WSOP Diary: Day Four

I checked the time shortly after I woke: 8:45 AM, eight hours after we had gone to bed. I had gotten a full night's sleep!

We got up and dressed, and put our stuff together for checking out. Debbie went out to play cards, while I remained behind in the room. I wrote up my diary entry for Saturday, sat zazen for half an hour, and did a final check of the room. I checked out of the room, then dragged my luggage the block and a half to the Plaza. It was close to noon. Rooms were not available, but I was able to check in at the front desk and leave my bags.

I went to the Four Queens' coffee shop for breakfast. I called Lynn Kendall and talked with her while waiting for my breakfast to be served. After eating, I went to the Horseshoe and caught up with Debbie. The time was 12:45 PM.

A second $50-$100 stud/8 table had just been started, and it had a seat waiting for me. Bonnie Damiano was at the table, wearing a ClassicPoker.com blazer. She was due to be interviewed by a crew from CBS News imminently, about online poker. "I'm going to tell them what's different about Classic Poker," she told us.

"What is different about Classic Poker?" I said.

"It's classier! The software is classier, the graphics look great, and players are going to be well-dressed."

"Does that mean," I asked, "that we won't be able to play online in our underwear?"

She explained that the dress code applied to the site's big live-tournament events.

A few minutes later, Nolan Dalla (working as WSOP media coordinator) came by and announced that the camera crew wanted to film our game, if nobody playing objected. No objections were raised. Not long after that, the crew came by, first for the interview (at the table, with her back to the game) with Bonnie, then to get our play on camera.

Apparently, CBS News is doing a feature story on poker on college campuses, and took advantage of the WSOP media circus to get some high-stakes play on tape for color. The crew shot a few hands of our play – I did nothing but fold on camera – and then the reporter did several of takes of her saying just one line: "College students play poker for fun and small stakes ... but in some games, the pots can get as large as they do ... here in Vegas."

At 3:00, I left my chips at my seat and sought Debbie out. We went to the Plaza and determined that my room was ready.

I was eager to get to the room, because it was my first opportunity to get online and upload my diary entries to As I Please. (For some reason, I couldn't dial up a data connection from the Nevada Hotel.) I was gratified to find your encouraging comments on my Day Zero post, and while there was comment spam to delete, it hadn't gotten out of hand.

I returned to the stud/8 game. The live players had been moved to the main game, and had been replaced by knowledgeable tough players. A third table had been going on for most of the afternoon, and some of the players in it were loose and aggressive. It was not a good situation to be in from a game-selection point of view. My best hope was to wait it out until I could get into the main game, hoping that the live ones were still playing.

Then came one of those hands: I was dealt split aces with a five for a kicker: one of the best starting hands in high-low stud. Andrew Prock, sitting just to my right in seat four, completed, showing a small heart in the door. I reraised, and got called in three places. Fourth street gave small suited connectors to both the player in seat one and to Andrew. I got the only card I could get that wouldn't slow me down: a third ace. I was high, I bet out again, and got called by seat one and by Andrew.

Fifth street brought small cards to everyone, with mine (a seven) being highest. I still had a shot at both halves of the pot, with my low equity more-or-less making up for the loss of high equity due to the dangerous upcards of my opponents. I bet out once again, and once again got two calls.

A queen on sixth street killed my low draw, and both seat one and Andrew caught third suited small cards. My hand was now in significant trouble, but after a moment's reflection I decided I was better off betting than checking – a raise from either spot would tell me what I needed to know, and either or both might still be drawing. I bet, and got two calls.

My river card was a completely useless eight. I checked, seat one checked, and Andrew bet. I made a crying call, and seat one called after me. Andrew showed a heart flush with no low. I showed my losing cards and mucked. Seat one, to my total astonishment, also mucked. What could he have had that would justify an overcall? Two pair?

That was just one of those beats that happen in stud/8. You can't even call it a bad beat, because everyone played correctly as far as I could tell (although I am astonished by seat one's river overcall). The trouble was, it left me stuck about $900, and the character of the game was such that I wasn't likely to recoup it any time soon.

After a few hands, I asked Andrew to take a walk with me, and we discussed the situation of the game. He concurred with me that the game sucked, and that picking up would probably be a good idea. When we got back, we played a few more hands, and he did just that. I decided to put my hopes on the main game, and stayed.

I also decided to shift gears, and play more loosely and aggressively, to try to take advantage of both the tightness of my opponents and the swings of variance. Much to my surprise and delight, it worked. It helped that the player in seat two, who had recently arrived from the second feeder game, was either more live than he seemed or had simply come unglued. In the space of a few hands he spewed off $2000, half of it into my stack. (I had had two small pair on fourth street with low kickers river a full house, and a complete steal with an ace up paired a brick kicker on fourth head-up against a mediocre low hand, making two pair on sixth and holding up against two smaller pair to scoop.) In a very short time, I went from down $900 to up $700.

I shifted gears again back to my normal tight-aggressive game, and bled about $200 in antes and third-street calls. At 5:30, I sought got a buffet comp from the floorman, then sought Debbie out to get together for dinner. I picked up from the game up $500, quite a victory considering how desperate my situation had been an hour before.

Debbie and I ate dinner in the buffet, then returned to my room in the Plaza for about an hour of cuddling and talk, which developed into some constructive relationship processing. I walked Debbie down to the street so she could catch a cab to the airport. She returned home, and I was alone in Las Vegas again.

I was feeling pretty tired, so I didn't return to poker. Instead, I spent some time in the room resting, then went out to Fremont Street.

I spent some time shopping for a new hat – I didn't find one – and stopped in at a new Walgreens, across the street from the Neonopolis mall, to buy some melatonin. (One way or another, I hope to get Las Vegas insomnia beaten into submission.)

Then I did what any good ol' boy would do to unwind after four days of strenuous poker. I walked into The Girls of Glitter Gulch to drink a couple of Coronas, watch nearly-naked women bump and grind on stage, and slip a few dollar bills into their thongs. Admission to the club is "free," but it comes with a two-drink minimum; and my two beers cost $17.50. Some people react to this like it was a scam, but it adds up to a reasonable price to pay for admission into a strip club. I knew the deal when I walked in, and it was fine by me.

After I finished my second Corona, I returned to the street. Now I was faced with a problem: I was tired and two beers to the wind; but the alcohol had also dulled the ache of my fatigue. I had entered the Vegas Zone. What was I to do?

I returned to the Plaza. First I checked out the craps pit, and discovered that the game that had used to have a $2 minimum with 10x odds was now a $5-minimum game with 3x-4x-5x odds. That changes the game from something where the house edge acts as rent for a fun party table to one where the rent is just too steep for the party. (The Four Queens has $5-minimum craps with 10x odds, but I wasn't in the mood to gamble that high.) I found the Plaza's single full-pay Deuces Wild video poker machine. I fed the game a $20 bill and played it out. This would be my first non-poker gambling of the trip. I was feeling a little more sober when I was done, but not ready for sleep. I was still in the Vegas Zone.

I went out again, this time to the Golden Nugget. I spent a while sitting at a table waiting for a $125 satellite to get down. I talked to Sam Angell, an old-time poker player with a bracelet from the early days of the WSOP. Eventually enough people gathered for the satellite to start. To my consternation, Mo, one of the regulars in the Lucky Chances $10-$10-$20 no-limit hold'em game, drew the seat to my immediate left. He was easily the best player at the table, and he had position on me.

Despite the alcohol, I played a good game, a better NLHE game than I had been playing. I made no mistakes, and died well in fourth place. (I was relieved when Mo busted out earlier, but I couldn't get anywhere after that.)

The Nugget was done spreading satellites for the night, so I crossed the street to the Horseshoe. Seats were being drawn for a $125 NLHE satellite, so I got one. Three of us sat twiddling our thumbs waiting for the game to fill. Linda, the night-shift satellite director, was busy running many games at once, and had not time to sell the game. I did my best in her place, without a microphone: "We still have seats in this $125 no-limit hold'em satellite, but they're going fast! Don't be shut out! ..." To my amazement, my pitching hit home, and the table suddenly filled rapidly.

One of the last seats to fill, two spots to my left, went to "Chris," a fairly generic-looking Young Poker Dude with a goatee, Titleist golf cap, and sunglasses. That's how I read him: like hundreds of other guys, probably knowing quite well what he's doing, maybe a bit full of himself, but dangerous anyway. It wasn't until the game was down to six players that I realized from other people's comments that Chris was in fact the reigning world champion, Chris Moneymaker.

I played rather less well in this satellite than the previous one. I made one seriously boneheaded play: I opened the betting with a reasonable-sized raise holding suited ace-queen. The player in seat 10, who showed every sign of being a real player who knew what he was doing, reraised the pot, but not quite enough to put me all-in. After it was folded to me, I said, "Okay, let's dance." and pushed my remaining chips in. Naturally, my opponent had AK, offsuit at least.

I got my dream flop of a queen and two clubs. The king of clubs fell on the turn, and the pot was mine. I doubled up by being stupid.

I made one other bonehead play: when the blinds were 50 and 100, I was still thinking they were 25 and 50. Holding a weak ace I opened for 200, which was actually the minimum raise. I got called in two places, and the flop missed me completely. The big blind bet out and I folded. I said to Chris, "That was the sort of raise where you just click the button without moving the slider.... I was hoping the big blind had clicked on 'auto-fold.'"

Chris chuckled, saying "They don't have that checkbox here. Some of these guys have clicked on 'auto-call.'"

That was the extent of my knowing, with-it conversation with the world champ. It was the only acknowledgment I made that I knew who he was, by making a reference to the PokerStars user interface.

I got aces cracked by going all-in against KQo before the flop. Naturally, two queens flopped, and my stack was crippled. But if you know the odds, it's easier to play a short stack than a big one, because you can just pick your spots to jam and pray. I chose well, and worked myself back up to an average stack. Chris Moneymaker went out in, as I recall, fifth place.

The player in seat one was a bozo. He build an early chip lead by taking AQ all-in against AK and sucking out – what a maroon! He called too much and didn't reraise enough. In effect, I had his number as a particular sort of weak player.

At the 100-200 level, three-handed, he opened the betting for 500. I had pocket aces in the big blind. Against a strong player, I would reraise. Here, however, I thought, is the perfect opportunity to trap with rockets. The flop came Q-7-7. I checked to him, and he moved in. I called, and AA beat AK handily. This put me into the chip lead with about 4500, almost half the chips in play.

The bozo suggested a three-way split. I said I had half the chips and wanted to play, and that was that. Not long afterwards, my pocket pair beat the third player's overcards, and it was head-up, with my having three quarters of the chips.

Bozo and I passed the blinds back and forth for a while. Then I got another pocket pair, sixes, and moved all-in. He called me with 87o, and flopped a pair and turned a second one. Now, with even stacks, he proposed an even split. I took it without hesitation. I thought I could outplay him, but I wasn't convinced of my ability to beat him at shooting dice.

Nonetheless, for $125, I got a $500 tournament lammer and $50 cash (we split the $20 dealer toke between us.)

Linda was setting up to spread another $125 satellite right away at this table. I was feeling wiped, though, and ready at last for bed. I returned to the Plaza, fed another $20 into the full-pay Deuces machine, ran it up to $40, cashed it out (now even for video poker play for the trip), and returned to my room. I took a melatonin pill, and read until I fell asleep, at about 3:15 AM.