Ace in the Window
I'm back in the Bally's ballroom for Day 3 of the $3k. Cards are in the air and nobody wastes time jumping into the action. Pots swell, big stacks grow, and a few unfortunate souls slouch away to the payout line.
I lose a third of my stack. Then a little more. And a little more again. By the second hour I'm down to eight big blinds and I shove from the button with J9o. The small blind calls me with A7, leaving me with a 43% chance to double up.
But an ace is the first card turned over on the flop, and I don't improve by the river. I'm out in 56th place, for $9,710.
Within a few minutes I late register the $1,500 Monster Stack next door, joining the more than two thousand players already in action.
I don't recognize anyone at my starting table. I don't want to underestimate my new opponents, but I feel comfortable enough to dial my loose aggressive play up to 11. It's a high variance strategy to try to build a big stack.
I bust a player within the first thirty minutes when my J5s cracks his pocket aces with a river straight. Then karma comes around when I lose all my profits with KQs against another player's slowplayed pocket aces.
To badly paraphrase the late Michael K. Williams as the iconic Omar Little: chips don’t got no owners, only bettors.
I'm up and down for six hours, back at a starting stack when we get back from our dinner break. I open under the gun with pocket kings, and a maniac two to my left 3-bets me. He's responsible for most of the volatility of my stack, and I'm itching for a chance to take all his chips. Play folds back to me and I move all in. He snap calls with AKo — I'm a 70% favorite.
For the second time today, an ace in the window sends me to the rail.
My spirits are still high as I exit the convention center. I look forward to a good night of sleep, and using my single re-entry to tackle the Monster Stack again tomorrow.