It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Beats
Artwork courtesy of JelleS
I played in three WSOP tournaments so far and had very deep runs but busted out shortly before the money. It’s hard to be upset about that. I played well, got decent cards, and everything worked out until they didn’t. Today’s tournament was different.
I was planning on writing about some of the weird things that happened to me over the last few days, but I’m pretty worked up right now, and maybe this will help. Here’s what happened today.
The WSOP is having multi-day tournaments, and I have plans on Friday and Sunday, but many of the casinos in Vegas are putting on their own tournament series to compete. The MGM Grand had a nice single day tournament, so I entered. The MGM Grand attracts the less sophisticated players. If you’re really into poker, you play at the WSOP, the Venetian, or the Wynn. Many good players like to play against the “donkeys,” “fish,” or whatever other word you use for poor players. I like playing against the best players who test my skills and also act rationally. Here’s a perfect example. I think.
I sat down at the table and players were shoving pre-flop from the beginning. The starting stack was $50K or 250 big blinds. This is an enormous stack, and there’s no reason whatsoever to risk it all at the beginning. But that’s what they were doing. So I stayed out of the play, which was easy because I was getting crap hands—rarely an A or picture card, but if so, it was always accompanied by a small card. My stack was getting low.
I finally got a K♠7♠. Not a terrific hand, but good enough to play it. I raised. The very aggressive player to my left, who had a big stack from bullying people out of hands with huge bets, called. The flop was K♦8♣6♠. I had top pair and a backdoor flush draw and straight draw (needing two more cards to make the hand). I bet. He called. The next card was 5♦. I had lost my possible flush but gained a possible straight. And I still had the top pair. I shoved. He called and turned over 8♥6♦ for two pair and exclaimed, “You’re practically drawing dead.” That’s a term for when no cards in the deck can win the hand for you, but that wasn’t even close to true. My odds were just better than 1 out of 3. Maybe he was saying that to intimidate me, but that didn’t matter as I had no more chips to bet. As I said, the players weren’t very good. The next card was a 9♥, giving me a straight and the win. I doubled up.
I then spent the next 3 hours with almost no playable cards, and my stack dwindled. I was sure I was going home… until I got A♦A♥ under the gun. I raised big and got one caller. The flop was 6♣A♣J♠, giving me top set and the nuts. I checked, the other player bet big, and I hammed it up a little too much before shoving. He called anyway, with two clubs for a flush draw. He got his flush on the river when the J♣ showed up, but that also gave me a winning full house.
I now had a decent stack and looked like I could make it into the money. A few hands later, I once again got pocket As under the gun. I limped in this time, knowing that one of the aggressive players would raise. Sure enough, the same player I had just beaten with aces raised from $2,000 to $7,000 in the small blind. The big blind player called. I reraised to $25K. To my surprise, the small blind player called. I could see the big blind player doing calculations in his head and deciding that even though his hand wasn’t great, it was worth calling because of the size of the pot. While this is a good strategy in cash games, where each game is independent of past and future games, it’s actually a bad strategy in tournaments where you don’t need to get the most chips, you need to last to the end. I see this mistake among a lot of amateur players and even some pros.
The flop was 853 rainbow—no possible straight, no possible flush. I immediately shoved. Any astute player would know I had aces from the way I played the hand. But the small blind player thought and thought, and I knew I had him. I tried to transmit signals into his brain to make him want to call my bet. I tried to look slightly anxious as if I didn’t want him to call me, but tried not to overdo it. He finally called and the big blind folded. I was overjoyed! He turned over pocket 6s. That was crazy! He must have been on tilt, out to get me after the last time I beat him. I could easily have accidentally been ahead of him even if I were bluffing. I was thrilled! I was about to triple up and almost certainly be in the money if not the final table. The odds were 8:1 in my favor.
The turn card I don’t remember, but the river card I remember distinctly. It was a 6, giving him a set and busting me out of the tournament.
I said something under my breath like, “I can’t f…ing believe it” as I gathered my backpack and card protector, and walked out. Sometimes it seems like the universe is acting against me. Again. I have to suppress thoughts that there’s cheating going on. Only a person who doesn’t understand the game would call my bet with such a poor hand. He didn’t seem stupid, and he seemed to understand the game, yet why was he in the hand in the first place and why did he call after the flop when his odds were so low? If he had shoved first, I could understand it, hoping to bully me into folding, though I wouldn’t fold aces on that board, but he didn’t know I had aces. Maybe I did too good a job looking like I was bluffing because I really did want him to call me. Eight-to-one odds in my favor!
I need to think about this for a while. I did everything right, the odds were in my favor, and I know “that’s poker,” but still it’s hard for this to happen and think that some player who doesn’t really understand the game is now making money while I’m home at my computer writing this article.