Vegas Day Two: First Tournament, Long Walks, Batman and Streetscum
After a decent night's rest, yesterday morning I sought out
a Starbucks and like most things on the strip, just because you can see it
doesn't mean it's close by. Add in 108
degree heat and a quick walk devolves into something else. Everybody talks about dry heat, but 100+
degrees is 100+ degrees. When you are on
foot it's so hot part of you hopes the asphalt doesn't melt and slowly absorb
you. It's always a
guantlet just going a city block trying to stave off the ever present horde of
flier hander-outers. If you walk outside
every half block you'll feel the cold tractor beam pull of streetside casinos
as their wide open doors offer promise of a much cooler place.
Those smart casinos blast their AC on to the strip. No amount of neon can compare to the efficacy
of drawing in customers as a well positioned air flow. I almost wonder if the casinos hire the guys
on the strip with the handouts to chase the tourists inside too. Maybe the strip clubs aren't paying
them. Perhaps, it's another in the carefully
cheorographed maneuvers to get you to gamble more often. People always ask why would you build Vegas
in the middle of a desert but why wouldn't you?
Keep the people indoors in your casino with sweltering heat an invading
army of central Americans peddling strip club fliers and you'll make more money.
Yesterday, would be a day of walking; to Starbucks, late
night to Wallgreens, and then just back and forth through the massive sprawling
poker complex at the Rio. When I got to
the Rio to register for the 2pm I
discovered a line that ran the length of one of the massive poker rooms. The World Series was gigantic before but the
last few years it's become a self-contained mall of poker. The convention area of the Rio which used to
feel like a warehouse hosting poker tournaments now almost feels like a permanent
construct. If you look closely you can see how temporary
everything is, but they've gotten so much better at concealing it, that you
almost believe this month long tournament is there all year.
After asking the right people some questions we find out
there is a shorter line somewhere else.
I buy in for the $235 and the $1500 for Saturday and immediately regret
it. What if I played the $235 all
night. Ugh. Turned out I worried about
nothing. The tournament started well. I sat down and promptly won my first
pot. I raised with AK (one heart) and
guy in a Batman hat, Batman shirt, and golden reflective sunglasses called me
from a blind. Let's call him.... Spiderman. He's
was about 50 and his garb, demeanor and playing style screamed rube.
Flop comes all low cards and Batman bets. I decide to float him (Mike says I use too many
poker terms and it's like reading Greek... so when I remember I'll try to
define them: To float means to call a bet, with nothing, with the intention of
stealing the pot later in the hand, or improving your hand on a later street
and winning the pot). I float a lot in position and against players I feel I have
an edge on.
The turn pairs the
board and puts three hearts on it. He
fires again. Does he already have a
flush? He doesn't have a full house does
he? Neither is probable but also not
impossible. I contemplate raising, then
decide I now have enough of a draw with two overs and a flush draw to
call. I can bluff on the river if I miss
and my story would make sense like I had him all the way or I can just hit my
card.
River is a heart. He
checks and I make one of three mistakes I'd make on the day. I check behind instead of getting value for
my king high flush. and betting it. Bad
players are never checking a made hand on the river to induce a worse one to
bet. Never. It was early so I played it a little
cautiously. He turn over middle pair like
it was the nuts and I show my flush. He
immediately starts bitching. "Had
him on the flop, had him on the turn.
Just calls.... Doesn't bet the river." I console myself with the fact that he
wouldn't have called but he's ... Batman so maybe he would have.
Batman pulled up his mask (his massive tinted shades) and I
see Bruce Wayne's eyes. He had the
damaged look of desperation that every tourist and many locals seem to
have. Those locals to me look like one time tourists that could
never escape the city. I think of the
melting asphalt pulling them in like quicksand.
I almost hate to prey on those guys but I have to, that's poker. Of course the prey fights back, and Batman
would get me later.
These Vegas locals are scattered through the streets, with
the same vacant eyes. Gambling addicts,
meth heads, and bums with that deranged delusional look. Just as the neon and the shows at the casinos
take your eyes upward, they flitter in and out through the crowds, brushing up
against you and slinking away. Last night
on another long walk, Mike and I hit a Walgreens for some supplies and then
walked through the casinos to soak up the AC and avoid the street people.
I just got this feeling somebody was getting a little too
close and had been walking up on a me for a little too long. I glance over my shoulder and I see this
scummy looking dude. Living in New
Orleans I'm cognizant of keeping my hand on my wallet in public places
especially when I have big pockets like the shorts I was wearing.
I've read, there is a danger to that, as it also draws
attention to dirtbag thieves that you have something to protect. I'm not about to get pick-pocketed so after a
couple more steps I decide to stop. I
turn on a dime like I saw something that caught my eye and come face to face
with the dude behind me. He stops
startled, looking like I caught him with his hand in the cookie jar and
Mike
who was unaware of what I was doing immediately does a double take at the
dude's reaction. Eye to eye I thought I was looking a midget Ryan Leaf.
The harried scumbag, wide-eyed and likely drug addled, quickly does a stumbling half turn and almost runs down a row of slots. He then angrily looks back over his shoulder
at us as though we were the ones creeping up on him. Desperation is a dangerous
thing on the tables and off.
Batman shared that vacant, angry, desperate look as I had
him muttering to himself. The next time
I get involved in a hand with him I got Kings and again he calls from the
blind. Flop comes A high. We both check. Turn is garbage he bets a smallish weak bet
and I call. River he checks. I had given him credit for an weak Ace but
the check confused me.
I was still mad about giving Batman a freebie by not betting
the previous hand. My second mistake on
the day... instead of betting an amount
to get a weak ace to fold, I tried to go to value town and assumed he had some
sort of middle pair. I made a small bet
and he stewed and called with ... Ace Jack.
Then I ran into three big overpairs QQ, QQ, KK which they
showed to me when there was some action and I correctly folded top pair. I suspect there were two other spots where I
had to lay down that I was up against similar holdings. By now I had chip down a bit. I got to two thirds my starting stack. It's a rentry tournament with a huge field so
I told myself as we went into the last level before the first break (the last chance to renter if you
bust) that I was getting back to 15k one way or another.
When we got down to ten minutes in the level I was going to
start shoving against any sign of weakness. Hopefully, I'd double or no biggie if I
busted. Better to have a full stack for
another $235 then to be handicapped with a half stack. The
best laid plans...
Under ten minutes I shove and take a raise, a call and
blinds and antes. Then they break
us. I get my chips together and look at
my seat card for my new table. Oops,
dumb-ass gave me a seat card for the table I was at. He's nowhere to be found to move me to a
correct spot. Me and the dealer start
calling for the floor and I watch precious seconds tick off the clock. Finally he shows up and then just arbitrarily
seats me at the very next table, the
next to break. I watch an incredibly
long hand finish. Tick, tick, tick. I shove on my first hand and take some blinds
and antes. Then he breaks us.
My new table is across the room and there is maybe two
minutes on the clock. I've chipped up a bit
but not as much as I want. Having the
get out of jail card with the rentry I'm ready to get it. I walk/run through the masses, and grab my
seat. At my new table I push and take
blinds and antes. The next hand I'm
under the gun with a weak ace. With the
strategy I was employing I don't like shoving a weak ace. The type of hands that would call my over
shove AK, AQ, AA, KK, QQ crush that. So
I'd rather two cards I'm confident will be live. I look at the clock and decide I'll have one
more hand to shove.
I fold. I was fully
intent of shoving from big blind with any two and hoping there would be plenty
of action before it got to me. Then I
watch the hand take inexorably long and we don't get another hand in before
break. Of course, waiting to the very
last minute, I don't double up, I'm not rebuying, and now the entire field
basically has beaten me to the rest room.
So, I take the long walk to an alterantive bathroom at the front of the
Rio.
We get back from break, and I keep picking up pots. I get back to over starting stack pushing at
the right times. My third mistake occurred
right as I was generating momentum when I got QQ. I bet a tough looking dude in the small blind
called. Flop came AKx. We both check. He bets the turn. This feels familiar. He just looks weak and I've seen him stab at
pots so I call. The river is a brick (a
card that probably has no effect on the hand doesn't put a straight, a flush,
or full house on the board and low enough to unlikely make his hand). He checks.
I should bet here, but cautious of my last Batman hand, I check behind
thinking QQ may be good. He says I just
got a king and turns over King rag.
Ugh..
Back to the drawing board.
I eventually get in it with two overs vs. pocket fours. The guy with pocket fours has been unbeatable
at the table and after getting it in bad and getting there in several way too
massive pots, I have a feeling my time is up.
I flop a pair. He turns a four
and I start the long, lonely walk back.
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