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I am on the bubble and the chip leader has just put me all in. All the other players in the Commerce tournament room are on their feet and crowding around our table. Fellow Hollywood Poker player Jon Kelley is sitting to my left. I hear him make an audible sigh and, quite frankly, let out a little groan myself. Ladies and Gentlemen, the L. A. Poker Classic just got interesting.
So what do I do in a moment like this?
In retrospect it was the turning point in an incredible month of poker for me. Month, hell. It was the turning point in that Tournament, that month and my whole game. Fabrice Soulier not only put me all-in in the most heavily subscribed WPT event in WPT history, but had put me at a crossroads in poker and the choice I made was going to define my future as a player.
So what do I do?
Well, first I hear my buddy Phil Gordon whisper in my mind the advice from his wonderful Little Green Book. "Stop and think!" So I slip on my sunglasses, sit back in my chair, call for time, and take a little thirty second vacation from poker to clear my mind. I think of my time as a little kid living on Guam when my Dad was in the Army and a wonderful calm washes over me. I let that image resonate and then like a dying tropical sunset, let it recede from my mind. Refreshed, I now face the problem at hand.
Okay. The situation. I had been playing The L.A. Poker Classic all month long. I had cashed in the first big event, the 250K Guaranteed, exactly one month ago to the day. I was proud to have made it to 29th out of 862 players. I felt I had played well and even gotten a little more creative in my game. Solid play is invaluable in these big tournaments and will often get you into the money. Winning them requires a more complex strategy, however, and good old tight and aggressive won't suffice as a game plan. I had been honing my tourney skills on Hollywood Poker and at the Commerce and the Bike and my game was evolving. Daniel Negreanu had mentioned in one of his blogs that tourneys didn't hinge on the big hands as much as amateurs might like to think. It is all of those marginal hands in between where the pros build their stacks. I had come to agree with him to a point. I still believe that stack building is essential, but the tournament always swings one way or the other on huge, decisive hands. And, boy, I couldn't have had a bigger one than the bubble call facing me against chip leader Fabrice Soulier.
I had just been moved to this new table on the bubble. The payout structure was 45 places out of 692 registered entrants. With a ten grand entry fee, the prize pool was well over six million. Now with 46 players left, no one was taking any chances. As I sat down at the table, I took stock of chip counts immediately, a new habit learned from Dan Harrington's excellent new books on tournament play. His red book is the best ever for assessing and managing end play in tournaments and I guarantee it will knock your game up a notch if you read it. I realized that a fellow I vaguely recognized across the table was not only the table chip leader, but probably the tournament leader as well. With almost seven million chips in play, he already had over seven hundred thousand - a formidable opponent I now recognized as the excellent and wily Fabrice Soulier. With my healthy but lesser stack of three hundred thousand, I am just as happy to avoid this guy altogether and get into the money. Once we are all past the bubble, play can start anew with a reinvested vigor. Unfortunately the fickle finger of fate has other plans for me.
My first hand at this new table (there are only five tables left now) is the big blind. Because I haven't played here yet, I don't have a read on anybody and decide to muck anything but a monster against the slightest raise. Indeed I am dealt rags and am ready to muck when Fabrice raises from across the table. I make a little joke about stealing my blinds, he counters with a joke back about doing whatever he wants with my blinds and the battle is on! I wisely muck the hand, but now cast aside any previous plan to avoid confrontations on the bubble. If I get a hand, baby, I am playing it.
It doesn't take long for the poker gods to whip up their mischief.
Two hands later I am on the button and wake up to two lovely red ladies. Queens on the button. How sweet it is! Fabrice has already raised both my blinds and I can just feel that I can depend on him to do all the work on this hand for me as well. How little did I realize that I would get more than I bargained for. Blinds were fifteen hundred, three thousand. Fabrice, now in early position, raises to twelve thousand. Licking my lips in glee I await the action coming round to me and can't raise fast enough to forty-eight thousand.
Sliding the chips in with a smug little smirk, I am slightly unnerved to see that Fabrice is not turning white as expected, but I put it out of my mind. My sense of serenity is dashed soon enough. With nary a moment's hesitation, he smiles back at me and pushes all in. He looks me in the eye and calmly asks, "How does that feel?" I don't answer, but the scorpion twisting in my stomach gives you a pretty good idea of what my answer might be.
Okay. So now what?
Stop and think.
So I do the little mind warp vacation to Guam thing. Then I sit up and take stock of the poker. Assess the situation. As they say in the military, do a little damage control. First question is simple. What hand is my opponent most likely holding? My first instinct is obvious.
Aces. Aces. Aces.
Of course when an opponent comes over a big re-raise, aces is always our first instinct and unfortunately that first instinct is often correct. And in this particular situation there seems to be almost no other possibility. Why? All the other factors support this assessment. On the bubble, Fabrice Soulier would have to be crazy to risk half of the lead stack on a bluff against an obviously solid hand. Why be cut in half on a bluff against a new opponent whose game you are unfamiliar with? Secondly, because we had a little verbal sparring he might think I am tilting and more likely to call. That further supports aces, as that is the only hand where you absolutely want a call pre-flop. The facts of the hand are becoming so grim, I am about to muck. It is hard to ignore the shouts to call from the railbirds, but mucking seems the only logical choice. And this is where I realize my game has gone to a new level.
When I started this series of tournaments I made some decisions.
Before I ever sat down at the first table on the first day of the Classic, I had already made up my mind about a few things. Nature of my play, table image, etc. were all important considerations. But the most important stance I took was this: I was going to win or lose, but never play just for the money. I came to win, baby, not to cash.
That decision was going to have major consequences for either Mr. Soulier or myself. I remembered it now and made up my mind what to do with my two sweet helpless little queens.
"Mr. Soulier," I said, "Our little war of words has been fun, Sir. I respect you and your hand. I, however, made a decision some days ago to win this thing or die like a man. So die it is, I guess. I call."
To his credit, he smiled ruefully and gave the table that pat that players do to respect another, better hand. And he turned over queen, jack off-suit. The dealer proceeded to deal a rag board and my queens held.
Well, the place went crazy. I jumped on my chair, cheering, and thanked the dealer for not giving me a bad beat. I doubled up, becoming one of the chip leaders. Fabrice bluffed again a few hands later and went out on the bubble. I saluted him and his stunning courageous play. He did confide in me later that he wished he had never done it. In the nanosecond that I decided to call, his fate was sealed, but it could have easily gone the other way. The fact that I made an all important decision days earlier to play to win and win only saved my bacon for sure.
I made it to the final three tables in the Classic and went out against the terrific player Michael Woo with queens (ironic) against aces in the blinds. Micheal's aces held up and he went on to finish third. I finished 24th and cashed for thirty-nine thousand. As my friend Bosko said later, I lived a lifetime of poker in one tournament and he was as right as rain. A few weeks later I came in third at the Bellagio out of a hundred and twelve players. Again I always played to win and almost win I did.
~ James Woods
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