Day 1 at the Venetian UltimateStack Tournament
On Wednesday, I entered Day 1B of the $600 NLH UltimateStack tournament of the DeepStack Showdown Poker Series at the Venetian Casino. It’s a 2-day tournament with three Day 1s. In other words, there are 3 opportunities to qualify for Day 2. The prize pool is guaranteed to be $150,000, so first place should be worth about $50,000.
I’ve been traveling a lot lately, but in between travel, I’ve played in a few tournaments. Other than coming in third place in a low buy-in tournament at the Orleans Casino, my record in all the others has been abysmal. Not a single cash and lots of repeated buy-ins. Very frustrating.
I first entered on Tuesday, Day 1A. I busted out three times and bought back in twice. Not something I’m proud of. The first time, I sat next to a player with a small stack who moaned and griped after each hand whether he had been in the hand or not. “I should have played that hand.” “I would have won that hand if I hadn’t folded.” “If I’d bet more money, he would have called me.” Each time, he smacked the table and cursed quietly. It was difficult to bear, especially after he won two big pots, so his stack was about average, yet his whining didn’t stop. “I could have won more if I’d bet the river.”
I was in the big blind with pocket 3s. I raised, and everyone folded except the whiner who quickly called. The flop was 358, looking good for me. I bet and he called. I figured the whining would stop when I busted him out of the tournament. The next card was 9. I bet big and he again called. I was scratching my head—figuratively not literally. The final card was a 6, seemingly unhelpful. But he bet a lot. What could he have? Two pair? A bluff. I called. It turned out he had rivered a straight with 47 in his hand. This pot was large, so why the hell would he even be in the hand with such lousy cards? He was in the big blind—last to bet—and I guess he made a choice to take a chance and then wouldn’t give up until he won that damned hand. And he did. My flopped set of 3s had been beaten by a tiny straight.
I bought back in and the next time I busted, I had KJ and the flop was AQ10. The other player bet. I raised. He snap shoved! I was ecstatic. I had the nuts! I snap called and he turned over Q 10. Unfortunately the next card was another Q, giving him a full house.
I bought back in again. My stack got short quickly since the blinds were very high by this time. I got K♠Q♣ and the flop was 3♦J♥10♥. I shoved with an open-ended straight draw. One other player called with 7♥6♥. I was ahead! And the next card was A, giving me a “Broadway,” the best possible straight! Then I noticed it was the A♥, giving him a flush. I was out again.
On Wednesday, when I entered the tournament, I sat at the table with a shorter than average stack because I had entered the tournament a few hours late. However, within a couple hands I had brought my stack up to average with a couple big wins. Then I got pocket 4s. One player raised, I called, and another players raised a lot. The first player called. With so many chips at stake, I decided to call. One thing about a $600 ultrastack tournament (i.e., small buy-in and very large starting stack), I could take risks. If I busted out, I could rebuy with a decent sized stack.
The flop was 47A, giving me a set! The first player checked, and I checked. The third player bet really big. She was an elderly lady, a tourist. I’d watched her play and got the impression that she was a decent player with her hometown friends, but missed subtleties. She also tended to show her emotions and sometimes speak them with sighs, shrugs, or soft comments. I was certain I had her beat. She almost certainly had a big A. If I shoved, would she call me? I gave it a shot and, after a few seconds of thinking, she did call me with AJ. I doubled up, leaving her with a few chips that she lost a few hands later. She took it well, though, and immediately bought back in.
After a short time, my stack was much larger than average. But then I made a questionable play. I got into a hand with an aggressive player with a stack about half my size. I had min-raised with pocket Qs. He had called. The flop was 10 8 2 rainbow. I bet big with my over pair. He shoved. What could he have had on such a dry board? Was he bluffing? Did he have a set of 2s, a set of 8s, a set of 10s? If so, he’d likely want to keep me in the hand, so I’d feed him more chips. On the other hand, maybe he had A 10 and though it was good and wanted to keep me from getting a better hand. Or maybe he was full-on bluffing, knowing that if he busted, he could buy back in for only $600. All of these went through my head. I finally decided 1) he probably didn’t suspect I had pocket Qs and 2) if he was ahead of me, I had two more cards coming to pull ahead of him. So I called and he showed 10 2 for two pair, the “big blind special” (when the player in the big blind, who typically has lousy cards but is in the hand because the big blind is forced to bet, ends up with a winning hand). The next two cards didn’t help me. I lost half my stack and struggled to get back to average stack for most of the day. Should I have made that call or folded and still had a decent stack? That kept going through my head the rest of the day. What do you think?
A couple hours later, with a stack of about 20 or 25 big blinds, they broke up my table and moved me next to Kathy Liebert. She won the first tournament she ever played, in 2002, for $1 million, making her the top female player in the world. Since then she’s made a few final tables in major tournaments, but no big wins. She plays lots of small tournaments in Vegas, so I run into her a lot. She’s usually pretty quiet, with a dry, self-deprecating sense of humor that I like, but today, with her very short stack, she was very lively and talkative. So much so that I had a bit of trouble following the game. I sat down, looked at her, and said” Oh, they put me by the troublemaker.” We had played at the World Series of Poker a couple years back, and I gave her my banana (not a euphemism, I assure you) when she busted me out. This time she showed me a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup that she told me was all mine if I busted her out.
Kathy and I talked about TV shows (we both like Survivor, we both dislike Curb Your Enthusiasm, she disliked Seinfeld and Young Sheldon but I like both of them). We gossiped about other professional poker players and what it’s like for us old folks to play against the young kids and their game theory optimization (GTO), the mathematical theory that helps them win consistently (I have my doubts, but that’s for a longer article). We traded bad beat stories. She talked about “being a has-been,” and I told her that everybody becomes a “has been” eventually, and she agreed that most people had never ever been, and she should be happy about that. Kathy always has a cheery personality, and I’ve never seen her get angry or upset at the table for any reason.
We were talking so much that I almost missed my pocket As under the gun. I did a small raise and everybody folded. I showed the aces. Shortly after that, I got pocket Qs. With my short stack, there was no thought needed—I shoved. But a larger stack across the table snap called. Not good. He turned over pocket As. Just my luck! I started picking up my things and wishing everybody luck, but Kathy started insisting, “Sit down. It’s not over. Your queen is coming. Sit down” Sure enough, I got a Q on the flop and doubled up. I high fived Kathy and sat back down. “Don’t tell me your bad beat stories anymore. You just beat aces with queens!” she said.
It's plays like this that get me questioning the proportion of luck in poker. I have to believe that there’s enough skill that over the long run, the most skilled players will win. If I ever come to the conclusion that skill is hardly a factor, then I’ll give up the game.
Unfortunately, Kathy busted out a short time later. I wished her better luck next time. The person who busted her was on a diet, so I got the peanut butter cup.
Sixteen people would cash and go to Day 2 on Friday. When it was down to 18 players, they reshuffled the players to two tables of nine each. My stack was at $170K. The average stack was $250K. One player at my table had about $850K, the tournament chip leader. And then I saw something that always surprises me, but also gives me hope in any tournament where I’m short stacked.
A player opposite the chip leader bet big pre-flop, raising from $6K to $24K. The chip leader raised to $50K. All other players folded. The first player called. The flop was A74. The first player bet $40K; the chip leader called. The turn card was 9. The first player bet $60K; the chip leader called. The river card was 2. The first player bet $80K. The chip leader tanked for so long—about 3 minutes—that someone called the clock on him. In a tournament, you can’t hold up the game by not betting; you have a reasonable amount of time, typically 2 minutes. After that, the floor manager will give you 30 seconds to decide. If you don’t decide in that time, your hand is dead.
The floor manager came over and gave him 30 seconds. He put in $500K, which covered the entire stack of the other player. I was astonished. The other player stared at his chips, and started silently moving his eyes and mouths, appearing to replay the hand in his mind under different scenarios to figure out what cards his opponent might have. I assumed that each player had made a set. The question is which one had the bigger set. The chip leader now called the clock on the other player. The floor manager came over and counted down from 30. When she got to 5, the other player called the bet. The chip leader turned over… 72! The other player turned over pocket Ks. Wow! These kinds of plays make me joke that I don’t understand how to play poker.
Let me break this down. The chip leader had nothing (flopped a pair of 7s), but decided that no one wants to bust out of the tournament right before the money and so will play more cautiously, especially against a much bigger stack. He also assumed that the other player didn’t have such a great hand that he would play it no matter what. The other player did have a great hand, but there were many better possible hands that could beat him, including any A. The shorter stack took a gamble that the bigger stack was bluffing, so he called the bluff. For the shorter stack, though, he had so much to gain that it was worth the chance, because he had already put so many chips into the pot and because winning would make him the chip leader. I understand what the chip leader did until his last move. That just amounted to greed. He could have called the other player’s bet or, better yet just folded. He would have remained the chip leader going into Day 2, a really big advantage. But he decided he wanted the other player’s chips and in doing this crazy move, he lost half his stack. There was no need. That’s why when I’m at a table with a player whose stack is much larger than mine, my thought used to be, “Wow, maybe I’ve got a shot at second place,” whereas now my thought is “How can I move all those chips into my stack.”
Wish me luck on Friday!
About the author
Bob Zeidman is a high-stakes recreational poker player. He created Good Beat Poker, a free online poker site using patented technology for audio and video—see and hear the other players at the table if you choose.