Sorry, kid. You’re just not ready for me yet.”
-The Cincinnati Kid
Half of the pool area is populated by beautiful twenty-something girls in tiny bikinis that make me wonder why they bothered to put anything on in the first place.The other half is populated with middle-aged men and their unfortunate wives who may as well be wearing housecoats. Throw in a few frat guys unsuccessfully trying to put the moves on the aforementioned beauties, and it makes for great people watching.
When I rolled out of bed at the crack of noon today, I threw on a PokerStars cap and my bathing suit, covered myself with two pounds of SPF 9000 sunscreen, and traded the cool, smoke-filled casino air and gaming tables for hot, dry desert air and sunshine. I spent the afternoon on a lounge chair, listening to podcasts and trying to drown my World Series sorrows with Anchor Steams. I had about as much success as the frat guys.
fourteen hours earlier
My cards were hot as hell in the first two levels, but they didn’t help me build much of a stack. I got pocket kings twice, and they held up both times, but only won me very little pots. I peaked with 11000 near the end of level 2. I lost about 3000 of that when I made a couple of second-best hands against my new nemesis, Paul Darden, who had position on me and made me his bitch.
The hand that killed me came halfway through the third level, when I was in the Big Blind with pocket tens. One or two players limped, and Darden made it 600 to go. I think the gap concept says that I should probably fold there, but he’d been picking on my blinds since he sat down, so I defended with a re-raise of 1200. The limpers folded, and he called.
I begged the poker gods for baby cards, or a miracle flop, which was a mistake, because in pokergodspeak, “miracle” apparently means “Fuck Wil in the ass.” The flop came out A-K-x.
My heart sank. “Of course. The poker gods hate me today. Pocket nines see a flop of A-K-Q, so I have to fold to any bet. AQ sees a flop of K-x-x and loses to King-fucking-four, and AJ catches a Jack on the flop and loses to a set.”
I looked at the board for a minute, and thought this through. “If he called my re-raise, that flop must have hit him. Shit! Unless he’s bluffing, every hand he could have called with beats me. Even if he’s got Jacks, I’m dead. If he’s got a Queen, a straight beats me. Unless he’s on a total bluff, which can only be 20% or so, I’m probably drawing dead to two tens. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Forty-fucking-seven cards that can come off, and it’s got to be overs to my pair. Goddammit!”
I had 7100 in chips, and the pot was 3500. Darden had the big stack at the table with close to 17000, so if I was right about the flop hitting him at all, it’s not like I could even make him seriously think about folding with anything less than a pot-sized bet, which would commit me. I didn’t think this was the best time to take a chance and push, either.
I decided that I was done with this hand. I took my shot, and I missed. It’s time to minimize my losses and hope for better luck later on.
I looked at the dealer and tapped my hand on the felt. “Check,” I said.
Darden unexpectedly checked behind me, so I held my breath and I prayed for a lucky ten on the turn, which didn’t come.
I checked again, and Darden checked behind me a second time. For the first time in the hand, I wondered if he actually was on a bluff. He’s certainly capable of doing that, and I did not have an aggressive table image, so a big trap was also unlikely. I put the chances of him bluffing at about 20%.
The river was another brick.
“If I bet at this, can I push him out? Only if I move all-in, and I don’t think I can risk my tournament on this hand.”
I checked it again. This time, Darden bet 1100. Now there was 4600 in the pot, so I was getting just over 4:1 if I called. “This is the moment that separates the pros from the amateurs,” I thought. “Is he pulling a post-oak bluff? Do I make a great call, or a great laydown here?”
There was no way I was raising, so I needed to figure out if I could call. I did something I never do: I talked through the hand.
“This is going to be a huge laydown,” I said to nobody in particular. “If I call you and lose, I’m crippled. If I call and win, I’m in great shape.”
A floorman came over, and told the dealer that our table would break in ten minutes.
I drummed my fingers on the felt, and counted 1100 off my already-pathetic stack. It left me with one lavender and a few black chips. I picked up Darwin and chewed on his head. I sighed, sat back in my chair, interlocked my fingers around my neck, and looked up at the poker gods. “Why have you forsaken me!?” I thought, and smiled at the thought of those words coming out of Chris Ferguson.
I leaned around the back of Avy Freedman and said, “Did the flop help you, Paul? It would really make my decision easier if you could tell me that.”
The guy behind me, who had doubled up when he moved all-in on the second hand and rivered an unprobable boat over boat laughed, and a pro who I’ve seen on TV countless times but don’t know by name said, “You can’t ask him that. If you talk about the hand, your cards could be dead.”
“Dead like me?”
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know that.” I turned to the dealer, who had long ago finished counting off the cards remaining in the deck, and now sat with his hands folded in front of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.”
“It’s okay, sir.” He said.
A guy in the 8 seat with about 14000 said. “Hey, are we going to get to play another hand before we break this table, or what?”
My back shot up. “Excuse me, sir,” I snapped, “but this is an incredibly important decision for me, and you’re not in this hand.”
His eyes widened and his pupils dialated. His cheeks flushed and he opened and closed his mouth two times. I don’t know why I remember those details, but I can see them as clearly as I can see two queens hit the flop at Bellagio. “Sorry,” he said. “Take your time.”
“Time? Oh shit. Someone’s going to call the clock on me. I have to just make a decision and go with it.”
I counted the pot again, to make sure I had it straight. “Okay, I’m going to hate myself either way, so I think I’ll take the 4:1 odds and the chance to get some of my chips back from you.”
I picked up 1100, and hoped they’d be coming back into my stack.
“I call you, Paul Darden.” I said.
He flipped over a red ace and a black ten. Disgusted, I mucked my worthless tens. The dealer pushed the pot to Paul Darden, who traded me for a pack of smokes and a case of beer to Humble Pie.
“Did you have queens?” Avy asked. “I put you on queens.”
I didn’t answer. I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut, which had been telling me I was beat from the fucking flop. Why do we work so hard to develop instincts, just to ignore them when they do their job? Instead, I asked him, “Did I at least make the right call?”
“You were getting the right odds to call,” he said. The other pro at the table agreed, and Avy added that there was a very good chance Darden was bluffing me. “In fact,” he said, “I was going to e-mail you later tonight that you should have called if you’d folded.”
The floorman dealt out table assignments, and dropped a stack of chip racks in front of me. “I’m pretty sure I can handle my three chips on my own,” I said.
“Don’t put them in your pocket, sir.” He said. He looked at my card and pointed across the room. “You are at table 148.” I hoped against hope that I wouldn’t be the short stack when I arrived.
I thanked him, and looked up to shake hands with Paul Darden, but he was on his way to his new table. He didn’t even leave a rose on my pillow when he left.
to be continued . . .
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Bummed that you’re out. But we all want to hear more! Take us there, Wil.
Wil,
I’m just amazed at the detail you put into your writing. Sorry the cards wheren’t with you but I enjoy the writing.
The dealer pushed the pot to Paul Darden, who traded me for a pack of smokes and a case of beer to Humble Pie.
Was it good beer?
Sorry…had to do it. One of my favorite movies. 😀
Waiting for the next part…
Tough break that you are out Wil. Got the tip on another site and true to the story you are weaving sounds like it was a tough day.
Well, at least you are getting some good material out of it.
I wish things would have worked out better, but thanks for the vivid description. I can’t wait to hear more.
Sympathetic Me says, “Sorry to hear you’re out, Wil…”
Self-Indulgent Me says, “Yay! Finally get to read what happened from Wil’s P.O.V.!”
*ahem*
Apologies. It’s just that as much as I love Dr. Pauly, a one-sentence “Wil got busted out” summary is completely insufficient and left me on the edge of my seat hitting *refresh* on WWdN for the past 24 hours. To pass the time I listened to the entirety of the Gnomedex reading… twice. I was a fan before, but now I’m officially hooked. Hope that doesn’t make me too much of a drooling fan-girl. I swear I’m not.
By the way, thanks for the update. Can’t wait to read the rest.
Sucks to get the good hands early, and then not having anything hold up later. Really kills a tournament.
At least you got to play, and it looks like you held your own. The cards just didn’t come through for you.
Maybe next year? 🙂 But hopefully then, you’ll have to deal with me, too. I’m gonna make a serious satellite effort for the WSOP next year, I think.
Um.. Will. What happend to you taking some time out? Gambeling and posting such a detailed post on a Friday night. Putting the foot down? Ann must be PO right now…
Dang, I’m reminded of this picture From way waaaay back…
It’s FRIDAY NIGHT! go snuggle! the rest of us can veg in other internet stuff for a bit! U R gonna make yerself sick again.
That miracle definition had me crying, not just because it’s funny, but because I’m afraid it applies to medical students praying to the licensing exam gods.
Sorry the call didn’t work out, Wil.
Why do we work so hard to develop instincts, just to ignore them when they do their job?
Well, the book “Blink” describes many studies which indicate people feel more confident in decisions they’ve spent more time on than those they reach quickly even when the snap judgment is the better choice. The encouraging thing is that it’s possible to get better at listening to your instincts.
Hey Wil,
I waited all day for this update and it was worth it. This is one of the better posts you’ve written after coming off a hard loss, in my opinion. Great voice, wonderful drawing of the scene, and left me wanting to read more.
Tough luck on the loss, the poker gods may have forsaken you – but the writing gods haven’t.
Eric in PDX
That totally sucks ass, Wil. I’m sorry that the poker gods were aligned against you, but you can now say you’ve been, and hope to return next year with a vengeance!
On another note, I, too, enjoyed hearing the story from your POV, and though I feel badly for the way it turned out, I couldn’t help but chuckle at:
because in pokergodspeak, “miracle” apparently means “Fuck Wil in the ass.”
totally hilarious. I feel that way quite, often, though normally in situations totally unrelated to poker (I’ve only played once for money, and won the pot, so if I stop there, I’m at 100%). Anyway, sorry about the bad luck, but I’m sure it was the experience of a lifetime.
I’m puzzled about one thing…discussing your cards when hand has gone heads up is -not- forbidden…if it is, damn but I’ve seen a lot of tourneys on TV where they shatter that rule on a regular basis. People like Negreanu grill their opponents like detectives interrogating a suspect, trying to draw out a tell.
I’m thinking that guy may have just been impatient and wanted you to hurry up. If I’m wrong here, I’m -really- puzzled and would love to get some sort of definitive answer…maybe something you could dig up for a follow-up post? We poker newbies would love to know, I’m sure.
Sorry to hear the domino didn’t bring you more luck… I was following closely yesterday and a LOT of people online were rooting for you. You played really well, from what I’ve read so far, and next to a pro at that! 🙂 You should be really proud! I was rooting for you on my blog, and I saw a LOT of official WSOP blogs following your play.
Really impressed with Jennifer Tilly as well, had no idea she was a poker player, let alone a killer that could take the WSOP women’s tournament. Did you get to meet her?
“Excuse me, sir,” I snapped, “but this is an incredibly important decision for me, and you’re not in this hand.”
Holy shit– you’re such a bitch! Again and again you make me wish I knew anything at all about poker. But who needs to know anything about poker when Spike’s showing the season one episode where Wesley walks on the grass and gets sentenced to death. I’m not kidding. Three hours everyday now I get to re-live your ultrafantastic youth. If I wasn’t so drunk right now I’d explain just how quickly I become 15 and enamored of you all over again. Wesley lives! Wil rules.
Just amazing. I’m still thrilled to make it to the first break in PokerStars freerolls. Get ’em at the next one. Go Wil!
Maybe the Poker Gods were out by the pool with the hot chicks when you needed them, eh?
I hate it when that happens.
Do you at least get free booze?
Go get that 99 cent shrimp cocktail up at the Freemont Experience. I ordered three at once. Made me feel better, temporarily.
Maybe spend more time at the pool with the silicone.
What can you do?
-Kelly
Ahh, poker jargon! Brain resisting!
Actually that was wonderful as a story, and I like stories. It’s the details to poker that I tuned out on. I think I’ll have to have my new boyfriend explain some of the lingo since he apparently plays poker for a living and doesn’t want anyone to know. Weird, huh? He said he would be there in Vegas if he hit the tables more often, but he doesn’t want to. Hates the lifestyle. Still find that weird.
Anyway, now I’m getting poker talk from two sources, and I don’t like it so much. Maybe because I don’t play poker?
I chuckled when I saw Avi Freedman’s name in this entry.
I worked for Avi at Netaxs, the Philly ISP that he founded, long before he became a poker fanatic… probably the best place I ever worked overall.
Interesting guy.
Okay… here’s my analysis of “The Hand.” Frankly, I would have fired a shot at the turn. I honestly believe Darden checked behind you on the flop because he thought he was at least out-kicked and was worried about a check-raise all-in from you.
Your re-raise demonstrated more strength than pocket 10’s which many people consider a medium pair. If you had Aces, Kings or AK, Darden was *really* dead. Frankly, your stack size was large enough to worry him.
Think about the river bet, for example. It was just 1/3 of the pot. He figured if you called or folded, he won the pot. If you went over the top for 7100, he would have to call 6000 into a pot worth 11700. It would have been a tough call for him. The 1100 gave him a chance to get away cheap if you came over the top.
Of course, I’m just an amatuer grinder anyway… so take my words with a grain of salt.
I’m sure had I been in your seat, I would have busted out in the first ten minutes. It’s easy to second guess plays from my couch, but a lot harder to play them when you’re sitting at the table in the WSOP.
Even though it didn’t quite work out, the poker blogging community is still proud of you!
Sorry to read that the poker gods abandoned you. I thought about you at least once or twice, but with all the stuff going on in London, well, I just couldn’t focus on you properly inorder to send out some good virtual poker vibes your way.
Anyway, here’s wishing you better poker hands and days ahead.
Sorry you got beat at the poker, Wil. I know that was taking all of your time, but maybe a small mention of the London situation might of made me care more about yours.
I played around with this hand in some calculators and I think I agree with CJ. I also agree with
Paul had been stealing blinds from you all night. He could have had anything. Putting the ‘opponent bias’ slider on my calculator to say 1/4 only gives him a 46% chance to have a pair or better (including low pairs).
Conversely, it sounds like you represent yourself as a tight player. Especially with the pre-flop reraise, Paul was expecting strong hole cards from you. A bet after the flop would have reinforced that expectation.
Unfortunately, he had a pair of aces. Even with a very strong bias for you cards, he still had the best hand 80% of the time. I think he would have called most bets after the flop, but at least that would have given you more information. And had another K or Q come up on the turn, that would have put him around 65% for the best hand and made it easier to get him to fold.
Avy thought you had QQs at the end. I’d bet that he downgraded your hand from AA, AK, or KK when you called after the flop. Paul probably did too.
I’m just playing around with this. I think its fun, and helps me improve my game. I certainly can’t fault Wil for the way he played and I doubt I would have as lasted long in the tourney too (6000 players! I can’t make it past 20 in our home games).
Wil,
Sorry the trip didn’t take you as far as you would like, but I really enjoy reading about your journey.
Sandra
I figure I would have folded the TT. Not because of odds mind you, but because of what we (you) were thinking after the flop. I am done with this hand. So, why rethink that decision?
BUT,I just have to say from one wannabe to another:
My back shot up. “Excuse me, sir,” I snapped, “but this is an incredibly important decision for me, and you’re not in this hand.
YOU ARE MY HERO. LOL. See you there next year.
It is amazing the details, however random, that can stick in our minds. Sometimes becoming indelible (stops to check the propper spelling of that damn word) memories we pull out and dust off at odd moments, or simply pop to the forefront of our minds somewhere down the line.
Riveting, maybe that makes me rather easily entertained but if you didn’t know how to tell a story well you wouldn’t have such a popular sight, not to mention the books.
So anyhow, it’s a damn shame that hand didn’t turn out better. /reads on