You Mightn't Be Where You Think You Are

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I was hanging out around the live games in the Rio for a couple of days trying to pretend I wasn’t jetlagged listening to the usual bitching from the players. I’m a sick man. I love it.

The BIG O (five-card pot-limit Omaha high-low) is usually good for a laugh especially when five guys are all-in, sidepots everywhere, they run the turn and the river twice and the dealer has never given anyone more than two cards before in his or her life.

It’s better than watching a movie though movies don’t generally last longer than an average BIG O pot. I can’t believe normally sensible people are parting with 120 bucks to suffer through Donny and Marie when they can watch this shit for nothing.

OK, I admit the Osmond sisters show isn’t the best example but I don’t know or care who else is in town and intend to keep it that way. The players get a little tetchy at times which is understandable considering most of them are starving as I was told you’d be more likely to have Hellmuth congratulate you on outplaying him in a pot than to get a food comp from a floorman, even if you’d played around the clock.

Some of the older lads were talking about the late Amarillo Slim. They weren’t talking about his flair for selling the game to the media or his fall from grace. What they were on about was a tournament he ran and hosted, The Amarillo Slim Superbowl Of Poker.

Apparently, at this event the man from Amarillo made everyone slim by feeding nobody.

Guys who’d been used to Benny’s hospitality were extremely pissed off and brought a box full of LOSE A BUNCH BUT BRING YOUR LUNCH tee-shirts into the casino. If anyone has one, eBay might be a good spot to raise a bankroll right now.

I kicked off my involvement in this years WSOP by contributing $1500 to the pot-limit hold’em event. A new computer system whereby everyone’s chip count at every break is recorded was being tested. Most people thought it a good idea though one or two were complaining that wives and girlfriends would be getting more information as to when their man busted than was good for them. Or for the guy for that matter.

I thought myself that this innovation could be very bad news for guys who are in the habit of being staked. It’s infinitely more important for a good stakehorse to be a good liar than a good player. I’m talking about white lies like exit hands, exit level chipcounts or whether he actually played etc… Many’s the good man could be put out of a steady job over this. And they have the cheek to call it progress.

A very pretty dealer dealt to us and when she was on a break after dealing our table a floorman went through his paces quite loudly. “Where are you from?” he asked. Nice line I thought. “Belarus” she replied. “No. I meant what country?” I considered it $1,500 well spent which was more than I can say for my investment in the $1,500 no-limit hold’em.

My optimism in entering the $1,500 pot-limit Omaha was rewarded with a min-cash. Hard to keep an average man down. It was great craic. I was telling a guy about the Belarus international incident and he told me that he’d been reliably informed that a guy from Bulgary had won a bracelet. Maybe my mind is fucked up but I got to wondering where all these guys who’ve ended up in Vegas thought they were going when they left home. And if they think they’re there.