Foxwoods 2002

I'm sitting in a nighttime supersatellite at Foxwoods. They're giving away one seat for the main event to the winner, worth $10,000, and $5,000 in cash for second place. The pressure is pretty high. There are 40 entrants, and only two of us are going to get paid.

This is a totally different tenor than the supers at the World Series of Poker, for instance, where there are often four or five, or even more, seats available. Those are classic supersatellites. This supersatellite at Foxwoods is much more like a regular tournament than those World Series free-for-alls. Only one person is going to be happy tonight - two, maybe. But there's going to be 38 unhappy players, for sure.

An unusual situation arises. We're down to about three tables, I think. It's after the rebuy period has ended, so basically it's win, win, win or you're going to be out, out, out. A guy named Mike, to my immediate right, puts in a big bet on the turn. I don't remember what the board was like, but I think it was J-X-X-X. I decide he is weak, and put in an immense raise with 10-9 offsuit. He thinks for a minute and then says, "Let's see if he has anything." Then, he reaches over and grabs my "package."

I am stunned, of course, but don't say or do anything. He quickly pronounces, "He's got a monster," and folds.

I was so happy he folded I didn't really absorb the idea that another man had just grabbed me in a very sensitive area. Really, I was just happy he folded.

Mike is a strange man. For instance, he got around Foxwoods in one of those motorized wheelchairs. You know them, Rascals, I think they're called. But Mike can walk just fine. I saw him come screaming into the tournament room on his Rascal, and then waltz up to the registration desk, whistling, under his own power. I know that George Costanza did this on Seinfeld, but this is real life - or at least as real as poker life gets.

Here's another example: Some guy in early position bet out on a board of K-Q-6, or something close to that. He got called by someone in late position. Then, the hand got checked down. The bettor had pocket nines. Mike looked him square in the eye and commented, for everyone to hear, "Nice bet, fishcakes." I mean, we were all thinking it, but Mike says what's on his mind, evidently.

The previous night, Mike was riding a player named Junior. Junior wasn't playing very well at that moment and was spraying some chips around, and Mike kept criticizing him. Now, this is something I really don't condone. You shouldn't criticize other players, as there's nothing to be gained from it, and it's very rude. However, Mike's pretty funny, and in my mind, being funny excuses lots of faults.

So, Junior finally got sick of Mike's taunts, and he said, in a fairly restrained voice, and with a lot of dignity, I thought, "You're being really obnoxious, Mike, and I don't like it."

And Mike had a simple answer for him: "I am obnoxious, but I don't mean anything by it." Junior accepted this explanation on the spot, as did I. It reminded me a little bit of Jackie Gleason, playing Ralph Kramden on The Honeymooners. After Alice correctly reads him the riot act and asks him if he has a reason for his inexplicable behavior, Ralph responds, "I do have a reason," and then, softly, "it's because I'm a mope."

And even though Mike is really obnoxious, I can forgive it, and even embrace it, because he doesn't try to deny it or justify it when someone calls him on it.

Foxwoods has a very strict rule against dealmaking in supers. However, when we got down to threehanded, we discreetly decided that we were going to save $1,500 for third place. Robert Varkonyi, the WSOP champion, by the way, took third. He called my all-in bet (I had pocket nines) with the A 7, and I won. Perhaps he should have checked my "package" first.

I got heads up with a guy named Buster. He is an older guy who looks and sounds a lot like former President Jimmy Carter - except Buster can play some no-limit hold'em, and I doubt Carter can.

Since I had Buster outchipped about 3-to-1 or more, we did a deal, too. But, because of the no-deal policy, he had to bet all of his chips except one and then fold when I bet out on the flop. Then, since he was all in for one chip on the next hand, we had to turn our hands up. He won that hand, but after one or two more hands of Buster being all in, we finally had a winner - me. I paid Buster about $2,500 cash, he got the cash left over after we paid Varkonyi, and I got the $10,000 seat.

In retrospect, I made a very generous offer to Buster, but I wanted the seat.

I understand the Foxwoods policy. They want to get as many players as possible into the main event from the supers. That makes sense. And, once they allow some deals, players often take advantage of a lenient policy. But in this case, since only one seat was available and one of us was going to play the seat no matter what, I think what we did didn't violate the spirit of the rule. This is one more example of a situation in which tournament directors need the flexibility to apply discretion to rules. Perhaps they can allow deals if none of the remaining players have won a seat, because the winner will most assuredly use the seat - just a thought.