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I want to apologize to all of you that here we are in September and I'm still writing about July. Alas. Life and a very ill hard drive got in my way. I've told you basically all there was to tell about Part 1: The Ladies Event and $1000 No Limit Hold 'Em. After the ace-ten of diamonds debacle, we played in a few sit 'n' go satellites. I cashed in a good majority of the ones I played and Dad got knocked out of the Seniors Event by, you guessed it, ace-ten. He pushed all in with ace-king and knew he was done as soon as he saw that evil hand in front of his opponent. Said flop, by the way, was king-queen-jack. I tried to win my way into the main event with my sit 'n' go winnings, but it just wasn't happening. As I said, Lady Luck and the poker gods (isn't that a great name for a band? I wish I was musical because I would totally start that up) had abandoned my side for some other schmuck.
"You could win this thing." He said to me.
Still, with my cash from Event #17, I went home determined to find a way into the main event. Unfortunately, most of the online seats were gone and the normally great LA poker rooms were dead, due to the action east on the 15. I resigned myself to attending as a spectator. Dad was fairly sure he was going to play again this year, featured table or no. Our tickets and hotel rooms were already booked. Oh, how I wanted to find an affordable way in!
About a week before our scheduled return to the Amazon Room, Dad called. He had been watching ESPN's repeat coverage of last year's final table and was all charged up. "You could win this thing." He said to me. "Did you see some of the bonehead moves those guys were making?" Now, to win the World Series of Poker or even make it to the final table, you have to make some of those bonehead moves everyone gives you a hard time about. You also have to be good and lucky for days. I tried to explain this to Dad, but he was convinced. He made me an offer. He would send me to Vegas for satellite day, stake me $2000 to try and win my way into the main event and if I did we would discuss profit sharing. I kept protesting, saying that in all likelihood I'd come home empty-handed. He laughed at me, reminding me that he'd been playing this game a lot longer than me and has some understanding of the risk involved. It was one he was eager to take. How could I argue with that? The next morning I was back on a plane to Vegas.
The World Series of Poker offers three ways to win a seat into the main event. I've already mentioned the sit 'n' go, where the buy-in can range from $125 to $1060. Each event is winner-take-all, but they are almost always chopped, usually two, but sometimes up to four ways. There are two multi-table satellites; the mega and the super. I can't remember which superlative is which, but one is a $325 re-buy tournament and the other is a $1060 no re-buy. I hate re-buy tournaments - people play so wildly in the re-buy period that it's more like throwing dice than playing poker. For someone who seems to find suck-outs wherever they lurk, a re-buy even is dangerous. The $1060, on the other hand, has a great structure. You get three thousand in chips and forty minute levels. That's more chips than I got in any of the official WSOP events. I had taken one shot at it before, right before the end of the last trip, and had gotten fairly close. I was certain the $1060 was the way to go.
I saw a lot of the famous pros haunting those tables.
First, however, I wanted to win my way in. I checked into the Rio, threw my bags down and made the long walk to the convention center. The satellite hounds had taken over the Amazon room. I jumped in the sit 'n' go line and cashed in my very first one. I was up about eight hundred and had my chips for the mega/super (I swear I cannot keep them straight). I played in one more, thinking that if I won that one I could play in a $1060 sit 'n' go and win most of the main event buy-in right there. Those were a lot tougher than my $325 table, but it would be great lesson, at the least. Throughout my WSOP experience, I saw a lot of the famous pros haunting those tables. Not too many donkeys there. A quick suck-out later and I was gone, unfortunately. I decided to just go ahead and buy my ticket for the $1060 before I sunk any more money into it. With $1500 left, I could play in one more $1060 the next morning. Sadly, there probably wouldn't be enough time for any more sit 'n' go games.
After dinner with my new poker buddy Steve Zoine (I mentioned him in an earlier post - he came in second last year to TJ Cloutier in the $5000 no-limit event) I went to find my seat, pumped with advice and encouragement.
Two hands; I can point to two hands that kept me from my main event dream. One hand was in this first event and another was the next morning. I wanted to shoot someone!
The first night, I played great. I built my chips, I stole hands and I had the best of it when there were showdowns. I limited my mistakes to small ones. About six hundred people entered, meaning sixty seats were up for grabs. We were down to about a hundred of us. I was certain I was going to be one of the lucky sixty as opposed to one of the miserable forty. I believe I've mentioned my Dad's superstition about the last hand before a break and now I'm starting to believe it. I had seven-three off-suit in the big blind. You would never think this would be the hand that could do you in - so innocuous - I had a BIG
healthy stack at the time as well.
Now Lady Luck and her evil backup band were openly mocking me.
Everyone folds to the button, most of them running to the bathroom before they had even thrown their cards in. The button calls, the small blind calls and I check when I see my steaming pile of crap. The flop comes 7-3-2 with two hearts. As our friend Mike Sexton would say, "Bingo, bango, bongo". I thought I had hit pay-dirt. The small blind makes a small bet, I raise, the button calls and the small blind re-raises all-in. What? With that crappy flop? How could I not be the winner? I thought about it a while and thought, "One of them has something like ace-seven, the other has two hearts." I had the small blind out-chipped, but this was still a big chunk of my stack I had built with such tender loving care. Convinced I had the best hand, I called and the button hemmed, hawed and finally decided to fold. The small blind turns over pocket twos! I hadn't even considered a set. What were the odds? If you're some math genius, don't email me with the answer - I don't want to know. Turns out the button did fold the hearts and would have won the whole thing when the heart came on the river, but I was too busy with my own problems. My stack never recovered and I came close, but no cigar.
The next morning, as I hinted, brought no reprieve. Amazing how similar the whole thing played out; I played great, built a stack, got close, etc. Then, the hand; I had pocket jacks, he had pocket tens, ten on the flop. Now Lady Luck and her evil backup band were openly mocking me. I had a plane to make and went home empty-handed, sad little face intact. I tell you this: this year I'm going to start much earlier and I WILL find a way in. Mark my words.
I know that I've already told a lot of what happened in the main event, but there are still a few little anecdotes left (including the promised Amarillo Slim tale). I will finish catching you up on the whole affair in my next entries.
Keep the e-mails coming to brittani@hollywoodpoker.com - hearing from you guys makes my whole day :)
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