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I hope you've been following along because I'm going to skip the preliminaries and jump right in. The tasty fish and time away from the Amazon must have helped because after dinner, the cards and the courage returned. I began my series of all-in moves as I had watched Annie Duke do hours beforehand. Actually, she was still doing it and a few times, she stole my thunder. As the player to my right, she had the first shot at it. It's all right to gamble on king-ten off-suit (which I did), but you don't want to do it second. You'll take a call if it comes, but you'd rather just win the blinds and the antes without contest. My move worked a few times and I started to feel better. I could survive a few more rounds without having to do something really desperate.
After a few steals from Annie and a few from me, she gets called. She turns over ace-queen and her opponent, pocket nines. No one ever improves. After packing up her Arctic Monkey-playing ipod, she is gone. The very next hand I look down at pocket sixes when the action folded to me. "Where goes Annie, so go I" I announce, and push my chips in. No one calls and I buy myself another round. Only a few hands later, I look down at ace-queen. "Oh well," I think, and do it again. This time I do get called. No more free rounds. It's time to double up or go home. My opponent turns over pocket deuces and I spike a queen on the flop. The only difference between Annie Duke and me, the only difference between cashing and going home, was winning the race. If you want to survive in a high stakes tournament with quality players, you're going to have to win your races. I can't remember who said it, but you're going to have to win with ace-king and you're going to have to beat ace-king. It's the nature of the beast. No matter how good you are, Lady Luck always factors in. Somehow I managed to find her on my side yet again. I was surprised to see her there, but I sure wasn't going to kick her out of bed.
Don't you just love that double-up feeling? It's the best. Now I had some breathing room. Now I had more than one move. I could raise without actually having to stake my entire tournament life on anything I chose to play. It was great, but now I had to get my head back in the game. The decision to shove either your chips or your cards in is not very complex. Either the hand is worth gambling on or it isn't. It was time to play poker.
For a while, all I did was tread water. I won a few small ones, lost a few small ones, meaning no major gain or loss. Then, after about an hour, the action was folded to me on the button, and I looked down at ace-jack off-suit. I turned from the cards to the two very sharp, aggressive players to my left. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if I raised, they would both call. I knew they both considered themselves to be better players than me and figured even if I had them now; they could outplay me after the flop. I also knew they were probably right. Here's the thing. Just knowing someone is a better player than you gives you power to take them on. I know that sounds counter-intuitive, but it's only when you have no idea you're outclassed that you're totally screwed. You can decide, if only for that hand, to rise to the occasion. Their lack of respect for you can be incredibly powerful as well. Mind you, I'm not suggesting you go head to head time and again with the only player(s) at the table who are better. I usually stay out of those guys' ways and stick with the donkeys. It's a much higher percentage strategy. I'm simply saying that if you pick your spots, are acutely aware of your table image and take advantage of another player's underestimation of you, you can nail them. I looked at those two sharks and decided this was going to be one of those hands.
I raised and, as predicted, they both called. The worse case would be completely missing the flop. These guys would definitely try and push me off my hand, no matter what they had. I was fairly certain my ace-jack was good pre-flop and if I missed it entirely, I would have to figure out 1) if they actually hit or were just representing and 2) if I could scare them away with aggression, even if I missed it. Well, Lady Luck wasn't quite done with me yet; the flop was jack-rag-rag. Two clubs. A dream flop. Small blind checks. Big blind thinks and then makes a bet about half the size of the pot. He either thought that was enough to push me off my hand, or had the club draw and wanted to give himself the right pot odds, hoping I wouldn't raise. This, by the way, was the same famous Asian guy with the ace-king of hearts who made me so crazy before dinner. There was no way, no how I was going to let him have the right odds to draw to anything. I shoved in once again. From what I understand of David Sklansky's complex math and hypotheses, the Theory of Poker is that you will win when you induce your opponent to make mistakes and you will lose when he induces you to do the same. Bad beats notwithstanding (and coming like a tidal wave, I promise you) that is a rock solid truth. My opponent thinks for a while and calls. He turns over the clubs. He had risked a significant chunk of his stack for the wrong odds. The poker gods, I suppose, deciding to reward me for being most improved camper, smiled with a sea of red. Mr. Ace-King of Hearts was crippled and I finally had a stack I could do something with. Wimpy fold of the queens duly exorcised.
It was getting late. The field had narrowed considerably and the bubble was approaching. Unfortunately, we had no idea how quickly. The directors were not updating the clock regularly, so we didn't really know where we stood. This is my favorite thing about Internet poker. I love knowing, almost every second, exactly my place in the field. The bubble can be an incredibly profitable period. Everyone tightens, no one wants that title we all know too well (check out my upcoming autobiography "My Life as Bubble Girl") and blinds and antes are seriously up for grabs. With my big stack, I was really looking forward to pushing people around. I never got the chance. All of a sudden, the tournament directors and floor staff started running around like crazy people. Over the loudspeaker we heard, "Dealers, please stand up when you finish dealing the hand you're on." I licked my lips. Hand for hand about to begin and I had chips to scare. Confusion reigned for about twenty minutes. From the buzzing, I picked up a few details. They hadn't realized how many tables they were down to and fourteen people had been knocked out in this last hand alone. The pause in play persisted for another moment or two and then this announcement, "Congratulations, remaining players! You have all made the money!"
The typical outbreak of applause would have to wait a moment. First we all had to take in then believe the news. Finally the cheers, big smiles and briefly, "we're all in this together" camaraderie overtook our now small corner of the room. A guy on a short stack who had just doubled up said to no one in particular, "I'm glad I didn't know we were that close - I never would have doubled up." My point exactly. With the joy of making the money for the first time in a World Series Of Poker event, I couldn't find it in me to be annoyed at the missed opportunity. I looked over at my parents who were signaling the thumbs up and beaming with pride. I was still trying to wipe the smile from my face as play finally resumed. I won't lie to you. It was an awesome day.
I will finish this event next entry, I promise. For now, I'm going to remember that feeling just a little longer. I wish it for all of you and soon. As always, email your thoughts to brittani(at)hollywoodpoker.com. I don't bite. :)
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