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WSOP Main Event Day One

Date: Wed, Jul 7, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

"But most of the places that you go, the girl ain't gonna fuck you. You call the number on this card and tell them Tony sent you, you'll have a good time, if you know what I mean..."

It's 10am on Tuesday July 6 2010 and I'm in the back of a cab driving through Las Vegas.

I have $10,000 in my pocket.

Clearly there has been some kind of misunderstanding.

When I mentioned to the taxi driver that I was playing in the Main Event and then afterwards I planned to relax, he obviously took that to mean I'd like to hire a lady for night. Being the kindhearted fella that he is, he chose to advise me which escort agency to use so I didn't get 'dickrolled'. Yes he used the word dickrolled.

I take Tony's card and that of the agency, pay for the cab and walk through the 40 degree early morning heat towards the back entrance of the Rio Casino. There is even a red carpet with cold air blowers to sooth my passage to the casino entrance. I bin the business cards and make my way to the cashier where I will buy into the World Series of Poker Main event with two $500 casino chips and $9,000, mainly in $20 bills. Although I'd won most of this money a couple of weeks previously, I thought I would find it quite difficult to hand it over at the desk, but it is surprisingly easy even though it's the most money I've ever had in my hands and the most expensive thing I've ever paid for.

It takes about ten minutes for them to count all the money and process my entry. In return I get my seat card and a $10 meal voucher. Nice! I'm seated in seat three in one of the tables on the edge of the Pavilion Room. The Pavilion is the overspill area from the main Rio room. It's a vast hangar with about 200 poker tables in it and Arctic air conditioning. I'm in seat three which I always like as it gives a good view of the rest of the table. I have about 90 minutes to spare so I go and freshen up and grab some food.

How I got here?

I'd made the decision not to come and play at the World Series this year, but a last minute win in a satellite tournament changed all that. American gambling regulations mean that Full Tilt, the poker site I won the seat on can't buy me directly into the tournament and as I was too late to wire the money to the casino, that left only one option - buy in with cash!

I arrived in the US with a little under $10k, I planned to hopefully win the rest whilst I was there, otherwise just withdraw it from an ATM and buy in a few days before. What I didn't compensate for is how bad I would do!

I entered the $1,000 preliminary event the day after I landed. I was a little jet lagged but didn't think it would be a problem. I'd heard about the legendary softness of these tournaments, but sadly didn't stick around long enough to find out and was knocked out within three hours. I flopped top pair twice and was out kicked and then got my aces cracked to bust me when I was by then too short to make a fold and get away from it. The structure is very fast early on but is supposed to slow down more later on. Of course I didn't get that far.

After a bad start I decide to play some of the one table satellite tournaments that I've heard so much about. These are 10 player mini tournaments that last around 90 minutes and usually end with a two or three way chop. They run around the clock and always have a queue of grizzled gamblers ready to play. Maybe I ran bad, maybe I played bad, but I got my ass completely kicked in these and only managed to chop one in about 14 over the course of a couple of days.

I also played some cash games and although I had one nice winning day at the Bellagio, I finished slightly down in this too.

All of this meant that I didn't actually have enough physical cash to buy into the tournament I came here to play. I did my sums and worked out that if I maxed out my bank cards for the next two days I would have just enough to play. That left me a day to enjoy/endure Las Vegas before I checked into my comped hotel suite at the Rio courtesy of Full Tilt.

It's my third visit to the city and I think it's safe to now say that Las Vegas and I don't get along. I find both the desert heat and the overpowering and omnipresence of gambling to be oppressive. I hate the lack of culture and the general complete fakeness of the place.

But I was here and I had a poker tournament to play...

Day One

I took my seat along with 1,488 other hopefuls on Day 1b of the 2010 World Series of Poker Main Event. In total the field would amount to 7,319 people and it required four day ones and two second days before the field would finally all come together on day three.

My table was on the rail at the edge of the Pavilion Room. I didn't think about it at the time, but this meant that we wouldn't last long before our table got split up and we all moved to new seats. I scanned my opponents as Phil Gordon droned on about something and the rules were gone through. Eventually we hear those magical words 'Shuffle Up And Deal' and we are away.

2007 player of the year Tom Schneider is on my table, clad in a gharish blazer. He's chatting to someone he knows from the Commerce in LA, but the rest of the table seems pretty soft. There is an Italian guy who doesn't speak English and has no idea how to handle his chips or bet. Also we have an old man chewing an unlit cigar and wearing a Fox News cap (wtf?!?) - I really want to take some of his chips. I ask everyone their nationalities so I can get my regional stereotypes set and we also have a Frenchman and a slightly clueless old Venezuelan guy. Strangely, this is the second clueless old Venezuelan guy I've played against this year and the third Venezuelan in total.

At the other end of the table is a man from Alabama, missing a couple of teeth and wearing a vest, he is glaring at me a little. If you were alone in a dive bar at 1am in a town that you didn't know so well, then this might be something of a worry. Here at the poker table, the gap toothed man in a vest glaring at you is a beautiful sight. I love the Main Event already.

My first hand of note comes after about 25 minutes.

Blinds are 50/100 and everyone has around their starting stack of 30,000. Fox News limps from the hijack position in seat one. The guy on the button who I don't really have an opinion on yet raises to 400. I have 28,500 after splashing around a little. On the button I look down at pocket jacks. I decide to raise to 1275. This is clearly a mistake. So early in the tournament, 300 big blinds deep and facing an unknown opponent, it's much better to keep the pot controlable and just play post flop in position. Fox News folds and the cut off four bets to 3,100 and I throw it away disgustedly. Am I deep enough to call just to try and hit my set? Not really, as I don't know whether he is the kind of guy who is going to put a lot of chips in with an overpair even if I do hit my dream jack. I'm really annoyed with myself as play continues. I've decided that I hate getting big pairs in the first level of big deepstacked tournaments. I recall getting pocket queens the very first hand of EPT Berlin and I was terrified. With no information on the table, I was delighted to just steal the blinds.

As we are near the rail and have someone of note on our table, we have TV cameras filming us a fair bit. As I suspected though, this is only until something better comes along. When Robert Williamson III enters the room with a bevy of scantily clad girls advertising beer, I hear the call from the producer to the camera man crackle through the radio - "Quick - over to the door to get Williamson's entry!" If ever a man has managed to maintain a career as a 'TV Poker celeb' with so little recent success, then it is Robert Williamson III. If being quick witted and having interesting glasses is a recipe for longevity, then there's hope for Timmy Mallet* yet.

The first level is a disaster and I don't win a single pot. After 90 minutes our table is broken and I am assigned a new seat in the Amazon Room. To get there we follow one of the tournament staff through the bowels of the building where the waiters and staff prepare drinks and food. When I hit the Amazon Room I feel like I'm really in the WSOP Main Event. The elevated feature table is in front being filmed for ESPN and poker media are around everywhere. There's a buzz.

At my new table is a face I recognise immediately, EPT Berlin winner Kevin MacPhee. Other than that I can't identify anyone, so this is good. I don't actually win my first pot of the tournament until well into the second level, about two and a half hours in. When it happens something seems to turn around and I manage to chip up nicely throughout the rest of the day. Mainly I do this through flopping top pair, betting the flop, checking the turn and catching a bluff on the river. People are bluffing way too much but it's such a slow tournament that my opinion is that it's possibly correct to almost never bluff. I try to play solid hands and just fold if I don't connect with the board or there is a lot of action.

Joe Sebok is on the next table and has cameras trained on him all day, yet MacPhee who to me is clearly a far better player, is unlogoed largely ignored.

My poker forum friend Chris kindly checks in with me at the last break, after buying in for the following day. We chat some and he tells me he thinks Brandon Cantu has just moved to my table - Cantu has the reputation for being one of the most insanely aggressive players in the world and I play the last hour thinking it is him. However when at the close of play I find out it isn't. The lookalike is still a very good player though.

As the day goes on the table gets tougher and some of the bad players bust out and are replaced by young guys. There's an aggressive freshfaced young Swede, 'not Brandon Cantu' and a couple of other tricky players. Kevin MacPhee has a tough day but hangs in there and finishes on about 16k. He seems like a nice guy, has a good line in disparaging comments about people who act up for the TV camera and gives me a great sushi recommendation. He's from Idaho, but sadly I don't get into a conversation with him about the time I stayed there in a giant 30 foot dog. This is something I now regret.

By the end of the day I'm the second oldest on the table and it is decidedly tricky, so I'm glad when we finally get to bag up our chips and I'm sitting on 60,900. I've doubled my starting stack and I sit 232nd of the 1018 survivors. I would most likely have taken that before start of play and certainly would have after the torturous first level. Greg Raymer, Joe Sebok and several other 'big names' don't make it.

I get my table draw for day two and hope it contains more toothless men in vests from Alabama than freshfaced young Swedes.

* (For Americans) Timmy Mallet - 1990s UK children's TV presenter famous for outlandish glasses and a foam mallet. Had a number one chart hit with the song Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini. Current status unknown.

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Immigration

Date: Fri, Jul 2, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

Scene: Sitting at a bar in the Gold Coast Casino, Las Vegas - 8am. The World Cup Quarter Final between Brazil and the Netherlands is on the tv in front of us. A guy sits either side of me gambling in the fruit machines which are built into the surface of the bar. Their attention is suddenly grabbed when Holland grab an equaliser to make the score 1-1

Guy on my left: Wow! That was a good score. Who are Brazil playing against.
Guy on my right: New Zealand...
Guy on my left: The names of those players don't sound very Australian
Guy on my right: They have a lot of migration there.
Guy on my left: *nods and exhales to express understanding*

Both go back to their fruit machines.

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This ain't Vegas

Date: Fri, Jun 4, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

"I've always thought there was something really dirty about that girl" says the semi-well known British pro in seat ten to nobody in particular, as an attractive female casino employee walks past.

The World Series of Poker is getting under way in Las Vegas. The best players in the world along with thousands of wannabees to play for astronomical sums of money and a chance for a shot at fame and glory.

But I'm not there. I'm in Walsall, deep in the heart of the Black Country, playing a £100 freezeout. And to be fair, there's a pretty big turnout for a Bank Holiday Monday - 165 runners makes it a tournament worth winning for sure.

I'm here with my friend Joe, somewhat of a veteran of these casino crapshoot tournaments, having spent his time in the trenches in Coventry, Birmingham and *gulp* Dudley.

Sadly for Joe, he busts within the first half hour and after doing half my stack to the aforementioned known pro when I flop two pair with 4-5 suited and reluctantly pay off his flush on the river, I fear that I will shortly be going the same way. It's worth noting that the woman next to me makes me show my hand here instead of letting me quietly muck it and weep into my shortstack. "For information" she tells me. I inform her that she wasn't even in the hand at the river but rules state that I still need to show the whole table my hand.

Like all Grosvenor tournaments, it's not very well run and has certain unfathomable rules. Also of course there is a lots of breaks to let people ~~sample the roulette and blackjack tables~~ stretch their legs.

Thankfully I manage to build up my stack again, winning a big pot with 4-5 suited again, establishing something of a strange image to my tablemates. In one of the breaks I get chatting to a young guy at my table. He satellited into the tournament for £5, so this is quite a big deal to him. I make further small talk and wish him good luck as we go back to the table, making a mental note to apply maximum pressure whenever I am in a hand with him as he seems scared of busting out.

After the break we have a new dealer. She's female and Eastern European and despite the fact that she's miles better than the previous male dealer, the sexist comments from the known pro and his mate across the table begin. It's nauseating and I really wish I'd have said something about it.

They also talk about various other British sponsored pros and how most of 'em are busto.

Poker is a funny thing in that nobody really knows how other players are doing, if they are up or down, if they are broke, or doing well. No records are kept of cash games and certainly no records are kept of losses on sportsbetting or in the casino pit. There's a lot of jealousy and resentment that some guy can get the holy grail of being sponsored when they are a bad player and just got lucky in one tournament. Friends are slagged off behind their back and really, everyone is on their own and wants to win everyone elses money.

Making friends

Soon afterwards a run of play begins which leads to three people at my table hating my guts.

First I slowplay three aces and get an aggressive young internet kid to bluff off most of his stack with ten high. He accuses me of slowrolling him and is disgusted when I make him table his failed bluff. I didn't slowroll but I did make him show the bluff. "For information" I tell him with a wink to the lady next to me.

Next I call the floor on the moustached guy to my right. He's doing what has become one of my pet hates in poker, folding out of turn. When the guy who looks like Harold Bishop from Neighbours announces raise, he folds straight away before Harold has stated his raise amount, giving him extra information as he now knows he has one less player to go through to steal the blinds. I ask him not to do this, but when he does it the third time, I call the floorman who looks about 12 years old. My conversation with the floor is long and protracted as the floor doesn't seem believe that Mr Moustache is doing anything wrong. After slowly explaining the situation as one might do to someone who is hard of hearing, floorkid finally understands what I'm saying and issues the most cursory of warnings to my facial haired friend, who of course is now furious with me.

Of course, this being a crapshoot tournament, the blinds grow at a fast rate and I find myself with 17 big blinds. It folds around the the satellite winning kid on the button who opens for three times the big blind. Mr Moustache folds and before I look at my hand I tell myself I'm going to go all in really light here. The kid has about 20 big blinds in his stack, so if he loses this hand he will be crippled. Added to the fact that he satellited in to the tournament and seems quite shy and tight means that when I look down at A-4 offsuit, this is an insta-shove.

The kid goes into the tank for several minutes, his face is a picture of pain and concentration. He wants to fold so bad but he can't bring himself to do it and after about four minutes he sighs and makes the call, turning over pocket jacks. I'm let to believe that this is called a 'nit roll'.

The kid is not happy when he sees my hand and then beams proudly at his great call, adding a few comments about how bad I play. "Careful" I tell him, knowing that he is only a 70/30 favourite.

When the ace hits on the river and he is forced to count out the chips to pass over to me, he looks as if he is going to burst into tears. He is CRUSHED. But after he gave me the needle about my 'donkey play', I don't feel bad at all.

The critique of my play continues as he nurses his shortstack for the next twenty minutes before he busts, convincing me even more that my decision to shove on him was totally correct and that he *wanted* to fold, sadly his hand was a notch or two too good to do so.

As the blinds grow, I ramp up the aggression, much to the annoyance of some of my table mates. My stack goes up and down as I am pot committed to call all ins with a couple of what might be called 'speculative hands'.

Finally as we are approaching the bubble I get involved in a huge hand with Harold Bishop and another guy and the three of us get it all in pre-flop. I have AQ, Harold has jacks (which he tanked for about five minutes before calling) and the other guy has KQ. If I win this hand I will probably be top five in chips in the tournament approaching the bubble and will have the chance to dominate my table, but sadly I don't hit my hand and I'm out.

At least I get knocked out in time to catch the last bus home.

As stroll through Walsall and make my way down 'the strip', I again marvel at the fact that the old people's care centre is located next to the co-op funeral home. It's practical, but can't exactly be inspiring for the residents!

Waiting at the bus stop, I eavesdrop on a young kid having a conversation on his mobile.

"I'm crazy for cottage cheese. The one with pineapple, innit. Got two tubs for £1, and it's healthy too innit.

As I wait for the last bus of the night I ask myself - Would I rather be sipping cocktails in the Bellagio right now?

Well yeah, I would actually...

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Out of the frying pan

Date: Fri, May 28, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

"I call" says my opponent, flecks of processed meat spraying out of his mouth and on to the felt. As I discard my failed bluff, he tables his top pair before taking another bite of burnt, fat drenched sausage and stacking his newly won chips.

I remind myself of the old poker maxim that if a guy is in a pot and he's eating, he's usually got a good hand, as otherwise he wants to concentrate on his food. However, this is a difficult rule to follow as there are no less than four people at the table eating big, greasy fried breakfasts. I should probably mention that its 1am on a Thursday morning.

I am at the Circus Casino at Star City in North Birmingham. For those not from the area, Star City is an architectually uninspiring 'entertainment' complex, located in one of the roughest areas of the city. It containins a cinema, a range of below average chain restaurants and a casino. In its defence, I should also mention that it does have a crazy golf course.

I have no idea what compelled me to come to the casino this afternoon (nine long hours ago) - it certainly wasn't for the £1 all day fried breakfasts that many of the casino patrons are eagerly stuffing into their mouths. As a marketing strategy it is an interesting one. Perhaps there is a link between meat and the propensity to play roulette that I'm not yet aware of.

For some reason I decided to come and play the weekly Wednesday afternoon £10 rebuy crapshoot tournament, even though I knew how it would go.

I would play like a maniac for the 90 minute rebuy period, much to the consternation of the middle aged men at the table. Then when the freezeout period of the tournament started, the structure of the tournament would go to shit and I would wait patiently for an ace in my hand, before shoving all in and getting bad beated.

Sigh.

Little did I know that on a Wednesday evening in North Birmingham, there would be two super juicy £1/£2 no limit cash games running, one of which I was able to quickly jump into.

I'm in the number one seat next to the dealer, who is absolutely terrible. He makes all kinds of mistakes, takes about five minutes to work out a sidepot and keeps trying to rake too much. After correcting him each time for about an hour, I give up and only say something when it directly effects me. Nobody else seems to care, apart from the over raking - they are all over that of course. The next dealer is almost as bad and its clear that they probably aren't really used to this much action.

The table is predictably full of absolute droolers and after not picking up a hand for seemlingly hours, I manage to make a guy fold a flush on the river by betting out strongly with my worse flush. The guy makes a shocking laydown as he quickly folds the third nuts face up and his face is a picture when I show him my worse flush and scoop the pot. It's this terrible grasp of hand values combined with the super loose and passive pre flop play that makes the game so good. Sadly as I can't get any semblance of a hand, it's hard to take advantage.

Despite appearences to the contrary, there is one old guy who seems to know what he's doing. In fact, he knows perhaps too well and I swear I see him shorting the pot on two occasions when he calls a bet, by splashing his chips into the middle rather than putting them in front of him - so people can't see he hasn't put enough chips in. I'm not in the hand so I say nothing, as it is not good for the game to be a rules nit and bring the mood down, and the dealers are oblivious. But I'm watching him like a hawk and if he tries any of that shit with me I'm going to be right in his fucking face about it.

The possible cheat has direct position on an old Scottish guy (osg) who is rocking the comical combination of being almost completely deaf and not knowing the rules of poker, so when someone tries to tell him what to do, it is inevitably met with the phrase "I cannae hear ye son" and a confused expression.

A woman next to me sits down with £50 and calls £2 to see almost any flop but folds every single time after that - it's almost embarassing. After an hour she's down to her last few quid without any chance of winning, but she has managed to eat a £1 fried breakfast and perhaps that's the point.

Several times all ten players see the flop and it's the most passive game I've ever played in, but it's P-A-I-N-F-U-L and I get bored, start playing too many hands and spew off my profits.

Yes, I'm a donkey.

At 2am I can't take the misery any more and I leave with £10 profit for the night, which is exactly the price of a taxi home.

The taxi driver is a talker and clearly a fan of the shortcut back route - two qualities that do not enamour me at that moment.

There's a private road in Great Barr that is badly potholed and in terrible condition. For some reason, taxi drivers LOVE driving down this road and when I feel like I'm about to be physically sick, I'm not sure if it's a combination of the potholes and the casino omlette I ate earlier or the realisation that I've just wasted an entire day of my life for no reward, sitting with a group of idiots and surrounded by the stench of gambling and meat.

There are better ways to spend a day. Particularly with a crazy golf course just next door.

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Two World Wars and One World Cup

Date: Fri, Apr 2, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

“Go back home Englander”

I am sitting in a 2/2 no limit hold’em game in a Berlin casino and am not getting a warm welcome from a few of my hosts. The guy on my left is the businessman type, he’s drinking one of those overly large German glasses of beer and generally being an idiot. Being a dick is clearly something that transcends international boundaries.

So he’s insulting me in German, mocking me for being unable to speak the language and deliberately using oversized chips to bet -saying the number in German. A couple of players laugh along with him – I notice they have both had to rebuy in the hour I’ve been at the table. Clearly my businessman friend wants to be ‘the man’.

He tries to taunt me by repeatedly asking me what the score was in the Bayern Munich v Manchester United match that took place earlier in the week.

Eventually respond by telling him the game is delicately poised for the second leg, as United have the away goal and although the Bavarians are now favourites as Rooney is injured, if Bayern’s Dutch injury prone superstar Arjen Robben doesn’t return for the match at Old Trafford and with their suspect central defenders, I see the tie going either way and is probably 50/50.

And besides, I support Birmingham.

I’ve done nothing to annoy him so far apart from being a solid and aggressive poker player, but when he acts out of turn and raises when I am still deliberating my action with pocket tens, I decide to provide him with some ammunition.

Much to the consternation of several people at table, in English I seek a rules clarification from the dealer. She confirms to me that if I just call, then the raise from the businessman plays and he can’t take it back. So that’s just what I do and when the action returns to me, with a Turkish guy is caught in the sandwich, I stick in a nice healthy re- raise. This causes three people to simultaneously start gesticulating and shouting at me in German. When things calm down, the businessman folds and the Turk calls. He’s been standing up to my aggression with mixed results so far, but he is clearly after me. The hand plays out and after checking through the flop, I end up calling a bet from him on the turn and river. After my river call he disgustedly throws his cards into the muck and I don’t even have to show my cards to claim the 200+ euro pot.

Now it’s on and I have two players at the table steaming. When the businessman loses the rest of his stack against a confused old man who keeps string betting, he proceeds to fake spit at the female dealer before throwing his cards at her. The fact that he is tilting is beautiful to me but I feel sorry for the dealer, so I tell him he is being an idiot, has no class and the dealer has actually been helping him by enforcing the string bets. He now refuses to interact with me and simply keeps repeating “GO HOME” and GO AWAY” in a very loud voice.

I blow what remains of my image by running an audacious bluff with 7 high against the confused old man and proudly showing it when he folds. From then on I lock it up and play super tight for the next 45 minutes until I leave at midnight.

I leave just over 250 euros in profit which is nice win considering the high rake in the game, and which coincidently, is the exact amount of my three week sublet here in Berlin.

Maybe next time I visit the casino I can do my bit to repair Anglo-German poker relations.

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Gung Hay Fat Choy

Date: Fri, Apr 2, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

It’s the evening of Chinese New Year and I’m taking my chances in a shorthanded 30/60 game at the Oaks Club. The only reason I’m in this game is the middle aged Chinese megafish to my right and the fact there is no 15/30 game running tonight. The rest of the table seems pretty solid, though not without leaks.

To celebrate Chinese New Year the card room is running an all you can eat Chinese buffet and the line snakes around the lobby. It’s unclear to me how one goes about getting a ticket for the buffet, but they are hot property and are being traded around the poker floor like cigarettes in a prison.

A man painted orange and with loads of orange balloons attached to him ambles around the room, not sure of what he is expected to do. I assume he is supposed to be a tiger, as this is the year of the tiger, but to me he looks like a man painted orange who is waiting for his shift to finish. A little later he accidently pops one of his balloons, causing the old man on the next table to me to almost have a heart attack.

As I take an open seat at the 30/60 table I realise that getting my chips tonight could be a slow process even though it isn’t a busy night.

The job of the chip runner is to take the money from the player at the table and exchange it for chips as quickly as possible. Different games require different denominations and combinations of chips and it is important for them to do the job fast so the action is not held up at the tables whilst players are waiting.

Tonight the chip runner is a lady wearing dark classes and it immediately becomes clear to me that she has some degree of colour blindness. I’m not one to discriminate but I would suggest that a job involving different colours of chips is not the ideal one for someone who is colour blind. She does her job correctly, though slowly and to my surprise the players generally give her a break and don’t moan about waiting for their chips.

Back at the table I go on an insane run and am up almost $3,000 within 90 minutes. Inevitably things turn around and I proceed to lose most of this over the next several hours. I feel like I played ok but for sure made some mistakes and had better ways I could have played certain hands. Such is the nature of poker.

At the table the discussion turns to poker and relationships. A hipster looking guy who is a good player says he keeps meticulous records of all his profits and losses so he can show his wife. Another guy says he doesn’t tell his wife about his wins or his losses at all.

As the conversation continues, the first guy confesses to having some troubles in his marriage of late that have coincided with his recent good run at the poker table. “But I thought your marriage was going well?” enquires someone across the table, “so did I!” he replies. It should also be worth pointing out that tonight is February 14th as this year Chinese New Year coincides with Valentine’s Day.

Meanwhile there is controversy brewing over at the buffet, where it emerges that one guy has been stacking his plate with food and taking it out to his waiting wife in the car park. It’s unclear how many plates he’s taken, but he clearly been able to outwit the Oaks’ security staff and smuggle out a significant quantity of spring rolls in the process.

So that concludes my time at The Oaks. My only regret is that I didn’t cash out when I was $3,000 up. Maybe then there would also have been some food left when I finally got to the buffet.

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Swiss roll, kings cracked: Day two of EPT Berlin

Date: Fri, Mar 26, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

I start day two with a healthy stack of 91,700. I’m in third position at the table in chips and with a table of complete unknowns, save for German pro Florian Langmann who has a big stack.

Elsewhere at the table we have big glasses wearing Rasmus Vogt (who actually turns out to be a very good player), Slobodan Bjelbork (who sounds like a character from Star Trek) and the other big stack Simon Boss (who looks like classical conductor Simon Rattle with a shock of unkempt grey hair and plays like this is his first ever poker tournament)

Day two is a struggle for me. I never manage to increase my stack and it hovers between 60,000 and 90,000 for most of the day. If day one was one of the best days of poker of my life, then day two was one of the hardest.

Seated on table 31 out of 50, I knew my table wouldn’t break for several hours as they split the tables in reverse order, so I dig in and try and get some reads as I know I will be playing with these people for a while.

However, the table dynamic soon blows wide open when the two big stacks get involved in a huge pot towards the end of the first level of the day. It goes something like this.

Simon Boss ~150k
Florian Langmann ~125k

Blinds 600/1,200, ante 100

Crazy Swiss man Simon Boss opens from the hijack to 3,500. He has been fairly active with his big stack and managed to win a few decent pots. However, it’s clear that he is a very inexperienced player. His hands shake every time he stacks his chips or makes a bet and he is reluctant to give out change to other players despite having way more physical chips than anyone else at the table.

It folds around the Florian Langmann on the button who re-raises to 12,000. The blinds fold and it’s back to the Boss who thinks about it and puts in an extra 7,500 to call.

Flop
K T 4 with two diamonds.

With just over 25k now in the pot, Simon Boss quickly donks out a bet of 15,000. Pausing, Langmann cuts out 40k and announces raise. Action is now back on the wild haired Swiss and just like that he announces “all in”, which is quickly met by “call” from the German pro.

The hands are turned over and Langmann has pocket tens for the flopped set and the second nuts.

To the utter disbelief of the table, Boss turns over 23 of diamonds for the nut low with the flush draw.

I knew it was coming, I just knew it was coming. After the turn bricks out, the river brings that inevitable diamond and Langmann is stunned. It takes a minute or so to count out the stacks but it is soon clear that he is eliminated goes from being amongst the chipleaders in his home tournament to being on the rail. Truly a sick hand, probably the biggest of the tournament to this point and puts the unpredictable Swiss man amongst the top chipstacks in the whole tournament.

“I’ve always thought you were great against erratic big stacks” texts my friend Paul after I send an SOS message to him saying I’m finding things tricky.

It’s hard going. I’m not getting many big hands and the hands I do get miss more often than they hit. Our Alpine amateur with the big stack is getting involved in a lot of pots and is a thorn in my side as I cannot put him on a hand or figure out what he has. For the most part I have to tighten up and be patient.

Eventually the table breaks and I move to my new seat. Scanning the table I don’t recognise any of the faces but it soon becomes apparent that seated directly to my left is young aggressive German player Nico Behling. I am aware of his online exploits and don’t relish having him directly to my left. Other than that though, it’s a table of unknowns, until seat ten busts out and it is filled with the imposing presence of Irishman Jude Ainsworth.

Ainsworth is shaven headed, wearing big aviator sunglasses and a mountain of chips in front of him. It is reported that he is the current chipleader. Recently signed by Poker Stars he is clearly in no mood to mess around and is looking to get a big result to put himself on the map. His demeanour at the table is aggressive and chippy and even his jokes have a tinge of aggression. It is probably the first time I’ve ever been intimidated by an opponent.

Soon afterwards, my first day tablemate Jan Collado is moved to the left of Nico Behling and I am faced with a murderers row of three big stacked, good, aggressive players.

I continue to be patient and am able to keep afloat with a few well timed resteals. Mostly I am just playing tight and waiting for a hand but I can’t afford to do that much longer. The blinds are increasing and my stack has stayed static the whole day.
There are still about 50 people left to bust before we get into the money and I can’t just sit on my stack, I have to pick up chips.

Two orbits in a row with about 15 big blinds in my stack, I pick up Ace King first to act. Both times I don’t do anything fancy and just shove all in to pick up the blinds and antes. Nobody calls either time, though the second time especially there seems disgruntlement towards what to live players seems like a very big shove.

My thought process is this - I don’t really fancy being flat called by anyone and having to play a flop probably out of position. Miss the flop I either have to fold and be down to 12bbs with the blinds about to go through me or get all in with just ace high - Plus the fact that I am raising from early position means that people will give me greater credit for a big hand and be less likely to resteal light on me. From late position I would have opened with a standard raise but I am happy with my choice of action and I am able to pad my stack and keep my head above water.

The next orbit I pick up QQ in early position. Having open shoved a stack of 15 big blinds the past two orbits it is a no brainer to do the same again and hope someone gets suspicious of me and decides to look me up. As soon as I declare all in, Nico Behling to my left seems like he has a difficult decision. He deliberates for a minute or two before calling. It’s interesting that he chose to flat call rather than reraise. I can’t give him credit for a Hollywood acting job, so I have to put him on a hand something like AQ or TT. Everyone else folds.

Nico flips over 99 and it’s the first time I’ve been all in with my tournament life at risk. Thankfully my hand holds up and I double up! Behling still has chips and in fact goes on to finish eighth in the tournament.

Now I’m in business and I can look to increase my stack on the bubble by putting pressure on even shorter stacks than myself. One guy hasn’t played a hand for about two hours so I target his big blind two orbits in a row and an able to take down the pot.

With about five people left to bust before the bubble a big stack opens from early position. I look down at pocket tens in middle position. I have thirty big blinds in my stack and this is a difficult situation. It is too risky just to shove all in here. I have too many chips, the raiser might have a hand and there are still several people left to act after me who might wake up with a monster. I could raise but it’s an awkward amount of my stack to put in and I will have to fold if somebody four bets. What I *should* have done is flat called and tried to see a flop, but for the only time in the tournament the magnitude of the money I am playing for hits me and think to myself how destroyed I will be if I don’t get in the money now. I fold and silently curse myself. Hopefully next time I won’t be so weak on the bubble.

When it happens it is over quickly. No sooner as it is announced that there is one more person left to bust, he does exactly that and I have locked up 7,000 euros.

There’s muted celebration but players like Jude Ainsworth (who has increased his already hefty stack) and the young Germans are I’m sure already thinking of going all the way.

There is a little play left in the day but soon the bags are being given out to put your chips in at the end of the day and it is declared that there are three more hands left to play. Sadly my chips never made it into the bag.

On the penultimate hand of the day I make my exit:

Hero ~121k
Unknown man with glasses ~200k

Blinds 2000/4000 – Ante 600

I am crossing my fingers and hoping an easy few hands so I can bag up and be on my way for the night, but in middle position I look down at pocket kings and open raise to 10,500. It folds around to the big blind who is quite new to the table. He makes the call and we see a flop.

Flop T 7 4 with two diamonds

There’s about 28k in the pot and it is checked to me. I fire out a continuation bet of 20,000. I really wouldn’t mind taking it down here and now but obviously I’m looking for action. There’s no way I’m folding this hand and if he calls then I’m likely getting all the money in on the turn. However I don’t need to wait that long as I am instantly check raised all in.

I take perhaps five seconds to confirm to myself that yes, there is indeed no way I am folding this hand, so I call.

We are sitting at opposite ends of the table and as we flip our hands over I make out that he has 89 of hearts for the up and down straight draw. The dealer turns and burns quickly and when the ten hits the felt at first I think it as a good card for me. Looking back at his hand I am stuck with the horrible sight of his hand which is now sharply in focus.

Ten nine of hearts.

And the realisation washes over me that he has sucked out on me and hit his dream card, putting me virtually out of the tournament. I can’t hit a miracle king on the river and I am out.

Stunned I am shepherded over to the desk where I see I have finished in 129th place for 7,000 euros. As I am filling out my details, the 128th place finished walks over and sits next to me. He is to be awarded 8,000 euros, so if I had paused and stalled for just a minute I would have made an extra 1,000 euros. This rankles more than the nature of my exit.

---

The next day I spend my profits on entering the 1,500 euro side event. My table is incredibly soft but I make a couple of errors and am disappointed with my play as I bust before the dinner break. This leaves me break even for the week.

The facts of the matter are, this was my first EPT main event. I shunned satellites and bought in directly out of my roll. It was a gamble for a bankroll nit like myself but it paid off as I cashed. I didn’t feel at all outclassed and had my kings held up, I could have gone deep. The structure was good and I played patiently and feel I was rewarded for it. I will certainly be playing another EPT event in future, either in Berlin or elsewhere.

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Pocket rockets uber alles

Date: Mon, Mar 22, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

The European Poker Tour recently visited the city of Berlin. As the city has become my de facto second home, I felt duty bound to enter. I took some money from my previous winnings, won about 1,000 euros in satellites and sold 30% of the rest of my action to get together the 5,300 euro entry fee for the tournament.

It was by far the biggest tournament I’ve ever played, but I thought there would be value. A million euros for first would surely gather a large field. The clash with the end of the Los Angeles Poker Classic and the NBC Heads Up Championships in Las Vegas would also ensure that some of the top players in the world would not be playing.

My friend Nick bought 5% of my action and I also stayed at his apartment. Nick had promised that if I busted on the first day I would be subjected to his copy of UB40’s greatest hits. It was quite an incentive to perform.

Nick is a true poker player and on the way to the Hyatt in Potsdamer Platz we discussed the pot odds of buying a train ticket. The ticket cost 2.10 and the fine for not having a ticket was 40 euros. That means that you would need to travel and not be caught by inspectors less than one in 19 times to make travelling the s-bahn in Berlin a break even proposition. We also had some extra information – Nick reckoned that the inspectors were less prevalent on the more touristy line that we were catching through the centre of town, as opposed to some of the lines that go through more residential neighbourhood. Using our reads it was clear that not buying a ticket was very +ev and after being ridiculed a few times for being a law abiding public transport user, I was soon a fully card carrying freeloader.

I played on the same start day as tennis legend Boris Becker and Germany’s most famous player – last year’s winner Sandra Naujoks. However, neither were on my start table, which was a mix of young internet kids, eurodonks and a South American. My starting table had some tough spots. Danish pro Martin Wendt sat on my left and young aggressive German player Benny Spindler was also at the table. There was another floppy fringed aggro German kid who I sat with both days and who played really good. (Later identified as Jan Callado)

Also at my table was an Italian guy in a dark suit and shades who I instantly hated. He was sponsored by some Italian gambling website or other and would chat to various Italian poker bloggers throughout the day, who fawned over his (faltering) progress. Of course, he was not a very good player. Thankfully there are also a couple of French players to provide some extra value! Finally to my right was a Venzualean guy who listened to Sting and Men at Work in his iPhone, singing along with the lyrics – if he was looking to induce me to three bet him more, his Sting singalong certainly achieved that.

There were quite a few players around who were sponsored by various online sites and from all the evidence I got from playing with them, most were pretty bad and had some serious leaks – the ‘live player lol factor’.

As a guy wandered past to an adjacent table with a foam traffic cone on his head, I pondered to myself if perhaps I had the wrong idea and if I should make a trip to a fancy dress shop if I made day two? Over on the table next to me, Swedish sponsored pro Peter Hedland was being very loud. Every sponsored pro needs a gimmick to make them stand out and be marketable and his seems to be drinking lots of beer and talking very loudly. Well if it works for him...

My day one went like a dream. I didn’t get aces, but I got a lot of other big hands and I was able to slowly chip up without much risk. The only decently sized pot I lost all day was an all in pre flop hand with TT vs a shortstack who turned over aces. Other than that it was mainly slow solid upward progress. It was one of the most enjoyable days of poker I’ve ever had. I was more than holding my own in this tournament and felt eminently comfortable at the table. I have to say it felt good.

Here’s a couple of more interesting hands that I can remember.

150/300 w/25 ante.
My stack ~40,000
Martin Wendt ~25,000
Benny Spindler ~12,000

I pick up QQ and open to 750 from the hijack. I’ve been playing a few hands but not too many and I have managed to chip up from my starting stack. Danish pro Martin Wendt three bets me to 2,000. He’s been somewhat frustrated so far and seems to have missed several flops, his stack has dwindled slightly. This is the first time he’s three bet. It folds around to young floppy fringed German Benny Spindler in the small blind, who promptly shoves 12k in. Benny has been getting involved and playing a lot of hands, probably too many hands. He’s lost a couple of decently sized pots to dwindle down to his current stack. As Spindler shoves, Wendt does a little sigh to himself and sits back in his seat. Did I mention he is wearing dungarees?

I’m perplexed by this spot and stuck in the middle. Despite Spindler playing a lot of hands, his range for cold four betting here must be very small. He should know that I haven’t been playing a ton of hands and that Wendt certainly hasn’t, let alone three betting. I’ve I’m being generous I might give him the range TT+, AK and perhaps AQs, but this is definitely his widest range. Wendt and his little sigh perplexes me. I haven’t been playing with him long enough to work out whether it is a real sigh or a fake one. Something feels not right and one way or the other I sense I’m not good, so I muck. Wendt then instamucks and tells me later he had 89s. Spindler makes a nice increase to his stack.

A few orbits later I get involved with the Venezualen guy on my right. There are two Venezuelan guys in the tournament and the second one is moved to my table after the besuited Italian busts. The one opposite is absolutely terrible and clearly what my friend Nick would call ‘recreational’. The one to my right is better, he at least seems to be able to hand read a little and knows what he is doing somewhat, though he does seem a little spewy and has poor taste in music.

Blinds 200/400 w/50 ante.
My stack ~50,000
Venezualen ~55,000

The Venezuelan opens to 1,000 from the hijack and I look down at queens in the cut off. Often I would not three bet this preflop but I feel his range is reasonably wide and I feel I can read him pretty well, so I decide to pop it up to 2,700. Everyone else folds after counting out his chips for 5 seconds he calls.

FLOP
Pot: 6,500
242 rainbow

The driest of the dry flops and probably doesn’t change anything. I still don’t know too much about his hand but I’m probably ahead, so I could do with getting some money in the pot. I really don’t want to stack off here so I will be most likely checking the flop or the turn if checked to, to keep the pot small.

I decide to bet the flop. When I bet, the hand pattern I’m looking for, assuming the board stays pretty dry, is to bet the flop, check behind on the turn and either call the river or probably bet for value. I bet 3,800.

My opponent quite quickly calls and I now assign his most likely hand as a pair between 44 and JJ. He still of course could have aces or kings or an ace high type hand like AK or AQ.

TURN
Pot: 14,100
242(T) – two clubs

The pot is growing now and I really don’t want to get check raised here, as I will have to throw it away. So when I’m checked to, I play with my chips for about 30 seconds before deciding to go with the initial plan, exercise pot control and check it back. Our villain in this hand definitely has the check raise in his arsenal. Maybe he might even do this with a worse hand than mine like AT or JJ. There is also a small chance that the ten improved his hand.

RIVER
Pot: 14,100
242T(A)

An ace on the river and my initial reaction is ‘shit, did I let him get there?’ But I don’t think that for long. Very quickly after the ace hits, the Venezuelan instachecks. And then I hear it. I’m sitting directly to his left and I hear his breath change. There’s an intake of breath when the ace hits and then an exhale. It sounds....well... disappointed. This doesn’t sound like a fake breath and I have to go with it. It seems like he thought he was good and now he thinks he is beat. I’m now sure I have the best hand and I want to get some value. I need to bet small enough so I get a crying call.

I cut out a bet of just 3.000 chips. Less than a quarter of the pot. It’s pure value and quickly our Venezuelan friend shakes his head and pays me off. When I show my queens he taps the table and shows JJ. The ace on the river cost me about 5k as I would have bet much bigger on the river if a blank had hit, or more likely, he would have bet out into me and I would have called, But I still win a nice pot and am delighted about my breathing tell on my South American opponent. I’m still unsure if should have bet more on the river – I probably should, but I don’t mind too much as I rake in the pot.

Players slowly bust throughout the day. Spindler goes out, as does Martin Wendt. The young German kid is picking up chips as is a German-Iranian guy two to my right who is playing a lot of pots and hitting a lot of hands. An English guy is moved to my left for a while and he plays good. Thankfully he soon loses a big flip and busts.

Late in the day German Full Tilt pro Niklas Heinecker is moved to my table with a short stack. He plays the short stack well and manages to chip up. Eventually we get involved in a hand where I fire three barrels with QQ on a low rainbow board and he calls me down all the way with what he claims was K high for over half his stack. He claims he was prepared to call off all of his chips with the K high and I’m not so sure. But to be fair, I think my range was highly polarised here and if he got a gut feeling, he felt duty bound to stick with it. He says he went with his read when I repopped him preflop as I went back and checked my cards before I put in the raise, so he thought this meant I was weak. In truth this is something I do a lot, take a quick initial glance at the hand as it is being dealt, then go back and take a second look when it was my turn, to remember the suits of the cards and decide if I’m going to play the hand. I guess this is a little unusual and in this case it got me paid off.

At the end of the day we chat a little as I bag up my stack of over 91,000 chips and he seems like a really nice guy and a good player too.

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Famous poker players I've urinated next to

Date: Thu, Mar 4, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

The list is updated!

The rules are thus. I cannot expressly follow a poker player into the bathroom to urinate next to them, but if they are in there, even if it is a huge toilet and it is empty, I will always pick the urinal next to them, no matter how awkward this is!

Neil Channing
John Duthie
Ben Roberts
Freddie Deeb
'Downtown' Chad Brown

I cannot confirm or deny if Chad lives up to his nickname...

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Sleeping in

Date: Sun, Feb 21, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

The guy in seat one is seemingly asleep at the table, a mound of chips in front of him. When it is his turn to act the dealer hits his hand on the felt to rouse the snoozer from his slumber. He will then play his hand and promptly doze off again.

The snoozer played the 30/60 game all night and it seems he did pretty decently. When the 15/30 game began at noon he dropped down in stakes and dropped off to sleep. It’s a mystery to me why he doesn’t go home, but occasionally I do wonder if some of these sick gamblers have homes to go to.

When I open raise from middle position and the snoozer rouses himself to unceremoniously three bet me, it brings a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘he woke up with a big hand’.

Meanwhile, in seats six and seven, two elderly Greek guys have got a bet on the Milan v Man Utd game. Never mind the rudimentary understanding of the rules of ‘soccer’, nor which team is which, there’s a match on the TV and it can be wagered upon! I try to get in on the action but sadly they won’t take my bet. I’m doubly disappointed about this as it is now Friday and the game took place three days earlier on Tuesday.

Elsewhere at the table, a guy who looks like David Blaine has drank six cartons of milk in the past half hour, leaving the scattered containers all over the table.

Next to him is the one man whirlwind called Cincinnati. Now Cincinnati refers to himself in the third person at all times and gives a running commentary on the hand when he is in it. At one point after laying out a river bet, he breaks into song, prompting the floorman to quip that he’s going to be kicked out if he continues as the casino doesn’t have a cabaret licence. The following day in the same game, Cincinnati will be seated next to a studious guy in horn-rimmed spectacles called Cleveland. I believe Columbus was on the waiting list at the time.

Meanwhile the action on the TV has switched to an old black and white rerun of a Man United vs Milan match from the 60s. As George Best rampages down the wing, I turn to the Greek guys and ask them who they have their money on in this one.

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Big Charlie RIP

Date: Sat, Feb 20, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

Guy in Seat Ten: Have you seen Charlie lately?

Floorman: Charlie...?

Seat Ten: You know... Charlie... Big Charlie...

Floorman: Oh, Big Charlie...

Seat Ten: Is he still alive?

Floorman: Nooooo, he died a long time ago. Let me see. I won that tournament in Hayward in 87 and he died a little bit after that. Probably before this kid (gestures to me) was born.

Me: Well I think I can safely say I didn't play against him.

Seat Ten: ...(pause for contemplation) Do you remember his wife?

Floorman: Oh his wife! She was a real piece of work.

Seat Ten: Small but vicious.

Floorman: You're telling me... She had a problem with the drink.

Seat Ten: *nods*

Floorman: We had to bar her in the end. One time she got so crazy at a Blackjack table that we had to move the whole table to carry on the game. She was just screaming and wouldn't leave her seat. We let her back in eventually though of course, though I think we barred her a second time. If I recall correctly, she attacked a dealer.

Seat Ten: *laughs* Doesn't surprise me.

Floorman: She was really something.

Seat Ten: Yeah. (wistful expression) Well I guess I knew I hadn't seen Charlie in a while. 23 years... Hell of a player.

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World in motion

Date: Wed, Feb 17, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

The Greek guy in seat three resembles former England goalkeeper Peter Shilton after the 1990 World Cup Semi Final - chubby, sweaty and with the haunted look of defeat in his eyes.

Greek Peter Shilton thinks I am from Denmark, as only a 'Denmarker' would play in the fashion I am playing.

Greek Peter Shilton is buying another rack of $5 chips. I am pleased about this as he is providing much of my daily wages.

Greek Peter Shilton is not a very good poker player.

The 15/30 at The Oaks is not too different to the 6/12 game. The players are a bit better. They think they are a lot better. And you get half price food. It's possible for a good player to make a lot more money at this game as they rake is a lot smaller proportion of the pot, so the house makes less of a percentage from each hand, taking less out of the game.

Today I have been playing for a few hours and running very well. I have a large stack of chips in front of me.

Greek Peter Shilton open limps from middle position, as he is prone to do. The guy in the next seat is shaven headed Asian businessman with a Blackberry. I've got him marked as a good player, one of the best at the table. He only plays here on a Saturday as his wife likes to play the 3/6. For a once a week player he's quite solid and perceptive and has the 'Jesus seat' on Shilton's left, already taking the opportunity to raise his limps a couple of times to try and get everyone else to fold and take a flop with him heads up in position.

It folds to me on the button and I look down at Jack Ten of hearts. The suited Jack Ten is one of my favourite hands as it offers so many straight and flush possibilities. Knowing that Blackberry could be raising Shilton's limp with a less than premium hand, I three bet to $45 hoping to get rid of the blinds and preferably Shilton too, playing Blackberry heads up with position myself. This is somewhat advanced play for this particular game.

The blinds fold, but Shilton with that desperate look in his eye of a man chasing his losses cannot find the fold, calling two bets cold. Blackberry also calls, leaving three of us to go to the flop.

The flop comes Queen, Eight, Two with two diamonds. It's a relatively dry flop giving me just a gutshot straight draw, but it may well have missed everyone else too. When Shilton and Blackberry check to me, I have to bet. There is $156 in the pot (45+45+45+15+10 -4 in rake), so a bet of $15 only needs to work one in eleven times to make it profitable. I continuation bet, Shilton folds disgustedly and after a second or two of thought, Blackberry calls. It's hard for me to put him on a hand here. Some kind of pair is possible, as are a lot of no pair hands and draws. He might have chosen to check raise with a Q or a flush draw, thought he may have also lead out with both of these. However, I didn't sense any hesitation in him so I downgrade the possibility of these.

The turn is the Ace of diamonds which is a very interesting card. The board now reads Qd, 8x 2d, Ad. With three diamonds on the board and an ace now on the board it could be the ultimate scare card. Or it could have it him smack in the face. I now have a 'double bellybuster straight draw' and any 9 or K will give me a straight. The diamonds are a problem though and my hand could well not be good if it is the K or 8 of diamonds. When blackberry checks to me I HAVE to bet. Again I am getting a great price to take it down if he doesn't have an ace or a reasonably sized diamond. Mentally I also say to myself that barring any reads, I will probably three barrel and bet the river too, whether I hit my hand or not. So I bet out again and Blackberry calls after a few seconds. I am not thrilled about this as I have now built a big pot with jack high.

The river is a beautiful black king giving me a broadway straight. My hand is not the nuts as of course there are three diamonds out there meaning a possible flush. But I'm highly confident my hand is good here. Interestingly on the board of Q82AK, Blackberry decides to lead out and bet on the river. This is very interesting play. I don't see there is any way that he can be bluffing here, although who knows? He must be betting for value. His most likely hand seems KQ, although Aces up is also possible. He could have also hit a set on the flop and got scared on the turn. He could of course have the same hand as me or have me beat with a flush but I have to raise him. He gives me the look that says "really?" but of course has to call.

As I turn over my JT, he does my favourite thing ever for an opponent to do at a poker table - which is stare at his hand for about five seconds, shaking his head and muttering before mucking it to the dealer and I scoop a big pot.

As I'm stacking my chips, the young internet type kid to my left says "Wow that was an interesting move there raising from the button with the jack ten, did you get that from the Sklansky book?"

"The Skalinski book?" I reply, feigning ignorance. "I haven't read that, I guess it must be American?" (I had of course already alerted the table to my novelty English boy status)

"No. Sklan-sky", he repeats "In the book he talks about three betting from the button with suited connectors to try and play heads up in position against the raiser"

I try to work on my confused face before I look at him and it obviously works because he kind of cracks a smile and says "Or I guess you were just feeling it, huh?

"I guess" I reply with mock relief, before adding "The book I read was the Phil Hellmuth one, about the animals. I always wanted to play poker like the lion you know? Better than being a donkey, right?

"Right!" he snorts back at me.

"What was that book though? Skalinski?"

"Sklansky" he tells me again, now probably regretting starting this conversation with someone he thought was his equal. "Theory of Poker. It has a yellow cover."

"Sklan-sky" I repeat slowly, taking care to enunciate each syllable and tapping my head. "Yellow cover, right. The yellow one, I'll check that out" I add, mentally picturing the book sitting on the shelf in my bedroom in Great Barr.

Although of course, I've never actually bloody read it.

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Under the gun

Date: Thu, Feb 11, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

6/12 Limit Hold’em at Oaks Cardroom in Emeryville, CA.

It has been described as ‘the most ghetto cardroom in North America’ and I can see why. One of the first times I was there, a guy on an adjacent table flashed a gun and was swiftly pounced on by six security guys. That was at a No Limit table though. There is no such drama in the Limit section - after the gun incident, the middle aged lady next to me soon went back to her sudoko in between hands.

Today the game is pretty average and I’m killing time whilst waiting for my seat at the 15/30 table. The lineup is something like this:

-Your hero

-Jovial middle aged white guy who looks slightly uneasy in casual clothing. I christen him ‘Mr Friday Night Poker’ He’s the home game with business buddies kind of guy. He watches the World Poker Tour and dreams of being Phil Hellmuth. He can’t beat 3/6 but insists on playing 6/12 'to beat the rake'. I get double pleasure from taking money from this guy.

-An elderly black man (EBM) who knows how to mix it up. He probably has too much gamble in him to make him a long term winner but he’s hitting a few hands and getting paid. Mr Friday Night Poker is of the opinion that this EBM is playing too many hands from early position. He lets him know that he would not be choosing to play some of those hands, implying he is a better player. This is highly debatable.

-A couple of SAGs (sick Asian gamblers) these guys like to play hands and are looking for any excuse to get into the pot, they are the kind of guys who feel ill if they aren’t gambling on something. After a while, one of them is away from the table for about twenty minutes. When the dealer queries this with the floorman they put a call out for him and he soon comes back from playing the machines in the bar. The two SAGs know each other and if they are the only two left in the hand they ‘softplay’ by turning their hands face up and just checking it down to the river. This really fucking annoys me but there is nothing I can do about it.

-An old lady who is the most loose-passive player I’ve ever seen. She goes call, call, call and fold on the river pretty much every hand. When she does actually hit her hand she does this thing where she tilts her head to the side and then smiles a little. However this tell is completely unnecessary because you know when she does something other than call or fold then she’s hit her hand anyway. She is playing most hands so quickly goes through sixty bucks and then buys in for another sixty and then repeats this ad naseum.

Soon after I sit down at the table Mr Friday Night Poker gives her sixty bucks and I assume they know each other. Maybe she is his mum? However after several wisecracks about trying to win back his money it is clear that this is not the case. Mr Friday Night Poker has given a degenerate gambling old lady sixty bucks for no reason.

Mr Friday Night Poker is a dick.

There is another guy who I can’t get a read on. He’s a nondescript middle-aged white guy wearing a T-Shirt with a strange slogan and a trucker cap. He doesn’t seem to be playing too many hands or doing anything stupid. In this game that makes him very +ev. After a while we finally play a hand together and on the flop I notice him looking at me to try and get a read from my reaction. In the 6/12 game at The Oaks this is VERY ADVANCED PLAY! I meet his glare and try to convey with my facial expression the following information –

‘OK, I know you are good in this game and so am I, so why don’t we just stay out the way of each other and carve up all this dead money sitting here at the table and both make a small but tidy profit. Look at that guy drooling in seat three, wouldn’t you rather be playing pots with him than me? Seriously. PS I like your T-Shirt’.

It probably just looked like I had something in my eye.

Soon I get the call to go to the 15/30 game. I rack my chips and move across the room. As I take my seat I tell the dealer I don’t want to ‘post’ and survey the lineup as I wait for my first hand. These are the men that I will be trying to make money from over the next few hours. I must destroy them.

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WBCOOP 2010!

Date: Mon, Jan 18, 2010 Professional Internet Live Tournament

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker! The WBCOOP is a free online Poker tournament open to all Bloggers, so register on WBCOOP to play.

Registration code: 605493

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