Package Email after day two (fleshd out some more):

Yesterday, I played the toughest starting table I've played maybe ever. All the players were on my side of the table and fortunately I had position on all but one of them. Unfortunately, the guy to my left liked to 4 and 5bet more than any of them. He also was in a war of wills with the guy on my right as these two internet kids were having pissing contest getting it all in preflop in level two in with hands like AQ v. 56 suited. BTW, 56 suited got there, and AQ bitched.

They seemed to alternate winning these for most of the day, everybody else just gave them their chips. I recognized one live circuit player who I played with in Tunica and he and I did battle with the Internet kids in a live vs. online battle. Have to admit that probably the Internet kids won the battle, though it was really the other half of the table that took it on the chins and not us.

We should have broke first, as we all were all late registering, but instead because the tournament directors have their heads up their ass, we played the table until almost dinner. My side of the table picked up all the chips. Things got easier when the kid to my left got knocked out. I made some tough calls and the Internet kids stopped f'ing with me so I was able to chip up after some fits and starts.

I got moved to a new table finally just before dinner and the insanity didn't stop. Here was the action on the first hand I saw. First to act bets, raised huge by this girl who has been destroying the circuit the last couple of months, call, call, call, first to act called. Flop: First to act bets, raised by the girl, she's gets reraised by another girl (she her pic and story below), fold, fold, first to act calls, the aggro girl re-reraises, and then the reraiser shoves. Fold, fold. Uhhhhh....... wha happened? They are all sitting on mountains of chips and just throwing 'em around like they are rice at a wedding. So much for getting a reprieve.

I tighten up and pick my spots. The girl who had to fold goes on spew mode and attacks my blind (again). I look at A2 and call. Flop is king high I check in the dark she bets weakly (physical tell)... call. Turn is garbage, I check again feeling confident Ace high is good. She bets I call. River is an Ace. I see her eye it. I check to her and sure enough she tries to bet the scare card triple barrelling me..big. When I insta-call she folds directly into the muck. She had nothing. I should have flashed the deuce to mindfuck her.  My plan was to call the river regardless, though I think she checks there if not for the Ace, because she thought she could get me off the hand when it hit.

After dinner, my image is good because I go card dead for full a level. Looking to exploit that, I steal a pot using a little trick I like to do but won't share (sorry).  Then a little later, I open a pot with 94, get called by this lady in the pic Heather Sue Mercer. 

Long sidenote: she has a pretty good poker resume , but she went to Duke.  And if I have to be critical, and I want to because she seems entirely likable, is a good player, attractive, and always dresses like she's going to a cocktail party after the tournament, maybe she's a little too perfect.  If I can't find something immediately wrong with a person, I'll have to create it. 

In the poker world where many of the women that play with the boys can also beat up the men, she's a rarity.  Ironically, she played football at duke so she can probably kick some ass too, yes, you read that right.  She played or tried to play football at Duke.  What's worse is she sued Duke.  So she's kind of an ally.  So, what's to dislike?  I could hate her for that initial decision to go to Duke, even that escapes me as my grandmother and a girl I was friends with in high school went there, so I kind of forgive women for going to Duke, in my mind it's a ladies school with a bunch of girly men that play basketball there.  Not much to pick at... well, she wears giant earrings, which one day means when she's an old lady she's going have earlobes that hang to her shoulders.  That can be unsightly.

Where were we, I opened with 94 o/s and get called by the future long earlobed Miss Mercer.  I Cbet after hitting my four and she called. Check check on the turn. River is an ace, she looks pissed, I start to bet and she says don't even bother... now I had some chips.   Think she had middle pair maybe and was going to check call me all the way down if big cards didn't hit or try and steal the pot with nothing.  Don't know if I could have called if the scare card didn't land.

I feel confident we are going to roll to the money. We get to under 1 out of 2 makes the cash and they move in a guy new to the table. My image has gotten me a number of pots to chip up the next level or two,  everybody has decided I'm a stone cold nit and folded to c-bets. Should have given the new guy the memo. First pot I'm on the button in position and we get into a raising war. He bets, I three bet with AK, he min-raises and usually that's strong but here I knew he was weak... even though he's an old guy and they always have it when they min-bet, guess he mistook me for an internet kid and was playing back (or maybe he was just an idiot with no plan), so I shove to take down the hand with enough chips to merit a fold. He goes through some elaborate chip count, and I figure him for a fold and think the pot should be almost be enough to get us in the money.

Then he decides that somewhere between 40 to 60 per cent of his chips is a good place to let it ride with a low pocket pair. He calls with a flourish.  Nice hand sir. When I brick, the table gives him that "oh we got a sucker now" look and I head for the exit.

Thanks for the support all. Sorry, for the second no cash. Six max event today. Hoping for a better table draw and some run good.

Email I sent to my investors after day one in AC

Played event one. Kept running into big hands early but kept surviving. Ran into a set with top two pair and lost a good portion of my stack. Later a guy caught a set on the turn after airballing the flop and calling a big bet from me. A couple of hands later, despite being priced out the same guy chased his flush and got there on the river (and thankfully was dumb enough to not be able to bet it for value). Suddenly was down to 3k from a starting stack of 10k but feeling good about still being in the tournament.

Grinded. Got over starting stack with half the field gone by picking spots and exploiting weakness. Then started to get short again and was looking for spots to push. Of course they break my table where my image was great and I was about to start to exploit it again. New table had a lot of chips and action but I couldn't catch a playable hand for the first few orbits and the blinds and antes were catching up.

Crazy asian old guy was the talk of the table raising anything and getting there. In the BB, I have 8 to 10 BBs left and looking to get it in. Old crazy dude raises 3x . A player who is a teaching pro, and pulling the Nascar driver look with the website on hat and hoodie kind of gave me a weird look and just flatted. I put him on a big hand and think he's hoping I shove any two when its get to me. Then two more callers get in the hand.

With the pot odds, I'm going to shove a wide range of hands here, that aren't likely to be dominated. I don't want to play Ax or Kx but I'm hoping for some suited connectors. I look at J9 suited which is almost perfect for that. I consider what the teaching pro has and I eliminate AA or KK or QQ as I think he would have chose to play a bigger pot with the Asian old guy and 3bet him and not cared about my 10bbs. I honed in on AK. Other hands like middle pairs just wouldn't be making that play. Had to be AK. I'd be 40% dog if right, but shoving would likely get me heads up making 3 to 4 to 1 on my money and a great spot to gamble.

I shove. Old Asian guy calls (bonus). Teaching pro, as I expected wasn't having any of that. He came over the top, the other two callers got out of the way and the old asian guy folded after tanking forever (with garbage). Sure enough getting almost 4 to 1 on my money going to the flop vs. Ak o/s. I flop flush draw and open ended. River a 9 to win with a pair. Fun hand. I think the pro played it great, getting the same return on his money with 60% chance to scoop too. I got lucky on that one. Suddenly, I have chips and can hurt people.

Also, as a tight player I have the great advantage of the idiots at the table thinking I'm a dumbass looking to shove in a mulit-way pot with just J9 who don't understand the logic behind why I did what I did. A couple of hands later I get my first big pair of the tournament QQ.

 

Sweet. A.C. reg from early position raises.

He's one of the dumbasses.

When it gets to me I contemplate what to do. Do I flat, hope the Asian behind me does the raising and get it in. I figure my image is perfect enough to actually 3bet the guy and he might even overshove pre... which I was going to call. He's not going to give me credit for QQ. I have a read of weakness on his part as the bet size just seemed like he didn't want a call. I pop it pretty good to make it look like a steal and go with my image of being crazy. He eyeballs me and decides to call (drat! I say).

Flop is gin. Q98. Top set. I know there is zero chance this guy has J10. He insta-shoves and just radiates weakness. I would have called him if I had bottom pair. Of course, I almost beat him into the pot, accidentally channeling Phil Hellmuth by knocking over my chips in my surprise of this guy trying to giftwrap me a huge pot. He barely had my stack covered. He's devastated with the call, even worse when he sees I did the impossible and actually had a hand in that spot. He's got AJ off suit. Says something about drawing dead or his ace being dead. I spy the gutter ball and cringe a bit.

I fade the turn and he hits the 10 on the river and screams emphatically and stares at me like I was the one that hit a miracle for a big pot. Turrible. I say nice hand, somehow omiting any trace of sarcasm. If my hand holds... we'd already have our first cash in tournament one. Oh well, getting ready for tournament two. Thanks for the support.

Tunica... Existentialism and Poker

The old man stepped into the Harrahs Tunica Hotel elevator and said to the crowd "Heading to the gym."  He had 1970s running shorts, the type that barely covered anything, a polo shirt, and some white sneakers that looked like reeboks that girls used to wear in the 80s.  He said "At my age you can either exercise or die."

The group of portly, sedentary, but relatively youthful poker players on the elevator nodded in unison.  I think one tried to stifle some flatulence, which was ironic because that was the closet thing he'd get to exercise on that day.  Though it was a kind gesture because the elevator was crowded.  From the machinations in his face as it contorted a little too much I knew he was squeezing some muscles he rarely used or maybe just rehashing the Black Eyed Peas Superbowl show from last year.  I turned my attention from the look, and stared downward, praying the kid had the butt kegels to hold in the fart. I couldn't help but take in all of Grandpa in the hot-shorts.  Grandpas shouldn't wear hot shorts.

We got to the first floor and the old man turned off to the gym and me and the herd headed toward the shuttle and the parking lot to go sit for 12 hours in a casino.  Once the old man had shuffled out of earshot one of the players said, "It's a bit early in the morning for Existentialism."

I thought to myself, it's a bit early in the morning to use the word existentialism.

His buddy replied, "It's like Morgan Freeman in Shawshank Redemption... get busy living or get busy dying."  They laughed.  I didn't.  I got the reference it just wasn't funny.  It was just a reference and though on point not really funny.  A funny reference was when a random dude sat at my table and looked at a dude's card holder that was a turtle and started doing Dana Carvey saying "Turtle Turtle."  That was funny and obscure, and only I got it.


I walked to my car as they headed for the shuttle.  Existentialism?  I was an English major, I should remember what that means, what does that mean again?  (To make me look smarter... let's just say that thought bubble was a narrative device to define Existentialism.. I've been chastised in the past by other bloggers for using SAT words as though my readers are illiterate... so here's the definition):

From Wikipedia (so you know it's got to be true because somebody in his mother's basement wrote this):  Existentialism is a term applied to a school of 20th-century philosophers who, despite profound doctrinal differences,^[1][2][3] shared the belief that philosophical thinking begins with the human subject—not merely the thinking subject, but the acting, feeling, living human individual.^[4] In existentialism, the individual's starting point is characterized by what has been called "the existential attitude", or a sense of disorientation and confusion in the face of an apparently meaningless or absurd world.^[5] Many existentialists have also regarded traditional systematic or academic philosophies, in both style and content, as too abstract and remote from concrete human experience.^[6][7]

Looking for an absurd world?  Look no further than poker, where skill beats luck in the long run but in the short run luck crushes skill.  Have the basic human need to find patterns in randomness then try and make sense of anything in poker.  Idiots can win tournaments, bad play is often rewarded with the turn of the card, and the best players can often be seen grousing on the sidelines lamenting some donkey, mule or fish that stacked him.  In the long run, you want people to make bad mistakes but in the short run those same mistakes can cost you your tournament life.  You curse those idiots when you lose but usually forget to thank them when your hand holds up.

As poker players, you know this.  You know the desperate soul searching that bad beats can manifest in any of us.  When will it end, some wonder, and then out of nowhere... "run good" that euphoric high where you are outplaying AND outlucking your opposition.  Life is suddenly good again.  But none of it makes sense.  Are you playing any better when your winning then when you are losing?  Read a sampling of your friends that play poker's facebook statuses and try and make sense of the poker life... Good luck.

The randomness of poker is no mere metaphor for life because they are one and the same.  Crushing heartbreaks one after another or fantastic good fortune snowballing into even more, there is no rhyme or reason or meaning for any of it.  Sure we try to explain the bad away with sayings about life like, "Life is what happens when you are busy making plans," or in poker when you step into a crap-based quicksand for your tournament life "that's poker"... but it's really feels meaningless.

Those were the thoughts going through my head, as I trudged to my car, wondering why I let Existentialism linger on my mind, with another day full of poker looming, I look at fair Tunica trying to drive deep thoughts from mind.

Ummm... Tunica how do I put this nicely.  At it's best it is a place of nothingness, a waystation to nowhere, a purgatory on Earth if you will.  Not quite hell, but nowhere near heaven.  If you were the set designer for the play "Waiting for Godot" you could chose no better backdrop than Tunica.

I know a Waiting for Godot reference... everybody's read that right?  I'd link it for the rabble... but since you are rabble you are likely too lazy to click the line so, in short it's about two guys in the middle of nowhere waiting for this guy Godot who never shows up and who they barely know... psst some say Godot is... God... or he's not he's just a guy, because there is no God and there is no Godot...  it's a metaphor for life or purgatory which is life or whatever, the play is really about nothing and nothingness, kinda like Seinfeld without the funny... you know them sitting there in the prison cell in the finale having the same conversation they had in the first episode... Yeah, that's Godot.   Obviously, I couldn't drive the existentialist thoughts from my mind.

So, all around me is what I envision is around those guys waiting for Godot in the play.  Winter is in its throes, there are meadows of dead grass, looking like scorched Earth for as far as the eye could see.  A cold rain pelted and stung the bare skin on my face.  It just as easily could have been fiery ash.  The sky ashen and without texture, simply gray with little else.  Tunica as a place feels and looks Godforsaken or damned, in the dead of winter.  I've been here in other seasons and unless you are an admirer of cotton fields its not much better.

This vast expanse of nothingness is home to a few casinos where people wait for Godot at slot machines, poker tables, and the pits and try to make sense of their good fortune or bad luck.  There sits a mood of forlorn-ness (*yes, that's not a word but let's go with it) over everybody here.  Even the employees lament that this is Tunica.  If they could be working somewhere else they would.  The gamblers that are there would rather be elsewhere too but they just wait for Good fortune, God or Godot but he rarely shows and they wait for some more.  

I needed some contact solution, because I left it at home, just like I left my family, my dogs, my new TV, and the other happy distractions of life that the long days in Tunicas had none of, so I set off for  downtown Tunica.  It's hard playing poker and missing your family and being away from your kids.  Then you look around you and think I've left home for this?

With the casinos falling from the horizon in the rear view mirror I traveled Highway 60-something and saw nothing change.  I easily could have been driving one long loop, a big circle in the middle of nowhere.  "When is downtown Tunica going to show up?"

To that point my poker had been like the drive.  I came with the plan of entering every tournament to get into the points race and win a seat in the Million Dollar freeroll that will kick off the world series.  I got a lot points from my run at the IP where Godot showed up and good fortune shined on me.  I'm in contention to finish the year in the top 66 players in the country.  In Tunica to that point, that guy Godot was nowhere to be found and every day the same thing happened.  I'd get chips, I'd lose chips, I'd make it to the dinner break, I make it to a pseudo-comfortable spot where every one out of two players would make the money and then suddenly it would be over.  No points, no money, nothing.

The drive continued just as my tournament results did.

Nothing new to see and nothing to show for it, just one long journey.

Finally, out of nowhere Tunica arrived.  After blinking, missing it and turning around, I managed to find my contact solution in a drug store that doubled as a weave/wig store.  Yes, you read that right and yes, I felt out of place.  Yes, there were bars on the windows, and a man in the store who had a rolled up McDonalds bag as a wallet.  The decor looked like the orange and brown floral patterns favored by Florida from the TV show Good Times.  There was an odor, and a haze of  yellow fog that meandered above the aisles visible under the fluorescent lighting.  

Downtown Tunica, it seems is closer to Hell than the purgatory that is greater Tunica.

Another vapid aphrosim is "Thank God for small miracles."  Amazingly, on a shelf they carried the rare contact solution my gas permeables require and no others.  Weird.  Next to some cutex and fake eye lashing was Boston Clenser.  I waited for the twilight zone music to come over the loud speakers but instead heard only the dulcet tones of gospel music.  It might have been Sunday.  I don't know.  The days run together in purgatory.  Quickly, getting out of there I determined to do what the characters in Godot did, and just repeat what they where already doing.  Why not play another tournament?

I entered the next tournament under a bit of a malaise, its seems to be highly contagious in Tunica. I think that's what they are known for... malaise.  I had it in spades.  Knowing I'd been playing long and deep and doing everything right I still couldn't shake the frustration of not having cashed.  The coinflips or bad beats to end my evenings had to stop, why, because they had to... right?  Keep playing well, stay positive and if you are skilled you'll win.  Godot's going to show.  Good dough... is going to show. Right?

Unfortunately, on that day it didn't.  I seem to have found a nemesis hand in coinflips Ace queen versus an underpair usually tens or 9s.  At the IP, I lost the heads up in the Main Event when AQ couldn't improve vs. 1010 (or was it 99).  This week AQ can't beat 1010 or 99 or any underpair and I usually go home because of it.  Still, it's always been the right play to ship it in those spots, just the wrong result.  And on that day it was the wrong result again.

I questioned myself, am I good, is there a pattern in the randomness. Yes, I made mistakes, and yes, other made mistakes but could I be better?   In poker, sometimes you question the right move when you get a bad result... which is terrible, and my friends have put me back on the right track.  You are going to win those flips they said... eventually.

The next day... there is no existentialist moment on the elevator, but as I eat the same greasy Paula Deen buffet that I had for breakfast almost everyday, I prep for more of the same.  I again ponder if I'd be better off with an IV of syrup and an injection of Crisco then eating her buffer.  Fueled up on grease again, I got to play poker and yet again, I ran into another sampling of Tunica Toms.  There is a great portion of Mid-South (by the way that's what they call this part of the country around here... the Midsouth... sounds quite arbitrary, huh) poker players that look just alike and play just alike: Tunica Toms.  They all have beards.

If Pittsburgh is the mustachio capital of the United States (it is), with the Bill Cowher look the look of choice, the Mid-South has to be the most dense concentration of beard wearers outside of Hassidic Jewish alcoves in NYC and Amish farms in Pennsylvania and Ohio.   Every dude has a beard here.  One day, I had one.  I was becoming a Tunica Tom as probably the Paula Deen buffet has seeped into my blood and mutated me.

When I came to my senses, I cut it down to my poker goatee only to notice that was option number two for the Toms.  Most men have beards here, if they don't they have goattees, and that's it.  Clean shaven apparently is not an option.  There is variation in the beards, close cropped, thick neck fur, hipster/hippie blend on the kids, farmer fur on the adults but they are all beard.  Either they have really delicate lips and chins here or this is just the fashionable look.  Hell Justin Timberlake and Prince William even grew a beard when they visited Tunica.

The Toms all wear some sort of camo or garish Tennessee Vols garb, or Mississippi hunting gear, suffer from a bit of casino gut, and probably have bad bumper sticker like Nice Rack! on their trucks to go with their Nascar number of choice sticker, they all call with A high and can't find a fold in a newspaper.  They have a sticky drawl and sticky dispositions and sticky playing styles.  That being said, many of them are nice people.  They just play different.  I'm not knocking 'em, but it is a culture shock to see all these beards.

Maybe I have learned something because I know you can't bluff these guys.  Okay, that I've learned.  I've stopped doing, though I do bet the heck out of top pair for value.

After the buffet, I start playing a six max tournament.  My experience playing six handed is limited to the smallest sampling of mis-click tournaments on Full Tilt (ie I didn't know they were six handed until I saw two thirds of the normal avatars I normally see when play would start... (how I miss the afro dude avatar)).  Internet players should destroy this format and all love to play it, and it was no surprise that the field was half Toms and half young bucks.

So, as I prepared to rinse and repeat I solicited some advice from friends.  Gene D had a nice score in Vegas in one of these and gave me some tips.  Austin Martin too, and they agreed on the need to up the aggressiveness, to play position, and widen your hand range.  Both said KJ actually becomes a good hand (no longer a bad one disguised as a good one).  Sure enough, I draw a table of Tunica Toms and two youngsters.  Within a couple of levels the Toms stacks are halved.

I proceed to plough through tables.  I rejoin a kid I played with late on Sunday.  He'd go on to win that event after I busted.  He goes by Bo-Sox on 2+2.  He's a nice kid and a talented player.  He's on a bit of a heater.  He'd go on to make the final table in the 6max.  He outclassed most of the people we played with and ALWAYS had it when he needed it.  Somehow, we didn't play many pots together, despite playing together for almost two days straight.   At different times if felt as if one of us was avoiding the other.  I began to strategize in my head what to do if we clashed head to head to settle the tournament.  I had this odd feeling that was a very real possibility.

I make the dinner break.

It's about that time for me to lose a coinflip.

I piss away some chips.

I land at Jeremy Drewery's table again.  In another of my nightly traditions I join him when he's got a ton of chips.  I'm less then thrilled.  He's been tearing things up and was the player I respected the most at the IP.

I get in a coinflip and prepare to go home, but somehow... Godot entered the building... AQ beats 88.

I amass chips.

I make the money.  Did you not hear what I said, Godot has entered the God Damned Building (and I'm not debasing the building because in Tunica any building is God Damned because it's in Tunica).

I bag and tag the chips.

The next day I arrive to grind 'em and blind 'em off.

I think surely, I'll rip it and ship it.

Mini-heater.

Tunica Tom can't fold against me and rivers me twice.

Heater over.

The final table arrives.

Another dinner break.

Then two quick departures...

Then all hell breaks lose in purgatory.  Godot has left the building.

King Jack vs. King Eight offsuit.  Flop a jack.  Sure double up, right?  Runner-runner chop.

Next hand an active player bets.  The Button calls, I peel out two aces... uhhh All in.

Fold.  And call.  He shows Ace Jack.

By the turn he's got a straight and I'm praying for a Jack to show up to chop.  Like Godot the Jack is nowhere to be found.

...Tomorrow, I do it all again.

(To any reader that made it through all that, I thank you for reading, I've had a lot of disparate ideas floating in and out of my head this week or month or year in Tunica and tried to put them together in some semblance of a post that made sense, I hope it didn't too sloppily spill onto the page).

Donkley Chopzilla, Dead Money Winnah, and more...

Lots of little tidbits:

**Congrats to all the folks I know and like, the few I know and love, and the many I know and hate, that cashed at the Beau so far.  I don't really hate anybody so that last category isn't really true but it sort of just rolled off the tongue and onto my keyboard.  Because, if I did hate them likely they wouldn't win anything as the power of my hate is so strong it's like a voodoo curse of lifelong bubbles.  Just ask CarrotTop, I started hating him 10 years ago.

**Just wrapped up the Dead Money Poker Tournament, and I'm excited that our winner was Ryan Howard from Cleveland.  He'll be a great representative for all that played and is a quality guy.  Had a lot of fun with him and his buddies following the tournament--so much so, that I am already excited about next years weekend.

He's got a great shot to go deep, with the perfect demeanor and disposition to survive the grueling test of the World Series Main Event.  I'll be doing a longer wrap-up sometime soon.  He's called "Champ" in Cleveland for winning home tournaments and now he's called champ by all us dead money guys.

**Chopped the Donkley over at Harrahs.  I think I got the best of it.  With 10 handed they wanted a chop.  I said I'd chop if I got 1100.  That left everybody else with 455 a piece.  First paid 1400 if we played it out and second 900.  Pretty sure, I'll chop 10 handed every time if I'm guaranteed more than second place money.  One guy objected, roughly second in chips, and then I crippled his stack about two orbits later and he conceded.  Poker is fun.

**Looks like I'm headed to Tunica to chase WSOP-C points.  My plan is to play as many nooners as I can.  I have dropped off the red part of the leaderboard in Circuit points (though still within the 66 that qualify).  I think the red boxes are just a guide to get your ass back in the action.  http://www.wsop.com/circuit/2011-leaderboard.asp.  I know Caufman Tally at this very moment is just one player behind me that is currently getting more points in Choctaw so I expect to slide further.

**I got my wife an Iphone 4s for her birthday.  She is doing what everybody that owns an iPhone does when they get it and falling in love with the device.  My Android is about to go, its battery sucks energy like a blackhole, and despite Steve Wozniack (Apple founding father) touting Androids (yesterday) I may have to bite the bullet and join the half a billion on the iPhone bandwagon.  Principally because Facetime will allow me to see my kids (without Skype) when I'm in Tunica.  

**I need to wrap-up that IP final table monster post though I've put off that task like I did homework in high school.  Don't know why.  If anybody still wants to read it, email me, and I'll get back to it.  If nobody does... it'll just left it slip away into the Internet ether.

For Every Queen a King

Taking a break from that tome on my run at the IP to touch on some more recent happenings (though I will wrap up the final table).  Let's start with the Beau's Million Dollar Heater.  I played Day 1 twice.  I made it to about 160-180 both nights.  I think the first day they stopped with under 100 players and on the second around 120.  So I got to play all day twice for nothing.  I don't remember much about day1a other than not liking the final outcome.  Got to hand it to Gene D, he went out a little after me on 1A and made it through 1B and into the money.  Glad we weren't doing last longers.

On day 1b, I remarked before the tournament I was overdue for some Aces and some big hands.  I got 'em.  The Aces held and gave me some chips in good spots.  The Queens that's another story.  In poker the longer you play the more you see.  I once watched a guy at the IP get Queens like 7 times in two orbits and win every single time with them, always showing when not called.  Crazy.

I've read online hand histories which defy the odds like a player getting Aces for four five hands in a row and winning with them.  I used to doubt those unlikely occurrences but in truth everything WILL happen.  When somebody asks me what's the odds in a hand they just saw, the answer is really 100%.  Play enough hands the world over, just about everything will happen.

Anyway, I say that only because I retold this story to a few players at the Beau and received skeptical and dubious looks but it's true.  Poker players like to exaggerate as one friend told me, but this is no exaggeration.  I got pocket queens five times over the day.  Guess what... I lost with the five times.  No big deal right, what's strange about that.  Well every time I had them somebody else had pocket Kings.

Hand one:  new guy at the table raises, nit 3bets (first time of the day), I look at queens.  I know Nit (nice guy, so I mean no disrespect for that term just describing in short hand his style) has KK or AA, I consider folding but looking at the stacks I decide to set mine and call.  Original raiser is having none of that and puts out a huge bet.  Nit stews and folds.  While he was stewing I told myself I'd call if he folded because he likely has AK and so too the other guy.  Then with action on me I revise my strategy (too early, too risky and no read on the new guy so based on the action I have to lean more to AA, KK than anything else and disregard the Nit's folding).  I fold face up, new guy shows AA, and the Nit says he had KK.  Sweet.

Hand two:  I've got some chips.  Guy just shoved and won.  He shoves again for about 14% of my stack.  I got queens.  I call.  Hello Kings.  Bye-Bye Chips.

Hand three:  I bet.  Quickly a guy 3bets, then he's 4bet.  I decide to sit this one out.  They get it all in:  JJ v. KK.  KK holds--no queen either.

Hand four:  I'm moved to my final table for the night and a guy that got moved from my previous table with me won the battle of the seat changes getting run-over by the deck with AA and KK multiple times in short order.  The following action happens.  He bets from UTG, I look at QQ I 3bet.  He shoves.  Whoa.  We talk and I get a read of strength.  He's a nice guy who I'd previously chatted with and tells me he has me and I should fold, because he's got me beat.  I told him that's what the last guy said when he didn't.  He tells me he'll show, I say that's what the last guy said too.  He smiled broadly and I knew he was sitting on a monster.  I fold face up and he shows KK.

I didn't ask for it, and didn't see it but somebody said the dealer rabbit hunted and I would have hit a queen on the flop.  At that point that would have put me at 120k and I would have been sitting pretty.  Instead I wear down.  Then...

Hand five:  UTG+1 raises, my buddy from the previous hand 3bets, and I looked at QQ.  I stew and decide my buddy is not radiating the strength he had last time.  My stack isn't big enough to do anything but shove, besides at some point I have to run into a hand other than KK.  The initial raiser shoves over the top (... looking at the wrong guy).  My buddy stews forever, both these guys have a lot of chips (so not as weak as I first thought).  He folds.  Hello KK.  I get no help.

As I walked away I think I heard my buddy say he also had queens as the table laughed.  I had been lamenting my misfortune earlier about queens vs. kings so if he did have them that is kind of funny.  Part of me thinks I should find a fold there because when I looked at the queens it was almost like I was falling on my sword by putting my chips is in, saying to myself this hand was meant to beat me.  Still, my read on the 3bettor was accurate so I can't fault my decision, and I can't limit the opener's range to a massive hand.

Anyway, played really well to get there but made a couple of mistakes, here are a couple of them and some other tidbits.

-I'm buying new contacts.  I misread the board in an early hand and put in a third of my chips.  I had A10 in a limped pot in the blinds.  I thought the board came out 1052.  I led out and the nit in the first hand shoved over the top.  I called and he showed 52 (limped in late postion).  I felt like I was going to suck out on him.  Ace hit the turn.  On the river the dealer pushed up the 52 and gave him the chips.  Slow your roll buddy I thought.  Then, I leaned in real close to the board and saw the card furthest from me, wasn't a ten but was a 9.  A good player at the table didn't believe that I misread my hand and needled me a bit.  I liked him so I didn't mind.  He later accused me of Nit-rolling (which I did) an aggressive player that played a hand awkwardly and he needled me some more.  It was all in good fun.  By the way, I busted him and the needling stopped.

-On Day 1A, I got into a smallish hand with a guy that seemed to be no-fun in his conversations with the other players when I had just gotten there.  On the river after a lot of checks I had the best no-pair hand KQ (on an Ace high board).  He fired in a bet and I contemplated raising or calling.  I figured I had a little showdown value and gathered my chips for a call, I didn't even get them halfway out when he showed his hand (a gross little bottom pair).  I stopped perplexed.  I knew I could pull the chips back to fold, and in the back of my head I wondered if he was angle-shooting me and in that case I was going to raise.  Then I decided it was most likely an honest mistake, because at the time I didn't see value in angle shooting that way and I let the chips stand and gave him the pot.  I said "If I was Shady I would have pulled them back."  Another player, a good player I respect, who was having his way with the table, told me I should blog about it during a break and we discussed whether it would have been ethical to pull the chips back or to raise.  Since he was no nonsense type player, the raise bluff would have been funny especially if I showed, and for that reason alone might have outweighed the ethics of sticking to what I intended.  So, I blogged about it.  Funny enough, now in retrospect it might have been an angle shoot, maybe he understood what I was thinking and didn't want to have to call a raise so acted quick enough to make it just a call.

-On Day 1B, I played with a nice kid who owns a logging truck company.  We chatted for a while and he said he'd visit the site.  Just so happened on the other side of me, I was sitting next to Jeremy Drewery (a guy I final tabled at the Main Event at the IP), who ironically is pictured in my previous post.  The kid started asking me if I had any big scores or played a lot and I told him to just visit the site.   I can only imagine what he thought if he came to my blog and saw the other guy he had been playing with all day as well.  I didn't really say anything to Jeremy and pretty much enjoyed being on his left and being able to pick on the rest of the table and avoid him.  I also didn't sell him out by saying what we both had done recently when the kid was asking.   Anyway, if the kid is reading this I enjoyed playing with you, and you played well while I was there.  I could tell you had already figured out not to mix it up with Jeremy too much, so no harm no foul?

IP Main Event Part Two

So day two, I knew I had some work to do.  I don't remember too much of it early.  I know Michael Brawley, the gregarious Beau Rivage dealer was at my table, and being active.  We never really played any hands together and he got busted after what looked like some bad luck.  The rest of the table seemed an improvement from the night before and after an early hit to my stack I grinded it up.

Later I got on a table with an Internet kid and the player in the 1k who I think gave me the compliment about not tilting after that big hand.  I'm sure ya'll remember that from a couple of posts ago (ha).  I got shortish with some active players chipping away at me and then me and that gentleman got in a hand together.

With KQ or KJ, I flopped I think a flush draw with a gut shot and two overs.  I'm sure I'll be criticized for this but I didn't get it all in there.  With the stack sizes and the read of strength I got  I felt he was calling any shove so I lost my fold equity.  I would have called if he had pushed but witrh my tournament life on the line I opted not to.  He bet I called.  The turn missed, he bet I called.  The river bricked and he shoved.  With most of my stack in there, I folded King high.  I saw the internet kid shake his head and some of the others at the table quietly discuss in wonder how I could fold there.

I felt this was a crucial hand for me.  In retrospect, I had bought my self a chance.  I didn't think I could get the guy off his hand so a shove on anything but a card that made my hand would have been fruitless.  My opponent intimated he flopped a monster... it didn't matter, ace high was good and having played with him in the 1k I knew he had more than that.  I also thought back to the novice the night before who was criticized by "Wes" for leaving most of his stack in the pot.  I assured myself I did the right thing.

I won my first double up, against the same opponent when AJ held v. A10. 

I saw the Internet kid get bad beat and shove his chips in like John D'Agostino at the Taj and leave.  I felt that pang of shadenfreude that you sometimes get in poker and thought to myself at least that wasn't me.

Then I went on super grind mode.  I sat at or about 10 to 15 BBs all the way to the money bubble.  I won hands when I needed them.  The bubble saved me a little bit because I folded hands that normally I'd shove that ended up getting crushed and somehow I made it to the money.

Pokernews came over and did chip counts and asked what I had.  I told them next to the nothing and my friend sweating me, via text said they posted something like not applicable.  I watched several players fall and won a hand or two in the meantime still grinding.

Lots of good players remained including Rex Clinkscales, Kenny Milam, Mohammed Moeini, Jacob Naquin, Mark Eddleman, Cameron Ainsworth, and John Holley.  I don't know Jacob too well but I like and admire the guy and know a slew of people that hold him in respect.  We kept saying to each other at the break that we were going to go 1-2 as encouragement, although we weren't ever on the same table except for one brief moment. 

At some point when we were down to maybe four tables, I looked down at a baby pocket pair and thought my relentless tightness might be enough to win me this hand.  This was another memorable hand as I was blinding down to next to nothing but I thought in live poker I might have just enough fold equity to shove based on the preflop action. 

Michael Nasserazad, who played wide open popped out a bet as he did just about anytime action was folded to him, and was called by John Holley on my right.  In the small blind I looked at 66, I think, and I shoved.  Nasserazad stewed and eventually called, a critical 50/50 decision that had my eventual tournament success completely in someone else's hands.  Holley called because Nasserazad did.  Holley told me if Nasserazad folded, which he almost did, he would have folded and I wouldn't have tripled up.

The flop came two hearts and Nasserazad led out.  Holley folded.  It didn't matter to me at the time that Nasserazad was betting because I felt like I had to hit a set to win.  I hadn't yet but there were two cards to come.  The turn brought the miracle 6 (I know I need to rethink my definition of a miracle if I call a two outer that but it sure felt like it).  The river put four to a flush on there which neither of us hand.  The guy who did have the flush was Holley.  Wow.  Fate couldn't have played that hand any better especially with Nasserazad betting him out before he got the improved draw on the turn. 

With chips, I started to finally get out of being card dead and drag some pots.  Before I knew it we were down to two tables and it was getting late.  At some point I sat next to Cameron Ainsworth and he told me about a big test hanging over his head and needing to study. 

Interestingly enough, I never once looked at the money and the payouts.  I didn't want to know what each pay jump was worth or what we were playing for.  I only wanted to make correct poker decisions.  I knew the money was in the top three and I was looking to get there.  And I knew my work was cut out for me.

I got into a pivitol hand where I 3bet AQ from the blinds after an early postion tight player led out and called me.  Flop came AQ10.  I bet it and he raised.  AK made a lot of sense there and as I had AQ I wasn't that afraid of a monster set.  I shoved and he called.  KJ.  Oh.  The turn brought relief even as I was standing up to leave with a Queen ball.  I never hit those.  And twice in a night?  Wow way to run good in a main event!

Then the kid got up and left and the dealer insta shoved me his chips even though I thought he had me covered and I was trying to leave a second before hand.  In the moment, I didn't think about it but after the evening was over I wondered if I had him covered and if the dealer had bothered to check.  PokerNews came over and took a pic of me thinking I was the chip leader.  How quickly things can change when you are hitting two and four outers.   

Mark Eddleman and I mixed it up when I had Ak.  He bet, I reraised he shoved, and I folded.  He said he had KK and told me good fold.  I think he was being honest.  Later, with the clock almost on the break for the evening Mark told me to fold slowly, I did but I didn't quite use up all the time and we had one more hand.  Showing how cruel poker can be, I looked at AK again, I opened, Mark three bet me, the tournament chip leader Jeremy Drewery (pictured) reraised and I mucked.  Mark shoved and Jeremy called.  Mark had KK again and Jeremy QQ.  Actually, John Holley might have 3bet in there and Jeremy 4bet now that I think about it.

Flop was nothing and I was telling folks on the rail what a good fold I made when an A hit the turn.  Uck.  Then a Queen ball on the river gave Mark a bad beat, gave Jeremy an even bigger stack, and gave me a nice burst of confidence for the next day when we'd play 12 handed.  I felt bad when I let out a little exhultation when the queen hit and quickly apologized to Mark.  I wasn't trying to celebrate his elimination or bad beat, but in the moment I was just glad to know I folded correctly (from a results oriented perspective which is totally the right way to look at poker).   If I had just stalled a little more Mark would have joined us the next day and everything would have been different.  Cruel game.

I regarded Jeremy, as one of the better players in the field so him with a lot of chips was not a good thing.  Several players were sporting Circuit rings so I knew I wasn't playing just a bunch of luckboxes (like myself).   In truth even with the redraws I never really played with the guys at Jacob Naquin's table.  It was almost like two tournaments were merging again as my group really hadn't played with his.