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Tuesday, July 24, 2007 

The Education of A Poker Player

The urge has returned - no, not the urge to study the Rhino in its natural habitat, although that did take a while to shake (plenty of willing hand-maidens to help me shake, but I declined, opting instead just for the rattle and roll - thank you to Johnny Vegas for your assistance). I have been back in the Wetlands a week and have notched up many hours of poker beside the River Severn, and the urge is back. The lower levels of the garden are four feet under, my poker dreams are six feet under.... at least til next summer and these two feet are under the writing desk where they ought to be. This is the urge to write, not to wring with the right but rather to right a few wrongs.

Money: makes the world go round, the love of it is the root of all evil and spending it is great fun until the statement arrives. Well the statements have arrived in droves and I have been doing some navel-gazing, considering my future. My bridge-teaching will not start again for a couple of months, the puzzle-cutting likewise. So right now I have writing - unfortunately my fanbase (hello to you, my friend) is not reaching for the cheque-book, so that leaves me with the poker. Returning with absolute zero (the freeze-out was total) in my Full Tilt account, I topped up to the max with $600 on jet-lag Tuesday, and had notched it to $800, then $1700, then $2700 and for a moment on Thursday I touched the three thousand mark, and it was looking great: A thousand quid in under a week meant I should see credit sometime in November (you do the maths - I'm not going to spell it out) but I hadn't reckoned on daytime poker mania along with the inherent variance of aggressive Omaha and by the end of the same day, my $3,000 watermark was back to a few bucks over $600 - oh dear! I patted myself on the back for stopping when I did (excellent bank-roll management, my son), rolled another fat one and went to bed, dreaming of Aquarius and Lace (try saying "Shadow to the main stage" in an American movie-trailer voice and you'll get the picture).

Waking up, I looked again into that navel, and came up with a few conclusions: Firstly I needed a bath (the age of Aquarius had come and gone), secondly I should play less poker and actually begin writing the book, thirdly I should get out of Dodge, and lastly I should play more poker. So I hot-footed it to Yorkshire, with my children Max, nearly seven and Laptop - one today in fact (happy birthday to you and also to my granny a mere 89 years older). Logging on at one in the morning after a 90th birthday is not recommended in the bankroll management handbook, so I did it anyway, and emerged at nigh on seven a.m with some tidy profit. Two dawns later, I have remembered what sunshine looks like, my account is just under $3,000 and I have tidied away $1,300 into the coffers of Bwarclays Bwank (said with a slight Ho-Chi-Minh): so spirits are up. I ventured last night into the $2-$4 game on the Omaha, where icebergs lurk round every corner. After half-an-hour imitating the Titanic my flopped sets started to hold up and despite the Russian Roulette of the Stubbs Walden internet exchange, the money started to come in. The difference between the $1-$2 game and the $2-$4 game is way more than double: The action is faster, the players looser, and the rewards potentially much richer. I was disconnected for the 11th time at 5.25 a.m. and made the great decision to stop on the back of doubling my $300 stack when holding nothing more than pocket 6s. I flopped a rainbow (all different suits - you should know that by now) Q-8-6 and checkraised the bettor and his caller with my bottom set. He put me all-in holding a wrap (not the Johnny Vegas variety - shame) but rather 10-9-7 and received no help. There is no better feeling than quitting immediately after a win. The number of times I have continued and lost some/all of my profit outnumber these joyous occasions by at least ten-to-one. You go to bed feeling great, you sleep great and you wake up great (reminds me of a joke "How did you sleep?" "I slept like a log, woke up feeling grate" - ha-bloody-ha). I have also been looking for the big score and playing the multis - the big tournaments with the big money. I have finished in the money two out of three, both times committing hari-kiri with KQ suited, calling raises with them: the first time on a flop of A-8-8, we check to the river, by which time I have made a runner-runner flush and the money goes in only to discover his nuts are gleaming and my nuts need polishing - yes he was a pilot for American Airlines, flying the standard proudly with his two black aces in his hole.

Enough poker - it is very addictive. The only way to wash away those memories of what could have been is to play more poker, push those bad-beats off the memory shelf and replace them with tales of winning.... alternatively you can visit your local wildlife park and observe the Rhino in its natural habitat..... My failure to play K-8 of spades in the main-event still haunts me. I did talk about this hand but it will be helpful to relive it once again. When the antes kick in and each round represents around a 20th of your stack, you cannot afford to wait for premium hands. Sitting three off the button, with an average stack, this is a hand that needs to be played if you are first in, provided you have built up your fold-bank. My fold-bank was in the black as I'd not been seeing many cards, I'd been playing tight and folding a lot, so opponents would give me credit and the most desirable result would be to pick up the blinds and antes. Okay the second most desirable result. Getting a call from the blinds and winning with a continuation bet would be better still unless....okay the third most desirable result: getting calls from both the blinds and flopping 8-8-7 which is what actually happened in the hand (except I was grinding the Rhino-horn with my cards only a memory). The small blind had pocket 10s and the big blind pocket 7s - they went to war on the flop, the turn being the King of Diamonds (giving me the bigger 'boat' - full house to you and me) and I was looking for Shadow on the main stage. The ramifications of not playing this hand can all be included in the 'if-only' chapter. I would have ended up stacking the Stealing Swede for his entirety when I trapped him with my pocket aces versus his AK and I would have been showing Mr Yang a bit of my Yin six days later - Jerry Yang went on to win the main event and eight and a quarter million bucks, which turns into considerably less once you divide by two (for pounds) and give 40% to the US tax-man. Anyway I am almost done with regrets - that dance with Aquarius would have been nice, especially as my mum (where the fuck is this going?).... especially as my mum found $115 in the top pocket of my shirt. The bucks have now been laundered and feel ever so slightly symbolic. Aquarius, real name April (who are you kidding my friend?) will have to wait til June comes again - June is a month of the year by the way, real name Summer although you'd be forgiven for the confusion. So its $20 for one song, and its $100 for three songs - we're back exploring the contours of Las Vegas by the way. It took me two cracks of the whip to realise this was bad math. Okay so the hundred gets you to a 'private' room where three or four other cavortions are being convincingly coerced, but you have to contend with Pauly the Pervert who is keeping an eye on progress. You got to stay away from the T-zone, baby or Pauly will be over. Well after a couple of visits from Pervy, I reverted to the main stage - does anyone else have that urge to get up there. I class it in the same bracket as that weird lemming urge, when you are on a clifftop and you want to fly. It is deeply primordial and deeply dangerous - you will be disappointed to know I never made it on-stage. I have resolved however to have a silver pole fitted in my new poker-room. So beside the stage I was busy tucking greenbacks into the backs of green lace knickers and admiring their art-work. They were admiring my grin or more likely my wallet - "You wanna come VIP, beardy?" - like fuck I do, and get metaphorically spanked by Pauly the Perv? You got to be joking baby. There was always the $200 room for half an hour or even the $400 for the whole hog, one hour - these I declined. They probably had two-way mirrors and sell the video at the airport - "Hey kids, I got you a souvenir from Vegas - Daddy's been playing no-limit Hold'em". This is probably where Pauly and Stiffo Stevey hang out in the breaks. Also I think you need a hard-on to enter these rooms and I think I set a record on that one. The only man to have spent fourteen and a half hours in The Wildlife Park without once experiencing that rush of blood to the head - if only it could be that way at the card-tables. So what the fuck was I doing, you may well ask? Kahluas, Chocolate Ladies, Irish Coffees, some great value dances - a snip at twenty bucks and making new friends (like on the telly but you don't need a telephone)....by the time the third shift had kicked in around noon, the graveyard shift had departed heading to make porno-horror chick-flicks no doubt and I was rolling. A chance encounter with a Spaniard, known as Johnny Vegas, (after whom the English version had taken his name, he claimed and I believed him....) meant there was some stimulation to be found. The girls were more relaxed - not so much business and I certainly wasn't paying their mortgage and besides, research is important once you take those first few tentative steps to being a writer. So there it is, the research is not yet complete, I feel, but the bones of this book are taking shape. Thank you Vegas for all your delights. I will be playing next year, hopefully in the 10K Omaha event too - this year's participants read like a poker roll of honour, and to play against them is the fastest learning curve there is. The education of this poker player is far from over - I have a long way to go and god-willing I shall go far. Thank you for your comments - the triumph of hope over experience will continue unabated, and keep them coming - each one is manna from heaven. I sometimes feel I could be in outer space, sending messages to Earth, which may or may not have struck by a meteor. Is anyone out there?

2:18 PM | Permalink |  

Sunday, July 15, 2007 

What goes on in Vegas stays in Vegas

I am currently feeling too ill to communicate after a big night with the Irish boys. I am getting the fuck out of Dodge tomorrow. I have had a moment of blinding epiphany. Some major realisations went down. The Rhino has bolted. I am bolting too to return to my family. Adios amigos

5:31 AM | Permalink |  

Friday, July 13, 2007 

Dawn Two Days Later...

I have been on something of a bender, although not in the great tradition of Mr Duke and Dr Bonzo. My bender has been fuelled merely by camel filters, the deserts of the Sahara and some great company. Two days ago I descended into the poker den of Circus Circus for a barren nine hours of folding 6-3 offsuit perpetually before taking the hint and decamping to the Sahara 11 p.m poker tournament where I made it to the last two tables before I got trapped into offloading my 52,000 hard-earned chips to Ohio Brian when he limped for 4,000 with his pocket rockets under the gun and I decided that with my pocket 10s it would be an appropriate time to raise it up large - bad move. Nice Brian naturally reraised me the other half of my stack and I elected to go with it for a fast exit hoping to see the Big Slick or a small pair (Ace-King) against which I would have been a favourite. In retrospect slightly naive. As usual after a poker fuck-up the only remedy is to play more poker to replace the memory of that fateful hand with something better. Poker memory is no different from any other memory - it has an inbuilt tendency to fade into a haze. Anyway to trim this long story shorter, I proceeded to spend the next 8 hours (I had spent four financially fruitless hours finishing out of the money in the tournament) playing in a very lively cash game with a Kiwi, a Swiss, a Dane, a Philipino, a Dutchman and an assortment of Yankee dealers which ranks as one of my most enjoyable sessions ever at a mere cost of $7. I made one horrendous mistake when I donated $150 to Jacob the Dane, but otherwise it was a cracker. I stopped to enter the 11 a.m. tournament where again I made one costly error with three tables to go. Annoying Oklahoma dude had told me that he had a premonition that I was going to wipe him out and I failed to take the opportunity: with huge blinds he ha raised half his 20,000 stack and I failed to get involved with King-Queen of clubs, choosing to fold instead (when he mucked his hand I noticed a small card, suggesting he had made the bet with a pocket pair - the card looked like a six, against which it would have been a 50-50 chance of doubling my stack. More fool me as my cards and my chip-stack dwindled to leave me exiting with two tables to go and no pay-out. The remedy? Five more hours of cash-game with some hustling Germans and some amusing Americans, before entering the 7 p.m tournament, where again I failed to deliver with one or two cotly errors (all I need to do is sit on my hands, request more time and give the matter much more thought. The remedy however was still the same - more poker in the cash-game before another crack at the 11 p.m. tournament, in which I had a swift exit at the hands of pocket rockets again. I adopted the same solution as before and played more cash-game, which took me to four in the morning. So a 42 hour poker session has ended. I am bushed, almost falling asleep at this wheel as I climb into a grateful bed. I did in fact play my best poker in that sleepless zombie haze at the very end of my forty-four hour marathon. As I exited the building i was engaged by Sonny the Indian, who invited me to lunch tomorrow with his Dad, for which I will need to get some necessary sleep as it is now seven in the rather cool morning wake-up of Las Vegas. The people have been great - this has to be the friendliset nation of people in the Northern hemisphere. As our no-limit table disbanded, I nearly went in search of another game, but decided that lunch with the Indian colonel would only be possible if were to have a good chunk of sleep. So goodnight to you, as another scorcher rises to replace the cool morning breeze of Vegas on the 13th, and the good news is I may have found that publisher - many thanks to you Jagdish. Meetings will be arranged, titles suggested, and soon the essential ingtedient, words, will be organised into a coherent whole, not to mention the cash advance.....

2:12 PM | Permalink |  

Wednesday, July 11, 2007 

Publish and Be Dammed

So how I can I recoup this wanton heamorraghing of funds - how can this flow be dammed? The answer is simple. I am after a publishing deal and I need your help - my merry band of readers. "Fear and Roving in Las Vegas" is gonna rock - and then there is the novel: "The Hourglass Option". Half a million advance on each should set the record straight, so if you have a contact, an American publisher ideally, please let me know, as I am already dreaming the next dream and the one after. I love teaching bridge, but that ain't gonna buy me the yacht, and poker earnings will always be there to help me along, but never a way of life. And the puzzlemaker won't be able to put all the pieces back together again, so Humpty Dumpty is asking all the King's horses and some of his men, (and a few of his women too) for a large chunk of cash. The last scene in Fear and Loathing shows Johnny Depp taking the desert highway to Los Angeles, so this feels like the right thing to do. I might try and persuade my very own Dr. Bonzo to accompany me - I refer of course to an Irishman, known as Kinder, as in the eggs, cos this egg may have had a great fall but he's already back and on track. So if any of you know of a contact in Los Angeles in the publishing business, I would be most grateful.

10:17 PM | Permalink |  

 

The Bright Side of Life

Thanks Alan, thanks Matt - just woken up and watched the rest of Fear and Loathing, as I passed out midway. The cigarettes taste crap, but I'll smoke them anyway, and soon they won't. I have realised the point of it all - something of an epiphany, as I found a button on the Mac DVD player, which gives me a running commentary from Terry Gilliam as the film plays. The point is the book - Vegas as Gilliam says is about losers and I have joined the ranks. Financially Vegas and I have a negative sum equation - this town still owes me money and gambling probably (I am still dreaming the dream) ain't gonna change that, but of course I'll be back next year. The way I am gonna make this town pay is the book - working title "Here and Roving in Las Vegas" - although somewhat derivative, I accept that. I have realised many things in the last 24 hours. I started yesterday at a new table with below average chips - at my table were two players I knew, Victoria Coren and Tom Mcevoy, both quality players clearly and yet they ended up going to war preflop with KQ and AJ off-suited. Tom Mcevoy, the author of my first poker book, got the rough end of it as Victoria hit broadway on the turn (J-10-4 flopped followed by an Ace, making her the straight - known as Broadway). I'd added 50% to my stack before moving to a table, which initially I'd characterised as tough - they all had average to large stacks and there was a tension and not a lot of talk. I had Joe Beevor (not sure how to spell that - whatever) to my left, the Weasel being weasely opposite, the Stealing Swede committing grand larceny to my right and I felt intimidated. A session or two later and these guys had become people - even the weasel was a really genuine sort. Joe the Pro was and I imagine still is (unless he's done a Fear and Loathing overnight given his impending demise due to insufficient chips) a true gent and what is more I could take everyone of them at poker. I doubled up early to $120,000 when I took the Pro big-time with my pocket 3s, managing to get every chip I had in by the river in nice, staedy increments. I took three horrendous beats - my aces got cracked by jacks, although I still showed a profit thanks to the Stealing Swede's sidepot with his AK. That was $100,000 the wrong way. $130,000 went to Joe the Pro when he called my all-in raise with pocket 9s with 10-6 suited (the pot was giving him 2 to 1, so fair play) and the final dissolution was worth a mere quarter of a million dollars when again the straight got made on the river. So there it is - I guess gambling doesn't pay after all, although it's taken me to some pretty amazing places this year alone. What does pay is this - writing. I love doing it and I have in fact got two books in the pipeline oblongata - one's about me and the other's about me. It's all about me. No that's not quite true - it is about the dreams we dream. I am glad I am here - I would rather be entering Day 3 with my a chip stack of half a million or even just 50 grand, but I am pleased with my performance, unlike last year where I played like a King Canute - thinly disguised anagram. Now I'm off for that first cigarette of the day in 120 degrees of wonderful dry heat and then a venture in to the Circus Circus ATM - although nothing is guaranteed in this life. Those players last night were among the worst I've ever seen and they couldn't stop winning. This sweet lady from Washington State, she is first to act with $1-$2 blinds and she goes all-in for $77 with her pair of 9s. I have a real good feeling about K7 suited, but can't justify the call, and she gets called by Go-Go Gambler with his pocket 10s, which stand up. Two kings hit on the flop and a seven on the turn and that is poker., as they say......and her partner was quite something - he'd have the nuts on the river and would check when last to act and then dish the dealer a $15 tip. The dealer looked behind him saying "is this for me?" like this couldn't be true. I admire his generosity and life rewarded that - he walked away with an amazing profit. I discovered that in the big games where a $10,000 pot is run-of-the-mill they tip the dealer $1 dollar, never $2. Startling place Vegas. I do love it. The people are amazing - these Americans have big hearts, they are here to have fun, and they like to engage. So I am going to engage with them and their wallets once more. Til later and thanks for listening.

9:24 PM | Permalink |  

 

The Killer Hand

Well here it is. See what you think. I pick up Ace-Queen offsuit in middle position and it is raised under the gun by an aggressive player to $6,500 with the blinds $1000 - $2000 and the antes $300, so I call as does Weasel in the small blind. The flop arrives Q-10-2 which is checked to me - if only I had checked too. Instead I bet out $26,000 which gets rid of Weasel and Under-The-Gun (soon to be re-named son-of-a-gun) check-raises me. He is an aggressive player and I don't believe he has a better hand so I put him all-in which he reluctantly calls, showing King-Jack off suit. The turn is a blank and the River....the boulevard of broken dreams is the killer Ace, giving me two pair and him his straight. Feeling somewhat numb - I did everything right, although had I trap-checked, Son-of a-gun would have bet the turn and then I would have put him all-in before the killer river had a chance to hit. I shook his hand, wished him luck, which he acknowledged somewhat sheepishly like a man who'd just got lucky after being outplayed, but that is the name of the game....so I played a bit at Circus-Circus, managed to hit a straight-flush and took down a monster pot of $11, in the no-fold'em holdem game. That sort of day I guess. So sorry people, no more World series this year and right now maybe a little bit of Fear and Loathing before bed - anyone got any strong pharmaceuticals - where's Dr. Gonzo when you need him?

10:09 AM | Permalink |  

 

Beavering Away

So here I am again, waiting for the soup to cool down, during the dinner break, back in the calm of my hotel room. I have just lost a $130,000 pot to Joe Beevers who is sitting on my left. He is one of the best English players and we've been getting on well, despite that hand. Everyone folded to the button, The Stealing Swede, who raised to $4500, I flatcalled in the small blind with my pair of 9s, and Joe the Pro, with a smallish stack, raises it up to $15,000. The Swede folds as expected and I reraise all-in, which Joe the Pro, with those immortal words, "do I want to gamble before dinner?" calls with 10-6 of spades. Well he hits his straight on the river which I am fine with - I did everything right and the cards have been good to me. So that's the bad news - and the good news I hear you ask? Well I still have the best part of $125,000 in front of me and I'm playing well. I started with just over $40,000 so I have tripled up. I am not sure what an average stack is, but I am sure that I am above it. Time for soup methinks.....P.S. I still intend to win this, no mere money finish for me. My intention for the rest of today is to climb above $333,000 and why not - I have the measure of the table. I am feared by some, respected by a few and maybe mocked by the remainder with my adornment of crystals, three on the table, three round my left wrist and three around the neck - I was given a red Jasper pyramid by a rather special lady, which had remained in my pocket til the last level and the moment it emerged to sit beside my stack of chips fireworks began: A guy in middle position with a short stack opens up with the standard raise of $4000 which is reraised to $17,000 by the Stealing Swede on the button (the dealer that is), the small blind folds and I look down to see two red aces. So I think long and hard and opt for just calling which gets exactly the desired result as Shorty reraises all-in a further $15,000 with his pocket Jacks and The Swede pulls the trigger, trying to isolate, going all-in with his AK, and as I call in an instant Joe the Pro says if you've got aces, you've played this brilliantly. Well I lose the main pot when Shorty finds a Jack to give him trips, but win the side-pot to show a profit of $20,000. I've flopped a couple of sets and managed to get all my money on both occasions, doubling up through Joe the Pro and later at the expense of The Stealing Swede, who a few hands previous made a truly great call, when I made a $30,000 river bet bluff after raising the turn. The board had two overcards, and i still don't know how he made the call with his pair of 7s. That was another $100,000 pot. So as you can see I've been living the high life, on the roller-coaster, lucky and unlucky, playing well, making a few mistakes but hopefully only once. I am a whole lot better than I was when I started on Saturday. I've hardly played this Hold'em game this year - and certainly with no results, so I guess I need the practice. The low-roller is rolling higher and the diary will soon have to metamorphose: The new title is Roll me Up the Big One, at least that's what it says on the business cards, now green as opposed to last year's red. And I intend to - so here's to high-rolling and a first place take-down of eight and a quarter million.....thanks again for your comments - good to know Jem you're enjoying my random musings....and Will your mind is filthier than a copraphiliac Vegas whore. Isn't it usually the other way round with you two dirty boys?

3:18 AM | Permalink |  

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 

Life in The Circus

I have just returned from one of the most gruelling seven hours of my life to arrive in one of the most welcome hot baths of my life. I am almost entirely self-sufficient here in the Double Circus, now that I have a kettle that heats up soup and water with a fridge full of healthy goodies to boot, from Whole Foods - a true wonder shop, which I think has now arrived in London: Planet Organic without the price tag. I am waiting for my chicken broth to cool down - i boiled it somewhat, so I need to work on the settings. The day has been eventful and prosperous: there is no poker tournament at The Wynn on Monday, so that was out. I was however still mulling over Saturday's poker hands where perhaps I didn't make the best play or maybe folded the best hand, and knowing this to be unhealthy and irritating I knew there was only one solution: to find a poker game - not difficult round here. I've blown the internet account, thank god, and Barclays Bwank have become sanctimonious as well as greedy and will not extend my overdraft limit for the purposes of gambling. What they do not realise is that playing in the $1-$2 no-limit cash game at Circus Circus is not gambling. Profit is as sure as the sun will shine tomorrow (I'm talking Vegas not Birmingham - currently 'enjoying' a heatwave that touches 120). While waiting for a seat I see Shane from Bermuda, keen on Liverpool but moved to California, going all-in for his last $50 pre-flop with Captain Air (no info on him). They proudly show off their hands - something that is not obligatory in a cash-game, unlike tournament poker when you have an all-in situation. Shane has King-9 of Diamonds and Air has a monster Ace-Ten offsuit, which gets cracked when the nine pops. This is good news as Air takes his beer and his bike and gets on it, leaving me to Shane's left, who is good value on two counts (Shane don't raise $25 when first to act with King-Jack offsuit from early position - you may as well be writing me blank cheques - if you're reading this, firstly Hi secondly Harrington - buy his book). So I buy in for $220, don the shades (not necessary really but it stops the reflection from the aquarium) and three hands in I pick up 9-2 both clubs, and after a couple of limpers, I call too for two dollars - as do all nine other players - extraordinary: my first so-called family pot in Vegas. The flop comes Queen-Ten-3 with two clubs and before anyone can blink, Deuce Lee, the far from inscrutable Oriental, has gone all-in (I checked) for just over $100 to try and win $20, which is called by Zimmer-Frame who still has around $100 left, and naturally called by me on the flush draw. The turn card duly obliges me another club and I make the somewhat questionable play of going all-in, as I'm virtually playing with my last dollars here with no more access thanks to the Bwank. Anyway Zimmer bales so damn quick, so alas his funds escape me and my flush being good, I have over doubled my stack in seconds flat. The game is softer than a geriatric whose poodle has eaten his last Viagra ("Down boy, down"), and I hit some cards too, so I stand up three hours later holding $888 in greenbacks with a smile and head to Best Buy to acquire a copy of Fear and Loathing on DVD - will have to wait til I'm in the right state of mind as it's now after 3 a.m.(surely wrong state of mind? - ed). Yes I think you're right, somewhere around July 17th I trust.

This done I head to Charleston Mountain, where the temperature never rises above 80 with the intention of some exercise. My last run I began at 6.30 and was around 7 miles and I got back before sundown. Figuring that the South Loop which takes me to the top of Mount Charleston at 11,918 feet is supposedly 8.3 miles, I set off just before six with my newly acquired water bottle, a tube of sunlip (not strictly necessary as the sun is behind me) and a shirt - better prepared than the Airport Vortex you will note. Well this hike is different from the last and I'm sure someone wasn't telling the whole truth about the miles either. The first hour is nearly vertical scree scrambling and real tough, and then it is just up and up and up until finally I spot a person when I hit the ridge, which cheers me up no end, because if someone else is here I must be all right..... well this young lady is sort of meandering around and as it turns out she is with a couple of others and they have tents, so we are not in the same boat at all. I am shafted and they are not, as it is now 40 minutes til darkness (as they point out - I don't do watches, the phone is in the car and the head-torch is too, still with no batteries). Did I mention I have only eaten fruit and juices since breakfast and the nuts and gojis are also in the car - so I am low on energy and somewhat starving. So I launch in with "have you got anything to eat?"....These three are amazing: they give me a couple of energy bars, point out my small dilemma of darkness, suggest peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (never had them but would have said yes despite preferring a lobotomy, but was somewhat concerned about the time, and suspected they didn't have a fridge-full ready made). So I took the bars - whoever you are, you three, thank you and get in touch if you can - and off I went wolfing one, forgetting to fill the water and at high speed, as the peak still hadn't been reached. They did suggest I baled back the way I came, which I obviously ignored..... Cutting a long story short I summited just as blackness enveloped everything - got a great photo however, and started running down the other side of the mountain with the smidgin of light still left to me. Thank god for Vegas and its billion Watts of electrical output, almost as good as a full moon, and not as far to travel. Even at a distance of 30 miles, my journey down was made considerably easier by the spectacle that is Vegas buy night. The path was a good one too - these Americans do so many things right......

I got back to my car at quarter to one in the morning despite making reasonable pace, considering it was dark and the Vegas effect was only sporadic, often obscured by big mountains and dark pine-forests. I love this country but please get your miles right in future. And now I am back, bathed and souped, and ready for tomorrow.

I start at 12 noon with a little less than average chips and a fair bit of pressure to double up early. I will be playing out of my skin and I intend to finish the day, 15 and a half hours later, with my stack around the $200,000 mark at least. I am here in Vegas for one reason and that is to finish first or last if you like and win the ultimate prize, which alas will not be matching last year's $12 million. Still I can always sell the book...or there's the option of residing forever here in Circus Circus and taking down that cash-game with impunity. Thanks for those comments: Stu, Paul, Matt and Jason - they mean a lot. You could go and have a flutter on Betfair - let me know what my odds are....I'll be back.

10:02 AM | Permalink |  

Sunday, July 08, 2007 

Regrets, I've Had a Few...

But then again, too few to mention. I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption....and so ole blue eyes goes on. Last year my regret and ultimately my downfall was not playing a hand, KJ offsuit, after a raise from an aggressive player. I wrote about it last year, so I won't go there again. Two players ended up all-in, one with a bottom straight, one with two pair (Ronnie the raiser had 9-7 offsuit) and I would have had the nut straight, and tripled my stack. I ended up losing all my money to these same two (I haven't quite told you the truth yet about last year - slightly too embarassing). Well I guess now is the time for a bit of honesty, so here I go... I had pocket 9s and call a raise from Ronnie, and the flop comes J-4-2 with two hearts. Ronnie to the right of me (Irani to the left as the song goes - sorry.....utterly irrelevant) bets half the pot and I come over the top, not believing him....oh dear as he shows Jack-Ten of hearts. So there it is: the shameful truth - better out than in, I guess. This leaves me crippled and I later go all-in with Ace-Six, first to act on the button and Irani - giving me a pitying look (we made friends in the dinner break), calls with an Ace-King and there it is. I will never forget that feeling and the look in their eyes, the whole table, a kind sympathy....there but for the grace of god go I, written across those faces.....or was it just me? Anyway ten seconds later they had forgotten and I had remembered...... the perfect tonic... a strong cigarette, blagged off another kindly soul outside, followed by an even stronger one back at the hotel room. There is a genuine camaraderie in this game, especially in The Big One. Everyone has the dream, and all bar one will ultimately have that dream dashed. And the guy who will be most gutted of all will be the guy who comes second. Sure he'll wake up the next morning and smell the roses, realise he is the six-million dollar man and party like it's 1999, but in that instant there is an intensity that is sweet and tragic and desperate all at the same time. So regrets I've had a few.....but what is the purpose of regret. Well there are two as I see it: The L-plates of regret: Firstly to Learn from it, secondly to Let it go. So there it is - I hope I've let it go and I know I've learnt from it, which brings me to my current regret.....

I woke up today at 1.23 p.m. and my waking thought was King-Eight of spades. I was two off the button, having just built my stack to average - the feeling of being above or below average is akin to Mr. Micawber's situation:

"Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen nineteen six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery"

Above average I am bold and fearless, but below average I play weak and timid. This is something I have to deal with, because as we know fortune favours the above average. So I decide to play it safe: I'm at a new table and the players are still unknown, but having said that, my very first hand at this table, having been moved from my first table where I'd been playing overly tight, players were always stealing my blinds, but with no cards to play back with, I had been avoiding the potentially costly bluff reraise, especially after I had made a big bad bluff and ballsed it up (see Errors above, coming soon to a screen near you) so the move to the new table had been a blessing. First hand I am in the big blind for $400, and with antes of $50 there is $1100 in the pot and I pick up 9-4 offsuit and everyone folds to David the button, who appears to be an inscrutable Oriental (I have in fact arrived slightly intimidated - all bar two are wearing sunglasses, all bar one have bigger stacks than me and I have come from a table where they were beating up on me). All of this was in my mind. David turns out to be an affable Englishman, just graduated from the Warwick University school of poker - he's good and he's fearless, and flawed too, like every last one of us. So David makes it $1100 to play and I am being asked to call $700 to win a pot of $2200 - odds of over 3-1. If I fold the first hand they are going to see me as an easy mark. So after due thought, like I have a hand, I call, even if it means folding to his continuation bet. The flop arrives A-7-2, Rainbow (thanks Zippy for all the memories, and yes, you too Bungle - you dickhead) so I check, and surprisingly David checks too - an error but my thought in calling had cast doubt. so the turn brings a King and I come out firing with $1200 and take down the pot....yeah baby. And my reward Siegfried and Roy in the small blind on the next hand as Rodney Trotter (see last night) tries a steal from the button....I re-raise a further 3000 bucks and my table image starts off on the right foot. Siegfried and Roy are a couple of queens who like playing dirty with big pussies - unusual I know, but this is Vegas, you gotta expect the unexpected.

So King-Eight of Spades I fold, although that little voice is saying go on get in there, raise. Instead I act too quickly and make the book play...that little voice is the most valuable friend we have as ultimately he knows all the answers: we are all part of the one universal mind, and he is the guvnor. So ignoring the guvnor, I am immediately annoyed when everyone folds to the blinds who simply call - in fact they both have pocket pairs, (not all trappers wear fur). The flop arrives 8-8-7 and the small blind bets just over half the pot (he has pocket 10s), which the small blind raises up, at which point the small blind re-raises all-in, which is called in an instant as yes you guessed it, the big blind has pocket 7s and has flopped a full house. No ten appears, but the turn does bring a King, which would have given me the top full house...... So here's how it would have played out had I raised. Both the blinds would have called, and when the flop comes, the small blind with his 10s would check intending to go for a check-raise as he mostly likely puts me on two high cards, certainly not an eight. The Big Blind has come in his pants by this stage and is too busy looking for tissues, so also checks and I come out betting, as no-one expects me to have tripped the eights, and building a big pot with a big hand is mandatory (a while ago I would have checked my monster - utterly wrong). So as I bet, the small blind most likely will raise a good amount. The big blind is still smiling as he mops his brow with his tissue (a different one I hope) and simply calls to get my money in too, and so I simply call too. Who's trapping whom? Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? (who will watch the watchers?). As the turn comes a king, TenTen (Chinese adventurer with a dog called Zno-Wi) may back off, but in fact has only $10,000 chips or so left and the pot is going to be around $30,000 so might just go for it. Tissue-boy still reckons to be cleaning up so will call, as will I and all the money will be in, come what may. Two of us will need new pants, two of them will have brown trousers and I'll be laughing all the way to the bwank. I would have had over $100,000......So there is the purpose of regret - don't play poker without a big box of tissues and a spare pair of pants.

As a last aside I have to post you all those lyrics from Big Frank, as they seem quite poignant right now:

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, Ill say it clear,
Ill state my case, of which Im certain.

Ive lived a life thats full.
Ive traveled each and evry highway;
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets, Ive had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, Im sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.

Ive loved, Ive laughed and cried.
Ive had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that;
And may I say - not in a shy way,
No, oh no not me,
I did it my way.

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!

As from tomorrow I'll be playing poker my way, listening to the guvnor and setting my sights on that Final Table

10:50 PM | Permalink |  

 

The Beard

Okay I've done the bath and am still no closer to sleep, with the first rays emerging on Sunday morning in Vegas. In fact I am on about four baths/showers a day in a desperate attempt to soften this bristling mess on my face, which is in that prickly phase. A few years back I was playing bridge in the American Nationals in Phoenix Arizona when I spotted one of the wrongest things across a monstrously large hall of bridge players. An elderly couple were playing a pair of little old ladies (the average age of bridge players in the US is 57) - and the husband who was dummy, so was no longer playing a part in the play of the cards (all four are involved in the auction, but only three are involved in the play) was merrily strimming his nose with an electric nasal hair-trimmer in front of the old dears who were carrying on like this was normal behaviour. Rather like another revolting habit I have noticed over here: talking loudly on the cellphone while having a dump. Just don't do it. Anyway the point is once you get to 37 the hair up there needs to be dealt with or your friends start cringing when they come too close, and yes you can yank them while you drive on the motorway, which makes you sneeze uncontrollably, your eyes water and you can't stop and it's very painful, but really the machine is the way forward, so spotting one in the gadget shop in The Fashion Show Mall I succumbed with a chuckle as I remembered the monster from Phoenix. Anyway it has just saved me as I have trimmed the prickly bits off the moustache, which is to answer your question Rich - it is a beard with real hair and it has a purpose apart from saving me three minutes a day shaving. The plan is to keep it until I have made it to the Final Table and then I re-emerge, suited and booted, ready for the cameras, looking suave and handsome, rather than like some bearded hippy fuck. No-one will know who I am, and I may even dispense with the shades as I ruthlessly remove their chips from under their noses, with the poker equivalent of a nasal strimmer. So I hope I have answered your question Rich about the state of my facial hair (once Dees shows me how to put photos up I can give you the visual too) .....and by the way, Rich who are you? Are you the one who likes a bit of fisticuffs in between pots or the calling station? I hope you don't mind me taking the piss, but America and Vegas in particular has that effect what with people the size of small caravans and Menopause: The Musical (slightly obsessed by that - I may have to go and watch it and report back in the name of research.
I am slightly deranged currently - luckily I now have a kettle (ten bucks from Walgreens) and I'm not afraid to use it: herbal teas are disappearing like a junkie with a deadline in a desperate attempt to calm me down. So on that note I bid you goodnight. Keep the comments coming - thank you Matt for your words - you should be here, reraising these Yankee-doodles, but I understand the word commitment. I have one or two myself. I am currently blowing their Christmas presents on unnecessary plastic objects and gambling next month's rent on bad beats and a chuckle.....

1:10 PM | Permalink |  

 

Made it to Day 2

It is half four in the morning - play ended at 3.30. Average chip stack was $51,500 - I finished with $41,500. When I restart after my two-day break, the blinds will be $500-$1000 with a $100 ante, so it will cost me $2500 per round. This gives me about 16 rounds, which is not much room to manoeuvre, and then after two hours the next level is $600-$1200 with a $200 ante which means it will cost me $3800 per round, giving me 11 rounds, so I need to double up early or I will be forced to gamble. In short I need cards and action. I have played OK - my increases have come from some pocket pairs, although only once did I double up. I was down to $20,000 where average was just over $30,000 and the guy to my right raises to $1800, where the blinds are $300-$600 and the ante $75, so I am looking at two red aces - the thrill of it is quite something, as you will know, but when you need it and someone has raised in front of you, you know that if you play your cards right you can double up and pull yourself back to above average. Well the good news, Brucie, was I did play my cards right. I was one off the button, in the cut-off and elected to call, hoping to get heads-up with Rodney from Arlington, DC, which is what happened. The flop is suitably tame 8-4-3 with two clubs and Rodders fires 3K at it, which again I flat-call like I might be on a flush draw. The Turn is another 8 and Trotter goes for $6,000 more, at which point I fire in the rest, another 8K or so and considering himself committed he calls. He has a truly crap hand King-Four of hearts and I dodge the two remaining fours on the River, and sighs of relief all round. It has been quite a fraught day, as I have nearly always been slipping below average. Every move I have made - and I haven't tried many - I've walked into monsters and got back below average to play the waiting game again. I got moved from my first table which was good news as I was perpetually unable to defend my blinds but arrived at a new table where virtually everyone was well above average. There is an emotional barometer which dips as soon as I am below average and soars as soon as I creep above. During the last level a beautiful and slightly tearful blonde from London arrived, short-stacked at our table, and played some great poker to edge a little upwards....Victoria Coren, whose voice I know better than her face. Her speed of analysis is impressive. We will all be reassigned to new tables and she is in much the same position as me, perhaps a little worse off. Anyway that's it for now - I have a hot bath, a big (alas empty) bed and a lie-in ready and waiting. I will definitely play the $300 Wynn tournament the day after tomorrow, and then I'm back in play on Tuesday. Wednesday will be another day-off and then on Thursday I should be in the money around early evening. I need cards, I need luck and I need great timing. I can also no longer afford any mistakes. Can I do it? I still think I can.

12:25 PM | Permalink |  

 

Bumbling Along at The Dinner Break

I am on the first dinner break and enjoying the calm of my hotel room. Everyone started with 20,000 chips - it has always been 10,000 previously, which means there weren't 2500 players on Day 1, but rather 1287 - so fewer players overall than last year and therefore less cash. Currently I have around 23,000 chips with nothing much to report. My table image is tight - I made one costly bluff that got called, but have otherwise played soundly. Once the antes kick in I will have to open up my game a bit, as will everyone else no doubt. Not seeing a lot of cards, although I got some money from my black aces, and my Ace Queen got paid without any pesky jacks spoiling my party. I will give you an update when I get in tonight - around 3 a.m. I hope. P.S. I've now got a beard - never trust a man with a beard.

3:32 AM | Permalink |  

Saturday, July 07, 2007 

100 Minutes and Counting

I feel well rested - I have had my usual breakfast without needing to leave my room - it comes equipped with a fridge, which I have equipped with yogurts, juices, fruit etc. Tinten (they have corrected the spelling of his name) is still on top with a cool $260,000. I notice Julian Gardner is down in 7th and a character called Steve Austin is third - wasn't he the $6 million dollar man - part man part poker machine? A lot of big names have bitten the dust, including Teddy Sheringham, although I notice, mind you, Dennis Waterman is in there with just over $30 grand. They seem to be reckoning that the field is too big for all the survivors of Day One to play on Day Two, so Day Two has been split. Other than that not much to report - I have banged my usual assortment of performance-enhancing pills...and am sipping on a herbal tea calling itself Clarity (thank you to my friend Seb at Pukka Herbs) - it's job description is to focus and uplift, which seems to fit the bill. I am equipped also with my shades and a baseball cap - I'll take any advantage I can get. Thank you Jason for your comments - I am feeling the force. They say this is the luckiest day of the year. I am at table 104 on seat 2 and will report back later, hopefully much later.....

6:39 PM | Permalink |  

 

And On The 7th Day God played Poker

Well we shall see whom the poker Gods favour. Currently they are shining on a fellow Englishman, Julian Gardner, who has come closest of any Englishman to winning it - he was runner-up in.... recently ish - look it up. It's late here but I am not so tired, so a little bit of writing before bed. I am feeling good, prepared and energised. I spent the early afternoon shopping, a new pair of jeans from the Lucky Brand Jeans Company (I got the shirt from there on Wednesday). This time the lady who served me was called Siva Simmons, SS being my initials (I also have the nickname Shiva by one or two people), another good sign, just as Dennis is another nickname and he was the man who converted my $10,000 into two plastic chips and then into two pieces of paper - my ticket to ride or should that be raise. My plan for tomorrow is pretty straightforward - play it tight, be ultra observant and flop a lot of sets (when your pair hits trips - 15 to 2 in the odds book, but I'd like to shave a point or two off that). It would be nice to end the day on a par with Mr Gardner - he currently has 195,000 from an original 10,000, and the leader, Timten Olivier (with his dog Snowy?) has 235,000. Next Monday was a day off, but has been converted into a fourth starting day, so it looks like the field will top last year's 8,800 or so. Today around 2,500 players started. Last year's winner, a Mr. Gold, received $12,000,000. Thirteen has always been lucky for me, so I would like to see a figure of $13,000,000 - I did in fact write myself out an imaginary cheque for this amount a little under a year ago.

I looked in on the Rio around nine this evening after completing a 7-mile jog in the mountains, which has left me feeling on top of the world. I was running through the oldest trees in the world - I have forgotten their name and their age, bristlecone pines I think, at a height of 11,000 feet. The sun was setting the other side of the mountain and the temperature was utterly perfect and all this just 45 minutes from the Circus. I made a couple of new friends, Bob and Jerry. Bob took my picture and was sure I'd win, while Jerry let me off the $7 I should have paid for parking in the campsite and provided me with a very welcome Coke. So arriving at the Rio, I headed over to the televised table, where I couldn't recognise anyone, until my neighbour piped up in a thick Yorkshire accent that the guy with virtually no chips was The Devilfish, Dave Ulliot (from Hull and rather good at the game). Anyway my new buddie, Alan, lives in Doncaster, my home-town, and had qualified through a local satellite at the cost of a mere £160. So lots of good omens although I am sure I said this last year. Some would call it folly putting up 10K of my own cash with three kids to provide for and a five-figure debt and no discernible assets bar this computer and a car half paid for on the never-never - the triumph of hope over experience, but I know I am in the right place, loving America, digging the people I meet, chuffed not to be meeting too many - particularly glad not to have to walk through a casino full of slots to get to my hotel room. The madness of slots - what is that all about? There is only one good slot and if you put your loose change in it, you'd most likely get a slap in the face...

There is a little bit more good news in that I now have the buy-in for another $300 tournament at the Wynn, which is almost opposite the double Circus (the single Circus, the WSOP is five minutes along the freeway) and the Fashion-Show Mall, my favourite shopping centre on the planet (I would guess I've spent nearly the whole 10K in there over the last three year). So how did this $300 appear? Well I didn't win it off the cleaners, and I am 100% sure it wasn't there as I was forced to change almost my last £160 for today's $500 buy-in, so in truth I don't know. A little bit of magic maybe. Anyhow I'll be playing there on the 8th as it is a great tournament - over 11 hours in length with a great structure, so it is good practice for the main event.

You might not get much from me tomorrow morning. I won't be setting any alarms - it is currently 2.34 a.m and I am sleeping around five hours a night. I might even head up the mountain where they do a great breakfast, but we shall see. I hope to do you proud, and I will report back when I do....until soon and many thanks for the texts and comments - keep them coming. Sorry I can't reply to you all - but Alan well done for your money finish and no I don't know the bridge player in question, and Rich, stay off the avaition fuel - stick to sniffing glue.

10:02 AM | Permalink |  

Friday, July 06, 2007 

Third Time Lucky? Into The Vortex

I am back in my hotel room, having played in the noon tournament at the Wynn. Today they had upped the buy-in to $500 with $40 juice - as opposed to two days ago when it was $300. On Wednesday with 90 runners I played well but got knocked out 20th where the top nine got paid. I reraised all-in with Ace-Queen of spades and got Kimble, a dangerous oriental, to fold but Spruce Lee, the mild-mannered janitor, decided his Ace-Jack of clubs was good enough and I guess he was right, as up popped a Jack to send me heading to Arizona. The upside was I made it to Sedona at half-two in the morning with the comfort of knowing that I'd done the right thing. Arriving, for the third time, at the base of my favourite place in America, Cathedral Rock, I discovered my head-torch had turned itself on, leaving me out of batteries. Luckily the moon, half of her at any rate, was risen and half an hour later so was I. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Sedona has the greatest electromagnetic field on the planet. There are many such places and some are benign, like Sedona, others, like the Bermuda Triangle, not so benign. Sedona has four vortices, which emit energy that spiral up from the earth. They are quite subtle - all I felt was a great sense of calm and a great reduction in thought. So I slept the night up there for the second time - previously on 11.11.99 and spent the day touring the other three vortices. The romantically named Airport Vortex nearly killed me, as like a mad-dog Englishman I set out, shortly after noon in 100 degree heat (20 cooler than Vegas though) with no shirt, no water, and yes apparently no brain, after quite a big brunch. I did have a hat however - a sailor's cap no less, but alas not a drop to drink with desert desert everywhere. So I guess you could say I got my just desserts. Luckily the walk proved to be only three miles with no shade - I thought it was just a loop trail around the hill, as opposed to round three hills and an airport. After one mile and one hill I elected to remove my shorts, leaving me in just my Calvin Kleins, but enabling me to use the shorts to protect my shoulders which were piping. Luckily no-one else was mad enough to leave their air-con havens and I made it back unspotted by the pervert police, to my ridiculous red rental car. I headed straight for the creek where I wallowed for a while and cleansed my new purchases from The Crystal Castle. Suitably refreshed I checked out the next two vortices, had a wrong meal in an over-air-conned restaurant with an overly enthusiastic waitress with over-sized.... portions and promptly returned to my car for the burn back to Vegas where I proceeded to fall asleep at the wheel. Luckily I had pulled over at the time.

A quick visit from the black doctor (Mr. Bull is not a doctor although he is currently and luckily in Africa - more of him anon). I refer of course to our mutual friend Captain Coca-Cola, who did just the trick and I went on my way feeling the benefits of Coke and Vortices, to return to the bright lights at three a.m.

So back to now. Why am I in my hotel room, writing to you, instead of playing eleven hours of poker at The Wynn to take down the 10K first prize. Well it's down to those Quacks again. I refer to Queens and Jacks. rather than black doctors. My Ace-Queen was looking in great shape against the pocket Jacks as the Queen appeared only to be dashed by the Jack of Hearts on the river. Disappointed? No not really. Pretty much the only person who can disappoint me is myself, but that was last year. This year we are new and improved Bold, whiter than white, (actually red in fact). I made my move on both occasions in situations with positive equity, given the pot-odds and fate kicked me in the nuts. So here I am ready for my third time lucky. It is my third attempt at the Big One. Two years ago I arrived with the cash but couldn't register in time (just as well as Jet-lag Jimmy was not going to be a contender). Last year I qualified through an internet site that shall remain nameless and played poorly and this year.... well I've played two tournaments and am ready for the third, now only 22 hours and 22 minutes away. I am left with very few dollars in my wallet - not enough for a poker game, unless I take on the cleaners here at Circus Circus. I also have one credit card that is heating up by the minute, two that are maxed out, and an ATM card which thanks to those Barclays people is completely non-functioning. My only account which actually has a four-figure number in the plus column and they won't let me use it. Seven billion in profit last year they were and my contribution ends as soon as I get home when I will remove every last penny from your greedy coffers and I urge you all to do the same.

The upside is I am back on The Blog and my intention is to head to the hills to let off some steam at the cooler climes of 8,000 feet. Exercise is pretty vital to the stamina, so a bit off jungle jogging might help. I am in quite good shape, off the fags (for any American readers - is anyone out there? - we are not talking rent-boys). I am also staying off the booze (again since Monday - you try having dinner with Tom Hanlon and staying sober). My diet is distinctly un-American and thus quite healthy. So all that is needed is a bit of exercise and perhaps a bit more retail therapy. I will be back with you tonight.

10:26 PM | Permalink |  

Wednesday, July 04, 2007 

FAIT ACCOMPLI - My Accomplice Fate

So the deed is done. Today I put together my $10,000, converted it into two $5,000 chips and exchanged them for three pieces of paper. One is my most generous $10 food voucher, enabling me to eat some reasonably unpleasant food courtesy of Harrah's, who own the Rio casino, where the World Series is taking place. The other two are identical and tell me that I will be seated at table 104, seat number two. Table 104 is a good number in that it is twice 52 (52 being 13 x 4 which is my birthday, April 13th) There have been other significant numbers too - the final table takes place on the 17th: I left Gatwick through gate 17 and arrived to find myself in Room 1713 in Circus Circus. Anyway there have been a few good omens, but I seem to remember the same was true of last year......

Up until a month ago, I had resigned myself to the fact that I would not be coming to play in the Main Event of the WSOP. I had made a couple of attempts online to qualify, but had not even come close. In fact my Texas Hold'em was distinctly ropey, and the whole idea of gambling $10,000 was verging on the absurd, but then came an incredible month on the Omaha, and suddenly there was $11,000 sitting in my account. So I booked the flight, withdrew $8,000 for my buy-in, leaving me a little over $3,000 to play with. Then I made the rather strange decision to fly to India (one rather unlucky night in Delhi saw my remaining $3,000 slip to $2,000) and then I took the family to Ibiza, thus reducing the funds somewhat further. Then I blew all bar $200 of the remaining bank-roll and suddenly I was dipping into the savings. But now there was no turning back with the flight paid for at a cost of over $1,000. Losing most of my bank-roll playing Omaha gave me a somewhat strange satisfaction, as it put paid to my Omaha for now and forced me to concentrate on improving my Holdem. So off I went and with just under $300 in my online account I made swift work of it on my first night, ensconced in Circus Circus (or as the Japanese call it Suckus Suckus - I did in fact overhear this and jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion). So today, left with $3.85 in my account, I determined to claw it back and so I did, doubling it up to just over $8 (I did try to deposit more but my sanctimonious bank has decided to disallow any further deposits).... and half an hour later the $8 was gone forever and here endeth my online poker at least for now, which frankly is a great result. It will not tempt me away from writing to you whoever you are and it has forced me to play live. So after ensuring my entry for 07/07/07, I decided to go to The Palms to undo a wrong done last year (I lost my $200 buy-in in a cash-game last year in next-to-no-time due to some weak play). So the only available seat was in the $2-$5 game, minimum buy-in $200, maximum a grand. So I emptied most of the remainder of my wallet (retail therapy has been ruthless and relentless) and sat down with $220. I won't bore you with the details, but my high-point was just over $1,100 dollars and my low-point just over $100, but crucially the key-figure, my exit-point when I left the table.... was a healthy $862. Not a huge amount, but I played well (I even managed to throw away a pair of queens before the flop) and confidence is restored.

Tomorrow is Independence day (today in fact as it is half-two in the morning and I'm beginning to flag) and I have a strong desire to break free and my take my hire-car into Arizona to the delights and vortices of Sedona. I am looking at the possibility of livening the whole thing up with some photos on the blog (we could include the back of the bus advertising Menopause: The Musical) so how about it Dees - tell me what needs to happen. Dees is the man responsible for my website and virtually the only person I know who is definitely reading this as he has got the RSS feed. Click the RSS button and you too can be notified of the next thrilling installment in the Mystery of the Ten Grand......

9:38 AM | Permalink |  

Sunday, July 01, 2007 

07-07-07: The Big One

Sitting at Gatwick, having escaped the queues and excess baggage charges - poker books are heavy, often dull and distinctly necessary, right now. I have an hour before lift-off and have just sent a mass text (137 in all) informing all and sundry of my intentions. The first half of the year has gone. It is July 1st - the smoking ban has started - I have not had one now for 10 hours and feeling good: I have $10,000 hidden under a teddy bear in my hand luggage and I am off to the greatest circus in town: The World Series of Poker in Las Vegas of course. In fact I am following in the footsteps of Hunter and the Doctor and will be spending my first 3 days at Circus Circus (yes I know they haven't changed the floortiles since Hunter 'S' was pulling visuals off the sickly seventies swirls way back when). Anyhow I intend to hole up and write the long-promised review of last year's exploits and then play a lot of poker. I will head over to the Rio tonight to pay my $10,000 and book myself in for the middle day, 07/07/07 as this is the day i must start the quest for the third time.

11:00 AM | Permalink |