Sucking at the Series - Part II

My 2002 World Series of Poker has been officially declared a disaster.

After taking a therapeutic week off at home, I returned to Binion's Horseshoe for the last two events I would play – $3,000 no-limit hold'em and the championship event. My play in the $3,000 event was so wholly unmemorable that I can't even produce one anecdote here in commemoration. I simply don't remember – more proof that I won't ever be a world-class player. I'm not familiar with any great players who can't tell you one hand they played in a major event. I don't remember who was at my table, I can't tell you how long I lasted, and I don't remember how I busted out. I just know that I played, because I have the receipt – pathetic.

I was confident, however, that I would somehow pull myself out of my six-weeklong reversion to beginner's-level poker to rise to the challenge in the championship event. That didn't happen, either, although I did find some redemption in my play. More on that later.

The following is the absolute truth; I know it seems that it can't be, but it is: Twice during my stay in Las Vegas, cabdrivers asked me to produce front money before they would take me to my destination. This was a bit awkward. I don't typically think of myself as a vagrant, or as someone who resembles a vagrant. Las Vegas cabdrivers disagree. So, not once, but twice, I dutifully pulled out my money to demonstrate my general financial health and overall willingness to pay for services rendered.

I did consider several countermeasures. For example, I could have wittily remarked, "You know, my watch cost more than this cab, and probably more than your house." I rejected that as being overly harsh and confrontational.

Or, I could have pulled out my World Series bankroll, which I maintained in my left pocket at about $5,000 to $10,000 at all times, in case I felt the need to go off in a live game. I also rejected that maneuver. Instead, I meekly pulled out two $20 bills from my right pocket on each occasion. Draw your own conclusions.

Then, in another incident, a female cabdriver remarked, as I entered her vehicle, that I looked nervous and upset. She should have been a poker player, as her reading skills were clearly of Hellmuthian proportion. I had, in fact, moments earlier, busted out of the initial Series event, $2,000 limit hold'em. "You look kind of pale, too," she added, "and blotchy." Annoyed that she had pegged both my emotional and complexional states with such devastating accuracy, I testily asked her why she was making these comments. "I was going to refuse you a ride," she said. "You look dangerous."

Within the first 90 minutes of the championship event, I had built my stack up to more than $15,000, where it remained until the lunch break two hours in. I had made quads twice, getting paid substantial sums both times on the end. The first time, holding pocket fives, I flopped a set. The betting was checked three ways. On the turn, a second diamond fell, the betting was checked to me, and I bet $600 or so, which was about the size of the pot. I lost one customer and kept the other, who was sitting to my immediate right.

In my head, I repeated, over and over, "No diamond, no diamond, no diamond." I just as easily could have chanted, "Pair the board, pair the board," but I was focused on no diamond coming. A diamond draw was all I could put my opponent on.

When a diamond did come on the end, it took me a full second to get over my disappointment and realize that it was the 5. I had beautiful quads. My opponent bet out $2,000. That's when I made mistake No. 1 of the tournament, in my opinion. I raised him $4,000 more. That was too much. I should have raised him $2,000, or a quirky amount like $2,200. But, I got excited and didn't think it out properly. He folded fairly quickly.

You can't make those kinds of mistakes in the championship event – but I did. And I went on to make much, much worse mistakes. In short, I came back from the first break in fantastic position and proceeded to idiotically bluff away all but $1,700 of my biggish stack. In the process, I violated every maxim I had written down that morning on my handy WSOP championship event cheat sheet:

1. Think

2. Conserve

3. Play small pots

In separate incidents, I failed to take time to think. I committed chips in desperation bluff plays and got caught, and worst of all, I played big, big pots with less than big, big hands. This was a sure recipe for disaster on day No. 1. The blinds just aren't big enough to justify playing lots of big pots, but I got full of myself from my early success and threw my plan out the window.

Here's where the redemption comes in: I played like a maestro with my short stack, I think. I tortured my table. I decided that if I was to enter a pot voluntarily, with the blinds $50-$100 or so, I would preferably do so after a small raise, and we would automatically be playing for my entire stack. It was easy for the rest of the table to lay down a hand after raising $300, unless they had kings or aces. If they had kings or aces, so be it. But I wanted their $300. It was a small pot to them, but it was a lot of money to pick up for me in relation to my puny stack.

It started working. I won a pot, paid some blinds, and won another pot using this method. I built my stack up to a little more than $2,000. Then, I got the lucky break I needed. A man in late position raised to $300 or $400. I came over the top from the small blind for $1,600 more with A-Q suited. I normally would never commit my whole stack with such a poor holding, but I needed chips now. Maybe I could have waited or played more patiently, but I had decided to torture the table and I wanted to keep sending my message. He called me quickly. He had about $8,000 in front of him. He also had A-K offsuit. I was in bad, bad shape, but I spiked a queen on the river and more than doubled through. More importantly, I now had a guy gunning for me. The next time I raised him, I would have more than A-Q.

Shortly thereafter, the same man raised from around back. I popped him back, this time for more than $5,000, holding J-J. He called instantly, this time with 10-10. I doubled through to more than $11,000. I was back in the game and my short-stack antics had come to an end. I ended up going out early on day No. 2. I think that after my disastrous play during the first half of day No. 1, I played very strongly and well. That's all I can take away from this Series. At least I lasted to the second day, after being disastrously short very early on day No. 1.