The Nugget

Our crew walked into the Golden Nugget in downtown Las Vegas for its Sunday morning tournament on June 27, 2004.

Daniel, Old Sham and I paid our $55 entry fees to the 57-player tourney, and the cards were in the air. The first hour of the tournament was limit hold 'em. I think they did it that way so some of the people wouldn't bust out so quickly.

Even though I didn't have hardly any limit experience at the time, I was still able to catch some hands and build up a nice little advantage early on.

The no limit play started after the first break. I was wearing my now-retired red shirt and my Atlanta Braves hat. When I caught pocket aces and bet it strongly the whole way, one crazy older guy called me down. I turned over my cards, and he exploded.

"I should have known you had aces! You have an A on your hat already!" he said. He was crazy and terrible at poker, but he was fun to have at the table. He busted shortly thereafter.

Of course, as is typical of these tournaments, the blinds started going up very quickly. I had to think about making moves.

Before long, it became obvious that my only weapon was the preflop all-in. But I waited until the right moment. Then, when I was under the gun and threatened by a sizable big blind, I pushed with pocket 4s. I got one caller who had a couple of high cards (AQ or something like it), and my 4s held up.

That wasn't the only lucky thing to happen on that hand. After the hand ended, the tournament director moved me to a new table, right behind the button. I got to dodge the blind for another round!

That would buy me enough time to catch a good hand.

Not that I needed it. I pushed all-in again on the first hand I was dealt. One of the big stacks called me, and I doubled up again.

That was my plan. Just keep moving in with premium hands until I could gain enough of a foothold to see a flop. Everyone at the table caught on to my plan, but that didn't stop them from calling me repeatedly, and my cards kept holding up.

Meanwhile, the Atlanta Braves and Baltimore Orioles game was on TV. The Braves had been slumping early in the season and the All Star break was quickly approaching. The Braves had to do something if they were going to keep up in the divisional race and try for a 13th straight title. The Braves came back from big deficit in the late innings, and then starter-turned-closer John Smoltz struck out former Brave Javy Lopez for the final out. The game turned around the season and the Braves never looked back.

Back at the tournament, I was moved to the final table. For the first time in hours, I had more chips than most of the other players. Before the blinds even got to me, a few people had busted out.

I couldn't believe it. I had already made the money, and now I had a shot at winning this thing. I started getting superstitious. I washed my hands carefully during every break, making sure not to get my watch wet. I tried to time my bathroom breaks so I would arrive at my seat with plenty of time.

I picked up some pots with preflop raises, and suddenly I was the big stack. I was looking down at piles and piles of yellow chips. Hundreds of them. I had about 130,000 chips, another guy was near 100,000 in chips, and a third guy was sitting with around 40,000 or so.

Then came the crucial hand: 83 suited. A crowd had gathered at the rail, and one of the women yelled, "Show us your smile!" I looked back, grinned and tipped my cap. Everyone was cheering for me, and I pushed all in on the short stack.

My reasoning was that if I was against two overcards, I was about a 5:3 dog. Against one overcard, I was in a race situation. So even with the lowly 83, I could significantly improve my chances of winning it all by knocking out a player.

He called, and his overcards held up.

After a couple more hands, I still held a narrow lead over the other two guys. The second-place opponent, an older Irishman, asked if we wanted to chop the pot.

I initially resisted the idea, preferring instead to play it out. But then I realized that I was probably outmatched, and if we split the pot three ways, everyone would still make more money than they would if they finished in second or third.

So I agreed to split it up.

I was declared the first place finisher, although the three of us all received the same $770 prize.

I had won a Vegas tournament. I was on top of the world.

I haven't felt that good since, nor have I won that much money at once in the last 14 months.

That was early in my poker career. It gave me the bankroll and confidence boost to continue playing and improving.

But that tournament is still my crowning poker achievement, and I wonder when I'll feel that good again at the poker table. Maybe when I'm playing $100/$200 limit at the Bellagio!

(Someday)