WSOP 2011 Report 4

Because I had to be in LA to shoot the Raw Deal on Wednesday, it was required that I take the Monday and Tuesday leading up to it off. I spent Monday around the house getting things done, working at the gym, and catching up on my Daily Show.

Early Tuesday afternoon I was at the airport waiting for my flight to LA. I've grown to love my little day trips to LA, especially when they include a night over in the city before the filming. I don't have to bother with anything other than a carry on, so I can rock up to the airport just about whenever before the flight, use the automatic ticketing machine to acquire my boarding pass, and be upstairs reading with coffee in hand minutes later. I've accumulated a decent book collection from purchases just within McCarren airport, though because the flight is so short many of those works sit on the shelf just partially finished.

I spent my afternoon shaping up the Raw Deal pieces while sitting out front the SLS hotel with mojito in hand. To quote Brian from Family Guy "I don't think it's a gay drink" but as soon as my date showed up for the evening she ripped into me for it, though it would soon become apparent that she'd take any excuse. There are a certain type of girls that have a very aggressive attitude--which she possessed in spades--and many men foolishly brand them bitchy or difficult. This is unfortunate, because all most of these types need is a guy who non-reacts then shoots back, which is pretty fun when you realize that amounts to shrugging and casually insulting her. With a clever enough girl it becomes an all out verbal war, and the only nice things you say are to the roommate she brought along because you're speaking to your date like you've been married for 40 years.

By the time we were submitting our order the friendly waiter could sense the tension. "Are you two a couple?" he inquired. "No! I fucking hate her!" I announced immediately. Then the waiter did the most awesome thing; he instantly became the ultimate wingman. He started really flowing with the roommate, and came off really chill and confident. He wasn't your typical LA model-in-training waiter either, he was a pretty normal looking Asian dude who turned it on and started giving us recommendations about where to head out after dinner. The roommate asked if he wanted to join us, so after the meal he swapped numbers with her. I encouraged her because he gave off a good vibe. When he showed up 15 minutes into our time at the bar across the street he did everything perfectly. He was incredibly charming to the friend, got her interested, and eventually absconded off to some club with her, but not before explaining in detail who I should ask for at the hotel bar and why the mention of his name will elicit free drinks for the evening. Don't get me wrong, I had a lovely time with my date and all, but the one that truly left me wondering was Arthur the waiter.

The next morning I was at the WPT offices around 9:30am. We made the last edits on the pieces and checked how they sounded when performed, then got down to filming. It was the last four segments of the season, completing my work for the year. It's no secret that I've been signed on for season 10, and I'm very happy to be there. Especially these days.

I was back at the airport by mid afternoon, and Vegas by early evening. I went straight to the gym when I arrived home, which my consistency about has gotten worse as the series gets longer. I was exhausted that evening, and went to bed quite early.

Thursday morning we filled up the cars to drive in and play the $5,000 six-max event at the Rio. It is by far one of the most anticipated tournaments of the year, and I was hoping to make another deep run without bluffing it off in a questionable spot this time. My table looked mostly familiar to me, except one really bad middle aged guy on my left and one young European kid on his left who I'd never seen before. For the first few levels things were pretty straight forward. I never got involved in many big pots, didn't find any interesting opportunities to get out of line, and consistently bled the bad player on my left who didn't like folding preflop. I made one definite mistake when I flatted a 3-bet with 97s in position then failed to raise the river on AQx79 after both flop and turn went check-check. At the time I recall thinking the guy likely had a pretty polarized 3-bet range and there was little value in raising, but after playing with him a while longer it was clear that was an incorrect assumption and really these days will almost always be faulty logic against anyone sub-30. I felt like such a nit upon reflection.

On occasion, previous nityness inspires future spewyness. It's almost like you feel a little guilty for doing something so weak, so you'll prove to yourself that you're not a coward by doing something recklessly aggressive. Perhaps that was part of the motivation leading up to a hand I played at 100-200:

Haffizle: ~27,000

Luigi: ~23,000

My stack: ~21,000

Blinds 100-200

I hold A2o on the button.

Leading up to the hand Haffizzle had been opening constantly. Luigi was known as "Luigi da BT" online and was playing well, having done a fair bit of 3-betting already. He'd mentioned to me that his website translated the "Series it took me a while to learn" articles, and I remember playing him a ton through 2008-2011 online so I assumed he figured I was mostly a nit, particularly after seeing me flat the two pair on the river.

Preflop: UTG Haffizzle opened to 400, it folded to Luigi on the CO, Luigi raised to 1,200, I made it 3,000 on the button, it folded back to Luigi, Luigi thought for a while and called.

Flop: K 6 4 rainbow

Luigi checked, I bet 2,500, Luigi called.

Turn: Q, full rainbow

Luigi checked, I checked.

River: 6

Luigi bet 5,000. I thought that it was very difficult for him to have a good hand in this spot. He probably wouldn't 3-bet pre with KQ, and if he did I can't imagine he'd call the 4-bet with the offsuit combinations. He could have AKs, or perhaps a pair of kings or queens that he flatted with pre to slowplay, but those hands would be 5-betting pre-flop some percent as well. I also thought it wasn't inconceivable to sell that I had the set myself, seeing as I could potentially 4-bet both those big pairs pre, bet flop for value, and check back turn since my image is nitty and barreling twice there looks ridiculous strong and gives floats a chance to do weird shit on the river. I shoved for 16,000 and Luigi instantly tossed his hand in the muck. The player in seat one was a chatty guy named Nick, and he saw the look of what I'd done on my face as I slid my hand near the muck. "Go on, show the bluff" he said, so I tabled it. "It was the best hand" said Luigi.

Although the hand worked in the moment, near all I've run it by hate it. Most begin by saying pre is too obvious as a light 4-bet spot against thinking opponents and likely a spew. Near everyone agrees that it's not a line and sizing that credibly represents the set combinations at all, and when our half of the table broke into a strategy conversation on the hand as a result of my tabling it, they all said "I didn't think you had kings or queens." The only saving grace was that I didn't feel like a nit for the rest of the evening.

After dinner I was moved to a new table that contained Zack Clark on my immediate left and Canadian player Lefort two on my right. The rest were relative unknowns, and I seemed to have a mostly good seat. At 250-500 it folded to Lefort on the button who raised to 1,200 with a 14,000 stack. After the SB folded I shoved my 55 in the BB and got instantly called by his AQ. I flopped a set and he was dead on the turn. They brought a woman I was unfamiliar with in to replace him, and on my immediate right was an old guy who seemed pretty loose. I found a fun spot to bluff the old guy when at 400-800 the hijack opened to 1700. The old guy called out of the SB, and I called with 64dd in the BB. The flop was Jd8h4h and when the SB checked I donked into both of them for 2,800. It's a spot that sort of locks up the open raiser, particularly since I'll likely lead some very strong hands there as well. If he folds and it's the old guy who comes along there will be opportunities to take advantage of how straight forward he is on future streets. The HJ folded and the old guy made the call. The turn brought the Th and we both checked. The river came Kh and when he checked I began reaching for chips. He quickly put his hand to his chips like was preparing for a call, but it was in a manner too obvious, as if he intended for me to see that it looked like he was going to call. I lined up a bet of 6,500 and dropped it into the pot, prompting a quick fold.

I was pretty card dead during the later levels. I went to flops a few times with some of the other young and aggressive players on the table, but I flopped so awful I often just check-folded without a major loss of chips. I lost a pot against the old guy where he made it 1700 in the SB and I called with A7o in the BB. The flop was 862 rainbow and I called a bet of 2,000 from him. The turn was a 5 and when he checked I fired 4,500 and he called pretty quickly. The river was a 6 and when he checked I gave up and checked back. He tabled A8o and scooped it. I had a discussion with Chewy about whether the turn bet was good, which he seemed to think it was not. At the time, I thought not only would he check-fold a bunch of stuff that would be six-outing against me if I check back, he'll also fold a better ace-high some percent of the time. Additionally, I thought if he called he would likely have enough showdown value to get sticky on the river against someone who barreled him on the last scary board, so if I got called and made my straight I thought I might be able to bomb something in the 15-20,000 area and get paid. Chewy thought guys like this tend to check too many hands with showdown value on the turn because they're not sure what else to do, but definitely won't fold them.

I lost a series of small pots to end the night, and finished with a little over double starting stack. We returned the next afternoon at 2pm and I found a table full of very familiar regulars waiting for me, like Faraz Jaka and Dan Martin. The two of them traded off opening every pot, and when I attempted one light 3-bet on Faraz he snap shipped it in my face. I was completely card dead except for two spots I found AK which prompted instant folds from everyone. All other decisions were about in which manner did I want to fold 92o, a simple sliding of the cards towards the dealer, or a fast flick of the wrist in an attempt to land them perfectly in the muck pile? When the blinds moved up to 600-1200 with a  200 ante it folded to me in the SB with 16,000 and 8Tcc. I moved in and the BB blurted "I call!!" then tabled aces. I stood up and put on my jacket. "No wait, you have aces crackers though!" someone said. The flop came Kc8h2c but I still had a sense I was boned. It just didn't feel like an aces cracking day. Both other streets bricked out and I was busted. It was apparently too late to play the $1,500 at the Venetian so given that it was a Friday I took the desire for some gamble out onto the sidewalks and hallways of Vegas.

Saturday morning I was back bright and early for the $1,500 NLH event. Saturday afternoon I was busted quick and painless, in a manner I can no longer remember perhaps three or four hours into the tournament. I went for a late lunch at the Aria, then messaged my friend Apestyles to see what he was up to. He said he was feeling ill and just hanging at his apartment at Panorama, so I decided to keep him some company and drop by. He lives with "Stevie444" and we hung out and caught up about our respective poor Summer luck. Around 8pm I asked him if he wanted to come grab a coffee or tea with me at the Aria as it was Saturday evening and I wanted to chat up some girls. He said he'd drop me off, but that he wasn't quite feeling well enough to join.

By the time he pulled up to the Aria Ape had decided he wanted to see me do this and probably wouldn't die if he had one tea. I told him I really appreciated the company, as having someone to talk to the whole time makes everything much easier. We took our drinks to a table over looking a main walkway and then we waited. Eventually two attractive young women walked by so I got up to chase them down and inform them as to how good they were looking that evening. They were very pleased that I had come up and done this, and after some banter about where we were all from and what they were doing in Vegas it was decided they would join Ape and I after they grabbed the food they were after. When they arrived the brunette sat next to Ape and the blonde sat next to me, so that was how it was. Everyone got along brilliantly, and they had optimistic views about both the idea of playing poker for a living and politely chatting up women in hallways. After twenty minutes or so, Ape mentioned that he had to get home to drive Stevie to the Rio. As he departed the girls asked me what I was doing for the rest of the evening. "Well, that's why I came over to talk to the two of you, I've been made…available for the evening."

"Ok come with us then, we're off to meet some friends."

"K."

A moment later we met the date of the brunette and another young couple at a quiet bar in the front of Aria. Both the guys were friendly and happy to see a fun and outgoing fix to the groups ratio inequity. A round of drinks was ordered, and everyone got to know each other properly. It was your classic Vegas collection of people who only sort of knew each other, but were all in a good enough state about the whole meeting randoms thing that it just flowed. They were from California so I made some crack about them all likely being pot heads. When the conversation changed over to the subject of drugs they mentioned that they'd met some guy at the pool today who said he would hook them up with MDMA but came off like a swinger. A literal one. I'm not quite sure how it is someone comes off like a swinger, but whatever he'd done had managed it. They said this guy apparently had some huge room up in the Sky Suites of Aria, so it was decided that we would pay this man a visit and inquire as to the promised pills. As always I had no intention to take any, but I appreciated the random trajectory the night was taking and said I was most interested in seeing what happened, so I led them to the suites and eventually, the room of the supposed swinger.

We knocked on his door and after a moment left waiting it was opened by what I was later told was likely a Persian man, wearing only a towel. He peered out suspiciously, and beckoned just the man he knew from the pool earlier that day. He closed the door behind him, but a mere 30 seconds later our friend emerged with pills in hand. "Fuck man there was just…so many naked people on the bed. It was some kind of orgy or some shit."

"But he just gave you the pills?"

"Yea he just gave them to me and sent me away."

"Sick connection dude!"

"I know right! You want one of these?"

"Nah, I gotta work tomorrow."

He was not at all fussed about my lack of participation, and he and the other guy in the group popped one each. We returned downstairs and had a discussion about how the evening would be spent. They all wanted to head out to a club, which made me consider bouncing until they decided upon Surrender and I changed my mind. I find it to be the most comfortable club for someone who wants it more low-key like I do, as it's near entirely outdoors and it's volume is manageable. I've also found that because it's not so crammed and uncomfortable, it tends to relax the crowd and really let everyone enjoy themselves without some of the attitude and hostilities you get in many other places. Around the same time, both guys announced they were rolling too much to make decisions and I was to be in charge of organizing things, so I led everyone outside and got us a ride large enough to transport the whole group to the Wynn.

Outside the club we met a promoter that the brunette pretended to know through some various connection they made ages ago. She went so far to call this tiny Filipino woman "Fun-Size" as a nick-name while she ordered her around about trying to get in. It was all a very charming act to watch, but I've found in club situations you're best bet is empathy instead of over-familiarity. People who work at clubs deal with demanding elitists and a long list of everyone who thinks they're top priority. They're running around managing four different conversations in person plus another six on their phone. It's a pretty exhausting amount of social stimulation, so your best bet is to just let them know you understand, are easy going about their schedule for the moment, and don't mind them sorting something more urgent then coming back. You'll stick out in their mind because you're one of the few that spoke to them without the sense of entitlement, which often improves your priority. That or just spend a fuck ton of money.

Inside the club was pumping. Everyone was in a great mood, especially the guys in our group who gave me big hugs and yelled "I love you suit!" because they were rolling so hard. The girls said they loved me because I was the only one sober enough to know what the hell was going on. Not long into the dancing and grinding the blonde and I are tearing into each others face while being cheered on by the group. When tired of dancing I'd just sit back with the guys and talk to them about how much they were enjoying their strangely acquired pills and watch as the girls danced and occasionally made out with each other. "You're gonna be the only one getting laid tonight dude, cause we're both on E!" one guy told me.

"Won't that wear off in a few hours?" I asked, unfamiliar with the duration of affect.

"Dude, in a few more hours…we're gonna do more E!"

Often, when you meet a girl or group of people there will be someone in there who attempts to cock-block you. Sometimes you get groups that are really cool about everything, but only rarely do you get ones that attempt to full blown enable. Rare enough that the term "cock-enable" doesn't even exist in our linguistic canon of slang. Meanwhile this group seemed absolutely heart-set on making sure the two of us hooked up that night, and began explaining the solutions to the usual logistical issues. "Don't worry, XXXX is staying at my place, you'll have a hotel room free tonight!" one of the guys told me. Around 2:30am her girlfriends found me and said "You should probably take her home, she's getting tired. Make sure she gets back safe!" as opposed to the more common "We promised that we'd all stay together tonight!" that you have to so delicately disarm. We left the club, found a taxi on the street, and spent a few minutes getting to know each other in a way that the club environment and volume does not allow. When we arrived at the Aria we stepped out, walked through the hallways together, and arrived at the elevators where she said "Well, you're going to hate me but, I'm an old fashioned kind of girl, so I'm not going to just let you up to my hotel room."

"No dramas, have a good night."

I was exhausted and naturally a bit frustrated, so I decided to find Timex at his WSOP event at something like 2:45am. He was on the bubble of the $10,000 pot limit hold'em event, his second deep run of the series in that form of poker. They still had 30 minutes of play left when I arrived so I snuck outside to fill my brain with THC and hoped the scientists were right about the stuff reducing your sex drive. Then I returned to sweat Timex and tried not to fall asleep on the table next to his as the electronic clock looming over us slowly counted down to zero. When play finished he was 11 of 38, with 36 players paying. As a form of congratulations for him and condolences for me, we had the cabbie take us through the drive-through at the all night Tropical Smoothie on Blue Diamond. It also alleviated the dry mouth.

I didn't actually get to sleep until some absurd hour that night, but I still found myself up disturbingly early the next morning. Aaron was the only one awake and surprisingly going down to play the $1,000 event, so I caught a ride with him around noon. I entered the event slightly late, and yet again I just can't remember what happened. I think I busted somewhere in the late afternoon or early evening but there's just been so many damn tournaments in the last month it's impossible to keep everything in memory. I just recall being fairly tired from the previous night and making sure I played like a pretty straight forward nit so I didn't do anything dumb.

Monday morning I was back at the Venetian for a $2,500 event. It was the same day as the WSOP $10,000 six-max which neither Mad Dog or I particularly liked our chances in, so we both sat it out. Also, both of us are still entirely cashless for the series, so the quantity of funds he brought is beginning to drain and neither of us saw the point in taking the high variance shot. With there being the $2,500 at the Venetian that day, the choice seemed clear for me. The field was much softer that day than previous higher buy in Venetian events, and I spent the majority of play either folding rags or finding sweet spots to flat aces pre then mess people up post. It was a very loose table, and if you didn't have it firing a lot of bets was often a poor idea, especially against the blatant rich guy on my immediate left who kept two Bellagio cranberries ($25,000 chips) on top of his tournament stack for hours until the floor told him he couldn't do that. He was playing truly awful, and seemed incapable of putting in a raise unless he was absolutely certain of his hand's strength. This held true until 400-800 when he opened UTG, got 3-bet by MP1, then shoved 35 bigs with QJo in a hand I spent the remainder of the evening trying to figure out after his departure.

Unfortunately, at the last level of the evening I lost a series of pots. I opened A6hh on the HJ to 1800 and was called by the BB. The flop came AK8 rainbow and he check-called my bet of 2600. The turn was a 5 putting a diamond flush draw up and we both checked. The river was a low diamond, and when he bet 2100 I said "sure" and dropped it in. He tabled AJ and scooped it. I raised a couple times and got 3-bet in spots where it was pure spew to do anything but fold. I raised A2ss on the CO and got called by the rich guy before he busted. The flop was KQ7dds and I just started checking it down against him because he never folded anything. He eventually bet the river and I gave up. When everything finished I had a mere 15,000 of my starting 20,000 remaining going into day two, and we left the Venetian at 2:45am.

At 2pm on Tuesday we were all back at the Venetian for the restart. I folded for an orbit of being dealt rags, then found QQ in the SB with about 13,000 left. A player in MP opened to 2,200 and next to act shoved something like 18,000 behind. Naturally I rejammed when it got to me, and when the opener folded I was in a flip against AK. The ace came on the turn and I was quickly walking towards the parking lot so I could make it to the Rio in time for the $1,500 event.

I bought in to the $1,500 at the Rio around 2:30pm, but was told that we wouldn't be able to begin play until the start of the third level. When we settled into our chairs 40 minutes later I was sitting with Australian friend Daniel Nielsen and roommate Truck Dan. We all thought the three of us would be out in no time, but instead we all found chips. Truck had aces and stacked someone. Nielsen got AKcc in against aces and won. At 75-150 with 4,500 effective a guy opened in MP to 300 and with QQ in the BB i made it 800 on him. He had recently been 3-bet by Truck, and I was hoping it just might inspire him to do something a little insane. It must have too, because he slid a whole bunch of chips in the middle, which I thought was all in. "I call" I said, and put my stack as well. "No wait, he's not all in, he has 800 behind" said the dealer. I looked over and saw she was correct, so after she made the pot right I picked up the rest of my chips, closed my eyes, asked about whether the flop had come out, then stretched out my arm and dropped the chips into the pot. I opened my eyes to a 99K flop and watched as my opponent shrugged and called with A6o. He did not get there.

I continued running well, and by the time our table was being broken up I had 11,000. My new table was very happy to see me, and they had no objections to my steadily increasing my stack until I got in a big pot with aces where I doubled up to 26,000 at 150-300. Given I had almost 100 blinds in a WSOP $1,000 at the antes I was obviously convinced that I was a lock to win the tournament, but then the realities of the structure settled in. I went card dead for a while but didn't lose much, and was moved tables to the corner of the room with about 30,000 and found Tuan Lam waiting for me again. He had on his "Super Tuan" shirt that suits him perfectly, and was his usual bubbly self. I won a series of small pots where everyone folded the flop, then a medium one when four people called my raise preflop when I opened TT in early position. The flop came QQ7 and when the blinds checked I bet into them. The button called and both blinds folded. The turn was a brick and we both checked. The river was a K and we both checked again, revealing I was the winner against A7o.

Going into the last level of the night I had 38,000 in chips at 400-800, and crossed my fingers nothing disastrous would happen so I could skip the $5,000 event the next day and save Mad Dog some money. For thirty minutes everything remained peaceful, and I lost one small pot plus did a lot of folding. My stack had drained down to about 33,000 when it folded to a player on the CO who shoved for 8,200. This was nowhere near his first shove and he seemed competent enough to have a pretty wide range. The SB was a young European guy with about 25,000 and the BB an old dude with 21,000 who hadn't played a hand since showing up. I peeked down at KJo and after glancing over everyone's stack I shoved over the top. It's definitely my borderline hand there, as I'd be snap shoving KQ and comfortably folding KT. The SB considered things for a moment, counted down his stack, then announced he was all in. When the BB folded the hands were revealed: A9cc for the CO, JJ for the SB. The flop came ace high and on the turn I was drawing to nine outs with a four-flush, but the river bricked and I was knocked down to something like 7,500. A few hands later it folded to the guy who had shoved the A9s and he opened in mid position to 2,000. I was right behind with 88 and 7,000 so I naturally moved in. When it folded back to him he quickly called and tabled TcTd. The flop was 852ccc, turn 9c, river Qd and I was with perhaps 30 minutes left of play. I took a taxi home, and texted Mad Dog that I would need $5,000 in the morning for the triple chance.

Approximately twelve hours later I was back at the Rio, registering for the $5,000 triple chance. Although I had plenty of time to sleep the previous night, I could tell my body and mind were drained. Even though ~20 tournaments is nothing to the long term and less than I put in any day grinding online in the golden years, it is still so exhausting to show up and get crushed for a month straight. I told myself the goal would be to get through the day without doing stupid shit, and perhaps making it to dinner break would allow me the respite and recharge needed to play a more focused evening of poker.

I was pretty happy when I found my table. There were a few regulars, but a lot of guys who were total unknowns to me and didn't seem very professional. The first major pot I played was against a rather loose older guy who had yet to use his two "rebuy" chips that were worth 5,000 in tournament chips each. He'd turned his original 5,000 into 10,000 by winning a lot of pots through the method of making hands and not folding pre. At 50-100 it folded to him in late position and he made it 275. I had about 13,000 in the SB and made it 700 because I had no other small denomination chips available to me. He thought a while and called, bringing us to a J93 rainbow flop. I bet 1,000 and when he made it 2,750 I called with the intention of almost never folding. When the turn brought a Q I cringed, and checked to my opponent. He gave the card this big confused look, like he wanted it to be no secret about how "confused" that card made him. Then he went to his stack and confidently fired out 4,000, leaving him about 2,500-3,000 behind. I sat there for a while considering what I'd do, but I'm pretty sure I knew all along. I think I just wanted a moment to be annoyed. After it passed I resigned my kings to the muck and went back to folding pre.

The second major hand I played in the tournament went down at 100-200. I opened 9d9c on the CO with 450 with a stack of about 11,000. A fairly loose player on the button called, and when the SB folded the guy in the BB glanced over at our stacks then made it 1,500. He was perhaps in his late 30's, and wearing a hat that I'm pretty confident advertised a marijuana dispensary. He'd been pretty loose about seeing flops and raising pre, but he hadn't been doing a ton of 3-betting that I'd witnessed, but I was a little out of it. It still felt too weak to fold, so I called and the button folded behind. The flop came T63 with two diamonds and he nearly instantly fired 1,600 out. I called and we saw a Kc turn. He thought a little, then dropped 4,000 into the pot. I thought about whether there was any reason I shouldn't fold, then again tossed my hand in the direction of the muck. "Was a pair good?" he asked in what seemed like a fairly earnest tone. Then he tabled 22 and took down the pot. I said very little.

I played one more hand with KQ where I raised pre, bet a 532 flop against the SB, and bet again on the A turn in a spot where I actually think it was probably a bad double barrel because he's peeling too many ace highs. I gave up on the rag river and his A7o took it. I pretty much lost every other small pot I entered, and by 150-300 I had bled down to 2,550. The best shoving spot I could find was with K8o with 1,800 UTG when the table was seven handed, and I was quickly called by an AJ that flopped a jack just to make sure. I was out about half an hour before dinner, and so fucking tired I can't even put it in words. I took the car home, found the pipe, then put on my gym clothes and forced myself through a much needed routine across the street.

Thursday was my first day off since I had returned home from LA. I spent it exercising and writing most of this, then attended the Leggo party with my roommates. I went home at 11:30pm, but apparently some of them stayed out well into the morning, so I should get some fun stories in a few hours when they wake up...