The Main Event Never Disappoints

Every year, I tell myself that the main event of the World Series of Poker is just another tournament. Every year, I remind myself that we’re playing the same game we play during the rest of the year, and that despite the fanfare and enormous media presence, the main event is simply another day (or, with luck, several days) at the office. Every year, I’m wrong. Whenever I sit down to play the main event, I never fail to see a one-of-a-kind hand, or play against an unknown face who turns out to be an excellent player, or get put to far more difficult decisions than in any other event. Year 2010 was no exception.

I got to witness the annual wild hand early on — in level one, in fact. With blinds of 50-100, a player in early position opened for 300, and the player to his left quickly three-bet to 900. I folded in the next seat, and the player to my left cold-called the 900. It was folded back to the original raiser, who four-bet to 2,400. The next player, again acting quickly, five-bet to 4,900. The player to my left folded, and the original raiser went into the tank. It seemed very likely that he had pocket kings, and was trying to decide what to do against this opponent who was instantly reraising at every opportunity. Finally, the original raiser called.

The flop came down K-5-2 with two diamonds, and my heart instantly went out to the five-bettor, who I certainly thought had pocket aces. The original raiser checked, and the five-bettor, undeterred, bet 6,500. The first player thought for a short while, and called. The turn brought the 3, making a flush possible. The first player led out for 8,000, and the next player instantly made a minimum-raise to 16,000! The original raiser, who we eventually learned did have pocket kings, double-checked his holecards and then announced that he was all in. This declaration amounted to a piddly reraise of 1,100 more. The five-bettor, who had acted instantly at every opportunity up to this point, now barked, “Time, time, time, time,” and took off his headphones to consider his action. He was getting about 50-1 pot odds.

Obviously, this player had the price to call with any hand, as long as he wasn’t drawing dead. If he had the two aces that we all thought he had, a call was trivially easy. Almost four minutes went by before he finally called the 1,100 more. He then rolled over two black queens, drawing stone dead! He actually could’ve folded the turn, getting 50-1! Perhaps he should’ve asked for time at some earlier stage of the betting.

The first really interesting decision for me came on day two. A successful young pro raised from early position, and another successful young pro three-bet from two seats to the raiser’s left. It was then folded to me in the small blind, and I four-bet to 8,000 with pocket jacks. The big blind, another tough young player with whom I’d logged some hands earlier in my career, thought for a little while and then announced that he was all in. The first two raisers quickly folded, and it was 20,000 more to me to call. There was about 22,000 already out there after all the bets were pulled in, so I was getting about 2.1-1. I don’t often fold for that kind of price, but then again, I don’t often face opponents who have five-bet all in cold. I’d never seen anyone do that in a major tournament without A-A or K-K.

If I’d had no further read, the decision would’ve ended there. I would’ve assumed that I was a 4.5-1 dog while getting only 2.1-1, and I would’ve folded. The dilemma came about because I did have a read. My opponent had taken his time putting his money in, and it seemed as if he might’ve been talking himself into the idea that his three opponents, all well-known aggressive players, each could have much weaker holdings than we were representing. My gut instinct told me that the big blind had A-K, or maybe even tens or nines, but the action said that it had to be aces or kings, and my gut instinct has been wrong plenty of times in the past.

At least three times, I thought I had decided on either folding or calling, only to change my mind. In the final analysis, I felt that I couldn’t ignore my read in a spot in which I was getting 2.1-1, and I threw my chips in. I asked my opponent if he had aces, and he sadly (for him) shook his head. When he revealed two sevens, I jumped out of my seat for a second. I never jump out of my seat. Granted, I quickly returned, but I seem to ever even think about coming out of my seat only when I’m put to a very difficult decision in the main event, and then it turns out that I made the right one. The jacks held up, and I had 41,000 more in chips in front of me than I would’ve had if I’d folded.

I carried the success from that hand through the rest of day two, and then on through days three and four. I made good reads and had just enough luck to get me into the money in good position. Unfortunately, that’s where the luck ended. On day five, I looked down at two kings and was thrilled when the button raised. I three-bet, of course, and was even more thrilled when the big blind thought for a while and decided to four-bet. The button folded, and I made a pretense of considering my options before I finally five-bet all in. The big blind called instantly … with his two aces. This huge loss left me with just 10 big blinds, which I soon put into the middle with two sevens. Unfortunately, the late-position raiser I was up against had two eights, and I was eliminated from the main event. It was a sad moment, to be sure, but I was proud of the way that I’d played, and I’m already looking forward to next year.

If you have never played in it, I hope you can see that the main event is a unique poker experience. Whether by satellite, by gathering investors, or by ponying up the money yourself, you should enter the WSOP main event at least once if you are a serious player.

Matt Matros is the author of The Making of a Poker Player. He is also a featured coach for cardrunners.com.