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)

The Dude Abides

WALTER: They're nihilists, Donny, nothing to be afraid of.
DIETER: Vee don't care. Vee still vant zat money or vee fuck you up.
--The Big Lebowski

At the poker table, I am like the nihilists. I believe in nothing, and I want the money.

It's hard to believe in nothing though. Superstitions always creep in.

I've written about how to appease the Poker Gods before, but there are other myths I tell myself as well.

Like when I'm on a good run, I think I should play more to maximize my profit. Of course, that only makes sense if I'm running well because of superior play and not dumb luck.

Or when I was on my way to winning a small tournament at the Golden Nugget in Las Vegas, I was sure to take my watch off any time I washed my hands, and then I made sure my hands were dry before putting it back on.

That was the only way to assure victory.

Does that make sense? None whatsoever.

But I don't think my transgressions are nearly as bad as many of the professionals I read about.

They have faith in things like intuition, which may exist, but more often than not it's a perception of tells.

People such as Doyle Brunson say they always play the next hand after a winning hand. Playing junk cards just because I had won the previous hand never worked for me.

Others talk about competitive spirit and motivation, but I think what they really mean is that they're focused and lucky.

The danger of these beliefs is that they can get the best of a player who lets them affect his play.

But superstitions are not without their merits. Believing in something often gives a player a psychological advantage, most often in the form of confidence.

That would be a comfort.

I'm doomed to the hard road of cold facts and odds.

Link:
Empire bonus starts Wednesday

Anniversary

It was a little more than a year ago when I was on the graveyard shift at my old job in Atlanta.

I had been thinking about "going pro" and taking the dive into online poker, and this was the perfect night for it. Everything was quiet, I was alone in the office, and I was ready to test the waters.

So I cranked up Party Poker, deposited $50, and played the lowest-level no limit game I could find, the $25 buyin.

After only a few minutes, my $50 was gone. I don't know what happened to it. I imagine I must have called some all-ins without knowing any better. In fact, I'm sure I knew nearly nothing.

I bought in for another $50, and lost that almost as fast as the first $50.

That let me know I wasn't ready, even for one of the easiest games on the Internet.

One month later, I challenged Party Poker anew, and this time I only lost $18. The next day, I won $13. Then I won again, and again, and I was hooked.

I moved on to other sites and kept winning in general. When I helped cover the Group of Eight Summit on Sea Island off Georgia's coast, I was sure to log in from my hotel room. When I was watching a baseball game, I'd put some money on the table and play.

At the end of June, I went to Vegas for the first time. I stayed in the Horseshoe, won a big pot at the NL table, lost a tournament at the Orleans, and came in first place at a small buyin 57-player tourney at the Nugget. I'll recount that tourney another time, but suffice it to say that I felt I had established myself.

Soon afterward, Daniel and I started hitting up the home game scene in Atlanta, which proved to be quite profitable.

We also went on something of a disasterous trip to Biloxi, Mississippi, but at least it was educational. I also scored a home game tournament win to help boost my confidence.

Almost all of this play was no limit hold em. What did I know about other forms of poker? I had only been experienced what they play on TV.

When I first went to Vegas, Daniel and I joked about how much we hated limit poker, and we couldn't figure out why there were so few no limit tables in comparison.

I moved to Santiago, Chile at the end of September, and soon decided that limit poker is not only essential, but that there's a tremendous profit potential there.

So I got more serious, read the 2+2 forums more, read more books and dove into the limit pool.

I found limit to be much more difficult than no limit because I couldn't bomb the pot with large bets when you wanted to represent a strong hand. I couldn't adjust the odds I was offering my opponents, and it was cheaper for people to try to stay in and suck out on me.

Fortunately, that's about when I discovered bonus whoring. It wasn't long before I had accounts at all the Party Poker skins, Absolute Poker, Ultimate Bet, Full Tilt, Paradise Poker and Poker Stars. Anywhere there was a bonus, that's where I would play.

That's also around the time when I started using PokerTracker, which is invaluable.

Despite the ups and downs of limit, I remained convinced that I should stick with limit because I would eventually break through, establish a consistent win rate, and be able to move up.

I tried making $3/6 my regular game for the first time in December. I enjoyed it, but I had a more difficult time there.

My worst losing streak came in the middle of January, when I started losing and went on tilt. I resorted to higher-stakes no limit games to try to make compensate for my limit failures, but only dug myself in a deeper hole. I played in some tournaments, hoping for a big score, but I lost all of them, even the 10-player sit-n-goes.

I was demoralized and thinking of quitting. Daniel had to listen to me bitch over instant messenger all the time about how bad I was doing. And I couldn't continue like this for long, knowing that I was living off my savings account while staying here in Chile.

So I did what any respectable grinder would do: I dug in my heals and played lower-level games that I could easily beat until I had won back my losses. I put in many hours at the $25 buyin no limit games because I knew I would win. At that point, I had little choice.

I thought it would take months, but it only took a few weeks to recover the money I had lost.

I haven't looked back as my roll has continued to grow since then. I made $2/4 limit my regular game until I could establish a good winrate, and I decided to wait until my bankroll exceeded $4,000 before returning to $3/6 for another go. I know that bankroll size may seem excessive for that limit, but I needed the financial and mental security of that level for my self-confidence and also because I will likely have to dip into my poker accounts in a couple of months to live off of.

Today, my bankroll is approaching $5,000. I play $3/6 confidently. I get rakeback, which is like another monthly bonus.

The most important lessons I've learned are about patience, the difference between bad luck and being outplayed, tilt recognition and game selection.

I often think of an article in which Clonie Gowan said she was a fish for two years before finding her poker legs. I'm long past that.

Link:
Odd new game invented by Sklansky