Pay to Play

Bleh. Bleh bleh-bleh, bleh-bleh-bleh.

That's what my brain is kicking out at this point. I figured what better way to start out the post. I surely couldn't find an actual lede, so that's what you get. Hey, I'm not charging you anything for this so take your complaints up with Pauly's neighbors at the Redneck Riviera.

Heh. I can still stumble onto (force) a segue with the best of 'em.

Pauly is quite literally TEETERING ON THE PRECIPICE OF SANITY to bring you the latest and greatest from the WSOP. Between the no sleep, his drug- and violence-addled apartment complex and blogging Hellmuthian tantrums, he's one small mis-step from The Dark Side. So, I'm not going to tell you again. Make sure you check out his coverage, as well as the fine photo and textual work of the Las Vegas Vegas crew.

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I've also got 1.66% of his ass--left check, just below the waistline--in Wednesday's NL Event at the Rio, so get to clickin' so he's in the right frame of mind to dominate the field.

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Definitely got my poker in this weekend. Enjoyed it almost completely, despite getting stuck a couple hundred. But I deserved that.

First, the dear and patient wife took me out to Morongo on Saturday night for a little live action. This is my third time out there and I am amazed at the poor level of play. Just stunned. Makes me wanna give everybody a big hug.

Quick table synopsis:

Seat 1: Older woman who was quite solid. I mentally referred to her as Maudie.
Seat 2: Pescado. That's Mexican for fish. Went from a rack to all-in in 45 minutes. Won that hand and had doubled up by the tme I left thanks to two HUGE suckouts.
Seat 3: The "beneficiary" of one of those suckouts. Had the temerity to complain about bad beats when everybody had clearly seen the shit hands he was playing earlier (big fan of second or third pair). So when five people follow your Aces to the River and one crackes 'em, you only have yourself to blame, Chief.
Seat 4: I am, occassionally, a Bad-Ass Motherfucking Card Player.
Seat 5: Loose/passive military guy. Good company.
Seat 6: Horrible player. No rhyme or reason to many plays. Chased until the chasin' was done.
Seat 7: Stereotypical ultra-aggressive Asian dude. Built some nice pots. Didn't win any of 'em.
Seat 8: Shops at the WPT Champion Store. Hat. Sunglasses. Stoic. Won zero pots in my recollection. (Later: Asian twenty-something with little idea what he was doing)
Seat 9: Much older lady. Card-dead or just plain out of it. Didn't play many pots.

Played 4/8 (full kill) and finished up 9 BBs in about two-and-a-half hours of play. Solid return. Was even more, but got a little frisky with QQ in a kill pot, capping it pre-flop. Thanks for the AA8 flop, fucker. I actually had QQ hold up earlier, as well as JJ, the latter a first for me in limit poker. Board was ten-high, which allowed the numbskull in Seat 8 with the ATo to raise me on turn and river. God Bless that kid. He was surprised he lost. I casually mentioned that I HAD raised on every street.

Someone wanna explain to me the psychology behind everybody wanting to play kill pots? Hey! The stakes are doubled! We can play even crappier cards! I'd wager it's like the lottery, folks looking for the big score. Every kill pot was minimum 7-handed to the flop. Naturally, I folded two hands which would have won kill pots. The first was 85o UTG, which you can understand (flopped the nut straight). The second was KTo in MP. I could have played that one. King woulda been good, though I'm sure I wouldn't have been crazy about betting it.

Speaking of big scores, my table missed the $18K Bad Beat Jackpot by a single card. Seat 2 flopped quad 9s and Seat 7 held QT of diamonds, needing only the jack on the turn or river for a straight flush. The Jackpot actually hit at another table later that evening.

I was real satisfied with my play. Folded pocket 8s, even though they were an over-pair to the flop (bet and raise in front). Sure enough, I was third best at that point to QQ and a set of 4s. My coup de grace, however, was the following:

Held J9o in the BB and the free flop was T83 with two clubs. I bet out on my draw--per Abdul--and got two callers. Turn paired the 8 and I fired again, one caller dropping. Thanks to some reading, some tutelage and some live experience, I'm playing the player now (Seat 6). He's been chasing all night. Dropped his first rack (that's $200 with the $2 chips) and was halfway into his second before he sucked out a few folks. Classic donkey. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as the river was dealt. He sighed. His shoulders slumped.

No help for me and no flush, so I fire again and he insta-folds.

I was feelin' pretty good about me at that point. Even though I dropped my winnings at the blackjack table (with the dear and patient wife booking a small profit), I went home with a little hop in my step.

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As related in painful fashion last week, I totally fucked up my chance for a cheap seat to the Stars $500K Guaranteed yesterday. No matter, I bought in for the full $215, the price of my insolence.

I'd love to talk about how I rose from the grim ashes to redeem myself. Hell, I'd even like to write about getting massively sucked out on the bubble. But neither of those things happened.

I played really well, maybe the best I've played in a while. Made a big laydown with TPTK to a flopped straight. He pulled the ol' "check, then dump half your time-bank before pushing all-in over the top" move on me. I, uh, didn't buy it. Slow-played pocket Kings to perfect effect and maximum extraction. Went into the third hour with an above average stack and sitting in the top 30% of the remaining field.

At which point my cards went straight to hell. One pocket pair: deuces. No ace-big. One KJ. The third hour is when the blinds/antes escalate rapidly. I had just been moved and my new table was ultra-aggressive. I had a hard time getting first into the pot and was only able to steal twice. Naturally, I had to surrender my BB every time. By Level 12, it was push monkey time; not just for me, either. Sucked.

I finished 316 of 2497. 225 got paid. KJ is what I went out on, holding only 3x the BB while UTG. Got called by AK and QQ, with QQ busting two of us AND going onto win the tourney for a sweet payday of $77K.

It was a good experience. I felt like I belonged. Didn't feel like anybody ran over me or played me. Just didn't get anything to play at the crucial time. More importantly, it got my juices flowing. Online poker hasn't had that effect on me lately. Which is not to say I'll be regularly buying into the big Sunday tourney, but it was nice.

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This is not a bad beat story. It is simply being laid down for historical purposes. I didn't even get upset.

Played the Crazy $11 Re-Buy on Saturday afternoon. Had a classic re-buy lunatic to my right. All-in half-a-dozen times at Level 1; always in LP. Was 6 re-buys in before I even got a shot at him. Just wait for a hand and pounce.

I get TT . He pushes in front. I call his Q9o. Q on the flop.
I get AKo. He pushes in front. I call his AQo. He flops Broadway.
I get AKo. He pushes in front. I call his K7s. He flops the flush.

I shake my head, chuckle lightly and leave the tourney--and $51--before the end of the re-buy period.

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There's some tragic fuckin' news out there in the blogosphere. It is not right. Know that we're thinking about you guys. Your families are in our prayers. Anything we can do--ANYTHING--just say the word.