Weak-Tight?
image source:
www.whitehouse.gov
By the accounts of his poker buddies, Democrats and Republicans, lawmakers and even the lobbyists, Obama is careful and focused. He's not easily distracted and doesn't give away his intentions unless it's to his advantage. He's not prone to taking risky chances, preferring to play it safe. He's is seriously competitive. They say that when he plays, he plays to win.His friends say that Obama would study the odds carefully. If he had strong cards, he'd play. If he didn't, he would fold rather than bet good money on the chance the right card would show up when he needed it. That reputation meant that he often succeeded when he decided to bluff.
Some of the participants in the games described Obama as a careful player who manages risk and has excellent control regarding behaviors that could give away the strength of his hand. He is what poker players might describe as a "Rock". Republican players often teased him about being his being a conservative only when assessing the strength of his opponents in the game and the relative strength of his bankroll.
It's phrased in the most complimentary way possible. (Aside to Ron Powell: "rock" is not a compliment.) A less positive and more frank way to put it, though, is that Obama is weak-tight or, at best, a TAGfish a player who is tight and aggressive, but is nonetheless easily exploited by better players. If Obama is weak-tight or a TAGfish, he is good enough to beat a home game, but he very likely isn't ready for prime time.
Sad to say, I think I've noticed some of his weak-tight tendencies in dealing with congressional Republicans....
Tags: poker politics obama weaktight tagfish ronpowell
Joan Rivers says to Duke, about 2:30 into the clip:
Your people... you give money with blood on it! I've met your people in Vegas for 40 years! None of them have last names. None of 'em. They have cash bowls full of... you're a poker player. A poker player. That's beyond white trash! Poker players are trash, darling! Trash!
(via private joker)
This age wanted heroes. It got us instead. Tony Kushner
I always cry at superhero movies
Our hero, bitten by a radio-
Active wombat learns the sudden truth:
Her wombat powers are not just a fluke.
The crisis of the moment means that she
Must act, and no one else can do it.
She didn't choose her powers; they chose her.
What were they thinking when they chose her, though?
Those all-too-human shoulders are too frail
To bear the burden of the superhero.
I know that shocking moment all too well.
The desperate, drastic need for someone's help
But no one else is stepping up to act.
"I volunteer!" I didn't say that, did I?
Shit, I guess I'm doing something stupid
Theater-goers cheer when Wombat Girl
Suits up to fight the threat against the city.
The camera doesn't show the queasy gut,
The hands that slightly shake while zipping up
The hero's wombat suit, but I know better.
My diaphragm quivers. Down my cheeks slide tears.
Tags: poetry superhero underwear perverts movies courage fear
I've just found out that Tom Disch committed suicide in his apartment on July 4th. He was found by a friend who lives a few blocks away.I'm shocked, saddened, but not very surprised. Tom had been depressed for several years and was especially hit by the death of his longtime partner Charles Naylor. He also was very worried about being evicted from the rent controlled apartment he lived in for decades.
Disch was one of science fiction's Greatest Generation, the cohort of writers that included Ursula Le Guin, Samuel R. Delany, Roger Zelazny, and Joanna Russ, who had been cultivated by editor Cele Goldsmith during her tenure as editor of Amazing Stories. Among his novels are 334, Camp Concentration, The Genocides, On Wings of Song, and The M.D.; and many of his stories are collected in Fundamental Disch.
I met him only once, twenty-six years ago, when he was guest of honor at Norwescon, just outside Seattle, in 1982. I remember Dick Lupoff interviewing him on the first night of the convention, and the chemistry between the two was phenomenal, making the interview a masterpiece of comedy. I was convulsed with laughter (and perhaps I should wonder what they thought of me).
NB: Ellen Datlow gives Disch's date of death as July 4; Wikipedia currently lists it without citation as July 2.
Tags: thomas m. disch science fiction sf suicide ellen datlow obituary dick lupoff norwescon cele goldsmith
It didn't work out that way. The line was long to get into satellites. I played a $325 satellite and was first to bust out in an early hand I hadn't had a handle on how small the starting stack size was, and crippled myself by betting half the pot on a continuation bet when I should have just pushed in. After that it was a matter of time before I either doubled up or busted out, and I busted out.
I waited in the line again for another $325 satellite. This one worked out better. I held out for 9th place, after the fourth increase in blinds.
While in the satellite area I ran into Walter Browne, who props at the Oaks. I bought a piece of his WSOP tournament action, but he hasn't been doing so well this year. (Last year he cashed three times, including a second place). He tells me he's been doing great in satellites, however.
I'd had it with satellites, however, so I went across the hall to the Amazon Room to see what was going on in cash games.
There were no seats in the stud/8 game, but there were seats open in a 75-150 mixed game, with hold'em, Omaha/8, and stud/8 in the mix. I sat down and put money on the table. The lineup was one I could hold my own against in the Omaha rounds and do very well in the stud/8 and hold'em rounds; but I was eager to get to the stud/8 game. (Yuval Bronshtein was in the stud/8 game. At one point I went to him and told him, "I don't know how you are in flop games, but if you are any good, it's raining soup in this mix game." He didn't move over, though.) After about two hours I was called to the stud/8 game, having booked a modest win of three big bets in the mixed game.
The forced-move stud/8 game was a good one, and I did well in it. I had a good handle on who was trouble and who was soft. Eventually, though, I was moved to the main game, and that was no good at all: only one soft player and all the rest were the old familiar gang of local regulars. I didn't stay very long there. I quit at 1:00 AM, booking enough of a win to end the day as much ahead as the satellites had put me behind.
Thursday was the day of the $1500 stud/8 tournament, the second tournament that I had planned to play at the WSOP. I got yet another good night's sleep, and stayed in for the better part of the afternoon. I headed over at about 3:30 PM to buy my entry and hang out.
The best way to hang out, I thought, was to sit down in a game. I was tempted by a 50-100 limit hold'em, and found it to play just like mid-limit hold'em everywhere these days. I played until about 4:30, and booked a $22 win.
There was anticipation and excitement in the air, like there is before the start of just about every tournament. The race was about to be on! The halls were crowded with tournament entrants waiting for the chance to take their seats, talking with each other, wishing each other luck, sizing each other up.
And the tournament began. I got off to a good start, with rolled up nines in an early hand holding up to scoop and give me an early lead for the table. But in the second round I had the misfortune to run into five premium starting hands in a row literally one after another and was scooped by someone else. I turned 3500 in tournament chips into 470 in very short order. I was in desperate straights at the break, having to play the short-stack game. I'm good at the short-stack game, but I wish I didn't have to play it quite so often. And even if you're good, the odds are against you. I busted out shortly into the third round.
I went straight to cash games, and was seated right away in the stud/8 game. Maybe I was a little tilted, but I was unable to make more than a couple of hands hold up, against obviously weak competition. I toughed it out, knowing how streaky the game can be, waiting for a good streak to make up for my bad ones, but the good streak never came.
At length, down more than one and a half buy-ins for the game, I gave up. I had the notion that, in the time I'd been in Las Vegas, every time I'd sat down at a no-limit hold'em game I had doubled up my chips in short order before going a game I had wanted to play more. So why not play no-limit hold'em in earnest?
I put my name on some lists and was soon called over to a $5-and-$10-blind no-limit hold'em game. Sure enough, not long after I sat down, my pocket eights flopped a set and rivered a full house, and I stacked someone off for $900.
Despite that, this was kind of a tough table to play. About half the players were good, and all of the good ones and some of the bad ones were posting Mississippi straddles on the dealer button. This means that (in a 5-10 game) the button posts $20, and gets last action before the flop. The action begins with the player in the small blind (rather than the player in front of the big blind). It gives the button a huge advantage, and is absolutely terrible for the players in the blinds. I posted Mississippi straddles almost every time it was my button.
While waiting for hands I leaked chips pretty fast, because it was an action game; but my good hands were good indeed. I called a raise in the big blind in an unstraddled pot with A-8 suited in clubs, along with two other callers. The flop came K-8-7 with two spades. I checked; the raiser bet about half the pot and got a caller. That looked like a continuation bet to me, and I thought that my pair of eights just might be good. I decided to call and take a card off. The turn card was a red ace, giving me top and middle pair. I bet $200, about half the pot. The initial raiser said, "Spiked your ace, huh?" and mucked. The player after him raised four hundred more. I went into the tank for a little while. What hands beat me? Sets, and AK. AA and KK were very unlikely, given the action; that left 77 and 88. Meanwhile I currently beat everything else the guy could have. And given the flush draw on the board, if the villain held a set I would likely have heard more from him on the flop if he was playing right. Oh, well... if he had a set, he had me. I pushed all my money into the middle. Now it was his turn to go into the tank and, seeing that, I now knew my hand was good. Eventually he called, all-in. The river card was a blank. I showed my hand, and he mucked with a look of disgust on his face. Even though I had him covered, there was already enough in the pot from other players to have doubled me up.
That's what the game was like: leaking chips in the face of fast preflop action, and winning significant pots to keep me in profit. I looked up one player when he was bluffing. I stole a few pots shamelessly.
When the dust settled, I had won enough in the hold'em game to make up for the beating I had taken in the stud/8 game. I was down for the day, but only for my tournament buy-in.
Why haven't I been playing more no-limit hold'em? (The answer is that I don't think I'm very good at it. Clearly, I'm good enough for this crowd.)
The game got short, with only good players left, so I picked up with my win. I headed back to the stud/8 game, not to play but just to see what was up. Chris Grigorian, who seems to like me (the feeling is mutual) was very complimentary to me: "You were tilting, and you got up. That is the sign of a good player." Maybe. Better players don't tilt in the first place.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue eight-or-better stud holdem no-limit holdem omaha tournament yuval bronshtein chris grigorian
The Amazon Room was hopping. It was the day of the Seniors' $1K no-limit hold'em event, and more than 2,200 people had played, the only event of the day due to its size. Hundreds of players still remained in the tournament, and the cash area was jammed. I got on the list for my old standby, the stud/8 game. There was also a huge list for the 20-40 mix game, and I added my name; but it wasn't likely to go down any time soon, as all the lower-limit tables were being used.
There was an empty seat in a 75-150 mixed game, with stud/8, razz, and stud high being the games in the mix. The players didn't look too formidable, so I sat down.
I folded a few hands, then played a straight draw that got open-ended on fourth street and got there on sixth. My opponent had an open pair on his board, and donked me on the river. I said aloud, "Did you fill up?" and called. He had aces up; my straight was good. During the play of that hand I was called over to the stud/8 game. "Yeah, I know, hit and run." I was nearly $800 to the good in that game, from that one hand.
The stud/8 game was another matter. There were a couple of weak players in the game, including one rocket scientist who had been at my table on the first day of the $5K tournament. But I wasn't able to take good advantage of them. I fell behind in the game, but never so far behind as to be net down for the night. Chris Grigorian joined the game. He is an excellent player whose table talk can confuse the unwary (after the manner of Sean Sheikhan). The rest of the players were the rocky regulars, part of the same crew of Vegas locals who, evidently, play this game (for a lower betting limit) all the time at Sam's Town. The rocket scientist kept taking my money and distributing it to the others. He won a lot of pots and half-pots, but for some strange reason his stack kept diminishing. Eventually, as evening turned to morning, he picked up and went to bed.
And eventually we all got moved from the must-move game to the main game, and I was able to get back most of my own, especially as the game got shorter. Some of the rocky regulars were there, but there was an extra soft spot. I had climbed almost back to even when the game broke. Chris Grigorian was imploring me to play him heads-up. I kept in mind what Sky Masterson had to say about ears full of cider, and declined. There were no other games going in which I wanted to play, so I returned to my hotel and went to bed.
I was up on Tuesday morning after only about four hours' sleep. Tuesday was the day that the housekeepers were slated to come through, do some cleaning, and change the sheets and towels. We had had the do-not-disturb sign up last week, so we were overdue for a cleaning. We also needed laundry done. Lynn took the car and headed out to the Clark County Library. I gathered the dirty laundry together and took it down to the hotel's laundry. Doing laundry kept me busy for an hour and a half. Lynn came back shortly afterwards.
I had a party in the evening to go to, just a few hours away. I pretty much had the choice at that point of getting my writing done or going out to play cards. I had already just taken a day off, so I opted to go out to play cards. I drove to Bellagio.
It took a long time to get a seat; the Bellagio poker room was surprisingly busy for a week day (although I suppose the WSOP brings in action). They were hosting a $1000+80 tournament that was sold out and taking signups for alternates. With Bill Chen's party starting at 6:00, I didn't feel like I had time to play in the tournament, so I stuck to cash games. I put my name down on a bunch of lists, and eventually was called to a $5-and-$10-blind no-limit hold'em game. I lost a little bit of my stack playing a bit fast, but made good when I was dealt pocket queens and doubled through a kid who thought his flush draw was golden.
I got up to take a walk, checked the mid-limit brush's clipboard, and saw that it looked like my name was on the top of the list for $15-$30 limit hold'em. I decided that I didn't want to miss that seat, so I picked up my chips from the no-limit table and waited by the mid-limit podium. But it turned out that the mid-limit brush had called my name a long time ago. She had been shouting, not using the PA system. So I was without a seat. The brush would do nothing else for me. I was at the top of the list for 30-60, so I stuck around to wait.
While I was waiting I encountered Kurt, one of the 30-60 regulars back home at the Oaks Club. It says something about Bellagio's place in the poker world that you meet a lot of the regulars in your home club when you play there.
I got my seat in the 30-60. I started out doing well, but eventually fell behind. The game was a mix of good players and not-so-good ones. I could keep my head above water with the good ones, but the not-so-good ones kept making donkey plays that came out right, like Mister Magoo. I wound up giving most (not all) of what I had won in the no-limit game to the donkeys in the 30-60.
At 6:00 I picked up my chips, up a mere $150 for the day, and cashed in. By the cage I saw that Chris Grigorian was playing in the tournament; when he wasn't in a hand I tapped his shoulder to say hello.
From Bellagio, I went to the house that Bill Chen and friends had rented for the month. I believe Bill was sharing the house with Jerrod Ankenman, Matt Hawrilenko, and Gavin Griffin. Bill was spending his time outside in the back, tending the barbecue. Gavin was behind the bar, making marguaritas and daiquiris. Various poker folk showed up, including Alan Jaffray, Jan and Peggy Stein (whom I recalled from days past at the Oaks and other Bay Area cardrooms), Sabyl Cohen, Terrence Chan, Matt Grapenthien, and some people whom I hadn't known before. I felt a little out of place, being a mid-limit grinder in the presence of some serious heavy hitters. But I've known some of these people for years, and I certainly wasn't the only mid-limit grinder present.
We ate wonderful barbecue: "Fred steaks" which I had never heard of before but are apparently something of a Bay Area barbecue tradition and chicken breasts, plus grilled vegetables, salad, enchiladas, guacamole (excellent, made by Gavin Griffin), and brie. I was very happy to overeat, and to break my no-feedlot-beef discipline.
We gossiped about other people we know perhaps even you. We debated when it is right to peel on fourth street in eight-or-better stud. We put our immortal souls in serious jeopardy by watching YouTube videos of Phil Hellmuth blowing up. Some people played pool, or backgammon, or chess. Others watched television.
I was more than a bit distressed to see an episode of Family Guy close with a rape joke, and that helped me realize that I was really tired, running on just four hours of sleep. I said my goodbyes, and headed back to my hotel.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue eight-or-better stud holdem no-limit holdem bellagio rio bill chen jerrod ankenman gavin griffin chris grigorian barbecue fred steak phil hellmuth
This time it was back to the Rio. There was a seat waiting for me in a forced-move 50-100 stud/8 game, and I took it. The game was okay but not terrific. I wanted to play more of the BOTERS (or "STROBE") mixed game, so I put my name on the list. Turnover in the mixed game was very slow. My name was second of two on the list at 9:15 PM; and I wasn't called into it until 12:35 AM. I didn't do so well this time. The table was a lot more serious, a lot less live. Variance got to me in the badugi and triple-draw rounds. (One time in triple-draw I was dealt 8-7-3-2-brick in late position, and drew one when the big blind called my raise and drew three. I caught a five on the first draw, making my hand; my opponent kept drawing. After the final draw he bet into me and I called; he had 8-6-5-3-2, notching me by one pip.) I got fed up with losing, and at 4:30 AM I left the game when it was just about to switch to razz.
I returned to the stud/8 game, hoping to recoup some of my loss. Things didn't go well at first. Cyndy Violette had joined the game after a 75-150 mixed game had broken. Not long afterwards she was joined by my nemesis from the stud/8 tournament, whose name I now know to be Yuval Bronshtein.
I was originally sitting in the #1 seat, not ideal from the point of view of visibility, but it was a good position for me to be playing, given how the other players were sitting. Yuval was sitting to my immediate left in seat 2. I took a bathroom break at one point, and came back to find an attractive young woman in a cocktail dress chatting Yuval up, giving him her phone number and making sure he got it into his PDA. Another young woman came up, also dressed for clubbing, and joined the conversation. It was a bit distracting to me, in a too-much-talk way, not a fine-looking-women way, but I tried to focus on playing my cards. The conversation ended, and the women said their goodbyes to Yuval. The one who had been talking to him longer touched her hand to my shoulder, smiled, and said goodbye to me, too.
When they were gone, a man across the table from us chuckled and said something about working girls. That made a lot of sense to me. I can see why club girls might want to check out the high-rollers throwing money at each other in the high-stakes poker games in hope of catching some rich guy's attention. But why would a club girl, focused on a handsome and stylish young man, turn some of her charm towards a hippy biker dude who had been ignoring her?
Players left the game, players joined the game. I moved to the #4 seat to get better visibility, and Cyndy moved to the #1 seat to get better position. Yuval started pushing to raise the limit. $100-$200? $75-$150?
Then came a big hand for the three of us. Cyndy and Yuval had small cards in their doors; I had an ace, with another in the hole. Cyndy completed the bring-in, and Yuval raised. I liked my aces, so I three-bet. The bring-in dropped out, Cyndy called the two extra bets, and Yuval reraised again. I was slightly afraid of Yuval having rolled up fives, but figured he would be doing the same with other card combinations too, combinations of which I was ahead. I put in the fifth bet, and the other two called. The hand went to hell from there, with both of them catching low and connected. I caught low, too, but I didn't like my hand so much. I was in a position of having to represent strength when I was very likely an equity dog, in hopes of getting one of them to fold should they catch bad. If that were to happen, the now-dead money in the pot would make it worth getting freerolled by the scary low hand of whatever opponent remained. But it was not meant to be: I couldn't get either of them out, and so was at high risk of either being chopped up by them or scooped by one of them. As it happened, Cyndy's three eights and a low scooped my aces and fives and Yuval's two smaller pair. The pot was huge, and my stack was crippled.
Yuval suggested bumping the limit to 75-150 once more. This time, I and the other players agreed. I put more cash on the table in order to have a reasonable stack for the new limit.
I was dealt another big hand two kings in the hole with a third in the door and again went up against Cyndy and Yuval, both catching very scary low cards. I was trapped for three bets on one of the later streets, but this time, with no low possibility, I was much more careful. My hand didn't improve on the river, and Cyndy bet and Yuval raised. If I stayed it would have cost me five bets by being jammed between them; so I folded. Cyndy had a straight six, and Yuval had a 6-5-3-2-A low. Although it was not cheap for me to see the river card, I hadescaped a brutal beating. But I was starting to feel like I wasn't allowed to win the big ones.
Some refugees from the big pot-limit Omaha game showed interest in our game. Yuval suggested bumping the limit once more, to 100-200. I reluctantly agreed, and the PLO high-rollers sat down. I put still more cash on the table, and buckled down to focus on playing aggressive ABC poker, just as I would if I weren't playing the for highest stakes I'd yet played in my life.
"Aggressive ABC poker" turned out to involve a lot of folding, sometimes completing or raising on third street and folding when I caught a bad card on fourth. Andrew Prock calls folding on fourth street "the Hammer of Thor," the real secret to beating one's opponents at eight-or-better stud. I wielded the Hammer of Thor mightily. Eventually, as the morning progressed, I built my stack up to within reach of breaking even. I was exhausted. The game was good, and I knew exactly who the live players were and how to exploit them, but I was approaching the limits of my stamina. I ordered cup after cup of coffee from the cocktail servers. I kept nodding off between hands. Yuval got back to even, and picked up and left, saying his girlfriend was waiting for him.
Then, in this damnably streaky game, I caught hold of a hot streak. In short succession I was dealt decent hands that held up, or terrible hands that I was able to turn into winners, or (one more time) rolled up kings that this time scooped a three-way pot. I came up from under water, and kept winning, getting to the point where I was ahead almost as much as I had been behind.
The noon tournament, triple-draw lowball, had just begun. I began racking up my chips. I sold some of them to other players, but what I had to take back to the cage was one of the biggest payouts in my life. I wound up coloring my chips up rather than cashing them in.
Now it was time to head back to my hotel, get some food, and get some sleep. I was reeling with the emotional impact of what I had done. Much as I hate to lose at poker, sometimes I think that winning is almost as bad, at least in terms of what it does to me physiologically. (As far as the money is concerned, winning is definitely better than losing, thank you very much.) Many people enjoy the thrill of the gamble, and to them gambling and losing is almost as rewarding as gambling and winning. Not me: gambling to me is stressful, and the aftermath of gambling to me is like the aftermath of traumatic stress.
Lynn was awake and working when I got back to the room; and she dropped what she was doing to make me lunch. What a sweetie! I didn't need her to wait on me; and at the same time it was great to be able to sit there and stare into space while she brought me a sandwich.
From there, it was an effort to get off the couch and into bed. I slept for a couple of hours, until it was time for a phone date I had arranged with Debbie back home. But Debbie discerned how groggy I still was, and we rescheduled for later in the evening.
I went straight back to sleep, and woke at 8:30 PM. I puttered around on the Internet until it was time for that rescheduled phone date. Afterwards, I went to bed, and slept until morning, waking to the news that Bill Chen had made it to day 2 of the triple-draw event. (He later busted out in 24th place, barely into the money; but that's today's news.)
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue eight-or-better stud omaha triple-draw razz badugi cyndy violette yuval bronshtein bill chen
It's a flogger, put together out of two strands of candy beads on strings.
Please don't put it to its apparent purpose. The candy beads would likely shatter on impact, leaving sharp edges that could break skin (and contaminate the candy with bodily fluids). Lots of sting, not much thud.
Also seen on in the same store from the same manufacturer: a candy bra ("one size fits most"), a candy waist chain, and candy handcuffs.
You can order these products online from the manufacturer, Spencer & Fleetwood Ltd., at www.rudefood.com.
Tags: sex sexuality candy whip bdsm kink funny novelty flogger photo
I got up at 2:30 PM, and was slow to get started. I am beginning to feel the effects of my non-schedule schedule. It took me many hours to get my daily writing and blogging done, and it was a long slow process, made slower by my seeming lack of energy. I didn't get yesterday's blog post put to bed until after 9 PM, and I didn't get out to play cards until after 11.
Once again I headed out to the Strip. This time I went to Bellagio. I got seated right away in a 15-30 hold'em game, and was called after only a few minutes to a 30-60. Surprise! Two seats to my right was MitchL, a regular in the Oaks' 30-60 game and a poster to the 2+2 Mid-Limit Hold'em forum. Later on Muriel, another 30-60 regular sat down to my left.
It was a decent game, with some good soft spots. Aside from Mitch, there were a couple of other young aggressive players, but there was also a LAG in seat one whose number I had, and I took shameless advantage of him.
I took a few beats early on, losing half my stack, but I was able to work it back up above water in short order. Eventually the game got short (Mitch left before this) and broke, and we were moved to empty seats at another table where yet another Oaks regular (a man whose name I should know but don't) was playing. "The gang's all here," I told him. "All we need now is Ms. Davis!" He laughed.
Eventually I got tired of limit hold'em, so I picked up at about 4:00 AM, more than a rack ahead. I wasn't quite ready to retire for the morning, so I headed over to the Rio to see what was going on in the Amazon Room. Not all that much was, as it turned out. The only decent game in my price range was the 75-150 Omaha/8 game, and I'm just not a good enough Omaha player to take that game on. But on the lower-limit side there was a 20-40 mix game: BOTERS (Badugi, Omaha/8, Triple-Draw 2-7, Eight-or-Better Stud, Razz, and Stud High). There was a seat open, and I couldn't resist. I've been tempted by the higher-limit mixed games, but have been feeling not quite up to speed, particularly in badugi. I have a clue or two, but only a clue or two, plus basic card sense. In the other games I range from adequate (Omaha/8) to expert (stud/8). I told the player to my left that it this particular mix could be better called "STROBE."
It turned out to be an action game with one serious live one throwing a party (for example, in one hand of razz, after a king brought it in the live one raised the bring-in with a ten in the door, with baby cards acting after him. He got hammered that hand, and many others, and he was complaining bitterly to the dealer about it. But he wasn't the only bad player at the table, just the worst. I had a major overlay in all the games except perhaps badugi, as it turned out. I quickly got ahead, and while the swings were like a couple of hundred dollars either way in a round, the trend was upwards.
I haven't been writing very much about celebrity-spotting: poker pros with name recognition are thick on the ground here, and were especially so during the stud/8 tournament. (I never mentioned, for example, spotting Jennifer Tilly walking back and forth while Sabyl Landrum, Bob Laurie, and I were hanging out during a break on the first day of the stud/8 tournament.) But after daybreak the player to my right said something about Mike Caro that I didn't quite hear. I asked him what he meant, and he said, "Over there. In the blue jacket." Sure enough, it was Mike, sitting down to play in the 75-150 Omaha/8 game. He is something of a poker hero of mine, and he was a regular on rec.gambling.poker back in the day that I was one too. So at a good point in my game (during an Omaha round) I went over to say hello.
By the time I left the game just before 10:00 AM, I was up $700. I wouldn't have stayed anywhere near so long except that I was getting hungry as I played, and the only food available anywhere near the Amazon Room was room service delivery of breakfast. So I ordered some French toast at a ridiculous markup, and waited more than an hour for it to be delivered, playing (and winning) as I waited. It took time to eat while I played as well. Finally I was finished, and I waited out the stud/8 round before picking up, cashing out, and heading back to bed.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue eight-or-better stud holdem omaha triple-draw razz badugi bellagio rio mike caro
 Las Vegas Morning Alpenglow Originally uploaded by abostick59. |
I woke up at 1:30 AM, after five hours, after more than five hours of sleep. I was thinking about getting dressed and going back to the Rio. Lynn was awake, and planning on going out to get some groceries. She offered me a ride. I accepted, so I got dressed in a hurry. We got a little bit lost trying to find the back way into the Rio convention center, but after a side trip to the Strip and back by way of Spring Mountain Road. We found the Rio's employee parking lot, and I went around the back of the Poker Kitchen tent to find the entrance of the convention area.
I got into the stud/8 game, but it wasn't very good, no action players, mostly the usual tough regulars. There was a 150-300 mixed game going, and Cyndy Violette was playing in it. In the mix was badugi, ace-to-five single-draw lowball (almost like home, except without a joker), triple-draw deuce-to-seven, and razz. I like triple-draw and lowball, can play basic razz, and can cope with badugi. Cyndy told me I should play, and that I should make adding eight-or-better stud to the mix a condition of my joining the game. That made sense ... but I felt like she was maybe being a little to encouraging. Mixed games are how pros take advantage of other pros, by giving up equity in games that aren't their best games in order to get people to play their best ones. This was not an great mix for me, even with stud/8 added. I decided to decline, and go back to the straight stud/8 game.
But that game didn't get any better, and I was struggling with a small loss. After taking another turn around the cash game area, I settled on 20-40 limit hold'em. The game was half-decent, although it had too many solid pros. Eventually the soft spots either busted out or picked up and left, leaving only the solid pros. after a round or so of blinds like this, I picked up. "All wolves and no sheep," I said. as I racked up my chips. The game broke. I cashed out a bit more ahead in the hold'em game than I had been down in the stud game, leaving me with a $78 win for the morning session. I got back to my room at about 7:30 AM, and to bed before 9.
I woke up again shortly after noon, and put myself together to run some errands. I wanted to top off my bankroll. By the time I got dressed it was after 1:00 PM. Lynn had told me there was a Bank of America not far away, at Wynn and Twain. I got confused, in this part of Las Vegas that hitherto has not been part of my stomping grounds, and headed up Valley View to Desert Inn (The Wynn is the site of the old Desert Inn, right?), and wound up being swept by the roadway over the railroad tracks and the freeway to the Strip. I opted to head north to downtown, where I knew the main Las Vegas B of A branch was located. I reloaded my bankroll and also got more walking-around money. Then I filled the car with gasoline, and then headed to the Lucky supermarket at Decatur and Spring Mountain. I was meaning to get a small box of laundry detergent and some mayonnaise for making sandwiches, and it occurred to me that I could get some other things as well: sandwich fixings, breakfast cereal, and so on.
Driving around in that part of Las Vegas, it seemed, every strip mall had its own massage studio.
Back to the room again, to get a post up about the previous day, my bustout from the tournament. Then in the late afternoon I headed back to the Rio to play cards. I got into the stud/8 game just as they were starting a second must-move game. But the room managers screwed up the feeder game pattern, having the third game feed both prior games, leaving the players in the second game feeling frustrated that they couldn't move into the main game. Some of them did, anyway. Some of the players in the main game wanted to change it to a straight high-only stud game. The floorpeople decided to start a 75-150 stud high game at another table, and that took the live players away. The three games were collapsed into two, and the floorpeople decided that the second table (to which I had been moved) was a must-move game again after all. It was a thorough clusterfuck, and no one was happy about it. I got moved to the main game, consisting of nothing but frustrated good players, and decided to bail out. I cashed out, up four stacks of green, and headed back to my hotel, to fetch the car and check out the poker action on the Strip.
After more confusion trying to get around on the streets, I made my way at length to the self-parking lot at the Venetian, and journeyed through the shopping arcade and across the casino to their poker room. Their offerings didn't seem very appealing to me: no-limit hold'em up through $10 and $20 blinds, some low limit hold'em and Omaha. There was an interest list for a 20-40 hold'em game.
I walked from there to the Wynn. The Venetian gets up my nose, by being almost nothing like the real Venice despite the architectural copies. (The Paris doesn't much resemble the real city of Paris, either, and neither does the Orleans resemble New Orleans past or present.) I would like to see someone open a casino resort called the Las Vegas Las Vegas, which would be a Vegasized version of Las Vegas itself. The main casino floor would be called the Strip; the penny slots would be Downtown, and the luxury suites would be in the Henderson Tower. It would be a gaudy fantasy of what Las Vegas never really was.
I got to the Wynn, and played more 20-40 hold'em. In this game, most (but not all) of the breaks went other players' ways rather than mine, and in this all-night session I wound up taking a dive half again as large as the win I had booked in the earlier part of the evening. I did make some nice plays, though, winning a significant pot with one bluff, and making one good call to catch someone else's bluff. Another bluff of mine was snapped off; and I made four or five bad bluff-catching river calls and that means that both in bluffing and bluff-catching I was dramatically ahead of break-even. This softened some of the impact of the evening's loss.
The game broke in the early morning, and I headed back to home base just before sunrise. This time I remembered to get a picture of the morning alpenglow.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue eight-or-better stud holdem rio venetian wynn
 Phil Hellmuth stepped on my foot! |
I was awake somewhat after 10:00 AM on Wednesday. I wanted to turn over and go back to sleep; but getting these updates done is important to me. Lynn said to me, "Put the writing off until this evening." My answer to her was, "I hope to be very busy this evening!" So despite wanting more sleep, I got up, showered, and fixed myself a substantial breakfast of bacon, fried eggs, and toast.
Writing took time, as usual, and the hotel's WiFi was being wonky when I was trying to upload yesterday's blog post. It was after 2:30 PM when I left my room to head for the tournament, not sure whether I had gotten my post to go live or not, and post-production tasks left completely undone. I had time to grab a mini-pizza from the vendor in the convention center hallway. Then I called Debbie at her job for some words of encouragement. Today's round was being played in the Brasilia Room, much less of a zoo than the soccer-field-sized Amazon Room. The cards were in the air while I was still finishing my pizza.
Andrew Prock had posted a scouting report on his friends' and horses' assigned tables to his LiveJournal, so I was not taken by surprise to discover that I was seated at the same table as Barry Greenstein and Sean Sheikhan, nor that mine was not the smallest stack of chips at the table. Sheikhan's table manner is brash and obnoxious. He talks trash, and says ridiculous things, for instance: "You sucked out on me!" to Greenstein when Greenstein's freeroll failed to hit so that Sheikhan's two pair held up for half a pot versus Greenstein's low with a busted straight draw. Obnoxious and provocative table manner is part of the game. But I had to say something when Sheikhan directed his bluster towards a dealer when she had dealt him one too many bring-ins in succession. "Putting other players on tilt is part of the game," I said. "But when you try to put a dealer on tilt, everyone loses." Sheikhan conceded the point. The next hand I was dealt the bring-in. "Besides," I added, "Everyone knows that giving a player the low card for the bring-in is a dealer's way of flirting with him."
Greenstein was playing back at Sheikhan, both with his chips and with his banter. "Sean, do they have in Iran any cartoon that is the equivalent of Mister Magoo? Sean plays just like that old guy who walks off the ledge right onto the girders the crane is hauling up." Greenstein is an affable and friendly man whose misfortune it is to resemble Max Schreck, the actor who played the title role in the German silent film Nosferatu. He looks just as creepy and vampiric in person as he does in his pictures.
With some fortunate half-pots and scoops I was able to work my stack up from the desperate 11,900 to a near-average 26,000. For a while I was back in the hunt. But the streakiness of eight-or-better stud caught me again, and at the first break I had as few chips as I had when I started. But I had outlasted two other players at my table.
During the third round, I was sitting in my seat at one end of the table, with my feet folded back on either side of my chair. Someone squeezed behind me, passing through, and stepped on my right foot. I looked up. It was Phil Hellmuth, coming into the tournament area to schmooze with people he knew who were playing. He hadn't said a word as he went past; it was as if he hadn't noticed. Was it an expression of a grudge he might be holding me because of that beat I put on him in a stud tournament at Casino San Pablo some years back? More likely it was just obliviousness, combined with acquired situational narcissim. "Phil Hellmuth just stepped on my foot!" I announced. The player to my right said, "Maybe that will bring you luck."
Here is my bustout hand. With about 7000 in my stack I woke up with (46)5 with a two-flush. The ante and bring-in are 300, and the betting limits are 1200 and 2400. Treys and sevens were completely live, but another five was out. I completed the bring-in, and got two callers. Fourth street paired my five and bricked one of the other two players. The player who caught good was a young man whom I had played with during my all-night cash-game session, and I knew him to be an aggressive action player in cash games. I checked, he bet, the other opponent folded, and I called. Sixth street gave me an eight and a brick to the villain. I bet; he called. Sixth street gave us both bricks. I checked; he checked after me. Seventh street gives me no help, and my hand is an open pair of fives. I have less than a bet in my stack. I check to my opponent, and he bets into me. Do I call or do I fold? Calling and losing, I'm out. Folding leaves me almost cripppled but with enough chips to pay antes for a few hands until I can find an all-in hand and maybe double up from the antes. It seemed like a hellishly close decision to me, but I decided that the half-pot was big enough to be worth it. I called, and my opponent showed a flush and a low. I was out.
Despite my busting out, I was in an excellent mode. I was charged up, feeling good about my play. I told Debbie on the phone, "I fought well, and I died well." I didn't feel finished, and so I was ready to get on some lists for some cash games.
But I noticed that I was hungry. So I went to the Rio's coffee shop and picked out a sandwich from the menu that was covered by the $10 voucher that came with my tournament entry. While I was waiting for my food, I began to notice quite how bone-tired I was. Playing more that day would not be a good idea.
I was seated facing the railing separating the coffee shop from the walkway between the casino and the tournament area. Cole Tibbets, son of the owner of the Oaks Club, walked past and noticed me. We talked across the railing for a minute or two. He is here for the cash games, just like me.
After finishing my meal, I made my way back to my hotel suite. Lynn welcomed me home. I took some time to do the post-production work on my blog post, which had in fact gone live. I went to bed at 8:00 PM.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue eight-or-better stud tournament barry greenstein sean sheikhan phil hellmuth
 Amazon Room Originally uploaded by abostick59. |
I got up after 10;00 AM Tuesday morning after about four hours of sleep. That is less than ideal; but I wanted to get through my writing and blogging tasks before I headed in, and I had some hopes of being able to watch some of the $10K Limit Hold'em event final table, where Jerrod Ankenman would be playing. As it turned out, I wasn't able to get finished writing before 4:00 PM. At that point I suited up and headed for the Rio and the tournament areas. I got some food prepackaged sushi from the "poker kitchen" in the tent just outside of the rear of the convention center. I wandered around for a bit, and I tried to psych myself up for this event, a huge one for me.
Play started on the dot of 5:00 PM. I didn't know anyone at my table. I got off to a bad start, having a bunch of strong starters die on fourth street. My starting stack of 10K dwindled to 9K and then lower.
Once again I was astonished by the low level of play at a WSOP stud/8 event. The signature trait that a stud/8 player uses to judge the looseness and profitability of a game is the degree to which players take off a card on fourth street when they catch bad. In high stud, fourth street is often just a stop on the way to see a fifth card; once you decide to play a hand, the next big decision is on fifth street when the bet doubles. But in stud/8, your fourth street card makes or breaks your hand. Players who don't jump ship when they catch bad on fourth are what makes the game good. Most of the players at the table, even the ones who clearly knew what they were doing, were peeling off another card on fourth when they caught bad, unless they faced a bet and a raise.
And the far end of the table was populated by people whom I didn't think really knew what they were doing four loose callers in a row, always defending their bring-ins to a raise, usually peeling on fourth street. I had essentially no fold equity on third street. My bets and raises had to be for value.
Except, for the longest time, I wasn't getting any value: my hands died on fourth, or superb draws busted out. My stack was over 6K at the first break. In the next round it got as low as 2K, but then my luck finally changed. I was trapped into drawing to a flush in a multi-way pot, and it got there, giving me half of a substantial pot, bringing me back up to 6K. Pocket aces held up for high in a jammed multiway pot, busting the first player to leave our table. My half of the pot brought me back up above water.
Back in the hunt, I was able to work my stack up to 15K. Then, late in the fourth round, I was dealt rolled-up eights. The player to my left was the bring-in. One of the loose players at the other end of the table limped in. The player to my right completed the bet. His stack was fairly low at this point. I raised. The bring-in called, apparently having a strong low starter, Initial raiser put in a fourth bet, and I put in the final raise. The three of us saw fourth street, all of us catching good low cards. The player to my right was all-in on fourth street, and I bet fifth and sixth streets and checked the river. The player to my left had missed his low and his scoop draws, and my unimproved trip eights beat the other player's aces and jacks. I scooped a huge pot. My stack was now over 26K. That hand had lasted long enough to be the final one for the round at our table.
It was a whole new ballgame for me now, as one of the bigger stacks. New players were moving in, also with big stacks. The sense of the tournament was changing.
But I ran into yet another cold streak. Six strong starters in succession (with the usual many folds interspersed between) died on fourth street. The seventh broke the streak, but that left me with 16K. From that point on until the end of the eighth round I was hanging on waiting for the right spot that never came. The round finished with me having just under 12K. It was almost 3:00 AM, and I was knackered. I staggered back to my hotel, and fixed a meal of pasta and salad. Then to bed, before 4:00 AM.
Now it is time to go back into battle. Wish me luck.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue eight-or-better stud tournament
 Rio Neon Originally uploaded by abostick59. |
It was not quite routine when I got to the Amazon Room. Two stud/8 games were going, but they were full. There were a couple of names ahead of me on the list, and I put my name on it. None of the other games looked particularly appealing.
On a whim I headed to the room where satellites were playing. The brush was calling out that she had one seat left in a $560 stud/8 satellite. I took it, feeling that it was my best shot at winning some tournament chips to defray the cost of my entry in the big Tuesday tournament. Seven of the eight players, including me, put up $100 for a last-longer bet on the side.
I got extraordinarily lucky in the early rounds. For instance, I started out one hand with hidden jacks and a seven in the door (relax jacks and sevens were live, and there were no overcards in anyone else's door), and wound up in a three-way pot. I kept catching low, and since the one of the other players caught a brick I kept betting until he caught a third low card. On sixth street I caught a fourth low card that gave me a gutshot straight draw, and my river card filled the hole and made my straight. Scoop! "That's a pai gow hand!" said one of the other players in the hand. Some low starters made straights; some hidden brick pairs spiked trips on fourth street. (One of those didn't hold up, losing to another player's flush; but the way my luck was running overall that hardly mattered.)
My stack started to get short as the satellite wound on I was actually playing pretty tight, tighter than the rest of the table. I was actually surprised at how much action people were giving. I was the only player who didn't automatically defend their bring-in. Three- and four-way pots on fourth street were common.
As the limits went up I started to feel like maybe I wasn't in such good shape. But I made a stand with a small pair, stayed in until I was all-in, and when the dust settled I took half the pot, resulting in a more-than-average stack four handed. Then I wound up with half the chips, and pretty much stayed that way until the end.
When it was three-way, we agreed to split the $700 last-longer bet three ways, leaving the extra $100 for the winner.
I wound up heads-up with "Doc," who gives the lie to the old adage. He's been a regular in the cash game, and he isn't very good. I had a commanding chip lead. Then I put him all-in and he made his hand and doubled up. I was still ahead 2:1, but in our next confrontation (which took a while) he doubled through me again, leaving me slightly behind. I was able to chip away at him and regain my 2:1 advantage, but then this hand happened at the T1200-T2400 level. I had a bit less than T12000, and Doc a bit more than T4000. Doc was the bring-in with a four in the door; I had a five as my upcard and two treys in the hole. In a head-up match this is a premium hand. I raised his bring-in. He raised back at me. We both caught small, and he was all-in on the next card. His hole cards: the other pair of threes. It was a very close race; but when the dust settled, Doc had a pair of threes with a king kicker, and mine only had a jack for a kicker.
Now we were close to even again. I had T7200 and Doc had T8800. The limit was high enough to make this very much a crap shoot, reducing my edge against him. So I proposed a split: divide the tournament chips down the middle, and Doc takes the cash and the extra last-longer money. Doc readily agreed. The prize pool included $120 in cash, which Doc gave to the dealer as a toke.
So $560 plus an additional $100 yielded $2500 in tournament buy-in chips and an additional $200 in cash, for a net profit of $2040.
The main tournament registration windows were open at that hour, 4:00 AM, so I decided to buy my entry to the $5000 Eight-or-Better Stud World Championship, starting Tuesday at 5:00 PM, then and there.
Back at the Amazon Room, the stud/8 game was going with empty seats. But I suddenly realized I was desperately hungry, and a bit tired. I wanted to find something to eat, and quite possibly do so in my own hotel room kitchenette. So I started the long walk back down the Rio's convention center corridors to the main casino. Once on the casino floor, I noted that the All American Bar and Grill, just adjacent to the casino floor, was serving food at that hour, so I got a table and ordered a club sandwich and fries, with a cup of coffee to drink.
Refreshed and re-energized, I traveled long, over moor and mountain, to return to the Amazon Room, only to discover that the stud/8 game had broken. There were seats available in 2-5 and 5-10 NLHE (and much bigger games) and in 20-40 limit hold'em, but I didn't really feel like playing in those games at that point. So the better part of valor was to return to my hotel and get some rest before the big tournament in the afternoon. Before I did so, however, I spent a few minutes talking to Gary S., a sometime regular in the Oaks and other Bay Area cardrooms. He said I was looking good. I didn't say so, but I thought he looked terrible, unkempt, gone to seed. He was raving about the Omaha/8 game he was playing. Another player, he pointed out, was raising and reraising blind on every street. "It's amazing!" he kept saying. I didn't say that it wasn't that amazing; people like that come through a poker game from time to time. Raisebots can make a game very interesting and lucrative, but I don't think they're amazing.
But the writing was on the wall. It was time for me to go get some rest. I made the return journey, and was walking down Valley View Drive to the Extended StayAmerica just when the sun was rising. The mountains to the west had already been lit up in desert alpenglow, like a Galen Rowell photograph. It was not quite 6:00 AM.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue satellite eight-or-better stud
 |
I had been feeling frustrated about my results of the previous days' play in cash games, down and up tiny amounts, and felt that changing up might help me. I went to the satellite area to see how I could do.
The brush was selling seats to a $1030 no-limit hold'em satellite, and I stepped right up and took one. The procedure here is that players first get a seating card from the brush who is promoting the satellites. Then one goes to the registration window to pay one's entry fee and get a two copies of the entry receipt. One shows one's WSOP player's card at the window. Then one goes to one's assigned table and seat, giving one of the receipts to the dealer, and showing the dealer both one's player's card and some sort of ID to confirm that one is who one says one is. (John Doe can't buy a seat and send a ringer like Sabyl Cohen or Bill Chen to play for him.)
The $1K satellite had a very slow structure: players started with T5,000 in chips (although the smallest denomination of chip is 25, so they might as well call it T200) and rounds at least twenty minutes long. I didn't adjust very well to the slow structure, and I was surprised at how long it took through the early rounds to bust the first player out. In my long-haired, long-bearded biker-hippie garb, I must have presented a startling contrast to the very clean-cut and well-dressed men who made up the rest of the table. I knew one of the players from past experience: Paul "Eskimo" Clark, looking surprisingly clean-cut and well-dressed. (I can remember when he presented himself as something like a biker-hippie at the poker table. Has age tamed him?)
Without trying to do so, I established for myself an image as a wild-loose player. I busted two players by making calls of their all-in raises that prompted astonished murmurs of "what a call!" when we turned our hands up. (I was in fact thinking of ranges of hands and whether or not my call was profitable against those players' ranges; but the effect was to make me look like a maniac.)
I died a maniac's death, though: I donked off most of my chips by continuation-bet bluffing a player who had the hand that I was representing. Then I was a small stack, and it was an easy matter for someone to eventually call one of my all-in bets and beat me.
Chastened, I moved down, to a $525 satelline with a more familiar, fast play structure: T2000 in chips and ten-minute rounds. The play here was completely different, comparable to what I would expect in a $10+$1 single-table sit-and-go tournament on an online site. No familiar faces here, although one of the players turned and started speaking in Vietnames to Jimmy Tran as Tran came walking by. I died the death when I got suited AK in early position and made a reasonable-sized raise and got two callers. Jimmy Tran's friend called in middle position, and so did the big blind. The flop came the very appealing K73 rainbow; I made my standard bet for that spot a little less than half the pot, looking exactly like the c-bet I would be making if I missed. Jimmy Tran's friend called me, and the big blind dropped out. Turn was a relatively innocuous card that put a two-flush on the board. Again, I bet about half the pot. My opponent raised me, doubling my bet. Given stack sizes, to do anything here meant all my chips were going into the middle, so I reraised all-in, and he insta-called me, turning over 77 for a set. I had no outs; I was done with the satellite, in ninth place.
While in the satellite area, I saw some familiar faces. When I was buying into my first satellite, Alex Alaskar called to me. Alex is an old tournament nemesis of mine, and he currently is a dealer at the Palace in Hayward. I waved JP Massar over while I was in the $1K satellite, and we touched base. I also saw Roger Park, a San Francisco lawyer whom I first met years ago at a home game at Lee Jones's house and later became part of the circle of players that Dan Huseman calls "the Berkeley Mafia" (i.e. people on the ba-poker email list who played regularly in the Oaks Wednesday night or Sunday tournaments).
After dumping more than $1500 on satellites, I figured that I needed to change up again, so I returned to the cash-game section of the Amazon room. In the hallway I was hailed by Jerrod Ankenman, on his way to his seat in the $10K Limit Hold'em Championship.
There was no seat for me in the stud/8 game, so I put my name on other lists. The high-limit brush was promoting a mixed game about to start, a $100-$200 combination of badugi, Omaha/8, triple-draw deuce-to-seven lowball, and eight-or-better stud ("BOTE"). On a lark I put my name on the list, and the brush called for the game to get going in the high-limit pit. I bought chips, and waited for the game to start. But before it came together, I was called to the stud/8 game, and I decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
I didn't do so well in the stud/8 game. It was full of the same old familiar people (with one or two new faces) and there wasn't much weakness which a good player could take advantage. I fell behind. It was a forced-move game, and the main game was suddenly depopulated when a $660 stud/8 satellite was being promoted. The forced-move game broke, and the main game was stalled over a dispute over time collection. One of the players didn't want to pay time, giving an excuse that didn't make enough sense to me to hold water I think she was looking for any reason she could find to not have to pay time. She wound up sitting out the rest of the dealer down, and not paying time for half an hour.
There were a couple of decently weak players in this game, once it filled up and got going again, but I wasn't able to do well against them for quite a while. It was particularly frustrating to trap a particularly live player for five bets each on sixth street when he was still drawing to a low and then having him outdraw me on the river. That's poker, but that was also a lot of bets lost in that hand.
Cyndy Violette came up to me at one point and asked me how the game was. "A bunch of tough spots," I answered, "and a couple of soft places. You can easily figure out which ones they are." (I found it a bit curious that she picked me to ask.) Eventually she did get in the game, and played through the night, still in it when I left in the morning.
I broke discipline and pulled an all-nighter. It turned out to be a good thing that I did, because the night-time and early morning game was had a lot more action in it, more loose players, players dropping in because they wanted to play something. The game had become one that had good prospects for me.
I went through a long cold stretch, hand after hand of folding, or seeing fourth street and folding. Playing hand after hand of poker has a rhythm to it that keeps one going. These cards suck. Fold. Wait for the next one. New hand. Fold. Wait. New hand. Fold. Wait. The old-time Texas road gamblers used to say that to be a successful poker pro you needed to have alligator blood in one's veins. I once thought that this was about being tough and mean and dangerous; but now I realize that the typical alligator spends its time in the swamp or bayou doing nothing in particular, just waiting for the right opportunity. To do well in poker, you have to wait.
So I waited and waited. And my opportunities came along at last. You couldn't tell what time of day it was in the Amazon Room, but outside it was growing light, and I was making money at last. I turned a loss of more than a rack of chips for the game into an even larger win, leaving my significantly up for the day. It was my first big score of this trip.
I cashed in my chips at 8:30 AM and returned to my hotel, only to discover that Lynn Kendall was up and getting dressed. "Let's go out for breakfast!" she said. The Las Vegas heat had been keeping her cooped up in the room, and the relative cool of the morning was her chance to get out. We drove to a Denny's and had a pleasant time together, although I could barely stay awake. By the time we had gotten back to the room it was 10:30 AM. I had to wind down and fall over, and I did.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Two
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue satellite eskimo clark cindy violette eight-or-better stud no-limit holdem nlhe
/ 05.12.07 - 213/365: Poker Night Originally uploaded by d.rex. |
I was hungry again, and, on a whim, I crossed Valley View Drive to the Gold Coast to check out their Chinese restaurant, Ping Pang Pong. On Friday, one of the dealers, a young Chinese man, had recommended it.
The restaurant was full of Chinese families for Saturday dim sum. There was a wait for a table, but space to sit immediately at the counter. I opted for the counter.
The quality of the food was good, but I was disappointed by the service. It was difficult for me to get the attention of the servers as they wheeled the dim sum carts around. The quality of the food that I had was good, but the selection did not seem to be very wide. I think I would have been better off ordering off of the menu rather than eating dim sum. Three dishes plus tea came to $11 plus tip.
The noon event was a $1500 no-limit hold'em tournament, and was very popular. Many of the tables in the cash game section of the Amazon Room were given over to the tournament, and the stud/8 game was not yet going, although a few 2-5 and 5-10 NLHE games were going. I put my name on some lists, and wandered about the room looking at the tournament action. The only person whom I recognized at the tables was Greg Raymer.
An announcement boomed over the PA system: In three minutes the tournament players would go on break. All spectators should clear the room immediately. I made my way out, along with all the other spectators. Moments later, the doors of the Amazon Room vomited forth vast numbers of tournament players. There was no getting back inside until they all had left. It took a while for me to get back to the cash game area. When I did, they were just calling down a 2-5 NLHE game, and I got a seat.
When I had a chance to look, I saw that the board for the 50-100 stud/8 game was clear of names. I wondered about that, and had an intention to go check it out. Then I heard an announcement that there were available seats in the stud/8 game which had somehow gotten enough interest in the short time I had been out of the room to get going. I quickly locked up a seat, and picked up my chips (down $5) and moved to my game of choice.
It was not a great game. It was full of regulars, some of whom had exploitable weaknesses, but not big ones. One live player sat down in the #1 seat (I was in the #3 seat), but otherwise it was a battle between rocks of granite and rocks of sandstone. Some of the regulars left in dismay.
The place of one of them, to my immediate left, was taken by Cyndy Violette. Man, this game just keeps getting softer and softer ... (not). She was the winner of the $2K stud/8 tournament that I had played in 2004. She and I traded observations about how bad the table was. She is cute in a dirty blonde sort of way, but there was absolutely no chemistry between us, just the friendliness of poker-table rivals. After maybe an hour of play, a 75-150 Omaha/8 game got going, and she moved over there.
Thanks to the live player in seat one, I had worked my stack up half a buy-in; but I ran bad for a while just like the day before, I ran into a stretch where I couldn't win a showdown to save my life. I went from up two stacks of green chips to down a stack and a half.
Meanwhile, the 5:00 PM tournament had begun: $5000 pot-limit Omaha, with rebuys. I heard the announcement during the tournament's dinner break: 152 players took 483 rebuys to build a prize pool of more than three million dollars. The average player spent $20,000 to play in this event. With that being the average, you know that some players spent less ... and some players spent a lot more. "LOL donkaments..." indeed!
I found time among the various tournaments' dinner breaks to get food. I went to the sushi and noodle kitchen that is set up near the Brasilia Room. They offer all the Asian soup (e.g. Pho, wonton soup, pork and duck noodle soup, etc.) you can eat for $15, all the sushi you can eat for $29, or both for $38. The soup deal doesn't look like a good one to me, but $30 for all the sushi you can eat is a fair price. I went for the sushi. The selection is not great (for nigiri sushi you have a choice between tuna, salmon, yellowtail, mackerel, shrimp, crab, and eel; and you can get some rolls, including California roll) but the quality of the fish is good. It was easy for me to eat my money's worth. With hot green tea, my tab came to $34 plus tip.
I began at last to catch up with people I know. I saw Victor (vmacosta on 2+2) who is a regular in the Oaks' 30-60 game late at night. I got up from the table to chat briefly with him. Andrew Prock came to me at the table, and we talked for a bit. Sabyl Cohen called me and left a message just as I was cashing out. I called her back and caught up with her. She, alas, has come down with a chest cold and needs to take it easy for a while.
Towards the end of the session, a couple of good scoops brought me back up to even. I had been thinking about playing later (and shifting my time schedule later, to take advantage of evening and early morning loose games), but when the end of my eighth hour came around, I just didn't feel like playing more. I finished the session up $48 ($43 on the day). Down $59 one day, up $43 the next I don't know if I'm up for the drastic variance of high-stakes poker.
I made my way back to my hotel, and realized quite how tired I was. I sat with Lynn for a while, and then went to bed, while she stayed up writing.
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Zero
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day One
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Three
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Four
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Five
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Six
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Seven
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Day Eight
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Nine and Ten
2008 World Series of Poker Diary Days Eleven and Twelve
Tags: poker wsop world series of poker las vegas trip report travelogue gold coast dim sum ping pang pong sushi eight-or-better stud cindy violette
