In the early 1990s, I made a final table at the
World Series of Poker in one of the no-limit hold'em events. I remember that I had the chip lead with about $110,000 in chips going to the final table. Unfortunately for me, I managed to play like a donkey and finish in eighth place that day. I do recall that poker legends Dave Crunkleton and Hans "Tuna" Lund were both at that final table with me. I don't remember who won that day or how Tuna and Dave finished, but I do know that they both finished ahead of me and neither of them won it that day.
Anyway, with eight players left, the blinds were $1,000-$2,000 and the ante was $300. Player A opened the pot for $7,000 from the third position (three in front of the big blind) with A-A. Crunkleton studied for a while and decided to call from the fifth position with 10-10. I picked up 7-7 in the small blind, and began to study. I noticed that the original raiser had only $18,000 more. Moving in here and winning the pot without being called would boost my stack from about $65,000 to more than $80,000. Even if I was called, I might have the best hand. On the other hand, why put $25,000 in with the worst of it?
Eventually, I decided to move all in. Oops! Player A called very quickly and Crunkleton, a fine player, threw away his pocket tens. When the hands were flipped up, one of the players at the table remarked, "Phil is in really bad shape here, because I threw a seven away!"
Nonetheless, the flop came 7-6-3 - yippee! I had flopped top set! The turn was a deuce, but the river runs swiftly in no-limit hold'em on some days, and I can still see that big A♠ falling onto the table like an ugly message from the card gods! That message was, "That's why we look at all five boardcards"; or, perhaps, "Aces are supposed to beat sevens." Oh well, it wasn't as if I had taken a bad beat or anything; my 7-7 failed to outrun A-A. OK.
The following questions did haunt me for a while, though. What if I had just called the $7,000 preflop? I'm sure that I would have checked the flop and watched player A move all in with his A-A. Then, how could Crunkleton not move all in with his overpair pocket tens? Dave had started the hand with more than $50,000 in chips; do I smell a small profit for me in this hand? Methinks yes!
Haunting question No. 2 is this: Why hadn't Dave moved the rather fast-playing player A all in preflop with his 10-10? This is an easy play for Dave to make, but I guess that he had smelled something rotten. Dave's unusually sharp read of player A wound up costing me $25,000 in chips. Obviously, if Dave reraises player A, I'm folding my 7-7.
Speaking of haunting questions, too many times in my life, I look back at the mistakes that I have made that have cost me big poker tournaments. One day I'll be taking a shower, when suddenly I will recall the time that I tilted off all of my chips at the final table of the 1988 Hall of Fame "big one." Another day, I'll be about to fall asleep when I think of how I hit the self-destruct button in the 1993
World Series of Poker big one and gave away more than $100,000 in chips late in the second day. Another day, I will be swimming when I start to remember how I blew the 1996
U.S. Open big one or the 1998
Carnavale of Poker big one.
I think it would be a lot better for me if I could somehow take John Bonetti's philosophy of "fuggetaboutit," or perhaps the Buddhist philosophy of "live in the moment." Maybe a bad memory is a good thing for a poker player to have!
For the record, it's not the bad beats that haunt me, but my own extremely bad play in the biggest history-making poker tournaments of our time. The only thing that makes me forget all of this is my wife and kids. It's no wonder that I spend so much time at home these days!
