Shootout at Brasilia

Today is the $1500 No-Limit Hold’em Shootout, an event I’ve been looking forward to because of the unique format. In normal tournaments, as players get knocked out, tables consolidate. This ensures you play with a full table for most of the tournament. In a shootout, each table plays like a final table — you play each table down to a winner. Ten winners are brought together on a new table, again playing down to a winner. And so on, until there’s one person left standing with the bracelet.

800 players will battle it out today in the shootout. The winner of each table will get paid at least $5,400. The rest will go home empty-handed.

Our table wastes no time, and we lose our first player 10 minutes in when his pocket kings can't crack pocket aces. The winner knocks out our second player thirty minutes later when again his pocket aces hold up against pocket kings. This time, he flops quads when two aces come on the flop.

The rest of the table looks on in envy. I can't pick up decent hands or hit my flops, and by the third level I'm whittled down to a short stack.

Then I pick up my best hand of the day, pocket queens, and get it all-in versus AK pre-flop. The flop comes KQJ, giving me trip queens and a straight draw for my opponent. I fade the remaining ten in the deck — the chip leader is groaning and making big show about how he folded pocket tens to our jams. A nine hit the turn, which would've knocked us both out.

I pick up another big hand when it folds around to me in the small blind, and I look down at AQ of clubs. I raise, and the big blind calls. We've been in a lot of pots together, and he's taken advantage of his position by aggressively betting and re-raising, often getting the best of me.

The flop comes J99, with one club. I check, he bets out and I call. The turn is the ten of clubs, giving me both flush and straight draws, with two overcards. I check again, and he bets out a second time. I sense he's betting lightly so I put in a 3x raise. He tanks before moving all-in, putting me to the test. I do some quick math, and decide that I don't have the odds to fold, especially if he only has two pair. I call, and he turns over 96o for three of a kind. I'm way behind, but still have a lot of outs. A red eight hits the river and I almost tap the table to congratulate him before it clicks that I hit my straight. I rake up my chips and am up to double a starting stack.

We lose a third player when pocket eights hold up against AK. Then our fourth when all the chips go in on the turn — the short stack hit his two pair, but the same card gave the victor a straight.

There are only six left. It's a fast structure — the blinds are escalating, and they come around quickly as the table shrinks. I'll need to get lucky and pick up some good hands.

I catch KcQh in the small blind, and again I'm heads up with the big blind. I flop top pair on a Ks7h4h board. I lead out with a bet, and my opponent calls. The turn is the three of hearts, and I bet again. This time, he raises my bet, representing a straight or a flush draw. I have four to the flush and top pair — too much equity to fold. I consider re-raising all-in, but elect to just call. The river is the ten of diamonds. I check, and he moves all-in.

I tank for a few minutes, replaying the action and considering the math. I'm dead to a straight, flush, two pair or a set. But the heart in my hand makes it less likely he has the flush. And in theory he should be playing this aggressively with the ace of hearts in his hand, and some worse pairs. I reluctantly call, and he turns over J8 of hearts for the flush, and I'm back down to a short stack.

Another player at the table moves all-in. He has exactly 9.9k in chips and turns over pocket nines. He jokes about the coincidence with the dealer as he doubles up.

'As the next hand is being dealt, I point out to the dealer that I also have 9.9k, and appeal to her to give me pocket nines as well. I peek at the first card, and it's the nine of hearts. The second card is the ace of hearts — not what I asked for, but good enough to shove. I'm called, and the table gets a good laugh when I turn over my first card. Except for my opponent with KQo, who's dead to my flush on the turn.

A few orbits later I defend my big blind with Q8o against a button open. The flop comes T95, giving me a gutshot straight draw with one overcard. I call a small bet, and a queen hits the turn. I check, my opponent bets, and I move all-in. He calls instantly, turning over pocket aces. I need a queen, eight or jack to save me, but the five on the river is no help.

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My Uber driver, Clifford, has just moved to Las Vegas from Boston. He loves it here, goes on about the weather, lower cost of living, smoother traffic. I awkwardly bring up a conversation I had with someone who didn't like living in Las Vegas. Clifford pauses for a second, then looks up at me in the rear-view mirror. His expression has changed. In his thick Boston accent he snarls, "this isn't a practice life. You only get one."

He drops me off at my new favorite restaurant. I sit at the counter and sip an 805 as I look at tomorrow’s tournament schedule. I'd planned on playing the $3k 6-max, but I'm not excited about the structure. I open up the Southwest app and decide to bump my return flight up by a day.

I'll be back next week for the final leg of the journey, which includes the prestigious Main Event. I'll face a longer stretch, tougher competition, higher limits. I’ll put myself to the test.

My stomach is full, but I order dessert to finish off the meal.

I only get one.

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Dealers who recognized me, but then it turned out they thought I was someone else: 1