $3800 left. I have only King high, but I make the bet "with conviction" and he folds, getting 6+:1 to call. Of course I can't resist showing him. The next hands he tilting raises with K 9 offsuit, and I bust him with my Q Q. All of my chips would have been in his stack if he called my river bluff; now just one hand later all of his are mine.

A good bluff fails: at a different table, we are again playing limit and I am in the big blind. The small blind raises and I call with K 5. The flop is Q 2 2. He bets, and I "float" a call. The turn is a 3, and when he bets I bluff raise. Unfortunately, he has Q 10 and makes the call; most of the time with my tight reputation and the smooth call on the flop I will lose him here. (This costs 1/3 of my stack; I am momentarily annoyed before my analysis validates the play.)

Dangerous value bet: with 99 in the small blind, I re-reaise a late position opener. I lead at a 7 6 4 flop, continue at the 2 turn, and make a thin value bet (and get called) when the river 5 makes the board a very dangerous 7 6 5 4 2.

Forcing the big laydown: playing no limit, a solid late position raiser makes a hefty raise to 8000. I move all in out of the big blind with Ks Qs. He thinks for five minutes, stares me down, and finally says he is making a huge laydown. Whatever he had beat me; I am thinking either A Q or 10 10.

The end: Running low in limit hold'em, I make the initial raise in late middle position with Ac 9c. The big blind re-raises. The flop is a most agreeable Ad 7c 3c. He leads and I "Hollywood hesitate" for a few minutes before calling. The turn is another Ace and we get the last 2 1/2 big bets in. Unfortunately he has A Q. Still, I can hit a 7 or a 3 for a tie, and a 9 or a club for a win. Unfortunately, the river is a blank and, just like that, my run is over.

Still alive at the dinner break, 31 remaining out of 731 starters

2008-06-23T20:12:00.000-07:00

Thanks to successfully pulling of one of the all-time sickest bluffs ever, I am still alive at the dinner break. 31 players remain; I have 47,000; average is $72,000.

Details later.

One last deep run

2008-06-23T03:29:00.000-07:00

After playing until 3 and blogging until 4 I feel distinctly fluish so I spend most of the day in bed. Even sitting by the pool in the 105 degree heat seems too enervating, so my only activity is the New York Times. The five o'clock start time is a godsend, and by the time it rolls around I feel pretty good. I'm not the least bit worried about being sick; some of my best results have come at times like this and I've always been able to take a fever in stride.

My initial table draw is terrible, with David Phan and Nam Le, two of the best and most aggressive Vietnamese superstars both doubling up on the first round and applying enormous pressure right at and over the edge of recklessness thereafter. But I came to play today as well and make a gutsy call on the button with 5s 4s and push everyone out on the turn with just a straight draw. Nevertheless, I am thrilled when my table breaks.

Today's event alternates between 30 minutes of limit hold'em followed by 30 minutes of no limit hold'em. In no limit, the blinds and antes gently nibble at your stack but every time you play a hand your tournament life is in jeopardy. In limit, one hand will rarely do you in, but the blinds are so large it's like a vacuum cleaner hoovering up 15% of your chips every time they come by.

There are only 731 entries in this event, so the field is considerably stronger. I'm moved to a new table, with a couple of hot-shot European players. David Benyamine, who has already won a bracelet this year, is contending for WSOP Player of the Year, and has won more money than anyone else on the internet in the last 12 months, is moved to my right. David has a stereo and a miniature portmanteau on top of 25 stacks of chips. He's a big guy and his chips and his arms intrude on my personal space. He rarely lets the action go by without a raise or at least a call, so my opportunities to steal blinds are immediately non-existent. I'm forced to fight for my personal space as well as avail myself of any opportunity to steal chips. The first hand back from the break neither he nor the big blind is present, and when a mid-position alert player raises, I think he may be just raising because the big blind is gone and re-raise with 10 6 offsuit on the button. He calls and then mercifully checks and folds to my bet on the A Q 7 flop. With one aggressive move I have bought myself 20 minutes more survival.

For the most part I am playing solid and unimaginative poker but the few times I get out of line I am lucky. My flu symptoms--mild fever, sweating and chills--become worse, and when I have a Hot and Sour soup on the last break I perspire through my shirt. Mentally, though, I feel just fantastic! There's nothing like poker for a distraction.

The last two hours are a bit of a blur. I'm moved yet again to a table where some 22 year old internet kid is playing brilliantly and takes the tournament chip lead. I bob and weave but stay a little cautious and end the day with exactly 18,000 in chips, 6 times what we started with and a little less than average but still in great shape. There are 98 players left, with only 72 making the money. First place is a modest but still respectable $219,000.

Stephen is with me at the end, but totally exhausted. I joke that my cheering section is a single walking cadaver. Still, seeing him is a huge morale boost and I'm really grateful he stayed up. He informs he's been playing in a great 5-10 no limit game for three hours and only played one hand, costing him $300. I comment that if I'd had his cards, I'd be stuck at least $1500! Sometimes it's good to play tight.

Keep your fingers crossed for me tomorrow. Over and out.

Surviving the masseuse curse

2008-06-22T02:53:00.000-07:00

Ten of us put up $325 each for a one table, winner-take-all satellite. I open with a raise to 200 with 10-8 offsuit, definitely out of line, and Stephen re-raises all in. I announce that "since he's my friend, I'm going to give him a courtesy double-up even though I know he's got the best hand." Stephen has A-J and I draw out him, extracting a measure of revenge for his earlier win with J J.

Literally hundreds of uniformed masseuses work the poker rooms, charging $2/minute for massages while you play. At our table in quick succession three people order a massage and the table and are immediately busted out. When another masseuse comes by nobody wants one. We even jokingly offer to pay for someone else to get a massage! I kiddingly tell her I don't even want her standing behind me and make a cross sign as if to ward off a vampire. The masseuse gets into the act, offering free samples which of course we all decline.

After a few minutes, though, nothing sounds better or more soothing than a massage, and hey, I'm not really superstitious, am I? I ask for a massage and the rest of the table looks at me like I've completely lost my mind. When I lose over half of my chips on the very next hand they rib me mercilessly.

52 minutes later (I know because the masseuse bill was $104 + tip), however, we are down to two players; my opponent has 83% of the chips. He makes me an offer to more than double my buy-in if I quit. While I would love to keep playing him, the dealer wants to go him, his offer is superficially quite generous, and there is the masseuse curse factor to consider. We shake hands, have a laugh with the masseuse, and call it a night.

All in all, it's been a fun evening in spite of being a little sick. I've had fun with Stephen, a good laugh about the masseuses, and booked two modest wins. I'm sure I'll wake up feeling positive and ready to roll.

Stephen hits a 22-1 shot to beat me on the river

2008-06-22T02:22:00.000-07:00

Given the incipient poker-flu symptoms, I decide to keep a lower poker profile than usual and sit down in a modest 5-10 no limit hold'em game just to the right of Stephen. Stephen and I are best friends and Vegas roommates; we try to play at least one session together each trip. Some people hate to play at the same table with their friends. I've always had the opposite attituded--I love to bust my friends and love it when they bust me and generally play extra hard at them. The first hand I play I pick up QQ and raise to 40 under the gun. My friend Stephen, re-raises to 120. Stephen is extremely intelligent and an excellent poker player, but definitely on the snug side. The last time we played together I gave him a thorough tongue-lashing for his passive play and I expect he will show me some friskiness tonight. Still, he must have a pretty good hand here. I call, and we are treated to a fairly disappointing K K 5 flop. I check and Stephen bets 120 and I call. The turn is another 5; we both check. At this point I am fairly sure I am ahead, although there is a chance Stephen is playing A A cautiously. The river is a Jack making the board K K 5 5 J. I check and Stephen bets 200. I'm pretty certain he just spiked his 22-1 shot, so I fold my Queens face-up. Stephen turns over his J J and the whole table is quite impressed with my fold.

Here's the logic: Stephen's range for his re-raise is most likely 10 10 or better or AK, with an outside chance of 9 9 or AQ. AK is unlikely; he probably would have bet the turn. AA KK and now JJ all beat me. With 9 9 or 10 10, there's no real reason to bet the river with the Jack out there. And if he was bluffing, he would follow through on the turn, not the river.

Working this out away from the table is easy; figuring out on the spot and following through with a tough fold when your are getting 3.4-1 odds, rather than making a comfortable call is tough. Sometimes I can do it and sometimes I can't, but I am quite pleased, perhaps more so than I would have been winning the 680 pot!

The table is fairly soft, with one wild guy who is calling with anything. There's a pro from Los Angeles who is a bit frazzled and I mercilessly take advantage of him. He plays 5 or 6 days a week in a similarly sized game and has two kids in private school. After I outplay him 4 times in a row for a thousand or so, he finally makes a creative play and I reluctantly lay down my measly pair of 6s and he takes a modest pot.

I'm up 1300 and Stephen is up as well and we decide to quit and play a satellite together.

Saturday night in Vegas

2008-06-21T21:49:00.000-07:00

The other day I was exhausted but felt suddenly comfortable and awake the instant I sat down at the poker table. After exercising yesterday, a reasonable night's sleep, and a healthy meal I feel fantastic, energized and aggressive as we sit down to play at noon. The second the cards are in the air, however, I feel exhausted and can barely keep my eyes open. My usual green tea has no effect and I drink my first cup of coffee all week with little improvement. I have the beginnings of a slight sore throat, and quickly become more irritated than usual with some of my opponents' annoying mannerisms. Finally, it dawns on me--I'm burned out.

A wild but ultimately inconsequential run of cards wakes me up a little and once again I outlast 3/4 of the field before falling to a coin flip when my A 10 fails to connect and loses to my opponent's 9 9. I confess to Stephen I am momentarily sick of cards and poker. "You look tired," he says--the last thing I want to hear. And so after two beers and a sushi dinner, with not only all of the best poker games on the planet in my hotel, but the Siren Song of Vegas on Saturday night calling, I tuck myself into bed at 7:15 pm.

Two and a half hours of occasional fitful sleep later, I feel marginally better and slightly more interested in playing some cards. My justification for heading off to the tables comes down to this: (1) continuing to sleep now would totally throw me off schedule--I'd probably wake up at 2 with nothing to do, and (2) poor as I feel, at least I've had a long break; the players at the Rio have been playing for so many hours that now I must have an edge! I shower, search for some clean clothes with some mojo, and check myself out in the mirror. My eyes are a little red and have a slight sickly glaze that no amount of Visine washes out.

Wish me luck!

Stephen is missing

2008-06-20T16:44:00.001-07:00

I turn the light out at midnight for a shot at my first good night of sleep. Around 3 am I have the feeling that something is wrong and realize that Stephen is missing. There are only two possibilities: 1) he is doing really well in a small evening tournament he entered, or 2) he has busted out and is stuck in some side game, playing grimly on. In either case, he needs me, either as a rescuer or a rooter, so I throw on some clothes. As I reach the Brasilia room, Stephen has just made the final table. He is shocked to see me and I give him a big hug for luck. I watch for about 45 minutes and when they get down to three players, Stephen and a couple others chop it three ways, netting Stephen $14,000, twice his previous best cash.

Stephen musters a high five or two, and I know both how exhausted and how thrilled he must be, yet ten minutes later he is acting as nonchalantly as if he just returned from a trip to Whole Foods. Maybe that's why he's so hard to read at cards! I am practically bouncing off the walls with contagious enthusiasm but cannot bear to witness the tedious cash-in process so I head back to the room for another sleep attempt.

Another day, another tournament

2008-06-19T23:46:00.000-07:00

I wake up at 7:30, groggy, grouchy, and wishing I hadn't hit the mini-bar at 4 am for a late meal of potato chips and jelly beans. The last thing on my mind is poker, and yet, I am signed up for the noon event, yet another $1500 no limit tournament.

I do everything wrong: I don't eat, I bake in the 100 degree heat for two hours, and I don't even try to nap. I'm so pessimistic about my chances I swap an unprecedented 7% of my action with Stephen. My strategy for the day is to pay tight for half an hour, and then play ridiculously agressively, trying to either bust out early or run up a big stack.

When I sit down at the table, however, my mind miraculously clears. Within minutes I have a deep understanding of each player's psyche. In the 2,3, and 4 seats, tight old guys with no imaginiation. In the 5, someone who will never fold--never, ever try to bluff him. The 6-seat is good, and the 7 is an Asian woman whose play I instantly admire. 8 and 9 are bananas, European businessmen on their first trip to Vegas ever.

I feel like I have X-ray vision and can see their cards. I re-raise two limpers with 4 3 offsuit and take a nice pot. I have A 8, raise in the cut-off and get called by the button. The flop is A 7 5. I check, since if he has an Ace, he probably has a better kicker than my 8. He bets 200. The turn is a 4 and I check again. Oddly, he makes a big overbet of 2100. I think for a while and can't imagine he would overbet this much with a really big hand--why not try and suck me in? I call and he shows 5 6 for a pair and a straight draw. My 8 really hurts him; he can't make two pair and one of his straight cards is in my hand. I bust him, and then trap an old guy when I flop a set.

I hit another huge rush of cards, doubling up yet again. At the end of the first hour, I have quadrupled up, and play a pot for 8,000 where I have AK and my opponent has K J. Everything goes well until my opponent hits is only out, a Jack, on the river. If I win that pot, I have the tournament lead with 1500 players!

Unfortunately my hot streak ends, and I am left scrapping and fighting for every chip for the next four hours. At the dinner break, with 80% of the field gone, I am left severely short-stacked and when I return I go broke.

Oddly, I am still in a fantastic mood. I go outside to the pool for a free rock concert. Half the people are in bathing suits in the 90 degree heat. Hundreds of inflatable beach balls are being batted around. Everyone is in a typical Vegas good mood, and their enthusiasm is contagious.

It's midnight and time to sleep. There is, of course, another tournament at noon tomorrow. I'm sure I'll muster the enthusiasm for it, althought it's difficult now to imagine playing another 12-hour day so soon.

Celebration Or Consolation?

2008-06-19T22:44:00.000-07:00

I have very mixed emotions about my 42nd place finish. On one hand, to outlast 98% of the field seems like reason to celebrate. But once again I have come tantalizingly close to serious money and a chance to win a World Series of Poker bracelet and come up short.

Fortunately, my best friend Stephen has just flown in. Hanging out with him at the Cafe Martiromo--part nightclub, part restaurant, all Italian--is just what I need to ease the pain. Later, I hook up with Rainbow, an Omaha/Stud Eight or Better Specialist, and John Armbrust, last year's Main Event 18th place finisher, and their entourage and we head upstairs 50 floors to the Voodoo lounge, with its drop dead gorgeous view of nighttime Vegas and pounding rock beat, for a nightcap or two. Am I celebrating or consoling myself? I can't decide.

Day 2, the sad finale

2008-06-19T22:31:00.000-07:00

Tables keep breaking and soon we are down to 45 players. My stack is going up and down like a yo-yo, but I am keeping pace with the field. With only $110,000 left, the button raises to $30,000 and I find AQ in the big blind. I raise all-in, and after agonizing, he folds.

We are now playing $4000-$8000 blinds, with $1000 antes. Again I am in the big blind and everyone folds to the small blind, who makes it $21,000. I squeeze my cards and find two sixes. This is just enough to re-raise all-in to $115,000. The small blind has an auto-call with A K. I am actually a slight favorite before the flop which is a very favorable 10 4 4. Now I have a 75% chance to win the pot and have a significantly above average chip stack. Unfortunately, the turn is a King and I am reduced to 21-1 hope for one of the two remaining sixes, which doesn't come.

I'm out in 42nd place! All that work for a paltry $9400! OK, maybe $9400 isn't so paltry, but first place is $570,000...and a mere 9th place is $50,000. I am still in mental overdrive, but my energy is slowly sagging as I wait in four different lines to get paid.

Busting Phil Hellmuth -- Day 2, continued

2008-06-19T22:18:00.001-07:00

My table is very tough to begin with, and then Phil Hellmuth is moved to Seat 1. He immediately starts to berate the table, telling us all how bad we play. He asks what we did after making the money last night, and then volunteers that he had to write a 3000 word article for USA today that would be read by 4 million readers. I offer to make an over-under wager on how many times the article had the word "I" in it--Phil being a notorious egomaniac--and the whole table, incuding Phil, guffaws. I actually have a soft spot for Phil--he shows every hand he plays to impress us with his style and he puts half the table on tilt. But short-stacked Phil is playing weirdly tonight. He limps on the button with AK and then whines when the flop is 9 8 5. The internet players have no respect for Phil and criticize his strategy mercilessly. Phil's strength is his ability to read players. He figures out the Morgan has A A because Morgan pretends to look around nervously before re-raising an all-in player. Ray Henson, perhaps the other best player at our table is not so astute and moves all-in with K K, losing 2/3 of his stack.

Despite Phil's good reads, his is steadily whittled to the point where he has only 8000 left and must post a $3000 big blind. Everyone folds to me and I find 10 10 on the button and raise. Phil has Q J and we have a race situation (I am about 55% to win.) The board comes all small cards and Phil is broke. He is a true gentleman and shakes everyone's hand before leaving.

$1500 No Limit Hold'em -- early day 2

2008-06-19T22:03:00.000-07:00

Excited to be in the money, with an appropriately modest celebration out of the way, I catch 4 hours of intermittent sleep before Day 2 starts. Where does the time go? I barely have a chance to swim a few laps in the pool and grab breakfast before we are off and to the races at 2:00 pm.

I'm at a pretty tough table, feeling a little shaky. The first hand, playing 800-1600 blinds with 100 antes, a player moves all-in in middle position for $21,000. The dealer calls all-in for roughly the same amount. The big blind is a friend of mine from Santa Cruz, and she agonizes for a few minutes before calling all-in for $18,000. The first player has KK, the second player has QQ, and my friend shows JJ. The dealer comments (totally inappropriately) "I don't see how the Jacks can possibly lose this hand." The flop is three low cards, the turn is an irrelevant Ace, and the river is.......a Jack! Just like that my friend has tripled up.

I am not happy with the way I play the first two hours. The few times I try to steal people re-raise me, and when I have a hand they all fold. Frankly, I am happy to still be alive with $30,000 in chips (out of a starting stack of $45,000) when we get a welcome break.

The next two hours I get such a rush of cards no finesse is needed. I get J J twice and K K three times and they all hold up. I zoom up to $150,000. The last hand before the break the button raises and I have K Q of hearts in the big blind. I could re-reaise here but I just call. The flop is 7 5 5. I check and the button bets 11,000. I make a big bluff and re-raise to 30,000. He calls (ugh!). The turn is a 2 and I check and fold as we head to the break. I am momentarily sick about my bluff attempt but during the break I decide I like--no, love--the way I played it and I feel better.

Finally, in the money!

2008-06-18T03:05:00.001-07:00

First day back in Vegas on my second trip. I thought I was refreshed, but a couple of hours into today's 1500 No Limit Hold'em tournament I realize I have yet again arrived exhausted. My first table is a total dream...eight tight and predictably passive players waiting for the nuts. I rob them again and again and just when I know I can't possibly get away with anything else I get Aces. Some guy makes a brave stand with a pair of 5s and is gone. The best part is I finally get to show a hand and it's Aces--so now they think I really have it when I re-raise bluff. Later, I am moved to several harder tables but I somehow preserve my image as a "basically sound tight old guy" while I rob the youngsters blind.

2158 players entered the tournament today and all but 198 will walk away empty-handed. After coming so close twice on my first trip and having to blog about everything it's really important not to blow it near the money, so when we are down to 250 or so I try to tighten up. Unfortunately everyone else is playing super-tight except for the chip leader who is at our table, so whenever he folds I steal.

Bottom line, with more self-aggrandizing comments about how well I played to come, at the end of the evening we are down to 165 or so out of 2158 and I have a slightly better than average stack of $45,000. We don't have to play until 2:00 tomorrow afternoon so I have a real opportunity to get some sleep. I am guaranteed a paltry 2800, a mere 80% return on my investment, but if I make it to the final table I will get at least $50,000 and winning would be a cool $570,000! A long way off, but suddenly not quite so far off as yesterday.

Wish me luck tomorrow!

A Perfect Week Off

2008-06-15T23:17:00.000-07:00

I've just had the perfect downtime between Vegas sessions. For most of my 9 days off, I've given up alcohol, surfed every day, and played very little cards. For the first time since the Panama trip I feel like I have insight into the financial markets and I've had a huge week, with my losing sugar and cotton positions bouncing back to even. Feeling frisky, I've shorted oil 3 times and been right each time. Yes, Oil! My family, and everyone else I talk to think I must be nuts to short oil here, but this only increases my conviction.

I played three short poker sessions and won every time. Yesterday, Sam, one of Zane's friends wanted to see how poker worked so I fired up a heads-up 100-200 limit hold'em session and won the first 8 hands! Ten minutes later I quit up $3000, wondering what impact this has on the three 15 year-olds watching me. Update: He's been begging me to sign him up for an account and give him lessons ever since.

Saturday we're getting close enough to my return date things start to fall apart a little. I drink a couple of scotches watching Tiger's epic US Open performance, ending with a really lucky birdie and an eagle to take the lead. Dana's cooked my favorite dinner (sausage and salmon over beans and kale) and the Chardonnay flows freely. Afterwards a few sips of tequila suddenly seems warranted. Obviously, I'm in no condition to play cards, but there's surely no harm in checking my Bloomberg to see how the Nikkei is trading and whether my oil short is working.

Next thing you know I'm playing two simultaneous games of 100-200 limit hold'em, one of them heads-up and one of them four-handed. It's not going well, so I sit down first at a couple of 200-400 tables. Next thing I know, a couple well-known pros sit down at each table. The now-trivial 100-200 games are suddenly both infinitely boring and totally distracting, so I leave. Not too much happens for a while and then I get hot on both tables simultaneously. For a half an hour I can do no wrong, and when the dust settles I have not only won back the $10,000 I was losing but $27,000 more. And although I have won over $20,000 several times, this is my absolute best poker night ever!

These circumstances take a little while to digest. The next morning I double-check my Pokerstars account to make sure it's real. I download the hand histories and study them for a few hours, checking to see how well I played (pretty well, but I got darned lucky). Even now, two days later, I still have difficulty reconciling that night's events, and the fact that that is my best win ever seems to make a mockery out of a poker career I take some pride in.

I know better than to press my luck, and I am on my best behavior for the rest of my week off. Now, on the evening prior to my departure, I am rested and ready. Between the poker and the commodities trading I am up nearly $50,000. Now if only I could get this lucky in Vegas!

Coming Home

2008-06-07T18:03:00.000-07:00

When I return home from a tough poker trip part of me expects a hero's welcome. After all, I am back from a brutal battle zone, fighting exhaustively in the hopes of bringing back a huge prize for my family. On the losing trips this feeling is even stronger, as I fancy myself a wounded warrior, entitled to appropriate homage and a chance to rest and relax.

Dana, of course, sees the situation somewhat differently. To her I am not a hero, but more like the village idiot, who has abandoned her and skipped town to squander the family fortune gambling. Clearly I deserve to immediately takeover all of the chores she has been doing in my absence. She is a good enough sport to always muster a warm welcome, but as I inevitably start to crash from all the excitement, there's generally a hard moment or two.

Furthermore, while Dana has total respect for my online and cash game play, she views my attempts at the big buy-in World Series tournaments, where my competition is the best players in the world, as my personal equivalent of tilting at windmills.

Truth be told, my wife has a valid point. I'm well ahead after 20 years of the World Series of Poker, but nowhere near as far ahead as I would be if stuck to the more lucrative sidegames and satellites, and this year is no exception. The tournaments are an enormous drain, both mentally and physically. But if you want to have a significant chance of coming home with a life-changing amount of money, there is no way around being down considerably more often than not.

This year's homecoming is the best out of all 20 trips. I show up on Saturday night, a day ahead of schedule. Dana's sister was supposed to be here but got sick, so she is absolutely delighted to see me. We take a hot tub, have a glass of wine, a nice dinner, and it's as close to the hero's welcome I imagine for myself as I will ever get in this lifetime.

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

2008-06-06T17:24:00.000-07:00

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.

$1500 NLH 6-handed: We meet the most maniacal player of all time and it is....me!

2008-06-06T01:05:00.000-07:00

After a couple of hours another player and I are moved to a new table. On the second hand, playing 100-200 with $25 antes, he raises to 700 in second position. For some reason I think he is weak, so I pop it to 1900 with 9 7 offsuit. Unfortunately, the person to my left wakes up with a real hand and confidently moves all in for 3550. The original raiser folds, and I agonize for awhile before calling. When I turn over my 9 7, the rest of the table is in shock—they were wondering whether I was agonizing over A Q or J J! My opponent turns over Q Q, and it looks pretty hopeless when the flop is Q 6 3. My opponent now has the best possible hand! An 8 on the turn gives me hope, and a beautiful 10 on the river gives me a straight. My opponent is in obvious dismay, having busted out of the tournament after flopping a virtual lock. My table mates all look at me like I am completely nuts.Two hands later I am under the gun when the big blind is away from the table. I have only 9 2 offsuit, but when I detect disinterest from the player on my left, the absence of the big blind makes me think it’s worth a steal attempt. So I raise to 900, and everyone folds except the small blind, who calls. The flop comes J 9 2 with two spades. He checks to me and I bet 1300; he quickly calls. The turn is really ugly, the queen of spades, which makes the flush, several straight draws and a higher two pair all fairly likely. I am quite proud of myself for mustering a 2500 bet. He thinks for a minute and calls. The river is the 9 of hearts, giving me a full house. He checks and I bet 4000. He counts out 4000 and calls. I turn over 9 2 for the full house; he looks totally disgusted as he counts his remaining 500 in chips. (We never find out what he had; I suspect he was slow-playing aces.) The rest of the table literally cannot believe what they have seen. I have been at the table for only 5 hands and they have seen me call a re-re-raise with 9 7 offsuit and then raise under the gun and play a huge pot with 9 2 offsuit. One of them offers to play me anytime for any amount of money. My two opponents are replaced with new ones and the table tells them in incredulous tones that they have never seen as big a maniac as me in their whole lives. What they fail to realize is that I am aggressive, but not a maniac, and I had completely rational reasons for playing both hand the way I did.

For the next 45 minutes they don't quite know how to play against me. For sure, they have zero respect for my raises. But they believe (incorrectly) that I will call them with anything if they re-raise me. So they tend to be a bit passive and predictable, calling me with traditional strong hands, such as AJ, re-raising with their best hands, and folding the rest. These tendencies are easy to exploit.

Just before dinner I trap the loudest criticizer of my play. On the turn, the board is J 10 9 9 and I have J 9. He bets $3500 and I call, trying to get the third player behind me to call. Another J falls on the end and the remaining money goes in. He turns out to have J 10, and he has hit a miracle card to make the only hand that beats me. I lose a huge pot to this unfortunate river card. He tells me how poorly I played the hand. Of course, he is wrong, but for the moment I keep my mouth shut.

A new player arrives and once again he tells them how poorly I played the 9 7 offsuit. I can take it no longer. "Please tell me your why you think I played poorly," I ask him. "All I remember is you called a huge re-raise with 9 7 offsuit," he says. "Do you really want an explanation?" I ask. "First, of all you're wrong: it was a re-re-raise, not a re-raise. And here's the way the hand came down. The 2-seat opens with a raise to 700; I thought he was weak, so I popped it to 1900. The player to my left makes it 3550, and the original raiser folds. At this point, there is $6450 in the pot and it's $1650 to me, giving me just under 4-1 pot odds to call. If, as is most likely, he has an overpair, then it's around 4.5 to call, so I'm not quite getting the odds I need. But if there's some chance, even as little as 10%, that he has AK, then I have around a 3/8 chance to win and it becomes a mathematical call. Besides that, I felt like gambling." Each time he has criticized the hand I have re-analyzed it. When I do the exact calculations in my hotel room later, my math is shockingly accurate. I am partly showing off, and partly trying to intimidate the table. The shocked silence that follows indicates I have achieved the latter goal. Finally he say, "Well, I guess I respect your analysis but I still don't respect your raises." Fair enough.

For the next half hour I pick up some excellent hands and play them all very fast. I win more than I lose, but I am involved in nearly every hand and the chips are flowing in and out of my stack as fast as I have ever seen. It's a wild, insane, roller coaster ride, and I am loving every minute of it. At the dinner break I meet a dear friend, Tania, and her mother, whom I have never met. I am bouncing off the walls with excitement. Tania, the daughter of a twelfth generation rabbi, came to Vegas once before and was shocked, totally shocked, to discover that Jews actually gamble. (Her naivete is forever shattered when she discovers that the best gamblers of that era are either New York Jews or Texans, and that Las Vegas was built by a Jewish gambler.) Now, however, she totally gets it, and is completely gracious and understanding, sensitive to my time constraints and predictable attention deficit after the crazy session. Her mother is quite curious about this new world and peppers me with questions about whether I find playing poker addictive! It is a most enjoyable meal, but I have to bolt to shower and meditiate before we start again.

After the dinner break I am involved in a huge pot for most of my chips. I have the Ace and King of Spades, my opponent has Q Q. It is a virtual coin flip, and the winner will make the money bubble with a large stack. Despite my optimism and two spades on the board, his Queens hold up and I am severely short-stacked.

I am faced with the choice of limping into the money or playing more aggressively to try to win the tournament at the cost of a high likelihood of busting out just short of the money. If this were early in my poker career, coming into the money would mean a lot to me. At this point, however, while it would be fun to blog about, it wouldn't change my life any. I take some chances and bust out 130th, just 4 spots shy of 126th place, which pays $3800. Although I said I didn't care, I feel positively ill as I make the long trudge back to the hotel room. To make matters worse, as is so often the case, I have handed over all of my remaining chips to the player I least liked at the table. I do have some perspective though, and am happy that I put myself in a position where I had to lose one very unlucky hand as well as a coin flip in order not to make the money with a very respectable stack.

Checking out Gamma-O

2008-06-05T16:50:00.000-07:00

There’s been more and more advertising every year since Harrah’s bought the World Series of Poker. Now it’s everywhere—even the plastic spray minimizers in the bottom of the urinals are adorned with Gamma-O’s logo. Gamma-O bills itself as the world’s first testosterone-powered energy drink, guaranteeing to make you harder, tougher, and stronger. On impulse I check out their booth, located just outside the Amazon room. It is staffed by an absolutely gorgeous 6’4” classy blonde (in Vegas this merely means a minimum of tattoos, no absurdly enhanced breasts, and midriff-free dress). On the video monitors behind her muscular young athletic black men dance and writhe with models on the dance floor. In total contrast, a couple of pasty poker players cluster around, no doubt as seduced by the blonde as the promises of Gamma-O. I pass this booth several times a day, and while there are times I could sure use an energy boost and “harder, tougher, stronger” has a certain appeal as well, I can’t quite bring myself to try it. Still, I think it takes a certain marketing genius to realize that the bottom of the urinals is the perfect spot to put their logo, where poker players can most readily compare their own shortcomings with the models for Gamma-O. (http://www.gammao.com/ccp0-display/gamma-o_girls.html)

A boatload of luck at the wrong time

2008-06-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

The obvious call after a sauna, hot tub, massage, and a fantastic dinner of Arctic Char accompanied with some phenomenal Chardonnay would be an early night, particularly when I am still way behind on sleep. But after twenty minutes twitching under the covers I don't see what would be the harm in a stroll to the tournament room just to see how a couple friends are doing. In reality, I'm not really fooling myself, particularly when I pop the safe and grab a handful of hundreds. I've already decided 1) this is Vegas after all, and 2) didn't my nickname used to be "I'll sleep when I die"?

Part of me suspects this might be a bad idea, and so as I saunter to the card room I monitor my mental acuity carefully. An awkward shuffle as I try to avoid an oncoming cocktail waitress--minus 5 points. Guessing that the person in the elevator's accent is Somalian--plus 20 points. And so on. I actually score pretty well in this little game so I put myself second on the list for a juicy 25-50 no limit hold'em game. There's nothing worse than standing around waiting for a seat in a cardroom, so before my newfound energy wanes I sit down in the only game available, a puny 2-5 no limit game near enough I can monitor my first choice. I sure hope my high-rolling friends don't see me here; they will assume I must be completely broke.

I am hit by the deck almost immediately: K K on the third hand, and Aces shortly thereafter. A set and a gutshot straight when I decline my normal continuation bet. In a span of 45 minutes I am up $1700 in the game when boredom sets in. I'm still second on the list for the 25-50 game, so I cash out and head back to the room.

This is my first win in Vegas, so you'd think I would be happy. But I'm totally irritated instead. I've been hoping for a burst of luck for two days now, preferrably in a tournament, but if not there, then in a respectably sized side game. The same lucky streak in the $25-$50 game would have been worth $17,000! I do find it somewhat amusing that I can handle busting out of the tournament earlier with AA against KK with aplomb, yet this modest win is so vexing.

The next morning I wake up in a better mood. The $1700 is enough to pay for the next tournament. More importantly, it is not only a much needed change in momentum, but will boost my trip status in the eyes of my wife Dana, who watches the bottom line as carefully as the most dour accountant.

Classic Tournament Exit

2008-06-04T16:56:00.001-07:00

Today's $2000 no limit hold'em tournament gets off to a slow start for me, but after struggling for three hours I have a slightly smaller than average but still quite healthy stack and about 60% of the fields is already gone.

I pick up two aces for the first time all trip in late position and open for the standard raise, with only the small blind calling. The flop of 9h 3c 2c seems perfect and my continuation bet is check-raised by the small blind. He's almost pot-committed so I push in the rest of my chips and he calls.

I have AA; he has KK, he has two cards to hit one of the two remaining kings. The first card off the deck is the King of spades and I am gone.

Obviously, I didn't do anything wrong (and neither did my opponent). It's early enough in the tournament and this kind of thing is so common I actually don't feel too bad, thinking I can get some rest and catch up on things. On my way back to my room I decide it's time for a treat so I book myself a massage and get changed for the gym.

Playing Without Looking at the World Series

2008-06-04T11:20:00.001-07:00

In my first tournament yesterday I finished a semi-respectable but totally unprofitable 120th out of 768, an hour or so away from the $8000 prize for coming in 72nd or better and light-years away from the $636,000 first prize. Despite being totally sleep-deprived, I feel very pleased with my play and my stamina. I was still alert at midnight after ten hours of play.

By far my favorite hand of the day was one I played without looking at my cards! To succeed at poker you have to be constantly alert for special situations. In this case, we were playing $50 and $100 blinds, and the $100 blind was not at the table. Everyone folded to the dealer, internet Turk Scott Freeman, who glanced at his cards and raised to $250. I had $1500 in chips, pretended to look at my cards, and went all-in without knowing what I had! At that point Scott looked at his hand, then showed K-7 and said "I raised without looking" and folded. Of course I couldn't resist saying "I didn't look either" and turned over what turned out to be a Q-2. The table went nuts, and the other two internet players told Scott he had gotten totally "pwned" -- internet slang for schooled and embarassed.

Playing without looking at your hand is obviously exceedingly rare. The interesting thing is that both Scott and I played our hands perfectly. Here's the analysis:

So far my play has appeared to be pretty conservative. I haven't been caught bluffing, nor have I been forced to turn over hands that appear overly frisky. So everyone thinks that I am playing solidly. With the big blind gone, instead of having to worry about two players, Scott only has to worry about me, and he has favorable position for the rest of the hand. So raising with any two cards is appropriate, he pretended to look just for show.

Now it's my turn. I'm not really a tight player, but since I know I have that reputation I'm pretty sure he's going to raise with any two cards. So the chances that he has a hand good enough to call a re-raise from a tight player are pretty small, small enough that's it's mathematically correct to risk my $1500 to win the $400 that's already in there with any two cards. That would have been the end of it, but when he admits he didn't look at his cards first I can't resist telling him I didn't look either. When I turn my hand over I'm hoping for 7-2, and I'd be horrified if I had a big hand. Q-2 is fine and he is totally pwned.

The one drawback of course, is that my cover as a tight, careful player is now totally blown. My re-raises, the best steal weapon, now clearly have less credibility and are more likely to be called. Partially offsetting this is the fact that my good hands are now more likely to get paid off and I have sewn some confusion.

If that all seems pretty straightforward after the explanation, consider this: my $1500 stack is about the only size where the play works at all. If, for example, I only have $1000, then my opponent is now risking $750 to get 1600 and will almost certainly call. If I have $2500, then I am risking $2500 to win $400 and the risk/reward ratio is probably not favorable enough to justify the play.

Throwing Gummy Bears at the wall

2008-06-04T11:12:00.000-07:00

My first table is tough, with three of the best young internet players at the table. Two of them are 21, kidding the 24-year old about being too old. "What's it like to be 24?" they ask mockingly. Alex Torelli, the youngest, playing in his first WSOP event, quickly amasses a mountain of chips, and, as most people do when they get lucky, starts chirping. Apparently he was beating Roland de Wolfe at Chinese Poker in his hotel room and Roland got so angry he started throwing gummy bears at the wall. Somehow or other they ended up trying to see how close they could get to the wall for $1000 a throw, and Alex dropped $7,000 at the gummy bear game. The punch line is that Roland has pulled this move before on others, and has apparently practiced this skill for hours!

These kids have no regard for money, and are happy to take -ev (negative expected value) risks as long as the rebuy period is in effect.

Another player has even less regard for money. He paid $1000 for his entry fee, and never even bothers to show up, his stack slowly dwindling as blinds are posted over the first 2 1/2 hours. We theorize that he must be really stuck in a big game somewhere.

Blog Update

2008-06-04T10:57:00.000-07:00

Would you believe this fledgling blog has gotten thousands of hits already? The culprit is Paul Kedrosky, who posted a link to it on www.thestreet.com as well his personal website Infectious Greed (paul.kedrosky.com), required reading for anyone investing seriously. So if there's a bunch of advertising on the blog next time you arrive, blame Paul :-)

For those of you who don't know him, Paul is a veritable fountain of investing ideas, all of which not only sound like they might just work, but would be tremendous fun to try. How about using changes in Amazon.com weekly book sales to identify emerging trends and invest appropriately? Last time we met, in 15 minutes we came up with several plausible reasons why venture capital returns have been so anemic, a problem that has vexed academics for years.

Back to the blog: feel free to comment, just don't use my last name. It's now standard practice to check poker databases for previous tournament success (http://pokerdb.thehendonmob.com/player.php?a=r&n=14488) as well as search for blogs, when you know in advance someone's going to be at your table.

If you're not a poker player, my explanation of some of the hands that come up will be hard to follow. I'll try to include enough non-poker content to keep you interested as well.

$ in hand, finally on my way

2008-06-03T07:25:00.000-07:00

I have to confess I always feel uncomfortable withdrawing large amounts of cash from my bank. These days, do they assume I'm a drug dealer or a terrorist? If it's followed by a larger deposit a few days later, does that mean I've bought wholesale and sold retail? In any event I dread the whole ritual, the long pause while the teller goes back to the vault, the brief appraisal from the supervisor to clear the transaction, the curious glances of other customers and tellers as the bills are slowly counted. My cheeks burn with a tinge of guilt and shame as I withdraw many months worth of teller salaries to some to go gamble with.

Afterwards, with a thick wad of bills bulging comfortably in my pockets, the trip suddenly feels more real, and the nagging worry that I might suddenly wake from this dream in a cubicle with a portfolio to rebalance goes away.

Sleeping in Vegas

2008-06-02T04:20:00.000-07:00

Tournament poker, where a single mistake can be fatal, is infinitely more taxing than playing in a ring game. Playing for 12 hours at a time is utterly exhausting, and the physical challenge of stringing together a week of such days is quite daunting. Clearly, it's important to be as well-rested as possible. Yet sleep in Las Vegas is always elusive. First, your favorite poker game is being played around the clock a few hundred feet away. Second, it's a fact that the blinds in Las Vegas hotel rooms are designed not to close all the way, and just enough of Las Vegas' magnificent nighttime neon passes into the room to make sleep even more difficult. Finally, and this was particularly true in my youth, after waiting all year to come to Las Vegas, there's the nagging urgency not to waste a minute of it. In the month-long match that started tournament poker, Nick "the Greek" and Johnny Moss played poker taking "breaks for sleep every four or five days." Nick the Greek spent most of his downtime playing craps and needled his opponent for resting: "What are you going to do--Johnny, sleep your life away?" (A. Alvarez, The Biggest Game in Town, still the best book ever written on poker) No, the best you can hope for in Vegas is 3 or 4 twitchy hours of sleep each night before the siren song in your head is again too loud to ignore.

Given all this, it's critical to arrive in town as rested as possible, and each year I think "this time it will be different." But it never is. I look forward so eagerly to my annual pilgrimage to Las Vegas that I play more poker, eat more, drink more, and sleep only fitfully in anticipation of the fun to come. Inevitably, I arrive in Las Vegas utterly exhausted, and, of course, too excited to even contemplate a nap before heading to the tables. This year, freshly freed from the numbing tedium of my quantitative equity finance job, I can at least count on racking up a short nap each day.

It's worth noting that several days of sleep deprivation almost always leads to a short time period--perhaps a day if all goes well--of hypermanic clarity and alertness. This is the best possible time to play poker; the game seems to go in slow motion and even the most minute gestures of your opponents are effortlessly interpreted and big bluffs are disproportionally successful. The tricky part is figuring out when the magic has worn off, at which point getting rest or leaving town as quickly as possible are the only financially viable alternatives.

Fortunately, pre-Vegas focus and attention tend to yield spectacular results. I came down to read some financial news, double-clicked PokerStars by "mistake" and ended up playing 2 simultaneous games of 200-400 limit hold'em for a half hour. The additional 8000 PokerStars dollars, in addition to providing a totally unnecessary morale boost, will pay for quite a few entry fees this week.

Now that I've gotten that off my chest it's 5:00 a.m.; maybe I can snag another hour of sleep.

First Live Poker in 6 Months!

2008-05-30T21:46:00.000-07:00

With the World Series of Poker just 4 days away, it seemed like high time to get in some practice with real people and real cards. I've been playing 2-3 games of short-handed limit hold'em and pot limit omaha, usually getting in 200-300 hands/hour, sometimes as many as 600. With an average of 3 or 4 decisions per hand, and a maximum of 10 seconds before your hand is automatically folded, the emphasis is on trusting your first instinct and moving on to the next situation as fast as humanly possible. True short-handed limit hold'em (2 or 3 players) lends itself to near-constant mindless aggression. Throw in a couple of magaritas first occasionally and it's quite a ride.

So forgive me if I'm not all that excited heading off to Ocean's Eleven, anticipating perhaps an hour wait to get into a snail of a game where you're lucky to get 35 hands an hour. Still, slowing myself down is an absolute must. In 9 or 10 handed No Limit hold'em, patience, alertness, concentration, and setting subtle traps are most important. Aggression, a necessary ingredient, must be carefully controlled and used opportunistically.

I'm lucky and get in a 10-10 $2000 buy-in game in a mere twenty minutes. I want to raise each of the first three hands--and it may well have worked each time--but I realize it will be to my advantage not to appear to maniacal out of the gate. I steal the next pot with a large raise out of the big blind--my tight image has already paid off! For the next half hour I am hyper-vigilant. A new player sits down to my left and the first hand he plays I realize he telegraphs his interest in the hand. Another hand and I can tell whether he is going to call or raise by how he shuffles his chips. A player accidentally raises and the 2-seat, the big blind, tries to get it to count as a call, since it's what he meant to do. Afterwards, he justifies his action. Do not ever embarass this guy and you can control him all night. On a flop of K 5 2 a late position limper bets 110 into a 70 dollar pot. He just sat down, so I have no information but why bet so much if he has a decent King? Impulsively I raise him to 300 with nothing and he quickly mucks it. I follow up all my raises with continuation bets except once when I check it down. My lone opponent flopped a flush and was trying to trap me! I am clearly a Poker God.

I enjoy this God-like feeling until the gentleman to my right tells me I need to protect my hand better as he can occasionally glimpse my cards! I thank him profusely for "not wanting to take advantage of an old guy" but inside I am mortified. Oh well, yet another reason to at least practice some live poker before heading off to Vegas.

The feeling of omnipotence vanishes with the first brush with adversity. I make what I consider to be a solid fold and am shown a total bluff. Suddenly I'm exhausted, and I feel an overwhelming urge to quit while I'm ahead. I've been there less than two hours. It's clear I've got some work to do before playing multiple consecutive 12-hour days. At least Vegas will be infinitely more stimulating.

Off and running

2008-05-07T15:56:00.000-07:00

5 million other people have blogs, so when I somehow stumbled onto some blog-creating software I thought why not me?