The Right Thing to Say

"I am drawing dead."

"Yeah, right … "

First, I would like to introduce myself. My real name is Massimiliano Pescatori, but everyone calls me Max. I moved to Las Vegas directly from Milan, Italy, in 1994, and I have been a professional poker player for about five years. During this tim e, I moved up to bigger games only when I thought I had learned enough; in cash games, I play regularly as high as $150-$300.

In the last two years, following the advice of Jennifer Harman, I started playing tournaments, and now I am addicted. With this column, I am very happy to start a new chapter in my poker career by being part of the Card Player family.

Before I became a poker player, I was a writer for several magazines, but they were not poker-related. In my columns, I will try to narrate the very exhausting life of a player on the tournament circuit, and will also give advice on several poker subjects.

2005 will be a most exciting and stressful year for a professional player. If you play the tournament circuit, there is little tim e for a vacation. The schedule is so busy that January, for example, featured four major tournaments almost at the same tim e: in the Bahamas, the Pokerstars Caribbean Adventure ; in Tunica, Mississippi, the Jack Binion World Poker Open , in Atlantic City, New Jersey, the World Series of Poker Tournament Circuit , and in beautiful Melbourne, Australia, the Aussie Millions .

With so many choices, I decided to go to Atlantic City. Harrah's, after acquiring the World Series of Poker , started a new era by introducing the WSOP Tournament Circuit . In the first five months of the year, players can compete in five different locations for a chance to qualify for a $2 million freeroll. Twenty players qualify from each location.

Last year at the World Series , like many other players, I exited the main event in less than three hours. It was my first WSOP championship event and I was, of course, very excited. It was the biggest poker tournament ever, and I was going to experience my worst beat ever.

Sitting at my table was Ming La, a high-limit professional player from California. There is a lot of playing tim e at each level of blinds in the main event, so there is no reason to hurry and gamble. There are, however, certain situations that can arise. Ming was under the gun with blinds of $50-$100. He picked up two $100 chips and "limped"; the dealer immediately called a raise and Ming faked that he was just calling, but agreed that he could not take his extra chip back: It became an obligated raise. I was watching the entire scenario and was sure he was holding something powerful. Everyone folded and I peeked at my cards and saw two black aces. "Oh, please, let him have two kings, so I can quickly double up," I thought. I reraised to $800. My guess is that he started thinking that I noticed his clumsiness in entering the pot and thought I was just trying to steal his chips. He decided to make a big reraise to $2,800. Great! Ming didn't know that my last name in English means "fisherman," and I was catching him in my net. After about a minute, I just called. At the beginning of the hand I had about $9,500 left from my starting stack of $10,000, and Ming had a little more than that. The flop was 10 7 3 and he decided to go ahead and bet about $3,000. At that point, I was not interested in trying to slow-play my hand anymore; I was happy to pick up about $7,000 in profits and have a comfortable stack for the rest of the day. So, I moved all in. If he called and lost, his tournament would be all but over with. If he decided to lay his hand down, he still would have about 40 percent of his starting stack. After about two minutes, he called. I confidently showed my pocket rockets and he said to me, "I have no outs," while turning over a red unsuited A-K. He was almost right: According to the excellent "Poker Odds Calculator" of CardPlayer.com, I was a 98.2 percent favorite. The turn brought a king and the river was a king. I shook his hand and wished him good luck. After I left the Horseshoe, for about two weeks I did not want to see any poker action of any kind.

The WSOP Tournament Circuit in Atlantic City would give me the chance to really put that horrible WSOP beat behind me. Nevertheless, déjà vu was going to strike. In the $1,000 no-limit hold'em event, there were about 45 players left. Seated to my right was Warren Karp. Warren and I have played together quite a bit lately, and we chatted throughout the tournament. The atmosphere was very relaxed, but as always, I play my cards regardless of friendships. He was short-stacked with about $1,800. I had around $4,000. The blinds were $200-$400 with $50 antes. Everyone folded, and I moved all in with the Q 9. He immediately called with the 5 5. It was a race – great! By the way he quickly called, a coin toss was the best I could hope for. The flop was awesome for my hand: Q-7-3, all diamonds. Warren got up and said, "I have no outs." He picked up his jacket and was ready to say goodbye. I was an 88.3 percent favorite, which was much less than the last tim e a player had told me something like that. As you probably can anticipate, a black 6 and then a black 4 came, giving him a straight.

When gamblers play roulette and bet on a number, their chance to hit is less than 3 percent; if someone bets a hard 8 in craps, his chance of winning is less than 10 percent. However, I have never heard anyone say to the craps dealer, "$20 on the hard 8 … I have no chance of winning."

So, when you are a big dog against a fellow poker player, it does not mean you are going to lose. Unless you truly dislike the player you are facing, the right thing to say is, "I'm in bad shape," or, "You are a big favorite." Then, if you do get lucky and outdraw your opponent, he might forgive you.

I will forgive you no matter what you say, but I might make fun of you in my columns, now that I hold the power of the pen for the Poker Authority: Card Player .