My trip home was very good despite the most severe jetlag I’ve had in years.  I got to relax a little bit.  Janeen is starting to show and makes a very cute pregnant woman.  It was sweltering and sunny for the BBQ, which shattered its attendance record.  A lot of great friends and family came out to Long Island to eat, drink, swim and hang out.

By Monday, I was feeling nice and settled, dreading the idea of flying back out to Vegas.  The drudgery of packing, getting to the airport, checking my suitcase, and going through security had me in a sour frame of mind.  I got to my gate early and was sitting there half-reading and half-dozing when I overheard a conversation that changed my mood entirely.

Behind me, a group of men were talking.  It sounded like there were maybe five or six of them.  The topic was the WSOP Main Event.  They were flying out to play it.  Their attitude was the polar opposite of my own.  They were exuberant, celebrating the occasion.  I quickly gathered that the entire group, with one exception, was playing the tournament for the first time.  The veteran was now holding court.

This’ll be my sixth time playing, guys.  Lemme me tell you, there’s nothing like it.  This is the pinnacle fellas!  It’s worth every penny.  This is something you have to experience before you die.

The other voices chimed back in with palpable excitement.  The discussion then turned to topics such as what to do with pocket aces in level one (play a small pot) how to handle the pros (avoid them) and how to beat the bathroom lines (skip the last hand of the level).

My curiosity now fully piqued, I nonchalantly turned around in my seat to get a look at these guys.  A group of men in their 50’s or early 60’s.  All wearing khaki shorts, golf shirts and shit-eating grins.  I recognized one of them.  A tall, white haired man whose chips I have taken many times at Foxwoods.  The epitome of dead money.

A couple of things suddenly occurred to me.  One, my job is a lot of fun.  On a daily basis I do something that many average joes take immense pleasure in.  While I was sitting there feeling grumpy about getting onto a plane to play it, these men were talking about the WSOP Main Event with “bucket list”-level reverence.  This was their equivalent of scaling Everest, meeting the President, shooting hoops with Michael, etc. etc.  It’s a really big deal to thousands of people.  Once was for me, too.

It also occurred to me that I’m very good at poker.  It’s easy to forget this when you commune only with other people who are also very good.  While a couple of guys like the ones behind me in the airport manage to final table it every year, they are also the reason the Main Event (and poker generally) is such a great opportunity for me—a juicy lottery ticket with positive expectation.

The golf guys’ conversation kindled a feeling of sweet anticipation inside me, and I boarded the plane in a happy but determined mood.

After landing in Vegas I had a nice meal and went bowling.  Then I woke up the next day and won a seat to the Main Event in the only MTT satellite I’ve played this year.  My Day 1 starts in about an hour.

I’m having trouble finding the motivation to write much about it, but on Friday I experienced the bitter disappointment of finishing 24th in Wednesday’s $1500 Event at the World Series.  My hopes were sky high entering play that day.  Unfortunately, they were quickly dashed.

Late on Thursday, I held the chip lead with approximately 30 players left and quite deliberately and consciously decided to go into lockdown mode.  Alas, I was then dealt a series of strong hands.  I opened all of them and was three-bet each time.  When one player chose to three-bet me for the third consecutive time, I had seen enough.  I made an ego-driven four-bet jam with AQs and couldn’t suck out against QQ.  I therefore entered Day 3 only 10th out of 25 remaining players.

Still, I woke up on Friday feeling more than merely determined and hopeful.  I earnestly expected that I would play my best poker and proceed at least to the final table.  Finishing 24th did not seem like it was in the realm of possibility.  Things went badly from the start.  My stack blinded its way down to below average, at which point I made my move.

My bustout hand was played properly.  I lost a coin flip that was worth something like $80,000 in equity.  I was catatonic for the next 30 minutes–I collected approximately $18,000, but it may as well have been Monopoly money—the teller went through the painstaking process of counting out each and every bill in front of me, but my mind was elsewhere.  She could have shorted me ten dimes and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

Once some feeling came back I was absolutely despondent.  Getting into position to win a WSOP Event is beyond difficult.  It takes a great deal of luck and perseverance, this was my first true crack at a bracelet since 2007.  Watching this kind of opportunity go to waste is very painful.

One positive thing I took away from the experience was the discovery that I have quite a number of real friends in the poker community.  I was touched by the number of people who were earnestly rooting for me to win.  I had friends on the rail at various stages of the tournament, numerous well-wishers in the hallway on my breaks, and a couple of my best poker friends were even there to console me in the immediate aftermath of my bustout.

I had a great night out on Saturday.  I managed to experience about eight straight hours of quality house music, and I danced like a madman.  Catharsis.

I’m done with multitable tournaments until the 2010 WSOP Main Event and will head home on Wednesday morning.  I can honestly say that this trip home is the most highly anticipated one I’ve had in all five years I’ve been doing this.  I can’t wait to walk through my front door on Wednesday Night to receive a hug from Janeen and a full frontal assault from Ruthie.

Apologies to those who aren’t into classic house tracks, I’m not stuttering.

Anyway, I’m in the process of making my first deep run in a WSOP prelim in something like three years.  I come into Day 3 of Event #42 sitting 10th out of 25 in chips.  I have a realistic shot of competing for the $600k first place prize and the bracelet.  I’m slightly disappointed because I held the chip lead with around 30 players left, but an unfortunate (and probably ill-advised) four bet jam into QQ with AQs took care of that.  I still have a playable stack and a solid table draw.  Running good would help.

I’m really tired right now; I never can sleep the night before I play for this kind of cash.  Adrenaline will carry me.  Hopefully tomorrow I’ll have a picture to share of me looking wore out but gripping a WSOP bracelet.

Cards in the air at 2:30 PST.

My trip has taken a turn for the worse.  I had a disappointing finish in a Venetian tournament in which I held the chip lead entering Day 2.  It’s not often that I have a clear advantage over a field in terms of experience and skill, but I believe that was the case in this tournament.  With two tables remaining I felt I was a favorite to do something significant, but it didn’t happen.  The redraw placed a chipped-up and very aggressive player directly to my right.  I’m never going to allow myself to be run over, and that was what this gentleman attempted.  I knew it wouldn’t be long before I took a stand against him.  When I did, he outflopped me by a narrow margin and that was all she wrote.

After that I had a rather humdrum bustout in a WSOP $1500 event (couldn’t win a flip) and then bricked a few WSOP sit ‘n go’s (got it in good and lost), which have traditionally been a cash cow for me.  It’s gotten bad, but it’s not terrible.  I’m stuck only a relatively small amount out here.

Emotionally, the trip has really become a grind, so I’m happy to be taking a break right now. Yesterday I slept in and played no poker at all, and today I am off to Chicago to spend the weekend with Janeen and family.  I haven’t seen my pregnant wife in three weeks.  It feels like it’s been longer than that.

I’m already registered for Monday’s WSOP $1500 Shootout.  I’m officially on vacation until then.

Been waiting awhile  for the go-ahead to make this announcement!

I knocked Janeen up.  If everything goes according to plan, she will deliver the next great poker prodigy into the world sometime in mid- to late December.

I’m really excited to become a Dad.

🙂

I’m not sure what it is, but I can’t stand the Venetian.  I’m now at the point where walking into the place feels like arriving at the proctologist’s office.

Maybe it’s that the tournament poker tables are basically located on the casino floor, complete with the attendant smoke, noise and mayhem.

Maybe it’s the hard, strange poker chips they use.  They make an unsatisfying metallic clink when they touch each other.

Maybe it’s the general incompetence of the dealers.  Today one of them just sat there looking into space while the action unfolded around him.

Maybe it’s the gross, assy perfume that is pumped through the place’s air ducts in copious amounts.  The entire place smells like a delightful mixture of smoke and assy perfume.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I have now played upwards of thirty tournaments at the Venetian with a single solitary mincash (for 1.2 times the buy in!) to my credit.

I’m starting to trick myself into thinking that the environment is affecting my play at the Venetian.  I’m convinced that I must morph into a moron whenever I walk into the place.

F the Venetian!

chock full of assy goodness.

Here’s my bustout hand from the 1k WSOP Event I cashed in:

I had about 48k, the bubble had recently burst and we dropped from 324 players to 250 in very short order.  Two players at my table had recently accumulated a lot of chips.  One in particular had begun to play very spazzy.  He had roughly 115k at the start of my bustout hand.

The blinds were 600-1200/100 and he opened to 3100 from UTG +2.  It folded to me in the big blind where I found the Ac7c.  It figured to be the best hand against this kid, so I chose to call.  The flop came J-10-2 with two clubs.

I had to process quite a bit of information before acting.  My first determination was that I was going to look to play a big pot here.  There were no money jumps that were of remote interest to me until the field got short, so I felt it was time to gamble.

My second consideration was how to get my stack into the middle.  Basically there were two options:  1) lead the flop and 3-bet jam if raised; 2) check the flop, intending to checkraise and then jam any turn or checkraise/call off my stack.

Because I felt the odds of a continuation bet from this player were very high, and because leading the flop and getting flatted would put me in a weird spot, I decided to check and let him put some more money in the pot, then execute the rest of my plan.  I checked, he bet 4,200, and I made it 12,800 to go.  He immediately moved all in, at which point I shrugged and called.

He tabled the 10-2 of spades (!) for bottom two pair.  When the 4c hit the turn, I was already envisioning the havoc I would systematically begin to wreak once they dealt the next hand.  It was very brief vision.

I could see the 2d rolling off the top of the deck on the river before it even hit the table.  I let out a very audible “oh no!” then gathered my things and stood there, waiting for my payout ticket.

I’ve run bad for three days straight now.  Talking to Janeen and looking at the picture of Ruthie that I use as my Blackberry screen saver are giving me pangs of homesickness.  I’m still determined to do some damage out here, though.

There are some significant improvements to the WSOP this year.  One is the improved poker kitchen at the Rio.  It now features a New York City workday lunch staple: one of those create-your-own-salad bars.  This will allow me to eat relatively healthy food for the duration of this trip, an accomplishment that has traditionally been easier said than done.  Another WSOP improvement is the new allocation of the Rio’s convention space.  The newly dedicated and ginormous “Pavilion” room now comfortably houses all Day 1 action along with the cash games and sit ‘n go’s.  It replaces the Amazon Room, which once was an utter madhouse but now is utilized only for Day 2 and final table action.

The WSOP also continues to get some things wrong.  My personal favorite among these things is the gallantry that awaits players as they return from the first break of the day.  At that time, the CEO of the WSOP appears on a stage and bracelets are presented to the winners of the events that concluded the prior night.  It would suffice to announce the winner’s name and to hand him or her with the bracelet before the assembled crowd.  But no, Harrah’s takes it several steps further by:

1.  Presenting the winner with his/her very own Diamond Total Rewards Card.   This endows the bracelet winner with the lifelong right to skip buffet lines at Harrah’s properties and to avoid parking fees in Atlantic City garages!

2.  Having the winner pose for photographs whilst gripping the bracelet with both hands above his/her head.  The Neanderthal who discovered fire might have looked this way holding the world’s first lit torch.

"By the power of Greyskull!"

3.  Having the winner face the crowd for the playing of his/her country’s national anthem.  This is both incredibly indulgent and a farce.  The people in the room have no idea what to do while the music plays. As the opening notes are played, some immediately remove their hats and stand at rigid attention.  The rest of us take their cue, slowly rise, glance around, and wait for the music to end so that they we can start gambling again.  On the plus side, I heard the Hungarian National Anthem for the first time.

What the hell does national pride have to do with poker?  These are just freakin’ poker tournaments, not international competitions.  Never once in my life have I felt that I was representing the United States of America at a poker table, and I doubt I ever will.  I’m neither anti-American nor anti-establishment.  I just know ridiculous when I see it—I find this sort of pageantry absurd even in the Olympics—so playing multiple national anthems during a break in a card game strikes me as downright retarded.  If I’m fortunate enough to win a bracelet at the WSOP, I will wear a powder blue leotard to my ceremony and insist on performing an interpretive dance to Flight of the Bumblebee in lieu of standing for the Star Spangled Banner.

By the way, I have made Day 2 of Event #13 with a decent stack.  Hoping to run good today.

Hello there blogisphere!

WSOP update:

My flight out here was uneventful.  My rungood started just after I touched down, at Enterprise Rent-A-Car.  Despite reserving the economy shitbox, I was granted a free upgrade to a much-nicer Hyundai something-or-other.  So instead of manual doorlocks and windows that you have to “roll down,” I have a baller’s car that comes equipped with XM Radio and even an iPod jack.  By the way, once automatic windows replace that spinning knobby crank thing in even the crappiest cars, do you think the term “roll down the window” will fade into extinction?  Will my grandchildren snicker at me when I ask them to roll down the window the way I laughed at mine for using words like “mimeograph” and “Fridgedaire?”

So my first order of business in Las Vegas—obviously—was to purchase a bowling ball.  This I accomplished yesterday before the start of the 1k event at Venetian.  Before the tournament I made a beeline to the pro shop at the Gold Coast to engage in the serious business of bowling ball shopping.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that I remembered the answers to the store manager’s esoteric queries about my bowling DNA.  Ball speed, revs, track location, span, grip type.  It all came back to me and I am now the proud owner of a tailor-made, custom-fitted Ebonite Evolve.  This purple bomber will henceforth reside in Jon’s guest room closet and will be my Las Vegas bowling ball.  Look out.

I made Day 2 of the first tourney I played, a Venetian 1k, but brought back only 16 big blinds and busted less than ten minutes into the second day.  At one point on Day 1 I had a big stack, but I dusted most of it doing something super spastic.  It unfolded as follows:

I was humming along nicely then got moved to a new table.  I had about 80k, which was well above average.  I was feeling kind of bossy.  On the second hand at my new table, at 400-800/75a, a kid in his early 20’s opened UTG +1 to 2025.  We had roughly the same amount of chips.  The kid was wearing a hoodie, had on a pair of Monster™ headphones, and had his hair arranged in a purposefully messed-up bedhead ‘do.  He flipped in the chips nonchalantly.  My read:  aggro internet dude.  Opening light.  Poop on him. He got flatted by a tight guy in middle position with 25k and then it’s folded to me in the cutoff.  I had Q7o (computer hand omg!) and decided to go with some outside the box type shit.  I made it 7,025 to go.  The kid responded with a small four bet to 17,300 and the other guy folded.  I considered my options, weighed them briefly and went with the spewiest.  I five-bet to 41,000.  Fun!

Oops, maybe not.  The kid insta-shipped, leaving me with no choice but to surrender.  My read on the player was really bad,for the record:  for the rest of the night, the kid sat there folding.  I blame the headphones.

When my stack dwindled down to only twelve big blinds or so late in the night, I was faced with a classic Vegas-in-June dilemma:  Grind it out or hit the next tourney.  The temptation to just punt off my stack loomed large.  It was 2:00 a.m., we weren’t anywhere near the money bubble and there was a 1500 NL event at the WSOP the next day at noon.  A strong argument for “double up or bust” could be made.  If I bagged just a few chips, I’d be forced to skip that tournament and come back to Venetian at 4:00 pm. just so I could move all in sometime in the first orbit.  Hmmmm….

I ended up doing the conscientious thing, counseling myself to not give up and to play optimally.  I sat there dutifully folding through the end of the night.  Besides, wasn’t skipping a 1500 WSOP event tantamount to saving money?

It ended up happening exactly as I figured it might.  My 2010 WSOP debut was put on hold, then I promptly ran AQ into KK on the fourth hand of Day 2 at Venetian.

I finally made my way over to the Rio last night and proceeded to chop a nice little sit-n-go, so the trip is still off to a decent start.  The sit-n-go wrapped in time for me to do something I had been eagerly anticipating:  take the Evolve out for a test drive.  A few friends and I bowled a couple of games last night at the Gold Coast.  There was some drinking and gambling going on, along with general buffoonery (also spare dancing!), but I was excited to see how my new buddy would perform.  The purple bomber, she don’t hook as much as I figured she might, but I slowly got the hang of it.  She’ll do.  I love bowling!

I’m hungry for my first cash in a WSOP prelim since 2008, and there’s a 1500 PLHE tourney today.  No one likes to play this event (oooh, pot limit scary!) but I’ve made a good run in it before, so I’ll probably give it a go.

Tonight I leave for Vegas for the World Series of Poker.  It’s a big day—as you’re likely aware, in June Las Vegas becomes the undisputed poker capital of the world, with many massive tournaments taking place every day.  Spending the month in Vegas creates a big window of opportunity for guys like me.  While most poker players view departing to play the WSOP as one of the highlights of their year, for me it is a day that brings hope but also sadness and trepidation.

At this stage of my life, I’m happiest at home in Carroll Gardens.  I love being here with my trusty confidantes Janeen and Ruthie, both of whom I will miss dearly for the next month.  My yearly WSOP trip differs from all the others in both distance and length.  I’ll be far away, outside of my comfort zone for quite awhile.  The sudden mid-meet drives home that I’m notorious for will be impossible from the Mojave.

The WSOP presents numerous challenges beyond the obvious fiscal risk.  I know from past experience that a long dry spell will result in a potentially consuming emotional upheaval. Although I’m logically aware that bad runs are inevitable, I’m wired to compete.  I put undue pressure on myself and still don’t handle failure too well.   I’m therefore going to try my best not to let the daily ups and down get the best of me in the absence of my support system.

Speaking of my support system, another serious issue with spending a month in Las Vegas is avoiding social isolation.  I find that playing tournaments out there for a month straight can be very lonely.  I’m lucky to have a great friend who lives in Vegas and a couple of true friends on tour.  Outside of that handful of people, I’ll have no one to rely on.  Don’t bother feeling bad for me though; it’s a personal choice.  I’ve discovered that being alone is better than hanging out with idiots.  There’s nothing worse than spending an entire evening listening to people you have nothing in common with flap their gums.  If you’re not careful it happens a lot in my line of work.

Through trial and error I’ve found a decent salve for lonliness in Vegas.  The following methods help:

-Always maintain contact with Janeen and the real world.  Watch the news, watch Sportscenter.  Read books, listen to the radio.  Hang out with Jon and other non-poker players.

-Rent a car.  It’s important to be able to go where I want when I want.

-Schedule activities.  Never reduce the trip to eat/sleep/poker.  I’m gonna go bowling a lot.

-Don’t tag along for group activities you know you won’t enjoy or hang with people who annoy you.  It’s a recipe for hating life.  Avoid known douchebags.   They’re so not worth it.

-Have fun when playing; don’t be a bitter dickhead at the table.

Although “jaded and cynical” comes naturally to me, I still appreciate what the WSOP is really about.  This is an event that started many years ago as a get-together for the country’s best gamblers.  Today, of course, it has been bastardized and commercialized nearly beyond recognition.  Despite its modest origins, everything about the WSOP—from the brand of playing cards used, drinks served, even the time of year it takes place—is now controlled by corporate interests.  However, when you boil it down, the WSOP remains singular in its scope and prestige.  It is Mecca to the few thousand or so poker players (along with the requisite horse stakers, shot takers, funk fakers, etc. etc.) who can honestly call themselves the world’s best.  As I have a reasonable expectation of leaving Vegas at the end with more money than I came with, I’m proud to say that I am included in that group.

And now for some good news for those of you who read this website regularly:  I will be blogging much more frequently from Vegas this year.  I’m shooting for more of a diary-style blog this June and will likely update a few times per week.  I’m hoping my perspective is a fresh one and will be worth a read.  I also think it will keep me mentally sharp.

I will also be continuously tweeting my tourney progress at twitter.com/SugDpoker.

Since so much of what I’ve written recently is fairly negative, I think I will throw a curveball today. I’ve neglected to mention some of my recent success.

I’ve “outright shipped” (i.e., won) three tournaments in the last month and a half. In the grand scheme of things, each of these tournaments was about as small as a pro poker tournament can be without being irrelevant. However, outright wins are quite difficult to come by, so I will provide a brief recap.

The first was a $500 Bounty Event at Mohegan Sun with just over 100 entrants. I picked up aces on the money bubble and never looked back. The final four players negotiated a save and then we played it out.  In the end it was me who had his picture snapped behind a pile of chips and a trophy.

The second was a $26 tournament on Full Tilt with over 1000 players. This was about as clean a run as one can have; I was the chip leader with around 150 player left, with 15 players left, and with 1 player left. Easy game.

The third tournament took place just a few days ago, a $300 tournament with only 98 entrants at Harrah’s in AC. I’m particularly pleased with this win because I pulled off one of tournament poker’s more badass feats: repeatedly refusing a deal despite being a chip count disadvantage, then systematically dispatching my opponents. (At one point, we were actually on the verge of creating a save, but one player scoffed when I explained that I’d need his name, address and social security number to deal, so we played on).

Some tourney grinders play for the money. Some play for the fame (and will literally buy Player of the Year points from you if you’re lucky enough to chop with them). Me, I play for the doofy “winner’s circle” pics.

Next stop is Vegas.