Erin Go Bragh - Part III

After getting knocked out of the main event of the Irish Open, I was depressed and kind of in a daze. The fact that my blood-alcohol level never dipped below 1.0 during my entire trip may have added to this a bit. Anyway, I was roaming around aimlessly when I ran into my good friend Max Pescatori, whom you may know as "The Italian Pirate."

Max asked me if I was up for the second chance. I had no idea what he was referring to. Second chance at eating some more potatoes before dinner? Second chance to get drunk on Guinness for the day?

No, it was the second-chance poker tournament for all of the donkeys like me who managed to get knocked out of the main event in the first two days. When I heard that it had a €2,000 buy-in, I was very excited, as I was stuck on this island for four more days anyway. Notice how I went from loving Ireland to being stuck on this island! The clover wasn't nearly as green once my A-K suited went down in flames to two stinking fours!

Now I had a second chance to get some revenge on these Paddies. (Yes, this is a derisive term, but being of Scotch-Irish descent, I believe I'm entitled.) I attacked this tournament like David Pham on steroids, raising every pot and accumulating a massive chip stack. I had only one setback early on, and it was a very temporary one.

I reraised a guy who had popped it from early position. I had a few more chips than he did, and my reraise put well over half of my chips into the pot. For some reason, he decided to call with K-J offsuit, as I would find out shortly. I had pocket queens.

The flop brought a king and two rags that happened to be suited. This fact made a call of his all-in bet easy for me, as I had hope of being up against a flush draw (at this point, I didn't know he held a king). I probably would have had to call anyway with that much of my money in the pot.

When I saw his hand, I just figured that this was another bad beat for my column, but lo and behold, a queen rolled off on the turn, cinching the hand for me. It's times like this that I wish I could behave like Mike Matusow and jump up screaming, "Vindication, baby!" However, not wanting to embarrass my parents, who were there (not that that ever stops loudmouth Mike), myself, or my country, I simply smiled, shook his hand, and said, "Rough beat." (And people say I'm not nice.)

The rest of the tournament went smoothly. I was like Muhammad Ali in his prime. I juked, jived, and jabbed. I stole pot after pot, and when some short stack would finally move in on me, I'd have the goods and have him dominated. This all continued until we got just outside the money.

I was by far the chip leader of the tournament by this time, and wouldn't you know it, the only guy even close to me in chips was at my table. I was determined to stay out of his way, but when he raised in front of me and I looked down to see my old friend A-K suited, I could do so no longer. I made a huge reraise to let him know I was serious.

He told me after the hand that this made him think I was stealing. Hmm. Yeah, I like to stick half of my chips into the pot against the only guy who can hurt me when I'm on a steal. He quickly moved in, and I hoped it was just a race as I called.

It was no race. He turned over A-Q offsuit. Jesus! What are these guys thinking? I guess that's why I was there, though. A queen on the flop and no king, and I was now a short stack. You may be asking yourself if I had to gamble there. If I'm trying to make sure that I get in the money, obviously not. It's not that I'm opposed to getting in the money, but my eye was on first place. I'll take that gamble every time.

Now, things change, obviously. Getting in the money is a consideration to me now. It is not just the money itself, but this will be my first European cash in 20 years. I get up, and am happy to see five or six players shorter than I am. (The tournament paid 27 spots.) Not only that, but one guy has about 1,800 and the blinds are 800-1,600.

After several short stacks survive all ins and double up, a funny thing happens when it's this guy's big blind. He has 1,600 of his remaining 1,800 in the blind. The pot is raised and reraised, and this guy folds! Wow, he really must need the €2,400 badly. He almost looks like a genius, though, when the original raiser calls all in with A-10 offsuit and is facing only pocket sevens. He draws out and wins, or he would have been out on the bubble, advancing the guy who mucked his hand to save his last 200!

A few minutes after we make the money, I'm in the small blind with K-2 offsuit. A guy limps from up front, and everyone else folds to me. It's 800 more to call, and I've got only about 5,000 total. Should I call 16 percent of my chips with this piece of garbage? I decide to call and pray for a miracle. My prayer is heard, as the flop comes 9-2-2. I check, and the limper bets the minimum, 1,600. When I raise all in, he moans and wonders out loud if he should call.

When he says, "Call," and flips up A-10, I answer for him: "No."

I stole a few pots after doubling up, and then picked up queens against A-K. After winning this one and a few more, I was back in the hunt as one of the chip leaders again.

We went on break, and upon its conclusion, I was amused that not only was no one in his seat, but the whole tournament area was void of players. They aren't very strict with the clock over in Ireland. After about five minutes, my amusement started to turn to irritation. I was ready to gamble!

I looked around, and the tournament director was absent, as well. Finally, I saw him walking briskly from the bar! Maybe he was just having a cigarette, but I like to think that he was tilting a few back on our break.

We quickly lost two players and were down to two tables. On the first hand, I was in the small blind and picked up, of all things, A-K suited. The blinds were 2,000-4,000 with a 500 ante. I had about 35,000, and the big blind barely had me covered.

Everyone folded to me, and I thought of just moving in. This hand had killed me twice already, so of course I was a little gun-shy. The logical side of my brain took over before I could, and decided that the day that I don't want action here, I should just hang up my guns.

I brought it in for a standard 12,000 raise. I knew this would look tempting, as if maybe I wasn't pot-committed and a reraise would move me off my hand. Instead, the big blind called. Now, with almost 30,000 in the pot, I was hoping for a good flop so that I could move my remaining 23,000 all in.

The flop came 6-2-2. This looked pretty good to me, so I quickly went all in. When I was instantly called, I felt somewhat sick, but when I saw his hand, I was completely sick. He had 7-6 offsuit. No ace, no king -- see ya later, Todd.

I guess A-K suited just isn't very lucky in Ireland.