PartyPoker Million III - Part I

Of all the World Poker Tour events, the PartyPoker Million will always be my favorite. For one, it's limit hold'em, which is a game I don't play very often anymore, but it was my "bread and butter" game for most of my career.

Limit hold'em requires a different skill set than no-limit, but I believe I make the adjustment rather smoothly. In no-limit, you are looking to trap, play cautiously after the flop, and basically survive without too many big hits. Limit is completely different. It's pound, pound, pound, always putting in the last bet if you can. The player with the lead wins most of the pots when nobody flops anything, so it's important to take the lead whenever possible. I'm comfortable playing both games, but I know that many of the other top no-limit players struggle with limit because they simply don't make the correct adjustments.

The second reason this tournament will always be special to me is that I met the woman who changed my life on the PartyPoker Million cruise ("The Woman Who Made Me," Vol. 17/No. 8, April 19, 2004). The only reason I've had the success I've had this year is because of the changes in my life that Lori helped me make. I'm 100 times the player now than I was before I met her, no question about it.

All of that having been said, even though this is my favorite tournament, I struggled in both the PPM I and PPM II. While I thoroughly enjoy playing limit hold'em, the lack of control can be frustrating. At the start of PPM III, I was thinking, "You gotta be kidding me … again?"

Yup, I couldn't win a pot. Honestly, during the entire first level, I didn't win so much as an ante. Luckily, I didn't have too many playable hands, so all was not lost, as I still had some chips left. It was time for me to make a move or it would be yet another early exit from the tournament I've wanted to win so badly.

With the limits at $150-$300, I was running out of time. A novice player limped in from first position, and from what I'd seen from that player thus far, it could mean only one thing: He didn't have a very good hand. So, I raised from middle position with the A 5, trying to play the hand heads up with position on the limper. Everyone else folded, so I ended up with the situation I was seeking.

Unfortunately, the flop was pretty ugly for my hand: 10 8 6. That's a flop my opponent easily could have hit, but when he checked, I had to take one stab it, so I bet. He called.

At this point, I still thought there was a chance my ace high was the best hand. He could have Q-J, J-9, or even K-J. The turn card was the 7, and my opponent once again checked. Now, I felt pretty confident that he didn't have the straight. I thought there was a decent chance he had a pair, but there was about an equal chance that he had Q-J or something like that. I decided to take one last stab at the pot, and bet $300. It was a half-bluff/half-protection bet. After some study, my opponent reluctantly called.

I didn't know what to do next. I was literally just hoping that my opponent had precisely queen high and that he wouldn't help on the river. The river came down with the 9, putting a straight on board. "That is either a really good card for me," I thought, "or a really bad one."

When my opponent checked, I was pretty confident that I'd just gotten lucky and was finally going to drag my first chip out of a pot, albeit I'd only be splitting the pot. This player was too straightforward to check a jack in this spot, though, so betting the river seemed like a pretty safe bet. Who knows, he may overlook his hand and fold, I dunno.

So, I went ahead and bet, and my opponent began to study once again. He looked befuddled. It appeared that he was simply trying to figure out what in the world he had! Finally, he called, and this is where the hand got interesting.

Since I recognized that my opponent was a novice and was having trouble reading his own hand, I still thought there was a chance he might mistakenly fold it. So, rather than say, "I'm just playing the board," I confidently turned my hand faceup and said, "Straight."

While growing up in Toronto, I once got this play to work twice in the same session! By feigning confidence, it almost confirmed to my opponent that I had a strong hand and his marginal hand was beat.

Now, my opponent looked at his cards, looked back at the board, and then … sent his cards to the muck! Woohoo! I was totally stoked. I hadn't won a pot up to that point, and I had just won a nice-size pot by default!

Before you jump down my throat for pulling a shot, I think it's an interesting situation. Did I do anything "wrong" here? Of course, based on the rules, what I did was fine, but was it "ethical"?

Personally, I have absolutely no problem with it. I didn't misrepresent my hand at all; I called out a straight and that's exactly what I had. I turned my hand over and let my opponent read it himself. I believe it's up to my opponent to be able to read his own hand. My hand was faceup for all to see; all he had to do was turn his over, as well.

Had he turned over his hand, I would have been totally fine with someone saying the pot should be split. However, since he didn't table his hand, it's the responsibility of each player at the table not to discuss the hand. Luckily, nobody said anything, and I'd "stolen" half of a pot.

That extremely lucky break helped turn the tide for me, and I made a nice comeback, ending the first day with $25,500 in chips. We started with 546 players, and after day one, there were just 176 players left. I sat in 58th place and felt great about how hard I had fought to hang in there. With some luck on day two, this could be the year I won the WPT's only limit hold'em tournament. In my next column, you'll find out if the comeback continued.

Daniel can be reached through his website: www.fullcontactpoker.com.