I wake up at 3am and a list of questions flood my mind. Should I rent a car in case driver shortages mean it’s hard to get an Uber? How much should I wire to the Rio to cover all my buy-ins? Should I wear a mask at the tables even though everyone’s supposedly vaccinated?
The World Series of Poker is less than two weeks away, and for the first time I’m planning on playing a full schedule, wandering the poker rooms of Las Vegas for 40 days and 40 nights.
I’ll spend most of my time at the Rio Convention Center, playing about 25 out of the 88 tournaments that make up the WSOP. If I can’t win a bracelet, I’ll settle for a trophy. If I bust out of a WSOP tournament without the possibility of a rebuy, my plan is to dart over to the Wynn or Venetian to late register one of their tournaments.
I’ve dreamed of doing this since I started playing poker seriously in 2003, shortly after Chris Moneymaker won the Main Event at the WSOP and sparked the poker boom. I read about Moneymaker’s implausible win in the newspaper, which recounted how he won his seat into the $10,000 buyin event via a $40 satellite on PokerStars.com. By the weekend, I found the courage to deposit $50 on PokerStars.
A couple years later, after grinding that initial deposit into a five figure bankroll, I won my own seat to the 2006 Main Event. Even though I didn’t make it far in the tournament, it was a thrilling experience that cemented my love for tournament poker and left me determined to win a bracelet at the WSOP.
I wouldn’t be back for almost a decade though. At the crossroads of deciding to pursue poker full-time or start a software company, I chose the latter. I chose wisely, but that meant that for the most part I had to put my poker dreams on the shelf.
During a short break between ventures I found my way back to the WSOP to play a $1,500 event that I was woefully unprepared for and busted out of after a few levels. A few years later, as a 40th birthday present to myself, I came back a 3rd time and bought into the Main Event. I fared a lot better, getting to Day 3 and even spent some time on the ESPN featured table. But even then, I busted an hour or two before making the money, well short of any glory.
Variance makes tournament poker a grind. Only about 10% of the field gets paid, and with larger fields like the Main Event reaching 10,000 players, the chances of making a final table are incredibly slim. So to give myself the best shot at winning a bracelet I I need to play as many tournaments as possible, not just one or two per year. That’s why most professional tournament poker players head to Las Vegas for a few months out of the year to play the entire series.
During the pandemic, as I navigated a mild mid-life crisis and new career milestones, I decided that it was time for me to journey down the other fork in the crossroads and pursue tournament poker full-time. I needed to see what I could accomplish along this path, no longer resigned to wonder “what if”.
After years of dreaming about playing a full schedule at the WSOP, it’s imminence brings a dozen logistical questions, making it seem much more real. My flights are booked and I have a short-term rental waiting for me. And for the most part, I’m comfortable that I’ll be able to handle the rest of my open questions when I’m on the ground.
But there’s one big question lingering in the background: am I any good?
Amazed by Ade since the first time I met him.
I believe in you!