Just a short post to congratulate my longtime friend Steve-O on quitting his job at a prestigious Wall Street law firm so that he and his wife can pursue their dream of being scuba instructors somewhere in paradise. 

For those unfamiliar with my background, my first job out of law school (where I met Steve-O) was at a similar firm.  While these places compensate you very well for your services, I found the work wholly unrewarding and discovered that large law firms are where douchebags who are intelligent but are devoid of creativity or personality go to roost (no disrespect to the group of big firm friends reading this, i’m not talking about you). 

Steve-O has been talking about jumping ship (no pun intended) for a long time.  Props to him for giving something else a go.  New York will miss The O, although i’m not too sure he’ll miss New York.

I have added a link on the right side of the page labeled “Team Schmoop,” which is the name of his webpage (also designed and set up by the inimitable Jon Marston).  You can directly link to it here as well.  As you can see, Steve is much better at doing stuff with his website than I am. 

Good luck Steve and Andrea!

Unless something miraculous happens in the next two days, I have just withstood my worst month as a professional poker player.  Specifically, in January 2007, I went to the Bahamas and Borgata and played a lot of tournaments, and I got my ass handed to me in almost every one I entered.  Borgata in particular seems to be my personal house of horrors: despite comically shitty fields in every event I’ve ever played there, I can’t seem to win a dime in AC’s monstrous faux-Vegas joint.

I’m pretty bummed about this dry spell. If I had started last year out this way, I might be in court right now rather than typing this.  But it ain’t last year, and I’m not about to jump out my window or anything.  I have spent a bit of time considering what went wrong in January 2007, and here are my conclusions.

Natural Variance:  Tournaments are swingy. And by swingy I don’t mean married couples having consensual sex with each other. I mean that droughts are totally normal: a tournament player’s result charts should have big swings. By playing exclusively tournaments (rather than cash games) in January, and by putting quite a bit of tournament entry money into play, I certainly did not mitigate this factor. I can recall quite a few hands where I was bitten by bad luck. I also know that I held an unusually low number of premium hands both at Atlantis and Borgata. I usually mock people who complain too much about never being dealt aces. A good player will pick up chips regardless. Shame on me for mentioning that.

Holes In My Game:  Another thing I have noticed about this month is that I made very few creative “outside the box” plays, and when I did make a creative (read: aggressive) preflop play, I failed to follow that play up with post-flop aggression. At this point, I can play a reasonable brand of tight-aggressive poker when I’m drunk, half-asleep, eating dinner, watching TV, whatever.  Too often this month, I was in that autopilot mode.  There were situations at Borgata especially, where I should have played more hands in position, and situations where I should have reraised preflop with air.  Instead, I played surprisingly passively and let some poor players “dictate tempo” to steal a sports phrase.  Only at very rare junctures could an observer say that I was terrorizing my table.  And people who win poker tournaments terrorize their tables.

Mental State:  This one strongly correlates with the prior category.  Unfortunately, I’ve spent the last two weeks in a mental fog. In small part this is due to the accumulated effects of constantly losing, which does wear on you a bit.  It is also due to some serious frustration dealing with Neteller, which held quite a bit of my money in limbo for several weeks.  It seemed I had no recourse, but I recently was able to secure my funds through some rather cunning means.  But the larger reason has been the sudden illness and subsequent death of my parents’ dog Maggie.  I really loved that little fucker, and when I heard she was on her way out, I was overwhelmed with sadness.  I think the news reduced my focus a bit, and my game suffered.

She was a really special dog.  She had a level of intuition that most dogs are incapable of–what poker players call “second level thinking” and what lawyers might call an understanding of “proximate cause.”  Maggie was able to identify the things that deprived her of attention and eliminate them, like a petulant child.  For instance, she had no tolerance for books or newspapers.  If you began to read in her presence she would attack whatever you were reading and scratch it out of your hands.  She also knew how important the TV remote control was.  When she was feeling especially feisty, she’d grab it and hide under the bed, causing my father a lot of grief and providing the rest of us with a good laugh.  She also knew how to use her “table image” to her advantage:  Any time a person walked through the front door, she brought them a gift (usually a shoe, but sometimes a pillow). 

I remember the day my mother and I picked Maggie up as a pup. I was in my first year of law school, immobilized after having knee surgery and living at my parents’ house, so I spent a lot of time with her back then.  I helped train her and I like to think I also helped instill her with the unique persona she displayed from that time forward.  She was very affectionate, but at the same time she took no shit from anyone.  Even though she was physically diminutive, my parents’ place was Maggie’s house!  Hanging out with her whenever I’d visit my parents was one of the best things about going home for the past decade.  Seeing her bedraggled and helpless for the first time in her life in the past couple of weeks was heartbreaking.

Appreciate your pets, it’s easy to forget their life spans are much shorter than ours. RIP, Maggie May….

As for me, in the last tournament I played, I was totally on point.  In the Full Tilt $300k Guaranteed last night I found myself doing funky things like reraising fools with 10-5 offsuit, checkraising guys with air on ace-high flops, and being a general nuisance, just like Maggie.  They couldn’t run me down until there were 70 people left out of over 2100, and I almost made a huge score.  You haven’t heard the last from me.

This week, I returned to AC so that I could try and satellite into the WPT main event. From playing at the Borgata last week, I figured that the satellite fields would be fairly weak. The fields were indeed weak, but I still managed to swing and miss in both tournaments.

In these tournaments, I played well and accumulated chips through the early and middle levels. But then, in each tourney, big hands arose in which I made poor decisions that crippled me. After the fact (yeah CBO log!), it occurred to me that both hands involved a distinct internal struggle: my instincts and my training were at odds. In both instances my gut told me to take one course of action but I chose another. Both times, my decision was based on the text of books i’ve read. And both times, I should have trusted my gut.

Poker players typically just sit down and play. Most beginners play purely on instincts, with experience serving as a guiding hand, reshaping those instincts as time progresses. Not entirely so for me. Since I have read at least twenty poker books (some of them several times), I can often cite the reason I am making a certain play, along with the author who told me to make it. However, I’m not a computer and I do have underlying instincts. My game is not totally pre-programmed by books and videos.

Instinctively, I am a very tight, conservative player. In a vacuum, priority number one for me is to protect my stack and avoid confrontations. Come to think of it, this “instinct” might not be 100% inborn. The very first book about tournament poker that I ever read was T.J. Cloutier’s book, which preaches super-tight conservative play and counsels against unecessary risk taking. Frankly, this book is complete garbage when applied to the modern tournament scene, and reading it before I read any other books probably set me back a good deal. It was only when I expanded my tournament poker library that I opened up my game and began to see results.

In any event, whether it is my own doing, T.J.’s doing, or some combination, my hard-wiring says to avoid big confrontations in tournaments. However, it is also indisputable that selectively welcoming big confrontations is required to win poker tournaments. So at certain junctures in a tournament, a little war is being waged in my head. Sometimes my gut says one thing while page 157 of Harrington On Hold ‘Em says another. Here are the two hands from the supersats where I should have obeyed Mr. Gut:

Supersatellite #1:

About half the field is gone. The blinds are 200-400 with a 50 ante. I have an average stack of about 12,000. My table is broken and I’m moved to a new one. The most exciting thing about my new seat, incidentally, is that it is located two seats to the left of the one being occupied by Captain Tom Franklin.  (Google “Tom Franklin” and “Brandi Hawbaker” for some background). At this new table, about 10 hands are played, none of which really give me a read on what’s going on. Then I am dealt JJ in middle position. I make a standard raise to 1200, and the player three seats to my left, who has about 8,500 chips, makes a reraise to 3200.  I have absolutely no read on this player. Everyone else folds.

My gut was screaming that he had a big hand and was making a small reraise to entice action, and that I should therefore either fold, or call, then check-fold if I don’t flop a set. 

However, this type of situation is discussed in several books (among them Harrington’s, Erick Lindgren’s, and the Kill Phil book). Each of those books states that big hands only come around every once in a while, and that you simply have to play them, especially when the blinds are large in proportion to you stack. Harrington’s book also states that when you have no particular read on a player, you should never discount the possibility that he is bluffing. He states that players can and do make strange moves, even if they don’t appear to make any sense. While my instinct said “get away!” these two concepts were telling me to go ahead and play the hand. In an effort to talk myself into the book-learned play, I also told myself that since I was in a supersat, I needed to accumulate a lot of chips soon. Further, I noted that this player could not bust me. After perhaps 40 seconds of internal back-and-forth, I finally pushed all my chips in, my opponent called and showed KK, and I was crippled. 

Supersatellite #2:

Once again, about half the field is gone and the blinds are 200-400 with a 50 ante. My stack is at around 5500 and fading fast. My table draw was very favorable, and there are many bad players. One of the bad players is a total nit–a very conservative player that is scared to put his chips in play. He has me covered and is in the big blind when I pick up pocket queens in middle position. I am technically in all in-or-fold territory, but I know that most of the players at the table, including the big blind, are not savvy enough to know this. I instead raise to 1000 in order to induce action. Everyone folds to the big blind, who calls.

The flop is Q-10-x with two diamonds, giving me top set. The big blind checks, and I desperately need him to catch something (flush draw be damned), so I check behind. The turn is the ace of clubs, and the big blind bets 400 into the 2500-chip pot. I put him on a weak ace and flat call. The river is the jack of spades, making the board A-Q-J-10-x. My set of queens no longer looks so good when the big blind fires 2000 into the pot. From almost any other player, I would instacall this bet, because a bluff is very possible in light of the prior action. However, this player was a very scared player who was clearly uncomfortable playing in a tournament of any magnitude. My gut began to scream “fold!” but I’ve been trained to calculate pot odds and not to discount the possibility of a bluff. Both these factors made this an obvious call. But somehow calling didn’t feel right. I called anyway. Despite being virtually certain I was beat.  The nit showed A-K and took down the pot, crippling me. Unbelievably, he didn’t reraise all in preflop with big slick.         

A few years ago, prior to my exhaustive exploration of poker manuals, I would have laid down both of the hands I desribed without much thought. I would have felt beat and thus simply gotten away. My education actually was detrimental in those two hands. But before I can curse those stupid books, I need to remember that I probably never would have advanced as far in those two tournaments without them. 

I think good tournament players understand all the important NLHE tourney concepts, most of which have now been written about in books I’m very familiar with. The really great tournament players not only understand these concepts, but also know the exact right times to disregard them, trust their gut and go with their read of specific situation and do something unorthodox. I’m still fine-tuning the delicate balance between my knowledge and my “feel.” I owe my lack of success on this trip to the fact that my game isn’t 100% fine-tuned.

I’m getting comfortable with Atlantic City, NJ. Maybe a little too comfortable. AC on a January weekday is a strange place. Away from the boardwalk, AC is always a quiet depressing place, but never more so than during the middle of the week in the wintertime.  Midweek, even the boardwalk and hotels, which are bustling on the weekends, are quiet. The streets are barren, and so are the casino floors, save for the slot machine areas, which as always are entertaining a steady stream of retirees in sweatsuits, fresh off the bus. As for me, I have developed a little AC routine. Mostly it consists of driving from parking garage to parking garage, using my free transfers, and dining at the White House Sub Shop.

One very notable exception to the prevailing quiet in Atlantic City this past week was the scene at the Borgata’s convention center area. The turnout for the WPT Borgata Winter Poker Open has been astounding. If anyone is wondering whether the poker fad is dying out, the answer is no. If one were to judge by the record attendance during the opening days of the event, the poker wave is actually cresting. So while the US Government is currently doing everything in its power to kill online gambling, this country’s citizens want to play poker more than they ever have. The $500, $750 and $1000 events that kicked off the Winter Open drew a ridiculous 1370, 610, and 630 players, respectively. On weekday mornings, no less.

I think it’s neither bravado nor an exaggeration when I say that these three events offered me the biggest overlays of my career. The fields were that bad. Guys came out of the woodwork for these tournaments. Virtually every type of bad player was on display: Scared nits, good time Charlie’s, brash young punks…. I’m very disappointed that I only managed to cash in a $200 second chance event and could not crack the money in any of the three larger events I played. I owe it to myself to go back to the Borgata this week.

On this trip I came up with a special innovation. I call it my CBO Log. It’s my Cripple/Bustout Log! (patent pending)

No Limit Hold ‘Em, as we all know, is a game of mistakes. We try to limit our own mistakes and take maximum advantage of others’ mistakes. One place where mistakes are common in tournaments is the hand that cripples or busts you. I therefore have resolved to take notes on each hand that cripples or busts me in all my tournaments, review what happened, and try to learn from my mistake, if any, in each instance. Maybe some of you will follow suit. I’m sure CBO Logs will be all the rage in due time.

My actual CBO Log is a bunch of shorthand mumbo jumbo, but for my blog readers, I will expand on the CBO entries for each of the Borgata events I played. Here they are:

Tourney #1, $500 NL
Blinds are 300-600 with a 50 ante. My stack is approximately 10,500. About half the field has been eliminated. My table has many inexperienced players who overplay hands preflop. I am dealt AK offsuit under the gun. I limp. It is folded to an aggressive, inexperienced player in the cutoff, who makes it 2500 to go. He has me covered. The button and small blind fold, and the big blind, who also has me covered, calls. I go all in for 10,500. The cutoff folds. The big blind thinks for awhile and calls with 77. I get no help and am busted.

Critique: I think I played this exactly right. My stack was at the very peculiar size (7.5x the pot) where open-pushing and standard raising were both –EV plays. Open-pushing would have been an overbet that would only get called by JJ, QQ, KK and AA, open-raising would leave me in a spot where if I missed the flop, a continuation bet would commit my entire stack. The limp-reraise all in was probably my best play here. The big blind made a daring call that worked out.

Tourney #2, $750 NL
Blinds are 100-200. My stack is approximately 4200. It is still fairly early in the tournament, but I have already lost almost half my starting stack. I pick up AQ UTG+1 and raise to 600. I am called by the player to my immediate left, who has been playing tight-aggressive poker, and I also get called by the cutoff and the button. Both blinds fold. The flop comes K-K-8 with two hearts. I check, and all three other players check. The turn is a black four, and all four of us check again. The river is another 8, putting two pair on board. I check, the player to my left bets 2000, both late position players fold, and I reluctantly call. My opponent shows KQ suited and I am crippled, left with around 1500 chips.

Critique: This one is harder to defend than CBO #1, but here is what I was thinking. When both the flop and turn was checked around, I ruled out middle pocket pairs for all three of my opponents. There was just no way they wouldn’t try to find out where they were at with a pair of kings and a flush draw on board, given two opportunities. So the only hand that was beating me on the river was a hand that had a slowplayed king in it. After the bet on the river, I tried to put the player to my left on a hand. I had raised from 2nd position, and he had been playing tight preflop. So the only hands with a king in them that he might call with were AK and KQ suited. But why would he give two free cards on a flop with two hearts? I was somewhat concerned that he held 88, for a flopped full house, but when the second 8 arrived on the river, I reduced the chances that he held that hand. It was really looking like he held AQ or AJ, or possibly A10 suited, which is why I chose to call. The big problem with this line of thinking was that I was calling to merely chop the pot when I had only 600 invested. If I was beating any of his possible bluffing hands, this call would make a lot of sense, but since I was calling to merely chop the pot, I think I made a bad call.

Tourney #3, $200 NL
Blinds are 1500-3000 with a 500 ante. My stack is approximately 15,500. The bubble has burst and the field just made the money. I have J6 offsuit in the big blind. Everyone folds to the small blind, who completes. I don’t know much about this player, except that he’s conservatively dressed and in his 50’s. I push all in and my opponent gleefully calls with pocket kings. He has me covered and I’m gone.

Critique: It looks silly when you bust out with J6 against KK, but this is the biggest no-brainer of the group. If you don’t know why, you need to read Harrington or buy yourself a PXF subscription. As a matter of fact, in one of the PXF videos, Johnny Bax says something like “if you want to bust me, slowplay aces from the small blind when I’m in the big blind and short stacked. You’ll bust me every time, good for you.” Same here.

Tourney #4, $1000 NL
Blinds are 1000-2000 with a 500 ante. My stack is about 40,000. There are 87 out of 630 players left, with the money bubble lurking at spot #63. I have been playing aggressively, open-raising a lot of pots. I have two black sevens on the button of a ten-handed table. It is folded to the player in 7th position, who has about 30,000 chips, and he raises to 6000. He seems to be a tight player, and I have made him fold by reraising him all in once before. I reraise all in. The player in the small blind folds. The player in the big blind thinks for a long time, then reraises all in for approximately 50,000. The original raiser calls immediately. The big blind has JJ and the original raiser has AA. The aces hold up. The original raiser wins a huge pot, and the player in the big blind wins the side pot. I am busto.

Critique: I was overaggressive here. My image at this table was not ideal for this move. I had been playing very fast and loose for the 30 minutes preceding this hand. That said, I had taken a look at the payout schedule for the event and noticed that it was extremely top-heavy. The first few money levels for the tournament paid only a few hundred dollars in profit, while first place was something like $175,000. I decided I was going to play to win, hence this shove. But in retrospect, the original raise did not come from the cutoff or the button, so it represented strength from a tightish player. Also, I was on the button, not in one of the blinds, so I had to get through two players to my left. In light of my stack size, I think this was a close decision, but it was proper to fold here (not call, incidentally). That’s a shame, because I was up against aces.

For those of you who get your up-to-the-minute poker info from DavidZeitlin.com, allow me to inform you that Neteller, the company that facilitates gazillions of dollars in online poker wagering, has put the kibosh on all money trasfers to and from gambling websites.  Here is the transcript of the IM conversation I just had with Neteller’s live support:

David: ok, i understand that no funds my be transferred to or from any gambling websites going forward?
David: i would assume this includes all poker sites
David: ?
David: (for US customers, which i am)
Chris: Correct
Chris: All gambling websites.
David: ok… this drastically reduces my need for Netller… what is the best way for me to withdraw my funds if i do not have a Neteller Card?
Chris: To give you a heads up, we are currently working on some exciting features in which will allow US clients to transfer to more NON-gambling sites
David: ok… well i would be willing to leave some $ in the account, but not the large amounts I have in the past
David: that will no longer be necessary
Chris: With the recent activity, our withdrawal volumes have increased.
Chris: An EFT withdrawal will be taking up to 2 weeks and checks will take up to 6-8 weeks
Chris: That’s fine. Your funds are secure with us and we have no plans on closing US client accounts
David: there is a limit per EFT withdrawal, correct?
Chris: Correct. it is about $5000 USD per transaction. If the system is not allowing a full $5K just adjust it by $50 and it should work
David: i am concerned that my money will never get to me, i really hope that is not the case
David: i appreciate your responses
Chris: You’re very welcome. You will get your money it may just take some time
David: okay. thank you for your time
Chris: Have a great evening
David: thanks, same to you
Chris: Thank you
David: if u don’t mind
David: can u stay there while i try to sign in?
David: to make sure it is all clear
David: ok, i’m logged in
Chris: Sure can
Chris: Great 🙂
David: all good now
David: thx again… and don’t take my money!!! 😉 

This Neteller thing is baaaaaad news.  Get your money out of there now.

In other news, today the Borgata drew something like 1,400 players for the opening tournament of the Winter Open, a $500 NL event.  The quality of play was roughly the same as one might find in a $1.00 tournament on Pokerstars.

I still didn’t cash.

What do you get when you cross a Star Trek convention with a Gamblers’ Anonymous meeting?  The Pokerstars Carribean Adventure.  It was packed with nerds who love to gamble.  The hotel lobby was the scene of much nerdy action.  

The lobby was the only place on the compound with a strong wireless connection, so you had continuous online poker amidst serious fanfare:

I also witnessed my first ever ‘Magic: The Gathering’ game in the lobby (picture courtesy of thepokerdb.com):

And what happens when you put a bunch of gambling-crazed teenagers with big bankrolls in the same hotel lobby?  I didn’t personally witness this, but apparently they get drunk and flip a coin for $25,000 per flip (pics courtesy of thepokerdb.com):

Incidentally, the Asian kid in these photos is “Genius28,” the same kid who was autoshoving in the 2-5 NL game at Turning Stone, described towards the bottom of this blog entry.  His coinflip opponent was a kid who calls himself “Action Jeff,” who has a dual reputation in the online poker community as a stone-cold killer and a douchebag.  They are both obviously somewhat crazy.
In Atlantis action beyond the lobby, here are some shots of Janeen and I being tourists:

 One notable development on this trip that I’ve yet to mention is Janeen’s first exposure to the poker wives/girlfriend’s club.  While I was busy playing the main event, Janeen was engaged in conversation with Lily Mizrachi, a.k.a. “Mrs. Grinder,” and the wife of Ralph Perry.

  
Unfortunately for Janeen, a poker wife/girlfriend’s reputation is inseparable from her husband’s.  So by the time the wives of the reigning tournament player of the year and a player with several million in documented winnings were through asking about me, Janeen had been thoroughly humbled.  Mrs. Grinder and Mrs. Perry nevertheless allowed Janeen to participate in the conversation, which included their wisdom on how to keep your poker playing husband from straying while he’s on the road and which tournament locations were the most kid-friendly.  I’m sure Janeen felt the same competitive undercurrent that pervades friendly conversations amongst the actual players at these events.  And I’m sure neither Mrs. Grinder nor Mrs. Perry were terribly disappointed to see my limping over to Janeen on the rail after I busted.
Our Caribbean Adventure wrapped up with a party on the final night, where Janeen took these two pictures:
Me with Pokerstars Manager Lee Jones, the man allegedly responsible for every bad beat ever dealt on the site:
 

And me with Humberto Brenes.  Who’s the shark now, Humberrrrrtoooooo?!
 

That’s all for now.  Back to the grind. 

I’ve had no success playing poker down here, so maybe that is going to color the scathing travel review i’m about to write.  But first I’ll describe the $1500 tourney I just played.

In marked contrast to the $8000 event, the $1500 event was filled with idiots, at least at my specific table.  One of these idiots drew the seat to my immediate right.  He spoke very little english, but the language barrier was of little consequence.  The way he played poker screamed “I suck” loud and clear.  From what I could gather, his starting hand requirement included all hands with an ace, all hands with two broadway cards and all pairs, regardless of his position. 

His most obvious characteristic was that he was a calling station, so I will call him CS.  I learned this by watching the following hand unfold at the 100-200 level:  CS raises in late position to 650, small blind calls, all others fold.  Flop comes 2 3 5 rainbow.  Small blind checks, CS bets 1200.  Small blind shoves for 4000, and CS immediately calls (duh).  Small blind shows Q9 for a complete bluff, and CS tables… A9.  Adios, small blind.

So this guy became my target.  The plan was to isolate him with a hand and get paid.  Simple enough.  My opportunity arose at the 100-200/25 ante level.  I had two black 9’s on the button and CS raised to 800.  Sitting on around 8000 (starting stacks were 4000), I reraised to 2600 to chase everyone else off, knowing CS would call.  He did, and the flop came 10-8-7, leaving me open ended.  Now CS led out for 2000, and of course I shoved him.  He instacalled with A-Q (nice call!), and I did my best to suppress a smile.  But the smile was gone when the dealer turned a queen.  No help on the river.  Good game, Sug!

Next topic:  Atlantis.  Or more accurately, expensive Carribean resort compounds in general.  This place is nice, and Janeen and I have had a pretty good time, but what a scam this is.

When you’re sitting poolside at one of these monstrosities, it’s easy to forget that the whole premise of a “Caribbean resort paradise” is a facade.  But you were reminded of it a few days earlier, when you looked out the window when your plane landed:  shoddy ramshackle houses without doors, emaciated stray animals wandering around.  You were reminded of it again on the cab trip from the airport to the resort:  dirt-poor people walking the streets eyeing you with contempt at every stop sign.  The truth is that you’re in a third-world country whose chief export was enslaved humans not too long ago.  But now the cab has pulled up to your fantasy home for the next week, so you forget about that (Atlantis sells the fantasyland aspect hard with it’s insistent underwater wonderland theme– I keep expecting the Little Mermaid to pop out around every corner).  All is well.  But is it really?   

The good news is that the Atlantis is huge and can provide you with a wide array of nice services.  But there’s bad news, a lot of it.  For the most part, you’re stuck on the compound, and the Atlantis does not cater to all tastes.  Far from it.

The best part about this place, in my humble opinion, is all the wonderful pools, lagoons, beachfront areas and water activities.  There is a really amazing array of outdoor stuff to do.  Yesterday, Janeen and I spent a full hour shooting ourselves through different waterslides.  These were big league rides reminiscent of Action Park, with virtually no line to wait on.  The guests at Atlantis have access to these along with a million other fun beachside/poolside amenities, and the place is not overcrowded.  There’s outdoor stuff to do for everyone except the biggest schlubs:  scuba diving, snorkeling, jet skiing, etc.  That’s nice.  Also, the every room comes with a TV equipped with the NFL Sunday Ticket.  Also very nice, if you’re me.  Now for the rest.

First of all, this place is astoundingly, mind-numbingly, “are you fucking kidding me?!” expensive.  Upon arrival, you are handed a room-charge card and discouraged from using cash to pay for anything.  It’s an old gambling adage that the guy who invented chips was a genius, because he made it possible for millions of people to forget the value of what they were losing.  The same can be said of whoever decided that a little blue card would be the currency of choice at Atlantis. 

If I were here on my own dime, I’d be very upset.  Slice of pizza:  $8.  Two sandwiches:  $45.  Large bottled water:  $9.  WTF? 

The food at Atlantis was hailed as one of the place’s main selling points.  Before we ever left American soil, people I respect told me I simply had to try at least three different restaurants on the compound.  Well, we’ve now spent in the vicinity of $200 on dinner at each of these places, and all three were…. off.  I’m no gourmand, but in my humble opinion, the food at these allegedly wonderful restaurants is only decent.  In each case you can see what they’re going for (“oh, a fancy steakhouse”, “oh, another Nobu”) but something is just… off.  Maybe it’s the fact that you’re on a freakin’ island and all the ingredients have several stop-overs before they get here.  Maybe it’s the very poor quality of the water down here.  But everything i’ve had tastes slightly… off.

I’ve mentioned how much there is to do during the daytime here.  What about after dark?  Not so much.  Basically, you’re expected to do two things:  blow a ton of money in one of the overpriced, overhyped restaurants, then blow whatever you have left in the one place on the compound where cash plays:  the casino.

The casino here sucks.  It’s small, and the table limits are set in such a way so that smallish players are in over their head.  Blackjack minimums are $25, craps minimums are $15.  So then they’re catering to the whales, right?  Nope.  Table maximums on blackjack and craps are $3000.  They want the casual player to lose his shirt, and at the same time, they’re afraid of getting hurt by the big players.  There’s a sportsbook, but that might be the most hilarious ripoff in this entire place (and that’s saying something).  Even the most casual sports bettor has to know that the futures bets they have posted are unplayable (FOUR NFL teams listed at even money to win the Super Bowl?).  Why even bother?  Because we’re captive consumers, I guess.  

The only reason I’m bothering to mention the casino is because it’s the only remotely interesting place to go on the compound after dark.  There are a lot of outdoor bars, but they’re closed after sundown.  There’s a smattering of empty indoor bars; typical hotel lobby type of stuff.  And off to the side of the casino there is something they’re calling a dance club, but it’s actually just a bar with loud music and a 10 x 10 space for dancing.  Guests at the Atlantis are best off staying in their rooms (which aren’t particularly nice) watching pay-per-view movies ($14) at night, resting up so they can hit the beach or pool early the next morning.  That’s nice if you’re here for a relaxing weekend, but I was booked for an entire week.  I could have easily spent my nights in the makeshift poker room (here this week only), but I’m here with Janeen.  Instead we spent a lot of hours at the craps table, doing the one available activity that we both enjoy.  Do you think I won or lost after 12 hours of craps?  Take a wild guess. 

I suppose this place is for families or older folks who have basically given up on having fun.  Janeen and I are neither of the above.  It’s our own fault to some degree–we probably should have ventured off the compound.  We still have a day left to do that.  But for the most part, in this writer’s opinion, this place is a straight-up scam.

In the end, I don’t think I really get the concept of the Carribean resort vacation.  Miami Beach kicks this place’s ass.  Suffice to say, this is my last Carribbean vacation for awhile.  That is, until I win an entry in the 2008 event, have a family, or become boring.  Even then, I’m not staying for a full week. 

I have now played three large buy-in (over $5,000) tournies in my life.  And after today, my in-the-money percentage has dropped from 1.000 to .667.

I could not get anything going at all today.  I immediately lost about 20% of my stack on a poorly conceived bluff, then lost another quick 30% when my QQ was cracked when my opponent rivered a set with 77.  From there I scratched and clawed, but it was not enough.  I didn’t pick up any decent hands, nor could I find any decent spots to get my chips in.  On my final hand, I moved all in with 22 and Barry Greenstein’s wife woke up with KK in the big blind, busting me.  Very anticlimactic.

My table was by far the most difficult tournament table i’ve ever sat at.  Immediately to my right was a kid who works for Cardrunners.com.  Three seats to my right was the winner of the 2005 Pokerstars WCOOP Main Event, Jordan Berkowitz (wearing a ghetto fabulous ensemble that probably cost him $10,000).  All the other players at my table were very tricky.  I did not feel overmatched, but there was absoultely no one to pick on.  I ended up playing a little too passively, and I never flopped a damn thing.

One of my streaks will remain alive:  I’ve NEVER missed a NY Jets playoff game.

I’ll be playing in the smaller events, and will report back on those as well.

Hello from the Bahamas.  So far there’s been no poker; Janeen and I are just chillin’.  Atlantis is a really nice place–it has all the benefits of the Caribbean (beautiful weather, slow pace) without any of the drawbacks (lousy infrastructure, horrible service).  My first day of the WPT event is tomorrow.

I have only one interesting to say right now.  This is the closest thing there is to an international online poker convention.  And I’ve gone into some serious detail on this issue before (linky), but WOW, what a motley crew they (we?) are. 

Holy nerd factory.  The Atlantis, which normally doesn’t have any poker, has converted all of its convention space for us.  But most of these kids still would rather play online.  I was only able to get online just now because they just figured out how to get it the internet up and working again.  The massive number of kids multitalbling in the lobby had crashed Atlantis’ WiFi system.

And away we go…. 

My first major poker foray of 2007 starts tomorrow, when I fly to Atlantis in the Bahamas for the 2007 Pokerstars Carribean Adventure.  This is a WPT event.

It should be a lot of fun–the weather will be great, Janeen is coming–but there is a very good chance that I will miss my beloved New York Jets’ playoff game against the Patriots, which distresses me.  When I booked this trip I didn’t think the Jets had a snowball’s chance in hell of playing a game on wildcard weekend (and neither did anyone else).

I guess it’s one of the tradeoffs you have to make as a poker player? 

I begin play on Saturday, and the Jets’ game is Sunday, so I do know that it will soften the blow if I happen to bust out on Day 1 of the event.

______________________________

Also, now that I’ve completed a full year of professional poker, I want to officially say the following:

2006 was the most fulfilling, satisfying year of my adult life, and my career switch was a major reason for this.  I feel like I have accomplished a lot, and I also am very proud of myself for taking a calculated risk that paid off.

I want to thank everyone who has supported me throughout 2006.  I also want to send a special shout-out to Jon Marston, who first convinced me to write this blog, then got it off the ground, and today continues to help me with it. 

Happy New Year everyone.

DZ