The Turn of a Card

Most poker tournaments are played with 9 players per table. Some of the bigger field, lower buy-in events at the WSOP are played 10-handed. In the latter case, that means you’re not forced to put blinds or antes in on 80% of the hands you’re dealt.

One of the formats I play regularly online is 6-max, with six players per table. This creates more action as the blinds come around much more often. There’s an incentive for everyone around the table to open up to steal the blinds, and to call wider or 3-bet more in response.

In today's WSOP $1500 6-max event, my starting table is a frenzy from the start. A brash Brit to my left is raising nearly every hand. And the guy to his left, who later claims that 80% of his net worth is in a single cryptocurrency, is even more loose and aggressive. They're flashing bluffs, opening pots with complete garbage hands like 93o.

I stoke the action, and do my best to create the perception that I’m also coming into pots with garbage and bluffing on every street. I'm hoping to spring a trap to catch them with a premium hand.

But in the first level I lose half my stack to the Brit when I call a big river bet with top pair against his made flush. He tries to finish me off a few orbits later when I enter the pot with J6 of clubs and four of us see the flop — Q68 with two clubs. I bet 75% of the pot and everyone folds except the Brit. I check to him on a blank turn, and he checks behind. The jack of hearts hits the river and I lead out with a bet. He pushes me all in and I tank for a few minutes. There are a lot of hands that he could have that could beat me. But I find the call, he mucks his hand, and I'm back to a starting stack.

The Brit busts a few hands later, and crypto guy settles down as some new players join our table. I double through one of them when we get it all-in before the flop with my AK versus his JJ, and I hit a king on the turn.

At some point, crypto guy gets bored and goes back to his old self. He's the table chip leader at this point, and several times re-raises an opponent all-in, gets them to fold, then shows garbage.

It's level 6 and I see a QJ9 flop with him and another opponent holding T8 — I flop a straight and am thinking about how I can extract maximum value. It checks to me on the button and I bet small. Crypto guy calls me, then leads out on the turn. I go all-in and he calls.

Got 'im.

Except he slowly flips over KT for a better straight, sending me to purchase a re-entry ticket.

My new table is a lot more solemn. I gather that four of my opponents are online pros of some sort. The fifth is an older man who's reading a novel between hands, and grumbles more than once about how long everyone's taking to make decisions.

A couple levels after I sit down, the old man opens under the gun. I flat call in the cutoff with aces, and the button calls behind. The flop is Q84 rainbow, and we all check. I catch the old man glancing at his chips before the turn comes, which tells me that he has a hand he's eager to put money in with. He leads out and I jam over the top. He calls with KQo and I double up. He's gone by the next level, berating the table once more on his way out.

Despite the double up, I'm still a relatively short stack and the blinds and antes are going around fast. A few orbits later, a new opponent at the table opens under the gun. I raise all-in with pocket jacks and he calls with A8 of clubs. An ace and two clubs hit the flop so there's only one card in the deck that can save me — the jack of diamonds. It doesn't come.

I head to the Wynn for my last shot of making Day 2 of the $1M guaranteed event. Today's the last flight, and late registration ends in a couple hours. The poker room is as busy as I've ever seen it. Every table is full, even overflow tables they've setup in the sportsbook.

Since I bought in late, my stack's pretty short relative to the blinds, so again I'm in a situation where I need to get premium hands all-in before the flop where I can. I get to the last hand dealt before dinner break, and the end of late registration, when I get pocket nines under the gun. I raise, and the button 3-bets me. I jam over the top and he calls me with AK. A king on the flop is beginning to feel like a familiar end to my story, but I hit the 9 of clubs on the river to double my stack.

This gives me enough ammo to play the next couple levels after dinner break. I add another big chunk to my stack then when I call someone's A8 shove with pocket tens. An ace puts him in the lead on the flop, but a ten on the turn gives me a set and seals his fate.

I'm up and down over the next couple levels, hovering around 30 big blinds. By 10pm there are 200 players left out of almost 900 registrations today. We play down to just 92 players and then come back for Day 2 tomorrow.

I open under the gun with pocket jacks. The guy to my left raises me, and I move all-in. He calls with AK, and I'm ahead until an ace hits on the river. My final coin flip of the day.

As I lay awake I’m tempted to ruminate about alternate universes. What if I’d called a couple orbits ago and decimated him with my rivered flush against his flopped set? What if I would have called the 3-bet instead of jammed? What if a blank hit the river instead of that ace?

But I gently bring myself back to the present. There is only one dealer in the hand. Only one deck. Only one way it was shuffled and cut.

The deck can only tell one story, only one universe as it exists for me, in the here and now. The plot is resolved, the punchline told, the verdict absolute.

There are new decks tomorrow.

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Times someone sat down at the wrong table after coming back from a break, playing the wrong stack: 1