Roy Cooke Busts Out

My good friend from Canada, Grant, called to tell me, "You made the headlines on http://www.pokerwire.com/."



"Really?" I said.



"Yup – it's a beauty. 'Roy Cooke Busts Out.'"



All I could do was laugh.



I'm an old-school guy who's been around the poker scene for more than 30 years. When I played poker for a living, tourneys were not near as common as they are now. Most pro players who put together large bankrolls and built a life out of poker did it in the cash games. Being a "play to live" type of guy, I followed the money, traveling around the West Coast from Anchorage to California, Las Vegas, Montana, and Washington state, grinding out a living wherever I could. I made the rounds, and in so doing was a rounder.



As I got older, I wanted to settle down, so I moved to Vegas with my girlfriend, Misty. We got married, had a beautiful child, and started a real estate business. Poker became part of my life instead of the center of my life. Since I was no longer playing the 3,000 hours a year of my younger days and was looking to provide a stable lifestyle for my family, it was important that I pick the spots where I could make the greatest earn with the least risk – as I had responsibilities. I centralized my focus on my element, sticking to my strength, which was ring-game limit hold'em. By playing just one game, so much less maintenance was required to maintain a poker "niche" at a high enough level to still be competitive and keep the cash flowing.



But the poker world has changed. You can make a living these days in no-limit hold'em games and tournaments. Plenty of both are now available. Good tourney players are realizing much in the way of prestige and cash. I played some tournaments in my rounder days and did pretty well, splitting first- and second-place money in the '80 Super Bowl of Poker limit hold'em event, and having some other close calls and making pretty good cash-outs. Subsequent to those days, though, I played only one significant event, at the '92 World Series, and didn't cash.



Tournament play has not lately been much a part of my life, and my tournament skills have eroded – and the tournament world today sure isn't what it was more than 20 years ago. But the world changes, and we must adjust with it. I now play substantially more on the Internet than I do live. And, I decided it was time to take a shot at tournament play. The first thing I did after making this decision was study. I reread Sklansky's tournament poker book, and read Harrington on Hold'em, Volume I and Volume II (which are outstanding). I started working out again and lost a much needed 15 pounds (yes, I know I need to do more). And, I played some small Internet tournaments in an effort to bring back some tournament feel.



Tournament play differs from cash-game play, and for that reason, few players are experts in both. That said, some things like understanding given concepts and hand-reading skills correspond to both. I thought it would be an interesting challenge to play some events at this year's World Series of Poker. And while it had been more than 10 years since I had played a major tournament and I was giving up something to the talented tournament-circuit junkies, I still believed I had some significant strengths.



I was one of more than 1,000 players who entered the $1,500 limit hold'em event at the 2005 Series. I started off struggling badly. The $100-$200 level was in play and I had only $650 in chips. Worse yet, the limit was soon to increase. One of the major differences between tournaments and cash games is that when you go broke, you cannot reach into your pocket and reload more chips (assuming there are no rebuys). When short-stacked, the longer you survive, the greater the chance you have of finding situations in which you can build chips to give yourself a shot at the money. That said, you can't let players peck away at your chip stack to the point where you are crippled.



I picked up two sevens in second position just before the limit change. This is the type of hand that I generally play more aggressively in tournaments than in cash games, as the value of aggressiveness is generally higher in tourneys.



Making the play that gives you a greater chance to win the pot is generally a stronger play in tournaments, particularly if you are in danger of going broke. In this specific situation, I didn't want to raise and get three-bet while out of position. Having few chips remaining, that would put me in a tournament-defining position with a tough decision to make with any overcards on the flop. I also needed chips.



In several previous instances at this table, when someone limped in, several players limped in behind. In my mind, the texture of the table was such that I could likely re-create such a situation. I wanted to play my hand for one bet against several players. I hoped to flop a set and have multiple players around to give me action. That way, I could accumulate some chips in a situation in which I dominated (players are often drawing very weak against sets), and escape my desperate short-stacked situation. Also, if I missed, I would have other opportunities to win a hand.



Alas, poker, like life, doesn't always play out as you would have liked. Only the button limped in behind me, the small blind called, and the big blind checked. But the poker gods blessed me on the flop. It came K-7-2 rainbow, a powerful flop for my hand. Both blinds checked to me, and I thought about how I wanted to play my hand.



I tend to lead with my good hands more in tournaments, especially if I am short-stacked. The risk of giving a free card is greater than it is in ring games if an opponent hits. It's like game seven of a sports championship series – you're in a win-or-go-home situation. Taking the risk of losing the hand by trapping an opponent(s) to gain an extra bet or two is generally not worth it. Furthermore, the chips gained lose value as the tourney goes on and the blinds keep climbing – and you have lessened your survival chances. Weighing the value of chips gained to survival chances is an important component/concept of playing expert tournament strategy.



In a ring game, I'd trap from early position with this flop against most fields. Sound tournament theory seemed to indicate that as short-stacked as I was, I should just try to win the pot right there. But the situation had another potentially rich variable: The player on the button was very aggressive. If I checked to him, he was very likely to bet. I needed chips, and the flop was such a powerful one for my hand that the risks of being outdrawn were minimal.



I checked my set. As I had hoped, the button bet, the big blind, a passive/timid player, called, and it was up to me.

I thought about my options. I could just call and try to check-raise on the turn, but the button's likelihood of betting with two callers was reduced. I decided to raise and take what they gave me. If someone had a hand, I would still get paid.



They both called. A deuce hit on the turn, pairing the board and filling me up. I didn't want to give a king a free card, and I wanted them to pay to draw; plus, the button wasn't likely to bet after me if I checked after being check-raised on the flop. I bet. The button folded and the big blind called. A blank hit on the river and the big blind check-called me once again. I showed my full house and he flashed me a king. I assume his kicker was not a good one.



The hand speaks to the changes in my thoughts from live play to tourneys. A hand that I might have mucked preflop in a cash game netted me some chips. This enabled me to take more chances and play more aggressively. I attacked more blinds, made a few hands, and ground my way through much of the field. I finished the first day in 27th chip position, out of about 40 remaining, and felt pretty good.



We got down to three tables, and I'd had very few playable hands. I was in the big blind with only one big bet left after I posted. The field folded to a medium-sized stack on the button, who hit it. The small blind folded. I peeked down to see A-J offsuit, and the situation didn't call for a lot of analysis. I reraised all in. I turned over my A-J. He turned over Q-6 offsuit. I smiled. The flop came K-Q-3. I quit smiling! No help came on the turn or river, and I was done. In a ring game, I'd have just made a mental note, knowing that I'd be able to win those chips back from this fellow, and then some. Of course, in a ring game, he likely wouldn't have raised in that spot with those cards. But part of the point of the story is this: Tournament play isn't ring play, and if you don't adjust accordingly, you're just dead money.



I finished 22nd out of 1,049, cashing for $7,500. While that wasn't a terrible performance, especially after so many years away from tournament play, it disappointed me, as I had had visions of grandeur and a bracelet. Most days that tournament players go to "work," they fail and have the internal feelings associated with that. It requires a stronger stomach month in and month out than ring play, because wins come less frequently, although they cover many losses when they do come. While I know I shouldn't have, I felt defeated as I walked away from the table, and the drive home seemed like it took forever.



Also, I was dead tired. One of the things I noticed as we got down to the last four tables on the second day of the tournament after a 16-hour first day was that I was one of the very few players over 40. Most of the final 36 were in their 20s and early 30s. And there is a reason for that! The strength of youth is an important variable in the marathon sessions of modern tournament play. We old geezers in our 40s and beyond have to do some serious physical conditioning to stay sharp and competitive during an event.



Grant's call put my perspective back in order, reminding me of the value of having a supportive friend, someone who knows what you're thinking in these situations, and can bring a smile to your face at a much needed moment.

I'll be playing some more tournaments down the road, I think. And I hope the next time, the headline is more positive than "Roy Cooke Busts Out."

Roy Cooke played winning professional poker for more than 16 years. He is a successful real estate broker/salesperson in Las Vegas. His books are available at www.conjelco.com. His longtime collaborator, John Bond, is a free-lance writer in South Florida.