Riding High at the Wildhorse

At the seventh-annual Spring Poker Roundup at the Wildhorse Resort and Casino in Pendleton, Oregon, I came in third in the $160 buy-in Omaha high-low event. Vince Burgio, who was runner-up to me in the Best All-Around Player race, had just won the limit hold'em tournament the day before, conquering a large field of 333 players. "Now it's your turn," he told me. "But this is my weakest game," I protested. As it turned out, we both made the final table, where I arrived in fairly strong chip position and Vince was short-stacked, eventually exiting ninth in an all-in confrontation with another player.

After battling my way to threehanded play, the limits were $8,000-$16,000 with $263,000 in play. One player had about 60 percent of the chips, and the other two of us were close, although he had me covered. In my final hand, the second-place chip leader raised from the button before the flop and the chip leader folded in the small blind. I looked down at A-K-J-4 in the big blind, a reasonable hand with which to defend my blind threehanded, so I called. The flop came K-Q-4 rainbow, giving me top and bottom pair. I bet, the button raised, and we got it all in. I was hoping that all he had was a straight draw, but alas, he had A-K-Q-X, leaving me with only two fours or one of the four tens for a straight. I didn't catch any of them, but Vince was right: I still felt that it was my day.

Earlier in the tournament I had placed sixth in the seven-card stud event, when at one point I had been down to $800 when the limits were $600-$1,200. I fought my way to the final table in middle chip position, and had run my chips up to $20,000 with the limits at $3,000-$6,000 when my fatal hand reared its ugly head. I was the forced bring-in with a deuce. The chip leader, who also had a deuce showing, elected to call. My cards were (Q-8) 2 rainbow. He caught a jack on fourth street, and I caught an 8. I'd been playing with him for a while and thought I had a good read on him. I had put him on exactly the correct hand, two deuces. (He also had a jack; wish I'd known that when I called on fourth street.) On fifth street, I caught a king to go with my pair of eights. I bet and he raised me. I reraised, putting myself all in, figuring that I couldn't be much of an underdog to anything he had. His probable best hand was jacks and deuces, and I had two overcards to go with my pair of eights. On sixth street, I caught an ace; now I had pocket eights with three big overcards, all of which were live. But with no help on the river, I exited the fray in a disappointing sixth place.

The Wildhorse added $5,000 in prize money for the first six $160 buy-in events, and $15,000 was added for the $360 championship event. The juice was an unheard of $10 per event, with no-juice satellites. All of the hosts and a few poker notables were designated as "Suzie" players. The Wildhorse has an actual employee who is nicknamed "Suck-out Suzie." If anyone got knocked out of the tournament on a bad beat, they could call a number and get the real Suzie on the line to offer soothing words and sympathy. The Suzie players all had a bounty on their heads, but with a twist. If a player knocked out a Suzie player, he could spin a big wheel that offered prizes, the biggest of which was a Pendleton blanket. The twist was that if a Suzie player knocked you out of the tournament, you also could spin the wheel. This meant that instead of constantly being a target with a bulls-eye painted on my forehead, I had opponents who actually wanted to lose their case chips to me and the other Suzie players just so they could spin the wheel as sort of a consolation prize. It was great fun and certainly livened up the tournament.

After coming in second in the hold'em shootout marathon that I wrote about in my last column, I was running on fumes and almost out of gas in the no-limit hold'em championship event the next day. An interesting hand with a significant poker lesson attached to it occurred in the fourth round when the blinds were $50-$100. I was on the button with the A K. The player sitting under the gun made it $300 to go. Everyone folded to me. I reraised, making it $1,500 to go. He stared me down and finally decided to call. The flop came with three small cards and two diamonds, giving me the nut-flush draw and two overcards. My opponent still had more than $4,000 left in chips, as did I. He checked and I decided to move in, hoping to win the pot right there, yet knowing that if I got called and lost, I would be crippled and in bad chip status. My opponent again stared me down before calling. "Oops! Guess he's got a pair," I thought, "but maybe I can draw out." My jaw dropped when he turned over the K J – no pair, no draw. And if he caught the J, I would make the nut flush. Well, guess what? I won the hand with ace high.

"So, what's the point?" you ask. The lesson is that if you make a raise with a marginal hand like K-J suited and get reraised a substantial amount, your hand is nothing but trouble. When the flop came with all small cards, I could have understood it if he had moved in and tried to steal the pot. But when he checked and I moved in on him for all of his chips, his call baffled me. The only reason I could think of was that maybe he called because I was a Suzie player and he wanted to spin the wheel. After that hand, I survived deep into the tournament before getting blinded out in 48th place out of 439 players. The bad news is that only 36 players were paid.

Roland Waters and his key assistants – Jeremy Maddern, Michael Howland, and Deirdre Olney – did such a good job of running this tournament that I'm putting the annual Spring Poker Roundup on my schedule for next year. I hope to defend my Best All-Around Player title and meet you in the winner's circle in Pendleton, where, who knows, we might win one of those famous blankets.

Editor's note: Tom McEvoy is the author of Tournament Poker and the co-author with T.J. Cloutier of Championship Omaha. These books and the others in the Championship Series are available through Card Player.