I Get the Bag

It's the second and final flight of the Millionaire Maker. I enter the Pavilion with my tournament ticket, passing a sleeping security guard.

I'm only the fourth person to arrive at our 10-handed table, but that's enough to get started. I flick my ante into the middle, and cards are dealt.

I may be the youngest person at the table. I look around and see gray hairs and grim, grizzled stares. The table next to us is full of young guns laughing and talking about river equity. But our table is all business.

There's action from the start, and my opponents are breaking stereotype — raising and re-raising every pot. I can't make any assumptions about them. Some have been coming to the WSOP since Ungar had back-to-back wins in the early 80s.

As Sarno says in Way of the Gun, "You want to know the only thing you can assume about a broken down old man? It's that he's a survivor."

A new player comes to the table, and in a few hands he goes all-in when his pocket threes flop a set. Only to see that his opponent has flopped an even bigger set with pocket eights. He's gone a few hands later, clarifying with the table, "we get one re-entry?"

I don't play many hands, but get aggressive soon with AKo. Only to lose a big pot to the big blind's T8o who makes two pair on the turn. I'm down to a little over half my starting stack.

I'm card dead the next couple levels, starting to play a game where I count how many times in a row I'm dealt a deuce or a three. It gets me in a bad headspace.

By the time we get back from our first break, I'm down to a short stack. I call the under-the-gun raiser from the big blind with Q8o and the flop comes 872. I check, and my opponent leads out small. I think for a moment before check-raising all-in. He instantly calls with pocket queens, and I'm out.

I purchase my final re-entry, and am back at a new table a couple down from my old one. I win a sizable pot with KQo in one of my first hands, getting to re-experience the feel of raking in a pot and stacking chips.

By now I've realized the mental trap I fell into, and vow to not play the victim. I accept the garbage hands I'm dealt, folding them into the muck with a soft smile.

I win another big hand when I push a short stack all-in with pocket jacks. He turns over AKs and is a 60% favorite on a 432 flop with two spades. But I fade the flush, straight, and bigger pairs to get myself to a 2x starting stack.

I'm up and down the next several hours before I get moved to a new table. I call a short stack's all-in with AQo and her pocket nines hold. Now I'm down to a short stack myself, at about 20 big blinds.

Shortly afterward I raise under-the-gun with AQo and get three callers. The flop is Q32, all clubs. It checks around to a late position player who bets about a third of the pot. The other opponent calls, and I think for a moment before moving all-in. I don't have a club, so if either of them have a made flush I'm toast. I get one caller, who has the ace of clubs. He doesn't hit a fourth club, so I more than double up.

I've made it to another dinner break. But I can't take another greasy black bean burger and french fries from the Smashburger at the far end of the Rio. I've already eaten three of them this week, and can't find any other good vegan options for dinner.

I catch a cab and ask him to take me to the nearest Chipotle, keep the meter running while I order, and bring me back to the Rio. "You really like the food?" he asks, not quite sure he understands what I'm doing. I spend $42 on the cab, $8 on the burrito, but it's worth it. What happens in Vegas....

Back from dinner, the final payouts are posted. As promised, $1M will be awarded to first place. There have been 5,326 entries across both flights, and over a thousand remain today hoping to make it to Day 2.

I'm moved to a new table and bust another player shortly with my pocket jacks against his AK. I win a few more pots and I'm building a sizable stack.

The clock is a few seconds away from sending us on our last break of our day. The dealer, aptly named Ace, announces "one last hand."

I've already counted and stacked my chips, and am halfway out my seat to race the crowd to avoid the bathroom lines. A man two to my right opens and I look down at two black jacks. I re-raise, it folds around to him and he goes all-in. He's short, and I know he has a strong hand, but I'm hoping I'm ahead as I flick in a chip to call. He turns over aces and I lose a third of my stack.

It's the last level before we're done for the day and the table chip leader limps under the gun. He's been very active since he came to the table, playing his stack aggressively. I look down at the first pocket kings I've had today and raise. We see a 442 flop. He checks, and I bet about a third of the pot. He calls. An ace comes on the turn and we both check. The river is a three, potentially making a straight. He bets out about half the pot, and I have to call — there are just too many hands he could be betting here that I can beat. His A3o isn't one of them, and I'm down to 20 big blinds again with only 15 minutes left.

I win my final pot with Q8o from the big blind — the same hand and same position where I busted with my first entry today. I check-raise the flop when I get top pair with my queen, and move all-in when another queen comes on the turn.

I survive, and will be back to play tomorrow when both flights are combined for Day 2. We count our chips, seal them in plastic bags, and hand them to the dealer.

I pop in my AirPods and play I Get the Bag on repeat as I wait for an Uber to take me home.

---

Scooters dangerously dashing through the hallways: 5