Luck
I'm at the Rio for the 11am start of the $1500 Super Turbo Bounty event. I thought about skipping — the structure is too fast, making it more of a gamble than a game of patience and skill. But the allure of a bracelet is too great. My strategy is to play solid poker, but be aggressive even when my edge is slight. I hope that'll help me build a big stack early and win some bounties.
I get my chance in the second level when I open in early position with AQ of diamonds. The button who's been playing nearly every hand calls me, and the big blind calls as well. The flop is QQ2 with two spades and a heart. The big blind checks to me, and I bet small. I will sometimes slow-play a hand like this and check, but I don’t think the button will bet, and I want to build a big pot. The button calls me and the big blind folds.
The turn is the four of hearts. I make a pot-sized bet and the button calls. The river is the five of hearts. There's a flush and a straight possibility now, but I think it's unlikely my opponent called on the flop with any of those draws. I make another big bet. He min-raises.
That's usually not a good sign. But there's also something about his play that screams weakness. I don't think I can fold my set, and he only has a few chips left behind. If I'm ahead, I need to win his $500 bounty in addition to the chips in the middle, so I put him all-in.
He calls, and I flip over my cards. He stares at the board, then looks down at my hand. He's still holding his cards, and asks the dealer, "he has trip queens?" She confirms, and he stares back at his hand for a few seconds as if he doesn’t understand what he has. Finally, he turns over his cards, J8 of hearts for a rivered flush. The chips go his way, and I'm down to 400, with blinds at 100/200.
I move all-in pre-flop a couple hands later with pocket threes, and my opponents fight each other to win my bounty. I lose the hand, and am done at the Rio for today.
There's a $1,600 multi-day tournament at Venetian with a $1M guarantee. I haven't played there yet this month, and I suspect the field will be soft. But the competition between poker rooms is fierce — the Wynn is also hosting a $1,600 multi-day tournament, but with a $1.5M guarantee. I choose the latter.
In a strange way, I've fallen in love with the grit and grime of the Rio. Stained carpets, outdated decor, crowded halls and ambient noise. It takes a moment to adjust to the posh and elegence of the Wynn. The bright colors, beautiful glass, natural sunlight and jubilant crowds.
In the tournament area, I see a lot of familiar sharks, but the fish are different. Screen-print tees and baggy jeans have been replaced by garish watches, polo shirts and half-zip designer fleeces. Even so, they play the same.
Not much happens for me in the first couple of levels. Then I see two black kings under-the-gun and open. A player in late position raises me and I four-bet. He calls, and we see a T97 flop with two spades.
I'm first to act, and it's a tough spot. I don't love the flop — it hits some of his four-bet calling range, but I still have an edge over hands like AK, pocket queens, or pocket jacks. I bet large, he uncomfortably moves his few remaining chips in, and I call. He turns over two red aces, and I don't catch a miracle card to come out ahead by the end.
I take the time off as an opportunity to enjoy a salad from the Wynn cafe, then I buy back in for my second bullet.
At my new table, I'm seated to the right of an professional actor. I don't recognize him, but we get to talking and he shares that he was on a one-season HBO show I enjoyed when it aired a decade ago. He played a character that was a savant at betting on horses, but would lose his winnings at the poker table. He learned how to play poker in preparation for the role, and won the first tournament he ever played in.
He told stories of working with Dustin Hoffman and Nick Nolte. Of his recurring role on Dexter. How he got into the business as an extra in Risky Business, and a Sean Penn movie before Fast Times at Ridgemont High came out. What Sean and Tom were like before they were famous. I ate it up.
There are the cards and the chips, the blinds and the antes. The flops and the turns and the rivers. Pairs and straights and flushes. Over time, they blur together.
But some days, what makes this game exponentially more fun is the people you meet. The friendships may be brief, but the connections endure.
It also helped that Jason was my good luck charm.
As he shared his stories I ran unbelievably well. I flopped top set in a three-bet pot with multiple callers. In another hand I turned a full house. Because that wasn’t lucky enough I flopped a full house a few hands later. And then on another multi-way hand I caught a straight flush on the turn. I upped the aggression at each opportunity, and got maximum action.
By the time we hit level 12, long after late registration had closed, I was one of the chip leaders. For a moment, with seven other players at my table, I had more chips than six of them combined. Someone teased me, "you could just fold dark and make it into the money."
I shrugged, "all it takes is two bad hands, and I’m done." Things change quickly in this game. Castles built on quicksand.
A few levels pass and I'm still a big stack. But some of the shorties have doubled and quadrupled up. We get new players with large stacks as the tables consolidate. There's still a lot of hard work ahead.
I lose 25% of my stack when I make a big river call with AJ. I have top pair, top kicker even though I missed my flush draw. But I lose to my opponent's JT that made two pair.
I’m dented some more over the next couple levels as my draws miss, or my good hands run into better ones.
By level 16 we're down from 334 entries to 40 players. 36 get paid.
It takes 30 minutes to lose the next two players. The big stacks are active, taking advantage of the bubble as expected.
I'm down to about 30bbs when it folds to a big stack to my right. He's in the small blind, and raises me. I have Q7 of diamonds and make the call — I might have folded if he raised me more, but he only made it about 2.5x the big blind, giving me great odds with a hand that beats most of his range.
My opponent isn’t a maniac, but he’s aggressive. He accumulated most of his stack by getting an opponent to fold to his all-in four-bet on an AK4 flop, only to show a bluff. He's continued to be very aggressive around the bubble, winning most pots, but losing a few ones where he couldn't beat a small pair or ace-high.
The flop is QJ3 rainbow. I have more than I could've hoped for — top pair, and a backdoor flush draw. He bets, as expected. I call, and the turn is the six of clubs. He makes another bet, about half the pot. I think for a minute about raising him all-in, but with the bubble looming I know I should play more passively so I just call.
If an ace, king, jack, nine or eight would come on the river, I'd fold to any bet. An innocous-looking four of clubs falls instead, but I’m still praying he checks to me. He puts me to the test, betting 75% of my remaining stack.
I tank longer than I've done in all my time playing poker. Most of the remaining players at our table are out of their seats. There's an even bigger pot at the table next to us, another player forced to an all-in decision. Everyone's eager to make it into the money, hoping one of us will make a bad call and pop the bubble.
I have top pair. It's far from the nuts, but it'll win the vast majority of the time. My seven blocks low straight possibilities, and I unlock his missed broadway straight draws. Odds are low that if he has a pair, it’s better than mine. Again, he has a proven track record of playing nakedly aggressive. That doesn't mean he can't have a hand, but the situation is perfect for him to play this way whether he does or not.
I can fold. If I do, it's no guarantee that I'll still make it into the money — I could be in an even worse spot before that comes. And if I fold my way into the money, I will come back to Day 2 as one of the shortest stacks.
But I don't want another min-cash on the spreadsheet. If I win this pot I'll be back to one of the chip leaders, maybe with enough ammo to win.
I don't try to hide my agony. The poker face I've maintained for the past fourteen hours has melted away. I count out the chips a second time, then a third. I check my cards again, make sure I haven’t misread the board.
My head hung low, I push my chips to the middle to make the call.
There's commotion at the other table. A player's out, dashing away from the table as her opponent stacks a massive pile of chips. Her sentiments are apparently similar to mine:
Spectators realize that the action's concluded at our table as well, and rush to see what's happened.
Later, I ask the pro to my left for advice. Would he have made the call? I want him to be honest, not just placate me with platitudes like, "that's poker!" I’m trying to be objective. I don’t want to tell myself what I want to hear, confirming my own biased narratives. We run through the details of the hand and he doesn't give me much. His conclusion is, "it's close."
I look up a simulation of the hand a few hours later when I can't get to sleep. It’s not perfect — I have better software on my computer back home that can work through some of the nuances. But I see enough evidence that points to my call being correct.
It turns out that he had K8 of clubs. He was bluffing. At first. Even when he caught a flush draw on the turn he would almost certainly have folded to a raise. But the third club on the river gave him a flush and the second nuts.
Down to just 4 big blinds, it's folded to me in the small blind the very next hand. I hope to look at a hand I have to fold, but I see AJ. I don't think there's anyone left at the other tables that's as short as I am — this may be by far the best hand I see before the blinds come around to me again and I'm forced to go all-in.
I shove, and the big blind hates his hand even more. Mathematically, he has to call with any two cards, even if he knows what I have. He flips over an off-suit four and two. I'm a favorite of course, but he still wins 35% of the time, which is enough considering that we're on the bubble and how few chips he needs to make the call.
The flop doesn't help him so he calls out "four!" as the dealer turns over the next card. The poker gods reward him in kind.
I exit the tournament area a little after 1am to claps and cheers as the tournament director congratulates the remaining players.
I’m strangely at ease. I wonder if I should be less so.
Odds of finding a working soap dispenser in Rio Convention Center bathrooms: 20%