I realized after my last post that I had suggested previously that I'd tell a Dave Foley story, and forgot. Here's that one and a few other poker/gambling stories:
Commerce Casino, February 2004
By February, 2004, Sharon was tearing up pretty much every game and tournament she played. After a huge showing at the WSOP 2003 (no cashes, but massive returns in smaller tournaments, side games and satellites), she posted nine consecutive months of profitable play, mostly in cash games at The Hustler and Hollywood Park. She was also killing online poker, mostly playing nosebleed stakes on UltimateBet.
In February 2004, Sharon played in a satellite on PartyPoker, attempting to win a seat in the World Poker Tour $25,000 Main Event. After an epic struggle, Sharon won the satellite. As relative newcomers to the World Poker Tour (PokerStars had just conducted our first WPT event a few weeks earlier), neither of us realized that every player who buys into or wins a satellite into the WPT Main Event is invited to play in the WPT Celebrity Invitational Tournament, a $200,000 freeroll with an entertaining blend of celebrity dead money and professional poker players.
About 15 minutes after Sharon won, our phone rang. It was 2:00a, a time that might be shocking for others to receive a phone call, but we're poker players. It was Linda Johnson, often called the "First Lady of Poker" (a misnomer - first ladies are typically standing next to the big star, whereas Linda was always the star on her own). Linda and I had played Omaha High/Low together over the years at the Mirage, but we had really gotten to know her during the PokerStars WPT cruise the prior month.
"I was sweating Sharon during this tournament," Linda said. "Please put her on so I can congratulate her." Turns out that she had more than congratulations - the Celebrity Invitational was the following day, and Linda was calling to invite Sharon to play.
I'll write more about the Invitational itself another time. Suffice to say for now that Sharon had both a great time and an impressive run. I couldn't stand to watch, so my friends/coworkers Lee Jones and Rich Korbin went out for dinner at a nearby steakhouse. When we returned, the ten tables we had left were pared down to two 6-handed tables. Sharon had Dave Foley to her immediate left, and was in a paroxysm of hysterical laughter when I arrived.
"Oh my God, he is the funniest person on the planet," Sharon whispered to me as the next hand was dealt. Sharon folded, Foley raised and only Antonio Esfandiari called from the big blind.
The flop came (I have no recollection of the cards), Esfandiari checked and Foley made a sizable bet. Esfandiari called, and the turn card was delivered.
Esfandiari checked again, and this time Foley went all in, a huge overbet to the pot. Esfandiari went deep into the tank for what seemed like two or three minutes (eons at the poker table). He finally did what he always does in these situations - he tried to get his opponent to talk.
After a few minutes of this, Foley, who was quite drunk, stood up, spread his hands in a gesture of supplication and said, "Don't bother trying to pick something up on me. I'm an idiot."
Esfandiari folded.
The Mirage, September 1997
I had made trips to Las Vegas pretty regularly starting in mid-1996, visiting a woman I was dating there, and then going just to have fun and play poker. I had played some Omaha High-Low over the years, but was far from being even a respectable player - I still really had no idea what a good starting hand was. That may explain the following hand, which I'll charitably describe as "despicable."
Back in 1997, The Mirage was at the very center of poker in the US - that's where everyone played when they went to Las Vegas, and it's where all of the big boys played. There was a railed-off area in the corner with a few tables where there was always a 200-400 or higher game going.
I had been doing quite well in my consulting business, and was playing 10-20 to 20-40 limit hold 'em pretty regularly (also doing well). I had hoped to play at those limits, but the lists were 30 or more names deep for every game up to 80-160. Just as I was considering going elsewhere, I heard an announcement: "Seat open, 15-30 Omaha High Low." I (thought I) knew how to play that game. I called "lock it up," headed for the table and bought in for $1,000, which looked about right based on the rest of the stacks. The dealer informed me that the game had a 2/3 kill (meaning that the stakes went to 25-50 on the next hand if a player scooped the entire pot).
The game appeared to be driven by a few super-aggressive locals, who regularly raised and reraised. I didn't realize at the time that the rest of the seats were occupied by crazy, drunken marginal players who were there mostly to gamble it up and consume as many free drinks as possible. I blame them for what happened next.
I won a few hands in my first round, and was up to about $1,500 when this hand developed. I was in the big blind, and by the time the action came back to me, it was capped (four raises had already been put in). Someone had scooped the previous hand, so this was a kill pot, and all nine other players were involved. It was about to cost me $100 just to see the flop, but it was clear that everyone was calling all bets, so the pot would be $1,250, offering me a very nice price. I called with 7d 7h 8d 8h, a hand that any sane Omaha High Low player would toss in the muck for a single raise, although I think I could still defend my play to this point.
The flop came a very interesting 9h 9d Td. I had flopped an open-ended straight flush draw. The small blind and I checked, someone bet, and by the time the action was back on me it had been capped once again - and everyone was still in. It was going to cost me $125, but there was now $2,500 in the pot, meaning that I was getting 20:1 odds to make my draw. I was a 22:1 underdog to make a straight flush on the next card, so I wasn't exactly getting the right price to make the call, but I rationalized a few reasons for doing so: (1) I'd get some considerable action if I did hit my hand, and (2) I really, really wanted to play. There's also the fact that I was pot-blind at the absurd size of the pot. The game was played with $5 chips, and there was already the equivalent of five full racks of chips in the pot. I called.
The turn was the somewhat surprising Th. I now had two straight flush draws. The action went pretty much the same way, although when it was my turn to act, there were only four players remaining besides me. There was now about $3,500 in the pot and it would cost me $250 to call. I was an 11:1 dog, but the pot was laying me 14:1, and besides, holy shit, there was a lot of money in the pot. I called.
The river was the incredibly beautiful 6d, giving me the nut straight flush. I bet, and almost immediately the guy to my left, who had his chips stacked in gigantic towers of at least 50 chips each, knocked most of them over. Someone jokingly said that it seemed like an awfully big raise. He did, in fact, raise, as did the next guy. I dutifully put in the fourth bet, and now, for the first time, both of the other players just called. I proudly tabled my hand and said "Straight flush."
I wish I had words to describe the next few seconds. The table, previously raucous, went deadly silent. The chip tower guy to my left didn't move a muscle, but I saw his jaw drop a little. The guy to his left said, "Don't say a word. I have you beat, too."
Chip tower guy said, "Oh yeah? Can you beat quad nines. douchebag?" and tabled 99xx for flopped quads.
The guy to his left didn't say anything, but quietly showed pocket tens for a flopped full house and one-outer quads on the turn.
The dealer shoved me the pot, but "shoved" doesn't really describe it. By this time, the pot had swelled to nearly $5,000, ten racks of red chips. I pushed a stack, $100, to the dealer. As I did, the player to my right, who had been in the small blind, said, "You had less outs than you think." He then told me that he had folded Jd Qd - he had also flopped a straight flush draw, but I had one of his cards and he had one of mine.
OK, it was ugly. I'll still take it.
Four Queens, May 2004
Pai Gow has long been one of my favorite casino table games. It's an easy, fun game, and there is almost no amount of alcohol that can make you play badly - if you don't know what to do, you can just put your hand down face up and the dealer will tell you how the house plays it.
In case you don't know the game, here's a simple summary: you are dealt seven cards, and you split the cards into a five card poker hand and a two card poker hand. The two card hand is composed only of high cards and pairs (no straights, flushes, etc.). The only rule is that your five card hand must outrank your two card hand. To win, you must win both hands; to lose, you must lose both. The house wins ties, so if you lose one and tie one, you lose.
In most casinos, there is an additional bet you can make called the Fortune Bonus. If you make any hand higher than two pair, you are paid odds on the Fortune Bonus hand. The odds aren't very high for most hands, but there are some that pay nicely.
Sharon has never shared my affection for the game, but if she ever had any positive thoughts about Pai Gow, this hand cured her. We were in the middle of the World Series of Poker, and had decided to take a night and have dinner and some fun. We went to Hugo's Cellar for dinner, our favorite restaurant in Las Vegas to this day. We had a few bottles of wine with some friends, and a few drinks, and decided to play Pai Gow.
On one of our first hands, Sharon was dealt a hand that I have only seen once before - quads and a pair of Aces. The complete hand was 9999AAK. This hand is an absolute monster in Pai Gow - being dealt quads is rare enough, but being dealt the best possible 'front' (two card) hand along with it is stunning. It's a no-lose hand...almost. There was a lot of chatter at the table about what an amazing hand it was. I have absolutely no recollection of my hand.
After everyone had a chance to admire the beauty of this stunning hand, the dealer turned over her cards. The 'window' card (the first one you see) was the Joker, which isn't good - it can be used as an Ace, or to complete any straight or flush. When she spread the rest of the cards, they were all red, and it took me a few seconds to work out what she had - in fact, it took her a few, as well. Not only were they all red, but they were all hearts, including an Ace. She didn't touch the cards for a minute as we all reordered them in our heads.
Sharon was the first person at the table to work out what had happened. "You can't be fucking serious," she said. The dealer tentatively started rearranging the cards. The pit boss came over to watch as she moved the Ah and the joker to the top (front hand) and rearranged the rest of the hearts. At first, it just looked like an ugly tie for Sharon - Sharon won the back hand with quads over a flush, and the dealer won the front hand with AA vs AA. But as the dealer rearranged the back cards in order, we all realized what Sharon had seen immediately - the dealer had an even more shocking eight-high straight flush plus AA.
The worst part of this story: not all casinos had implemented the Fortune Bonus bet yet (almost all have now), and the Four Queens was one of the holdouts. Sharon lost the hand straight-up with one of the best hands you can be dealt in this game.
It was almost five years before Sharon played another hand of Pai Gow.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Monday, June 9, 2014
Odd stuff in poker and elsewhere
First, if you read this blog regularly you know that I have really been trying to get into the habit of posting at least weekly. In fact, I created a penalty for myself - anyone who catches me going more than a week gets to donate $100 of my money to the charity of their choice. This worked for quite a few months, and then the run-up to the World Series of Poker started. This has cost me $300 so far, and since it's likely to get worse as the WSOP goes on, I'm temporarily calling off the $100 penalty, so as not to have to go on food stamps before the summer ends.
As a further excuse for this past two weeks, I have played in 4 WSOP events - the Casino Emloyees $500 event, a $1,500 NLHE, the $1,500 Pot Limit Hold 'em and the Seniors event. The first two were a complete bust - I didn't make it to the dinner break in either. I felt only a tiny bit better about the $1,500 NLHE event because I had nearly freerolled into it - I won a seat on WSOP.com.
After that event, I had no intention of playing anything else other than the Seniors event, which I think is the best value at the WSOP if you're 50+. But then I won ANOTHER seat on WSOP.com into my very favorite game, Pot Limit Hold 'em. And not only did I go deep, but I made my first final table ever at the WSOP. I finished 6th for just under $29,000, which is good in any case but terrific for a $63 investment. The final table was the most fun I've ever had playing poker - if you watched the video stream, you probably noticed that I had my hand over my mouth most of the time. That was to hide the giant grin that was there throughout. I even had a terrific surprise - in addition to the 30 or so people railing me from the grandstands, Sharon surprised me and showed up, even though she had told me the night before that she wasn't coming (which was actually my suggestion).
Less than 24 hours after that final table, I started the Seniors event. I went deep there, as well, finishing 160th for just under $3,000. I should have gone deeper, but that will wait for another day. My friend Dennis Phillips went VERY deep, finishing 5th for $154,000. And a very old friend from my Hollywood Park days, David Tran, also made the final table, finishing just behind Dennis in 6th. David and I were at the same table for most of Day 1, and I came very close to busting him, so I feel like I had some part in his outstanding finish - I way underbet a full house on the river, underestimating the strength of his hand. I had TT on a T5232 board, and it turned out that he had KK. My river bet was about 1/3 of the pot, and he later told me that he would have called off his whole stack.
And now on to the promised poker/gambling weirdness discussion.
Commerce Casino, February 2004
The poker boom was in full swing by the time the Commerce Casino's annual LA Poker Classic started in early February 2004. Two things were obvious at this point - (1) poker was huge and about to be much bigger, and (2) celebrities had discovered poker.
On a typical day at the Commerce, the Bicycle Club, Hollywood Park and the Hustler, it wasn't unusual to see Ben Affleck, Tobey Maguire, Norm Macdonald, Sam Simon (co-creator of "The Simpsons"), James Woods and a host of other celebs playing anywhere between very small and very big stakes. On this particular day, I was on the board waiting for a $5-10 No Limit Hold 'em game when they started a must-move game (a 'feeder' game for the established games - if they call you for the established game, you're forced to move). The game started short-handed - there were five of us, including Tobey Maguire.
I had played with Tobey before, and found him particularly thoughtful and conservative, given that the total amount of money on the table in this game was roughly 0.005% of his paycheck for his last movie. We had been playing for about 30 minutes when the following hand came up.
I was in the big blind, and Tobey was to my immediate left. He raised, everyone else folded and I looked down to find a hand nicknamed "presto" - pocket fives. I called and the flop came down just as I had hoped - Q85. I checked, he bet and I called. I checked the turn, hoping to get a check-raise in, and fortunately for me, he bet again. I put in a medium-sized raise, the same size raise I would make in any case (real hand or bluff).
At this point, Tobey went into the tank for a very long time, so long that he apologized to the rest of the table for taking so long. I realized at this point that he had a real hand, either AA or KK, and was trying to work out whether i had flopped a set on him. After what had to be three or four minutes, eons at the poker table, he flipped up AA, folded and tapped the table (poker players' way of saying "nice hand").
Just to be clear here, the amount of my raise was something like $500, an amount of money that he might have set on fire without remembering he had done so. I was surprised and impressed.
Epilogue: Two years later, I formally met Tobey when Nolan Dalla and I were attempting to negotiate a deal to get him on Team PokerStars. After Nolan introduced us, he looked at me for a bit and said, "I know you. We've played together." I nodded, and mentioned that he had folded AA face up when I check-raised him.
His response: "I remember. You flopped a set on me."
MGM Grand, June 2006
The 2006 World Series of Poker was among the most surreal and absurd experiences of my life. The poker boom had gripped the US to the point where you couldn't really go anywhere without seeing it. The 7-11 around the corner from my house had an entire display dedicated just to chips and cards. My gas station sold WSOP shirts. And the World Poker Tour was everywhere.
We decided to be even more aggressive at PokerStars to make sure we had a stranglehold on WSOP entries. We had lost a bidding war for the WSOP felt to PartyPoker (another story), and needed our presence at the WSOP to be wide and deep. And it was - by the time the first hand was dealt, we had over 1,600 players in the event, about 18% of the field (see The Girl With the $16,000,000 Purse and other posts here for more details).
All of this was managed by Sharon and a team of friends and family she brought to Las Vegas. The key people were Sharon's sister Marie, plus Shaena and Steve, two friends of ours who lived with us for the summer to help manage the massive amount of money and swag. Everyone was working 16-18 hours a day, and by the time early July rolled around, we all needed a break. Sharon suggested dinner and gambling somewhere away from the Rio, and we ended up at the MGM Grand.
I'm not sure exactly how we decided what to play, but we ended up at a Let It Ride table. By the time we got there, we were all pretty toasted, making lots of noise and generally disturbing the peace of everyone around us. I was playing much bigger at this game than I usually did - $25 a spot.
Short explanation if you don't already know the game - the object of the game is to make at least a pair of tens. You aren't competing against the house or other players - if you make at least a pair of tens, you win. But if you make something bigger, you win more - up to a royal flush, which can pay as much as $100,000 when you're playing $25 a spot. You start with three cards, and have the option of removing one of your three $25 bets if you don't like your hand. The dealer exposes a card, then you can remove one more $25 bet if you want. The last $25 bet always stays.
On this hand, I started with a terrific hand for this game - TJQ, all diamonds. This is a perfect hand to 'let it ride' - that is, not to remove the first $25 bet. I did. The dealer then exposed the stunningly beautiful King of diamonds.
Summary: I now have a 1 in 48 chance to win about $100,000. The three $25 bets pay 1,000:1 for a royal flush, plus a bonus bet and a few other payoffs. But in addition, I also have a 1 in 48 chance to hit the 9 of diamonds for a straight flush (200:1 payoff), a 7 in 48 chance to make a flush (8:1 payoff), a 6 in 48 chance to make a straight (5:1) and a 12 in 48 chance to make a pair for even money. Total: 27 of the remaining 48 cards pay me something.
The dealer, who was a lot of fun and had been playing along with our obnoxious behavior, decided to have some fun himself. Instead of turning up the last card, he slipped the cut card under it and then turned it over, so the cut card completely obscured the final card. He then pulled it down ever so slowly. At first, I saw a red, pointy-tipped card - there are only 4 cards in the deck that look like that (red 4s and red Aces). As he pulled it down a little further, we all realized it was a red Ace.
Now there was some real excitement at the table. The last card could only be either the Ace of hearts (paying a paltry 5:1 plus a few bonuses, or around $600 total) or the Ace of diamonds, the monster card that would net me nearly $100,000. The dealer called a floorman over to watch - since he had done something that was not quite by the book, he didn't want to have the hand disqualified. He told the floorman what had happened and the floorman nodded, so all appeared to be OK.
The dealer then started slipping the cut card sideways. If you're a poker player, you know that you can distinguish a heart from a diamond with only a tiny speck of the card exposed - if there's a point, it's a diamond. He squeezed a millimeter at a time. No point. Another millimeter, still nothing. Finally, he exposed enough of the card that we could all see that it was, alas, the Ace of hearts and not diamonds. By this time a crowd had formed (this whole thing took quite a while), and everyone sighed their disappointment.
But the story's not over. The dealer then said, "Let's see where it was," and turned over and spread the deck. After a minute of looking, we all realized the same thing - there was no Ace of diamonds in the deck.
We all just sat there, looking, sure we had missed it. Finally I realized what had happened, and pointed to the discard tray. The game is dealt with a shuffler, which deals three cards at a time. But the game calls for only two cards to be dealt to the board, so the dealer discards one of them. The three cards in the board hand were A of hearts, A of diamonds and K of diamonds. It was that close.
The result was far from what we wanted, but it created a lasting moment of excitement.
As a further excuse for this past two weeks, I have played in 4 WSOP events - the Casino Emloyees $500 event, a $1,500 NLHE, the $1,500 Pot Limit Hold 'em and the Seniors event. The first two were a complete bust - I didn't make it to the dinner break in either. I felt only a tiny bit better about the $1,500 NLHE event because I had nearly freerolled into it - I won a seat on WSOP.com.
After that event, I had no intention of playing anything else other than the Seniors event, which I think is the best value at the WSOP if you're 50+. But then I won ANOTHER seat on WSOP.com into my very favorite game, Pot Limit Hold 'em. And not only did I go deep, but I made my first final table ever at the WSOP. I finished 6th for just under $29,000, which is good in any case but terrific for a $63 investment. The final table was the most fun I've ever had playing poker - if you watched the video stream, you probably noticed that I had my hand over my mouth most of the time. That was to hide the giant grin that was there throughout. I even had a terrific surprise - in addition to the 30 or so people railing me from the grandstands, Sharon surprised me and showed up, even though she had told me the night before that she wasn't coming (which was actually my suggestion).
Less than 24 hours after that final table, I started the Seniors event. I went deep there, as well, finishing 160th for just under $3,000. I should have gone deeper, but that will wait for another day. My friend Dennis Phillips went VERY deep, finishing 5th for $154,000. And a very old friend from my Hollywood Park days, David Tran, also made the final table, finishing just behind Dennis in 6th. David and I were at the same table for most of Day 1, and I came very close to busting him, so I feel like I had some part in his outstanding finish - I way underbet a full house on the river, underestimating the strength of his hand. I had TT on a T5232 board, and it turned out that he had KK. My river bet was about 1/3 of the pot, and he later told me that he would have called off his whole stack.
And now on to the promised poker/gambling weirdness discussion.
Commerce Casino, February 2004
The poker boom was in full swing by the time the Commerce Casino's annual LA Poker Classic started in early February 2004. Two things were obvious at this point - (1) poker was huge and about to be much bigger, and (2) celebrities had discovered poker.
On a typical day at the Commerce, the Bicycle Club, Hollywood Park and the Hustler, it wasn't unusual to see Ben Affleck, Tobey Maguire, Norm Macdonald, Sam Simon (co-creator of "The Simpsons"), James Woods and a host of other celebs playing anywhere between very small and very big stakes. On this particular day, I was on the board waiting for a $5-10 No Limit Hold 'em game when they started a must-move game (a 'feeder' game for the established games - if they call you for the established game, you're forced to move). The game started short-handed - there were five of us, including Tobey Maguire.
I had played with Tobey before, and found him particularly thoughtful and conservative, given that the total amount of money on the table in this game was roughly 0.005% of his paycheck for his last movie. We had been playing for about 30 minutes when the following hand came up.
I was in the big blind, and Tobey was to my immediate left. He raised, everyone else folded and I looked down to find a hand nicknamed "presto" - pocket fives. I called and the flop came down just as I had hoped - Q85. I checked, he bet and I called. I checked the turn, hoping to get a check-raise in, and fortunately for me, he bet again. I put in a medium-sized raise, the same size raise I would make in any case (real hand or bluff).
At this point, Tobey went into the tank for a very long time, so long that he apologized to the rest of the table for taking so long. I realized at this point that he had a real hand, either AA or KK, and was trying to work out whether i had flopped a set on him. After what had to be three or four minutes, eons at the poker table, he flipped up AA, folded and tapped the table (poker players' way of saying "nice hand").
Just to be clear here, the amount of my raise was something like $500, an amount of money that he might have set on fire without remembering he had done so. I was surprised and impressed.
Epilogue: Two years later, I formally met Tobey when Nolan Dalla and I were attempting to negotiate a deal to get him on Team PokerStars. After Nolan introduced us, he looked at me for a bit and said, "I know you. We've played together." I nodded, and mentioned that he had folded AA face up when I check-raised him.
His response: "I remember. You flopped a set on me."
MGM Grand, June 2006
The 2006 World Series of Poker was among the most surreal and absurd experiences of my life. The poker boom had gripped the US to the point where you couldn't really go anywhere without seeing it. The 7-11 around the corner from my house had an entire display dedicated just to chips and cards. My gas station sold WSOP shirts. And the World Poker Tour was everywhere.
We decided to be even more aggressive at PokerStars to make sure we had a stranglehold on WSOP entries. We had lost a bidding war for the WSOP felt to PartyPoker (another story), and needed our presence at the WSOP to be wide and deep. And it was - by the time the first hand was dealt, we had over 1,600 players in the event, about 18% of the field (see The Girl With the $16,000,000 Purse and other posts here for more details).
All of this was managed by Sharon and a team of friends and family she brought to Las Vegas. The key people were Sharon's sister Marie, plus Shaena and Steve, two friends of ours who lived with us for the summer to help manage the massive amount of money and swag. Everyone was working 16-18 hours a day, and by the time early July rolled around, we all needed a break. Sharon suggested dinner and gambling somewhere away from the Rio, and we ended up at the MGM Grand.
I'm not sure exactly how we decided what to play, but we ended up at a Let It Ride table. By the time we got there, we were all pretty toasted, making lots of noise and generally disturbing the peace of everyone around us. I was playing much bigger at this game than I usually did - $25 a spot.
Short explanation if you don't already know the game - the object of the game is to make at least a pair of tens. You aren't competing against the house or other players - if you make at least a pair of tens, you win. But if you make something bigger, you win more - up to a royal flush, which can pay as much as $100,000 when you're playing $25 a spot. You start with three cards, and have the option of removing one of your three $25 bets if you don't like your hand. The dealer exposes a card, then you can remove one more $25 bet if you want. The last $25 bet always stays.
On this hand, I started with a terrific hand for this game - TJQ, all diamonds. This is a perfect hand to 'let it ride' - that is, not to remove the first $25 bet. I did. The dealer then exposed the stunningly beautiful King of diamonds.
Summary: I now have a 1 in 48 chance to win about $100,000. The three $25 bets pay 1,000:1 for a royal flush, plus a bonus bet and a few other payoffs. But in addition, I also have a 1 in 48 chance to hit the 9 of diamonds for a straight flush (200:1 payoff), a 7 in 48 chance to make a flush (8:1 payoff), a 6 in 48 chance to make a straight (5:1) and a 12 in 48 chance to make a pair for even money. Total: 27 of the remaining 48 cards pay me something.
The dealer, who was a lot of fun and had been playing along with our obnoxious behavior, decided to have some fun himself. Instead of turning up the last card, he slipped the cut card under it and then turned it over, so the cut card completely obscured the final card. He then pulled it down ever so slowly. At first, I saw a red, pointy-tipped card - there are only 4 cards in the deck that look like that (red 4s and red Aces). As he pulled it down a little further, we all realized it was a red Ace.
Now there was some real excitement at the table. The last card could only be either the Ace of hearts (paying a paltry 5:1 plus a few bonuses, or around $600 total) or the Ace of diamonds, the monster card that would net me nearly $100,000. The dealer called a floorman over to watch - since he had done something that was not quite by the book, he didn't want to have the hand disqualified. He told the floorman what had happened and the floorman nodded, so all appeared to be OK.
The dealer then started slipping the cut card sideways. If you're a poker player, you know that you can distinguish a heart from a diamond with only a tiny speck of the card exposed - if there's a point, it's a diamond. He squeezed a millimeter at a time. No point. Another millimeter, still nothing. Finally, he exposed enough of the card that we could all see that it was, alas, the Ace of hearts and not diamonds. By this time a crowd had formed (this whole thing took quite a while), and everyone sighed their disappointment.
But the story's not over. The dealer then said, "Let's see where it was," and turned over and spread the deck. After a minute of looking, we all realized the same thing - there was no Ace of diamonds in the deck.
We all just sat there, looking, sure we had missed it. Finally I realized what had happened, and pointed to the discard tray. The game is dealt with a shuffler, which deals three cards at a time. But the game calls for only two cards to be dealt to the board, so the dealer discards one of them. The three cards in the board hand were A of hearts, A of diamonds and K of diamonds. It was that close.
The result was far from what we wanted, but it created a lasting moment of excitement.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Poker, it's a very strange game
[note: I've been absent for a while, and it's cost me $300 so far. I'll get better if only because I can't afford to do otherwise.]
The World Series of Poker just got underway, and someone at one of my first tables started a conversation about the strangest things they had seen at a poker table. Since I've played over a million hands of live poker (a sad commentary of its own), I figured I was in a good position to tell a few interesting ones. I haven't really planned this out, so I have no idea how extensive this will become - I'm going to divide it by casino, so at least there's some structure.
Hollywood Park, 1998
Back in the day, I played almost every day at Hollywood Park, usually 15-30 or 20-40 limit hold 'em, eventually moving up to 40-80. The quality of the games varied widely, but at least 2-3 times a week, especially during racing season, the games were crazy, rock 'em-sock 'em poker. This was one of those days, although that really only accounts for the pre-flop and flop play in this story.
I was playing 20-40 in a game where nearly every hand was capped before the flop. In this hand, I was in the big blind, and it was capped to me; I looked down at Ac Kc. I'm totally OK with putting in three more bets with this hand (duh), knowing that I can get away quickly if the flop doesn't hit me well. The small blind, two other players and I see the flop.
You could say it hit me well: Qc Jc Tc, my first-ever flopped royal flush. My first thought was, "Lucky for me that this was one of those capped-preflop hands, since no one can really have much of this." But as this thought was forming, the small blind bet. I resisted the urge to kiss him, and called. To my astonishment, it went raise-raise-raise behind me. I'm OK with putting another $60 in.
If it's possible for me to hit a bad card here, I did: the river was the eight of clubs. This was a scare card (like the board wasn't?) - the lone nine of clubs made a straight flush, and even if someone didn't have that, the lone Ace of clubs was good for the nut flush.
This, of course, slowed down the action. The small blind checked. I was pretty sure that I was only getting called here by the nine of clubs, maybe the Ace of clubs if he acted last, so I bet, and was further stunned to see all three players call. As the player in the small blind called, he said, "Hit your flush on the river, eh?" I said, "Not exactly," and showed my royal.
Postscript: One of the resident maniacs at the table asked to see all of the hands. The first two raisers both had AK; the small blind had QQ. So the flop hit everyone, me the hardest. But this brought up a question that I have never been able to fully resolve. I understand one player calling, although how he could do so without a club I don't know. But how do the other two overcall?
The best answer I've gotten to this question was from Lou Krieger, who was at the table when this happened. "I call it pot-blindness. Imagine snow-blindness, but with chips. The last guy probably thought something like, 'I know I'm beat here, but there's almost $2,000 in the pot and it costs me $40, so I only have to be right 2% of the time.'"
I've mostly given up trying to figure out what people were thinking when they made terrible calls against me. They were probably thinking, "Mmmmm, doughnuts."
Hollywood Park, 2004
Sharon and I started playing big-bet poker in 2003, mostly in the $5-5 pot limit hold 'em game at Hollywood Park. At the time, I doubt that there were ten big-bet (pot limit or no limit) cash games anywhere in California.
This story features two despicable human beings, one of whom I've written about before - see "Sometimes there's justice in poker" for a much different story about Adnan. The other player was someone I had never seen before this particular night, and have never seen since. We'll call him Abe.
Abe is a poker stereotype - angry, abusive and convinced he's unbreakable. Adnan is a good foil for him, particularly in this game, because he has very deep pockets and not a lot of skill. He also drinks to excess - and I know something about alcohol and excess. He was tossed out of Hollywood Park for, among other things, flipping over a table after a particularly nasty beat. A confrontation between them was almost inevitable.
The game itself was a little odd by today's standards. The minimum buy-in was $200, with no maximum. Most players bought in for $1,000 or more. Occasionally, one of the $10-20 or $15-30 limit players would take a shot at the game, usually for $200 or a little more, get skinned and skulk back to the limit games. But sometimes the game played very big, and this was one of those games.
Before this hand started, Adnan had about $10,000 in front of him. Abe and Adnan had already gone at it a few times, and Abe had (correctly) identified Adnan as the fish. Of course, we all had, but we tried not to spread that around too much; Abe, on the other hand, wanted everyone, especially Adnan, to know that he knew. After Adnan won a very big pot, Abe asked him how much he had in total. Adnan told him that he had $8,000. Abe immediately pulled out more cash, and every time Adnan won a pot after that, Abe added to his stack to make sure he had Adnan covered.
The hand started like any other - someone put in a small raise, and a few players called, including Sharon and me. The flop came 764 unsuited. There was a little action, Sharon and I folded and three players saw the turn, which paired the 4. At this point there was about $200 in the pot. Adnan was first to act. He stood up to look at the board more closely (which he often did), then pointed to the pot and said "I bet the pot" in slightly Arabic-tinged English (he was from Lebanon). The dealer announced the pot size. The next player folded, setting up the confrontation.
Abe, sitting next to the dealer in seat one, scratched his scraggly beard for a minute, looked down at his chips, then at Adnan's. "You really have something?" he asked.
Adnan, still on his feet, bounced a little on his heels and said, "I always have something."
Abe scratched a little more, counting out a call. "You some kind of Arab?"
"I'M THE BEST KIND OF ARAB!" Adnan shouted. "I'M FROM LEBANON!"
"Well, you might need to pull some money out of your head rag, 'cause I'm raising," Abe said. Seriously, this is exactly what he said. He announced a pot-size raise, making the bet about $800.
Adnan pointed to the pot again and said, "Pot." Before the dealer could tell him how much it was, Abe announced that he was raising the pot again. It took only another minute before the pot in this $5-5 game ballooned to $20,000.
In many big-bet games, players are given some flexibility to make deals before the outcome is decided. Back in these days, there were two types of deals. Players sometimes made money deals - for example, if there's $1,500 in the pot, and one player has a set and one has a flush on the turn, the player with the flush is about a 3.5:1 favorite. Sometimes players would agree to take some money out of the pot based on pot odds and play for the rest - for example, the player with the flush might take $700 out and the player with the set $200 (3.5:1), and then deal the last card for the remaining $600.
Another type of deal that players often made was "running it twice" or "running it three times." If they decided to run that same $1,500 pot twice, the dealer would put out one river card for half the pot, then a different river card for the other half. If they ran it three times, same thing, but for 1/3 of the pot each time. Players make these deals to reduce variance - this way, a single lucky card can't have a devastating effect. In the long run, though, it doesn't change things much - the odds are still the odds.
Adnan signaled to the dealer not to deal any more cards yet, and asked Abe if he wanted to make a deal. Abe said something like "I doubt there's any deal we can make, since I'm pretty sure you don't have a chance here."
In these situations, the players usually expose their hands, but neither did. Adnan said, "I wouldn't be so sure about that." Abe looked back at his hand, then at the board, and finally said, "OK, but I don't like to run it twice; I don't want us to chop the pot. How about we run it three times?" Adnan quickly agreed.
Reminder: the board was 7644. The dealer put up the first river card, a 7. He burned a card, put out another 7 for the second river, then burned again and exposed the last river card - a 4. Adnan announces, "Send me the whole pot."
Now, we had played a lot with Adnan, and had heard him say this before, both when he had it and when he didn't. Abe stood up and said, "I might have gotten unlucky here, but I think I get at least 1/3," turning over 66 for sixes full.
Adnan held his cards. Finally he said, "Which one do you want to see first?"
Abe said, "I don't give a fuck, you raghead camel-jockey, just put your fucking cards on the table." Seriously, I can't make this stuff up.
Adnan laughed. He's been called worse. He slams one hand down on the table, removes it and shows the 7 of hearts. Abe shook his head and said, "How can I get that unlucky?"
But Adnan wasn't done. "Don't you want to see the last card?" he taunted. "No," Abe said, "Let's just split the pot and get this over with."
"I don't think so," said Adnan, slamming the other hand down. He removed his hand and we all saw the 4 of spades.
Just in case you're not a poker player (but if you're not, your head probably exploded a few paragraphs back), Adnan got all of his money in with exactly three outs (cards that would win the pot for him). He needed exactly a 7 (two remaining in the deck) or a 4 (one remaining in the deck) to scoop. The odds against this are about 12,600:1, although I have seen it happen twice.
Abe stood up, put on his jacket and left. As I said, I had never seen him before, and have not seen him again to this day. If it were me, I might have sworn off poker.
Next up: Tobey Maguire, Dave Foley and a few other names I'll drop
The World Series of Poker just got underway, and someone at one of my first tables started a conversation about the strangest things they had seen at a poker table. Since I've played over a million hands of live poker (a sad commentary of its own), I figured I was in a good position to tell a few interesting ones. I haven't really planned this out, so I have no idea how extensive this will become - I'm going to divide it by casino, so at least there's some structure.
Hollywood Park, 1998
Back in the day, I played almost every day at Hollywood Park, usually 15-30 or 20-40 limit hold 'em, eventually moving up to 40-80. The quality of the games varied widely, but at least 2-3 times a week, especially during racing season, the games were crazy, rock 'em-sock 'em poker. This was one of those days, although that really only accounts for the pre-flop and flop play in this story.
I was playing 20-40 in a game where nearly every hand was capped before the flop. In this hand, I was in the big blind, and it was capped to me; I looked down at Ac Kc. I'm totally OK with putting in three more bets with this hand (duh), knowing that I can get away quickly if the flop doesn't hit me well. The small blind, two other players and I see the flop.
You could say it hit me well: Qc Jc Tc, my first-ever flopped royal flush. My first thought was, "Lucky for me that this was one of those capped-preflop hands, since no one can really have much of this." But as this thought was forming, the small blind bet. I resisted the urge to kiss him, and called. To my astonishment, it went raise-raise-raise behind me. I'm OK with putting another $60 in.
The turn was a blank. The betting action was exactly the same - bet, call, raise, raise, raise. I called.
If it's possible for me to hit a bad card here, I did: the river was the eight of clubs. This was a scare card (like the board wasn't?) - the lone nine of clubs made a straight flush, and even if someone didn't have that, the lone Ace of clubs was good for the nut flush.
This, of course, slowed down the action. The small blind checked. I was pretty sure that I was only getting called here by the nine of clubs, maybe the Ace of clubs if he acted last, so I bet, and was further stunned to see all three players call. As the player in the small blind called, he said, "Hit your flush on the river, eh?" I said, "Not exactly," and showed my royal.
Postscript: One of the resident maniacs at the table asked to see all of the hands. The first two raisers both had AK; the small blind had QQ. So the flop hit everyone, me the hardest. But this brought up a question that I have never been able to fully resolve. I understand one player calling, although how he could do so without a club I don't know. But how do the other two overcall?
The best answer I've gotten to this question was from Lou Krieger, who was at the table when this happened. "I call it pot-blindness. Imagine snow-blindness, but with chips. The last guy probably thought something like, 'I know I'm beat here, but there's almost $2,000 in the pot and it costs me $40, so I only have to be right 2% of the time.'"
I've mostly given up trying to figure out what people were thinking when they made terrible calls against me. They were probably thinking, "Mmmmm, doughnuts."
Hollywood Park, 2004
Sharon and I started playing big-bet poker in 2003, mostly in the $5-5 pot limit hold 'em game at Hollywood Park. At the time, I doubt that there were ten big-bet (pot limit or no limit) cash games anywhere in California.
This story features two despicable human beings, one of whom I've written about before - see "Sometimes there's justice in poker" for a much different story about Adnan. The other player was someone I had never seen before this particular night, and have never seen since. We'll call him Abe.
Abe is a poker stereotype - angry, abusive and convinced he's unbreakable. Adnan is a good foil for him, particularly in this game, because he has very deep pockets and not a lot of skill. He also drinks to excess - and I know something about alcohol and excess. He was tossed out of Hollywood Park for, among other things, flipping over a table after a particularly nasty beat. A confrontation between them was almost inevitable.
The game itself was a little odd by today's standards. The minimum buy-in was $200, with no maximum. Most players bought in for $1,000 or more. Occasionally, one of the $10-20 or $15-30 limit players would take a shot at the game, usually for $200 or a little more, get skinned and skulk back to the limit games. But sometimes the game played very big, and this was one of those games.
Before this hand started, Adnan had about $10,000 in front of him. Abe and Adnan had already gone at it a few times, and Abe had (correctly) identified Adnan as the fish. Of course, we all had, but we tried not to spread that around too much; Abe, on the other hand, wanted everyone, especially Adnan, to know that he knew. After Adnan won a very big pot, Abe asked him how much he had in total. Adnan told him that he had $8,000. Abe immediately pulled out more cash, and every time Adnan won a pot after that, Abe added to his stack to make sure he had Adnan covered.
The hand started like any other - someone put in a small raise, and a few players called, including Sharon and me. The flop came 764 unsuited. There was a little action, Sharon and I folded and three players saw the turn, which paired the 4. At this point there was about $200 in the pot. Adnan was first to act. He stood up to look at the board more closely (which he often did), then pointed to the pot and said "I bet the pot" in slightly Arabic-tinged English (he was from Lebanon). The dealer announced the pot size. The next player folded, setting up the confrontation.
Abe, sitting next to the dealer in seat one, scratched his scraggly beard for a minute, looked down at his chips, then at Adnan's. "You really have something?" he asked.
Adnan, still on his feet, bounced a little on his heels and said, "I always have something."
Abe scratched a little more, counting out a call. "You some kind of Arab?"
"I'M THE BEST KIND OF ARAB!" Adnan shouted. "I'M FROM LEBANON!"
"Well, you might need to pull some money out of your head rag, 'cause I'm raising," Abe said. Seriously, this is exactly what he said. He announced a pot-size raise, making the bet about $800.
Adnan pointed to the pot again and said, "Pot." Before the dealer could tell him how much it was, Abe announced that he was raising the pot again. It took only another minute before the pot in this $5-5 game ballooned to $20,000.
In many big-bet games, players are given some flexibility to make deals before the outcome is decided. Back in these days, there were two types of deals. Players sometimes made money deals - for example, if there's $1,500 in the pot, and one player has a set and one has a flush on the turn, the player with the flush is about a 3.5:1 favorite. Sometimes players would agree to take some money out of the pot based on pot odds and play for the rest - for example, the player with the flush might take $700 out and the player with the set $200 (3.5:1), and then deal the last card for the remaining $600.
Another type of deal that players often made was "running it twice" or "running it three times." If they decided to run that same $1,500 pot twice, the dealer would put out one river card for half the pot, then a different river card for the other half. If they ran it three times, same thing, but for 1/3 of the pot each time. Players make these deals to reduce variance - this way, a single lucky card can't have a devastating effect. In the long run, though, it doesn't change things much - the odds are still the odds.
Adnan signaled to the dealer not to deal any more cards yet, and asked Abe if he wanted to make a deal. Abe said something like "I doubt there's any deal we can make, since I'm pretty sure you don't have a chance here."
In these situations, the players usually expose their hands, but neither did. Adnan said, "I wouldn't be so sure about that." Abe looked back at his hand, then at the board, and finally said, "OK, but I don't like to run it twice; I don't want us to chop the pot. How about we run it three times?" Adnan quickly agreed.
Reminder: the board was 7644. The dealer put up the first river card, a 7. He burned a card, put out another 7 for the second river, then burned again and exposed the last river card - a 4. Adnan announces, "Send me the whole pot."
Now, we had played a lot with Adnan, and had heard him say this before, both when he had it and when he didn't. Abe stood up and said, "I might have gotten unlucky here, but I think I get at least 1/3," turning over 66 for sixes full.
Adnan held his cards. Finally he said, "Which one do you want to see first?"
Abe said, "I don't give a fuck, you raghead camel-jockey, just put your fucking cards on the table." Seriously, I can't make this stuff up.
Adnan laughed. He's been called worse. He slams one hand down on the table, removes it and shows the 7 of hearts. Abe shook his head and said, "How can I get that unlucky?"
But Adnan wasn't done. "Don't you want to see the last card?" he taunted. "No," Abe said, "Let's just split the pot and get this over with."
"I don't think so," said Adnan, slamming the other hand down. He removed his hand and we all saw the 4 of spades.
Just in case you're not a poker player (but if you're not, your head probably exploded a few paragraphs back), Adnan got all of his money in with exactly three outs (cards that would win the pot for him). He needed exactly a 7 (two remaining in the deck) or a 4 (one remaining in the deck) to scoop. The odds against this are about 12,600:1, although I have seen it happen twice.
Abe stood up, put on his jacket and left. As I said, I had never seen him before, and have not seen him again to this day. If it were me, I might have sworn off poker.
Next up: Tobey Maguire, Dave Foley and a few other names I'll drop
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Trouble in Paradise (Part 2)
[NOTE: Congratulations to Tim S. for busting me. If you don't already know, I award a $100 charitable contribution on behalf of the first reader who points out that it's been more than seven days since my last post.]
While I have the great benefit of hindsight, I still find it very hard to believe that either PartyPoker or PokerStars was able to make a dent in Paradise Poker's market share. In 2002, the year PokerStars started (well, technically it was late December 2001), Paradise was just too big to fail. They appeared, for all intents, to be invulnerable.
In those days, it was not unusual to find upwards of 1,500 players on Paradise Poker. We often gawked jealously - we were happy when we had 200 players. Somewhere, I have an email from Isai talking about 'someday, when we regularly have over 1,000 players like Paradise.' I believed we would get there, but I also believed that we would be part of a rising tide. Barring some earth-shaking, unforeseen event, I saw no chance that Paradise wouldn't continue to be on top.
Having said that, Paradise did very little to act like the market leader. The biggest and most obvious mistake they made: they thought, as I did, that they were invincible. As an example, they did almost nothing from 2002-2004 to update their software (which was frankly pretty decent, but was rapidly being eclipsed by PokerStars and others).
The best example of this was their lack of multi-table tournaments. To this day, it's inconceivable to me that Paradise Poker allowed PokerStars, PartyPoker and Full Tilt Poker to overtake them by neglecting this obviously popular and lucrative element of online poker. While we were developing and testing software to handle massively large tournaments, Paradise Poker was apparently willing to cede this part of the market, and we were more than willing to take it on.
At the same time, Paradise was adding features that had us all shaking our heads. For example, just before we did a major upgrade in 2003 that allowed PokerStars to conduct tournaments with as many as 10,000 players, Paradise launched an upgrade that increased the selection of snacks, cigars and drinks that players could 'order' at the table. These appeared on little round tables next to each player, as you can see on this link from the Wayback Machine (scroll down a little).
To be clear, developing multi-table poker tournament software was far from trivial. But it also wasn't rocket science. In addition to PokerStars, UltimateBet and PartyPoker (all reasonably well-funded startups), there were dozens of other sites that were already in the market with well-attended MTTs, including America's Cardroom, TruePoker and PokerRoom (all of which were small operations with limited resources).
Paradise Poker seemed completely oblivious to this, the single mistake that cost them their empire. They certainly had the financial resources - our best guess back then was that they were grossing as much as $100,000 a day. And had they launched competitive MTTs before the day of reckoning (the day Chris Moneymaker won the World Series of Poker), the online poker world could have been completely different.
Remember, too, that this didn't exactly sneak up on Paradise. For example, we launched the World Championship of Online Poker (WCOOP) in July of 2002, and attracted fields that stunned everyone, including us. We guaranteed $200,000 over eight events, including a $1,050 Main Event with a $100,000 guarantee that saw a field of 238 players and a first prize of over $65,000. (More on this event in a future post.) Even a casual observer had to realize that MTTs were the future of online poker. And by the time they finally launched MTTs in the fall of 2003, the train had left the station.
I have often been asked the question "What brought about the poker boom?" My answer has always been the same: online poker, poker on TV and Chris Moneymaker winning the 2003 WSOP. The question I've been asked far less often is "How did PokerStars and PartyPoker catch Paradise Poker?" My uncharitable answer to this question is, "Paradise Poker made the classic mistake of believing they were untouchable."
In January of 2003, Paradise Poker still maintained their stranglehold on the online poker market. Over the next eight months, three key events happened that caused an upheaval in the online poker market that saw Paradise plummet from first to fourth place.
The first of these took place on March 30, 2003 - the first episode of the World Poker Tour on the Travel Channel. Until 2002, poker on TV was an incredibly dull event. The only regularly broadcast event was the World Series of Poker, and until 2002 it was broadcast without hole card cameras. For the 2002 WSOP, ESPN employed very limited card cameras that were a huge burden on dealers. There was a single camera, mounted under the table to the left of the dealer, and a glass surface on which the dealer could place the cards. Not every hand was recorded in this way, only 'key' hands.
The World Poker Tour licensed some technology originally developed by Henry Orenstein, an inventor and poker player who went on to produce the Poker SuperStars Invitational Tournament and High Stakes Poker. (Henry is an interesting character with a pretty amazing history - he was a Holocaust survivor who was also the inventor of Transformer toys and held over 100 patents; he also won a WSOP bracelet in 1996.) Unlike Orenstein's original invention, the WPT used lipstick cameras - tiny cameras mounted at each player's seat that allowed 100% of the action at TV tables to be captured.
The WPT launched its first season with events at 9 casinos (the Bellagio had two events) and a special event for PartyPoker (on a cruise ship). The hosts of the WPT were (and still are) Mike Sexton and Vince van Patten; Sexton performed double duty as the online and live host for PartyPoker. PartyPoker initiated the second key event in Paradise's downfall - they took a substantial risk by becoming the first online poker site to advertise on television. So during the first WPT broadcast, viewers saw Mike Sexton doing WPT commentary during the show, and then saw PartyPoker ads featuring Sexton during commercial breaks.
(Interesting side note: PartyPoker's event in 2003, won by Kathy Liebert, was the only limit hold 'em event ever broadcast on the WPT.)
The effect was almost instantaneous. In the period from March to July, PartyPoker took off and left Paradise in the dust. PokerStars benefited from this early boom, as did UltimateBet, because we all offered massive MTTs that gave players a shot at big money for a very small investment. By the time the smoke cleared a few months later, PartyPoker was #1, UltimateBet was #2 and PokerStars was #3, although both UB and PokerStars were far behind PartyPoker. Paradise was #4 and sinking.
Then the real boom happened. Chris Moneymaker won the WSOP in May 2003, but the TV broadcast wasn't until August - back then, ESPN took their time in post-production, unlike today, when the WSOP Main Event broadcast starts just a few days after play is suspended for the November Nine. By that time, I had realized that PokerStars needed to be advertising on TV, as well (my biggest mistake at PokerStars was not doing this earlier). We crammed a four-commercial shoot into three days, producing perhaps the world's worst TV spots, and starting running them on both the World Poker Tour and the WSOP.
The combined effect of our TV ads, plus Moneymaker's win (and not incidentally, the massive exposure we got when Moneymaker eliminated Humberto Brenes and accidentally danced the PokerStars logo in front of the cameras), was immediate and huge. We were suddenly in a virtual tie for second place, swapping with UltimateBet on a regular basis. And this was the third nail in Paradise's coffin.
Around this time, Paradise finally woke up and decided that there must be something to the multi-table tournament craze. But by that time, less than six months after relinquishing their lead, Paradise was an also-ran. Every online poker site out there had MTTs. PokerStars and UB were focusing on improving the player experience, adding features and improving the software's stability and resilience. PartyPoker was plagued with software issues as a result of their unexpected and sudden success, but their sheer numbers were enough to make players willing to put up with frequent freezes and crashes.
Paradise was forced to dedicate major resources to developing MTTs rather than improving their software, and had to do this in what was, for them, a shrinking market. Their fall from grace was nothing short of astounding, even for those of us who watched it happen in real time.
Behemoths like Paradise don't typically go down easily, but in the blink of an eye, they went from 80% market share to an estimated 10% from March 2003 to September 2003. This set the stage for a series of epic battles among the new giants that had PartyPoker on top until the stunning passage events of the fall of 2006, which once again shook the top of the online poker tree.
The best example of this was their lack of multi-table tournaments. To this day, it's inconceivable to me that Paradise Poker allowed PokerStars, PartyPoker and Full Tilt Poker to overtake them by neglecting this obviously popular and lucrative element of online poker. While we were developing and testing software to handle massively large tournaments, Paradise Poker was apparently willing to cede this part of the market, and we were more than willing to take it on.
At the same time, Paradise was adding features that had us all shaking our heads. For example, just before we did a major upgrade in 2003 that allowed PokerStars to conduct tournaments with as many as 10,000 players, Paradise launched an upgrade that increased the selection of snacks, cigars and drinks that players could 'order' at the table. These appeared on little round tables next to each player, as you can see on this link from the Wayback Machine (scroll down a little).
To be clear, developing multi-table poker tournament software was far from trivial. But it also wasn't rocket science. In addition to PokerStars, UltimateBet and PartyPoker (all reasonably well-funded startups), there were dozens of other sites that were already in the market with well-attended MTTs, including America's Cardroom, TruePoker and PokerRoom (all of which were small operations with limited resources).
Paradise Poker seemed completely oblivious to this, the single mistake that cost them their empire. They certainly had the financial resources - our best guess back then was that they were grossing as much as $100,000 a day. And had they launched competitive MTTs before the day of reckoning (the day Chris Moneymaker won the World Series of Poker), the online poker world could have been completely different.
Remember, too, that this didn't exactly sneak up on Paradise. For example, we launched the World Championship of Online Poker (WCOOP) in July of 2002, and attracted fields that stunned everyone, including us. We guaranteed $200,000 over eight events, including a $1,050 Main Event with a $100,000 guarantee that saw a field of 238 players and a first prize of over $65,000. (More on this event in a future post.) Even a casual observer had to realize that MTTs were the future of online poker. And by the time they finally launched MTTs in the fall of 2003, the train had left the station.
I have often been asked the question "What brought about the poker boom?" My answer has always been the same: online poker, poker on TV and Chris Moneymaker winning the 2003 WSOP. The question I've been asked far less often is "How did PokerStars and PartyPoker catch Paradise Poker?" My uncharitable answer to this question is, "Paradise Poker made the classic mistake of believing they were untouchable."
In January of 2003, Paradise Poker still maintained their stranglehold on the online poker market. Over the next eight months, three key events happened that caused an upheaval in the online poker market that saw Paradise plummet from first to fourth place.
The first of these took place on March 30, 2003 - the first episode of the World Poker Tour on the Travel Channel. Until 2002, poker on TV was an incredibly dull event. The only regularly broadcast event was the World Series of Poker, and until 2002 it was broadcast without hole card cameras. For the 2002 WSOP, ESPN employed very limited card cameras that were a huge burden on dealers. There was a single camera, mounted under the table to the left of the dealer, and a glass surface on which the dealer could place the cards. Not every hand was recorded in this way, only 'key' hands.
The World Poker Tour licensed some technology originally developed by Henry Orenstein, an inventor and poker player who went on to produce the Poker SuperStars Invitational Tournament and High Stakes Poker. (Henry is an interesting character with a pretty amazing history - he was a Holocaust survivor who was also the inventor of Transformer toys and held over 100 patents; he also won a WSOP bracelet in 1996.) Unlike Orenstein's original invention, the WPT used lipstick cameras - tiny cameras mounted at each player's seat that allowed 100% of the action at TV tables to be captured.
The WPT launched its first season with events at 9 casinos (the Bellagio had two events) and a special event for PartyPoker (on a cruise ship). The hosts of the WPT were (and still are) Mike Sexton and Vince van Patten; Sexton performed double duty as the online and live host for PartyPoker. PartyPoker initiated the second key event in Paradise's downfall - they took a substantial risk by becoming the first online poker site to advertise on television. So during the first WPT broadcast, viewers saw Mike Sexton doing WPT commentary during the show, and then saw PartyPoker ads featuring Sexton during commercial breaks.
(Interesting side note: PartyPoker's event in 2003, won by Kathy Liebert, was the only limit hold 'em event ever broadcast on the WPT.)
The effect was almost instantaneous. In the period from March to July, PartyPoker took off and left Paradise in the dust. PokerStars benefited from this early boom, as did UltimateBet, because we all offered massive MTTs that gave players a shot at big money for a very small investment. By the time the smoke cleared a few months later, PartyPoker was #1, UltimateBet was #2 and PokerStars was #3, although both UB and PokerStars were far behind PartyPoker. Paradise was #4 and sinking.
Then the real boom happened. Chris Moneymaker won the WSOP in May 2003, but the TV broadcast wasn't until August - back then, ESPN took their time in post-production, unlike today, when the WSOP Main Event broadcast starts just a few days after play is suspended for the November Nine. By that time, I had realized that PokerStars needed to be advertising on TV, as well (my biggest mistake at PokerStars was not doing this earlier). We crammed a four-commercial shoot into three days, producing perhaps the world's worst TV spots, and starting running them on both the World Poker Tour and the WSOP.
The combined effect of our TV ads, plus Moneymaker's win (and not incidentally, the massive exposure we got when Moneymaker eliminated Humberto Brenes and accidentally danced the PokerStars logo in front of the cameras), was immediate and huge. We were suddenly in a virtual tie for second place, swapping with UltimateBet on a regular basis. And this was the third nail in Paradise's coffin.
Around this time, Paradise finally woke up and decided that there must be something to the multi-table tournament craze. But by that time, less than six months after relinquishing their lead, Paradise was an also-ran. Every online poker site out there had MTTs. PokerStars and UB were focusing on improving the player experience, adding features and improving the software's stability and resilience. PartyPoker was plagued with software issues as a result of their unexpected and sudden success, but their sheer numbers were enough to make players willing to put up with frequent freezes and crashes.
Paradise was forced to dedicate major resources to developing MTTs rather than improving their software, and had to do this in what was, for them, a shrinking market. Their fall from grace was nothing short of astounding, even for those of us who watched it happen in real time.
Behemoths like Paradise don't typically go down easily, but in the blink of an eye, they went from 80% market share to an estimated 10% from March 2003 to September 2003. This set the stage for a series of epic battles among the new giants that had PartyPoker on top until the stunning passage events of the fall of 2006, which once again shook the top of the online poker tree.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Trouble in Paradise (Part 1)
August 3, 2002
The poker market in general, and online poker in particular, were benefiting from a nice little boomlet in 2002. PokerStars was doing well, although the numbers were almost laughable compared to today's. But we were regularly signing up 25-50 new players a day, seeing respectable and growing fields for tournaments and had cash games that ran almost all the time (harder than you might think back then).
The online poker market had gotten crowded very quickly, and by the summer of 2002 there were about fifty sites with sufficient liquidity to support reasonable games. We were all rising with the tide. PokerStars was doing better than most for the best possible reason - it was, in fact, the best online poker site out there, and this isn't just pride talking. The software in its 2002 state would stand up well against today's competition.
All of that having been said, we were still very, very far behind the competition. The 900 pound gorilla in the market was Paradise Poker, the site on which Sharon and I made our entire original poker bankroll. In August of 2002, Paradise Poker's market share was somewhere in the 80% range. PartyPoker, who had launched just a few months before us, was in a distant second place, and the rest of us were all bunched up together. But we all knew the market was growing quickly; a few percentage points of a potentially gigantic market seemed like a reasonable goal. And there was always the chance that the leader would stumble, although for the life of me I couldn't imagine how.
The one huge edge that PokerStars had from the beginning was truly superior multi-table tournament software. It just worked the way you expected it to - meaning that it looked and felt like it was written by poker players. It was, and it showed in practically every way.
But the best thing about it was the simplest - it could support very large tournament fields, which allowed players to put up very small amounts of money with the potential for a gigantic return. This was the one edge we had in the market in general and against Paradise in particular - incredibly, not only didn't they have multi-table tournament software at all, but they would go another two years before catching up.
One of my favorite marketing techniques is going straight to users and giving them a good reason to tell the company's story for us. I knew we had great stuff, and looked for any way I could to get it in front of players. We sponsored a number of poker events, talked to the press, wrote articles.
One of the first events we sponsored was an annual poker event in Las Vegas called BARGE. Lou Krieger had tried to talk me into attending BARGE for years, but every August I found some excuse that kept me away. Now that I was in the poker business, though, it seemed to make sense. From what I had heard, BARGE was an eclectic cross-section of the poker world, and this was supported by posts and stories I'd read online.
I contacted Chuck Weinstock, one of the organizers of BARGE, and told him that PokerStars was interested in being involved in the event in some way. I was thinking of it like a convention, or a trade show - maybe we'd set up somewhere and show our software and give away some swag. Chuck set me straight pretty quickly - BARGE was more like an enormous home game than a conference. He also told me that Paradise Poker was already a sponsor, but there was room for one more.
I agreed to make a contribution to BARGE that would be used to help pay entry fees and other expenses. In addition, I donated some very swanky, very limited edition PokerStars wool/leather jackets to be given to the winners of three of the poker tournaments at BARGE. I only had twelve made - they were $225 each - and they seemed just right for this crowd. (You can see one of them here - I was wearing it when I danced with Chris Moneymaker less than a year later.)
My counterpart at Paradise Poker, Bruce Davidson, attended BARGE that year, as well. He seemed like a decent guy, much as I wanted him to be a slug (easier to compete with slugs). Bruce, who was VP of Marketing for Paradise at the time, kept a pretty low profile during the event, but he stirred up some attention by putting a $500 bounty on himself for one of the BARGE tournaments.
It was a good idea that created a lot of buzz. I couldn't just copy it, so instead I decided to challenge Bruce to play me head-up. We'd each put up $500, and the winner got to designate the charity that would receive the combined $1,000 prize pool.
The match got a lot of attention, as well. In fact, a sort of pari-mutuel pool developed, and when we sat down to play we had an audience of about 30 people. We had fun, and after struggling early, I won. I might be competing against the industry giant, but I had gotten a little dig in.
[Note: the day after BARGE, I wrote a trip report that I posted on the RGP (rec.gambling.poker) newsgroup. The full trip report is at the end of this post. I described the match more fully there.]
I came away from BARGE with a different sense of both Paradise Poker and the poker market in general. I knew that we were onto something pretty strong when we started to see fields of 300, 400, sometimes even 500 players. We had just held the first World Championship of Online Poker (WCOOP) and generated over $230,000 in prize pools. And in talking to BARGErs in 2002, it was very clear that tournament poker was developing a groundswell.
The World Series of Poker hadn't yet had its boom years - Chris Moneymaker's win was the next year - but it had been growing at an impressive pace, doubling the number of entries from 1997 to 2002. Other smaller tournaments at poker rooms in California had been seeing larger and larger fields for small buy-in events. And there we were, with the market's best software, a growing market and a competitor that didn't seems to realize what their customers wanted.
Next up: The boom flips the market
Dan's 2002 BARGE trip report
I had the pleasure of attending my first BARGE this past week. PokerStars
and Paradise Poker cosponsored the event, which was conducted at Binion's
from July 30 to August 4.
The poker market in general, and online poker in particular, were benefiting from a nice little boomlet in 2002. PokerStars was doing well, although the numbers were almost laughable compared to today's. But we were regularly signing up 25-50 new players a day, seeing respectable and growing fields for tournaments and had cash games that ran almost all the time (harder than you might think back then).
The online poker market had gotten crowded very quickly, and by the summer of 2002 there were about fifty sites with sufficient liquidity to support reasonable games. We were all rising with the tide. PokerStars was doing better than most for the best possible reason - it was, in fact, the best online poker site out there, and this isn't just pride talking. The software in its 2002 state would stand up well against today's competition.
All of that having been said, we were still very, very far behind the competition. The 900 pound gorilla in the market was Paradise Poker, the site on which Sharon and I made our entire original poker bankroll. In August of 2002, Paradise Poker's market share was somewhere in the 80% range. PartyPoker, who had launched just a few months before us, was in a distant second place, and the rest of us were all bunched up together. But we all knew the market was growing quickly; a few percentage points of a potentially gigantic market seemed like a reasonable goal. And there was always the chance that the leader would stumble, although for the life of me I couldn't imagine how.
The one huge edge that PokerStars had from the beginning was truly superior multi-table tournament software. It just worked the way you expected it to - meaning that it looked and felt like it was written by poker players. It was, and it showed in practically every way.
But the best thing about it was the simplest - it could support very large tournament fields, which allowed players to put up very small amounts of money with the potential for a gigantic return. This was the one edge we had in the market in general and against Paradise in particular - incredibly, not only didn't they have multi-table tournament software at all, but they would go another two years before catching up.
One of my favorite marketing techniques is going straight to users and giving them a good reason to tell the company's story for us. I knew we had great stuff, and looked for any way I could to get it in front of players. We sponsored a number of poker events, talked to the press, wrote articles.
One of the first events we sponsored was an annual poker event in Las Vegas called BARGE. Lou Krieger had tried to talk me into attending BARGE for years, but every August I found some excuse that kept me away. Now that I was in the poker business, though, it seemed to make sense. From what I had heard, BARGE was an eclectic cross-section of the poker world, and this was supported by posts and stories I'd read online.
I contacted Chuck Weinstock, one of the organizers of BARGE, and told him that PokerStars was interested in being involved in the event in some way. I was thinking of it like a convention, or a trade show - maybe we'd set up somewhere and show our software and give away some swag. Chuck set me straight pretty quickly - BARGE was more like an enormous home game than a conference. He also told me that Paradise Poker was already a sponsor, but there was room for one more.
I agreed to make a contribution to BARGE that would be used to help pay entry fees and other expenses. In addition, I donated some very swanky, very limited edition PokerStars wool/leather jackets to be given to the winners of three of the poker tournaments at BARGE. I only had twelve made - they were $225 each - and they seemed just right for this crowd. (You can see one of them here - I was wearing it when I danced with Chris Moneymaker less than a year later.)
My counterpart at Paradise Poker, Bruce Davidson, attended BARGE that year, as well. He seemed like a decent guy, much as I wanted him to be a slug (easier to compete with slugs). Bruce, who was VP of Marketing for Paradise at the time, kept a pretty low profile during the event, but he stirred up some attention by putting a $500 bounty on himself for one of the BARGE tournaments.
It was a good idea that created a lot of buzz. I couldn't just copy it, so instead I decided to challenge Bruce to play me head-up. We'd each put up $500, and the winner got to designate the charity that would receive the combined $1,000 prize pool.
The match got a lot of attention, as well. In fact, a sort of pari-mutuel pool developed, and when we sat down to play we had an audience of about 30 people. We had fun, and after struggling early, I won. I might be competing against the industry giant, but I had gotten a little dig in.
[Note: the day after BARGE, I wrote a trip report that I posted on the RGP (rec.gambling.poker) newsgroup. The full trip report is at the end of this post. I described the match more fully there.]
I came away from BARGE with a different sense of both Paradise Poker and the poker market in general. I knew that we were onto something pretty strong when we started to see fields of 300, 400, sometimes even 500 players. We had just held the first World Championship of Online Poker (WCOOP) and generated over $230,000 in prize pools. And in talking to BARGErs in 2002, it was very clear that tournament poker was developing a groundswell.
The World Series of Poker hadn't yet had its boom years - Chris Moneymaker's win was the next year - but it had been growing at an impressive pace, doubling the number of entries from 1997 to 2002. Other smaller tournaments at poker rooms in California had been seeing larger and larger fields for small buy-in events. And there we were, with the market's best software, a growing market and a competitor that didn't seems to realize what their customers wanted.
Next up: The boom flips the market
Dan's 2002 BARGE trip report
I had the pleasure of attending my first BARGE this past week. PokerStars
and Paradise Poker cosponsored the event, which was conducted at Binion's
from July 30 to August 4.
I arrived at Binion's on Tuesday afternoon, and found a smattering of
BARGErs around the poker room. The poker cage held the attendee badges, and
I picked up mine (emblazoned with my former online persona, "smalltalkdan,"
plus my table draws for the tournaments I had entered). I immediately
realized that I knew more people than I expected - a number from the LA home
games, more from my play in LA cardrooms and touirnaments, and a surprising
number of players I have played with online (back in the days when I played
online - pre-PokerStars - we have a firm company rule that no employee or
family member can play on the site).
BARGErs around the poker room. The poker cage held the attendee badges, and
I picked up mine (emblazoned with my former online persona, "smalltalkdan,"
plus my table draws for the tournaments I had entered). I immediately
realized that I knew more people than I expected - a number from the LA home
games, more from my play in LA cardrooms and touirnaments, and a surprising
number of players I have played with online (back in the days when I played
online - pre-PokerStars - we have a firm company rule that no employee or
family member can play on the site).
I played for a little while in a rock-em-sock-em 4-8 hold 'em game, then
left to check emails before the 6p History of Poker tournament. The
tournament started at 6 with greetings from the hosts at Binion's and Chuck
Weinstock (who did a spectacular job of keeping an intrinsically
unstructured event on track). I was also given an opportunity to speak for
a bit in my PokerStars role as a sponsor of the event.
left to check emails before the 6p History of Poker tournament. The
tournament started at 6 with greetings from the hosts at Binion's and Chuck
Weinstock (who did a spectacular job of keeping an intrinsically
unstructured event on track). I was also given an opportunity to speak for
a bit in my PokerStars role as a sponsor of the event.
My counterpart at Paradise Poker, Bruce Davidson, put a $500 bounty on
himself for the main BARGE event, the Saturday No Limit Hold 'em tournament.
Rather than do the same, or (as others suggested) trading bounties, I
challenged Bruce to a heads-up tournament, in which we would each put up
$500 with the proceeds going to the charity of the winner's choice. More on
that later. I also mentioned to the crowd that both PokerStars and Paradise
Poker had donated shirts and caps for all of the participants, and was
gratified to see a sea of PokerStars caps and shirts over the next few days
(OK, there were a few Paradise Poker caps and shirts, also).
himself for the main BARGE event, the Saturday No Limit Hold 'em tournament.
Rather than do the same, or (as others suggested) trading bounties, I
challenged Bruce to a heads-up tournament, in which we would each put up
$500 with the proceeds going to the charity of the winner's choice. More on
that later. I also mentioned to the crowd that both PokerStars and Paradise
Poker had donated shirts and caps for all of the participants, and was
gratified to see a sea of PokerStars caps and shirts over the next few days
(OK, there were a few Paradise Poker caps and shirts, also).
The History of Poker event was an interesting and different experience. The
tournament consisted of a two-game rotation of 5 card draw and lowball,
neither of which I have much experience playing, but it didn't seem like
many of my opponents did, either, at least not on the draw high side. I had
no spectacular hands and no spectacular beats, with the exception of having
3 of 4 hands with open-ended straight flush draws (one actually hit and
prolonged my agony a bit) and two pat full houses (unfortunately both of
them were in lowball). I exited about 2/3 of the way through the field.
tournament consisted of a two-game rotation of 5 card draw and lowball,
neither of which I have much experience playing, but it didn't seem like
many of my opponents did, either, at least not on the draw high side. I had
no spectacular hands and no spectacular beats, with the exception of having
3 of 4 hands with open-ended straight flush draws (one actually hit and
prolonged my agony a bit) and two pat full houses (unfortunately both of
them were in lowball). I exited about 2/3 of the way through the field.
One note at this point - it is a BARGE tradition to applaud when players are
knocked out, which at first is a little jarring, particularly since the
first player's exit is accompanied by ROARING applause and catcalls. But it
quickly became obvious that the applause was really a show of respect for
one another, and an acknowledgment that going out of a tournament at any
point is not necessarily a reflection of the quality of play. This respect
was obvious throughout the BARGE event, as was respect for the house and for
dealers. A number of dealers mentioned to me that they look forward to
BARGE, partly for the generous tips (more on this later also) and partly
because they know they will be dealing games that are fun and completely
without dealer abuse. In fact, in the rare case where there was abuse, it
was a non-BARGEr, and was stopped by one or more of the BARGE participants.
knocked out, which at first is a little jarring, particularly since the
first player's exit is accompanied by ROARING applause and catcalls. But it
quickly became obvious that the applause was really a show of respect for
one another, and an acknowledgment that going out of a tournament at any
point is not necessarily a reflection of the quality of play. This respect
was obvious throughout the BARGE event, as was respect for the house and for
dealers. A number of dealers mentioned to me that they look forward to
BARGE, partly for the generous tips (more on this later also) and partly
because they know they will be dealing games that are fun and completely
without dealer abuse. In fact, in the rare case where there was abuse, it
was a non-BARGEr, and was stopped by one or more of the BARGE participants.
Wednesday brought the TOC (Tournament of Champions) - style event (I'm
wondering how long that moniker will stick). This was a rotation of hold
'em, stud (yawn) and Omaha/8. My performance was distinguished only by the
few minutes I was allowed to speak once again. I made it through about half
the field, which was amazing considering that I was never able to play one
single hand of stud during the four hours I played, except the last. I went
out on an unremarkable hand of stud in which I started out with (66) A, made
two pair and lost to two higher pair. Just as well - I had work to do :)
wondering how long that moniker will stick). This was a rotation of hold
'em, stud (yawn) and Omaha/8. My performance was distinguished only by the
few minutes I was allowed to speak once again. I made it through about half
the field, which was amazing considering that I was never able to play one
single hand of stud during the four hours I played, except the last. I went
out on an unremarkable hand of stud in which I started out with (66) A, made
two pair and lost to two higher pair. Just as well - I had work to do :)
Wednesday late evening, after answering emails and taking care of other
PokerStars business, I got into a reasonably sedate 4-8 game that quickly
went out of control. This was, in fact, one of the wildest games I have
ever seen, and the charge was led by a non-BARGEr, an otherwise solid player
who let another player put him on tilt. Here's how it happened:
PokerStars business, I got into a reasonably sedate 4-8 game that quickly
went out of control. This was, in fact, one of the wildest games I have
ever seen, and the charge was led by a non-BARGEr, an otherwise solid player
who let another player put him on tilt. Here's how it happened:
The solid player (who I'll call Mike), a somewhat unpleasant character that
I assumed to be a dealer by the way he cut his chips, was building his stack
pretty steadily, playing a predictable game but having his good hands hold
up. Mike had about $300 in front of him when I sat down, and although he
was full of critical comments about other players, he seemed to otherwise
have the game under control. Until...
I assumed to be a dealer by the way he cut his chips, was building his stack
pretty steadily, playing a predictable game but having his good hands hold
up. Mike had about $300 in front of him when I sat down, and although he
was full of critical comments about other players, he seemed to otherwise
have the game under control. Until...
The player in the 1 seat (let's call him Dave) was the type of player that
plays an assortment of surprising hands, including any A, any suited cards
and any close connectors (up to 2 gap), even for one or more raises. In the
hand that set off the chain of events to come, Mike raised under the gun
with AA and Dave called with 93 of spades (along with 5 other players). The
flop came J83 with one spade, and a relatively large pot developed (two
players on straight draws, one AJ). The turn brought nothing much, but the
pot grew dramatically larger. The river brought (you guessed it) another 3,
and Dave took down an enormous pot.
plays an assortment of surprising hands, including any A, any suited cards
and any close connectors (up to 2 gap), even for one or more raises. In the
hand that set off the chain of events to come, Mike raised under the gun
with AA and Dave called with 93 of spades (along with 5 other players). The
flop came J83 with one spade, and a relatively large pot developed (two
players on straight draws, one AJ). The turn brought nothing much, but the
pot grew dramatically larger. The river brought (you guessed it) another 3,
and Dave took down an enormous pot.
Now things got interesting. Mike called for cocktails (he had been nursing
a beer), and proceeded to get roaring drunk in a very short time. The solid
player vaporized, replaced by a maniac who literally raised EVERY SINGLE POT
for 3 hours. I'm not talking about some, or most, but EVERY one. We could
have a whole strategy discussion about playing with a guy like this, but
suffice to say that his behavior loosened up the whole table. Virtually
every pot was $150 or more, with 5-6 players straddling the blinds each
round. Perhaps the most amusing event in all of this was Mike's
under-the-breath comments as he dragged some very large pots: "You gotta
loosen up your standards when BARGE is in town." Over the 3 hours,
unfortunately for Mike's bankroll, his lowering of his standards caused him
to suffer one of the worst losses I have ever seen at this level - about
$1,000.
a beer), and proceeded to get roaring drunk in a very short time. The solid
player vaporized, replaced by a maniac who literally raised EVERY SINGLE POT
for 3 hours. I'm not talking about some, or most, but EVERY one. We could
have a whole strategy discussion about playing with a guy like this, but
suffice to say that his behavior loosened up the whole table. Virtually
every pot was $150 or more, with 5-6 players straddling the blinds each
round. Perhaps the most amusing event in all of this was Mike's
under-the-breath comments as he dragged some very large pots: "You gotta
loosen up your standards when BARGE is in town." Over the 3 hours,
unfortunately for Mike's bankroll, his lowering of his standards caused him
to suffer one of the worst losses I have ever seen at this level - about
$1,000.
The most interesting and profitable hand I was involved with while Mike was
playing went like this: I was on the button with 77, and it was 3 bets to
me with all but one player in. I knew that it would eventually cost me 5
bets pre-flop, since Mike had not yet acted in the big blind. However,
knowing this, I was not that much of a dog (about even money, I figure,
against 7 players). I called, and eight of us saw the flop for 5 bets each.
playing went like this: I was on the button with 77, and it was 3 bets to
me with all but one player in. I knew that it would eventually cost me 5
bets pre-flop, since Mike had not yet acted in the big blind. However,
knowing this, I was not that much of a dog (about even money, I figure,
against 7 players). I called, and eight of us saw the flop for 5 bets each.
The flop came pretty favorably for me, QJ7 rainbow. It was once again 3
bets to me, I made it 4 (the pot was plenty big enough at this point) and
Mike capped it as expected. We lost 2 players. The turn card came a blank
(a 2, I think), and it was once again 3 bets to me. I made it four, Mike
made it 5 and four of us saw the river card.
bets to me, I made it 4 (the pot was plenty big enough at this point) and
Mike capped it as expected. We lost 2 players. The turn card came a blank
(a 2, I think), and it was once again 3 bets to me. I made it four, Mike
made it 5 and four of us saw the river card.
I wasn't sure what to hope for on the river - I was pretty sure that a Q or
J would hurt me, so I looked for a 2. To my shock, the case 7 showed up on
the river, and I was faced with 2 bets with the stone cold nuts. I made it
3 bets, Mike finally folded and I won a >$400 pot with quads.
J would hurt me, so I looked for a 2. To my shock, the case 7 showed up on
the river, and I was faced with 2 bets with the stone cold nuts. I made it
3 bets, Mike finally folded and I won a >$400 pot with quads.
I passed on the Thursday (blackjack) and Friday (stud, yawn) tournaments,
but showed my face as required :) However, I did participate in the team
CHORSE event (Crazy Pineapple, Hold 'em, Omaha, Razz, Stud, Stud/8), on the
PokerStars Shills team. I *think* the event was Thursday night, but so many
of the events of the past week melded together that I may be wrong - it may
have been Friday. The event was played in double-rotation format, with each
table playing 3 games and rotating every orbit. Our performance was
undistinguished, but we did at least get a little money back.
but showed my face as required :) However, I did participate in the team
CHORSE event (Crazy Pineapple, Hold 'em, Omaha, Razz, Stud, Stud/8), on the
PokerStars Shills team. I *think* the event was Thursday night, but so many
of the events of the past week melded together that I may be wrong - it may
have been Friday. The event was played in double-rotation format, with each
table playing 3 games and rotating every orbit. Our performance was
undistinguished, but we did at least get a little money back.
Friday night was the "symposium," which is actually a Calcutta for the main
event. My pairing took a respectable $45.
event. My pairing took a respectable $45.
Saturday brought the main event, No Limit Hold 'em. We started with 162
players with a format and starting stack that allowed for a lot of play. I
never varied much - after starting with T1,500, I was as low as T500 and as
high as T2,300. After abour five hours of play, the field had narrowed to
48 players, and the blinds went up to T200/400. I was left with about
T1,400, and was looking for the first hand that had any potential at all.
UTG I found K9 hearts - not exactly a monster, but better than anything I
had seen. I moved all in. The player 2 behind me called time, thought
about it for quite a while, and then called. The player directly behind him
also called time, and then moved all-in for about T4,500. Everyone else
folded, and it came back to the original caller. He could just cover the
all-in move, and after thinking for another minute, he called.
players with a format and starting stack that allowed for a lot of play. I
never varied much - after starting with T1,500, I was as low as T500 and as
high as T2,300. After abour five hours of play, the field had narrowed to
48 players, and the blinds went up to T200/400. I was left with about
T1,400, and was looking for the first hand that had any potential at all.
UTG I found K9 hearts - not exactly a monster, but better than anything I
had seen. I moved all in. The player 2 behind me called time, thought
about it for quite a while, and then called. The player directly behind him
also called time, and then moved all-in for about T4,500. Everyone else
folded, and it came back to the original caller. He could just cover the
all-in move, and after thinking for another minute, he called.
The hands that were turned over were bad for me - AQ spades for the original
caller, A6 of hearts (MY suit :( ) for the raiser. But the flop was a
miracle for me - AK9, 3 suits. I thought for a second, and calculated that
they had 7 outs between them to beat me (1 ace, 3 Qs, 3 6s). Unfortunately,
one of them showed up on the turn, a Q...and the other showed up on the
river, a 6. After taking a big lead with a lucky flop, I ended up coming in
third. I waved to the polite applause and went back to work.
caller, A6 of hearts (MY suit :( ) for the raiser. But the flop was a
miracle for me - AK9, 3 suits. I thought for a second, and calculated that
they had 7 outs between them to beat me (1 ace, 3 Qs, 3 6s). Unfortunately,
one of them showed up on the turn, a Q...and the other showed up on the
river, a 6. After taking a big lead with a lucky flop, I ended up coming in
third. I waved to the polite applause and went back to work.
Saturday night was the banquet, a very nice sit-down dinner that almost all
BARGErs attended. Linda Johnson was the guest speaker, and she made a very
interesting presentation that included a selection of often hysterical
misprints from Card Player past. She then passed the microphone to Steve
Lipscomb (top guy at the World Poker Tour), who showed a very entertaining
teaser for upcoming World Poker Tour events, along with a video from the
Party Poker Million.
BARGErs attended. Linda Johnson was the guest speaker, and she made a very
interesting presentation that included a selection of often hysterical
misprints from Card Player past. She then passed the microphone to Steve
Lipscomb (top guy at the World Poker Tour), who showed a very entertaining
teaser for upcoming World Poker Tour events, along with a video from the
Party Poker Million.
During the banquet, an announcement was made about the challenge match
between Paradise Poker and PokerStars. A few of the players decided to
establish a pool around the match, grew pretty quickly. The odds went back
and forth, but I ended up a slight dog, as a result of my opponent's
last-minute $100 wager on himself.
between Paradise Poker and PokerStars. A few of the players decided to
establish a pool around the match, grew pretty quickly. The odds went back
and forth, but I ended up a slight dog, as a result of my opponent's
last-minute $100 wager on himself.
The challenge match started at Binion's at midnight. We played 3 12-minute
rounds of limit hold 'em, then switched to no limit. Starting with T2,000
each, I took a small lead and was ahead T2,400-1,600, but this took a big
turn for the worst, and at the end of round 2 I was behind T3,100-900.
However, my opponent doesn't seem to have played a lot of heads-up, because
I started steal-raising and he gave up most hands. By the end of round 3,
we had reversed positions to T3,200-800.
rounds of limit hold 'em, then switched to no limit. Starting with T2,000
each, I took a small lead and was ahead T2,400-1,600, but this took a big
turn for the worst, and at the end of round 2 I was behind T3,100-900.
However, my opponent doesn't seem to have played a lot of heads-up, because
I started steal-raising and he gave up most hands. By the end of round 3,
we had reversed positions to T3,200-800.
It looked like the first hand of No Limit was the end - I raised with A9, he
called with Q4o (?? - maybe he was tired?). Nothing came on the board, and
we shook hands and declared it over - when the dealer said "uh, guys, there
are 4 spades on the board, and he (Bruce) has a spade." So we continued.
called with Q4o (?? - maybe he was tired?). Nothing came on the board, and
we shook hands and declared it over - when the dealer said "uh, guys, there
are 4 spades on the board, and he (Bruce) has a spade." So we continued.
It finally ended 5 hands later, when I raised with AJ, he called with Q9.
Nothing on the board again, and this time it was truly over. We shook
hands, got some applause from the people smart enough to bet on me, but most
important is the $1,100 for my charity, Big Brothers/Big Sisters of America.
The extra $100 came from the pool - the players agreed to donate a portion
of the proceeds.
Nothing on the board again, and this time it was truly over. We shook
hands, got some applause from the people smart enough to bet on me, but most
important is the $1,100 for my charity, Big Brothers/Big Sisters of America.
The extra $100 came from the pool - the players agreed to donate a portion
of the proceeds.
Later that evening I was introduced to a few BARGE traditions. One is
Chowaha - I won't rehash the details, since most of you know them, but it's
quite a game. The other is the must-toke game - incoming dealers have so
many chips rained down on them that they carry slot machine coin cups with
them to hold them all. Then there is the occasional call of "incoming,"
which is always followed by a barrage of chips headed the dealer's way. Not
hard to imagine why the dealers love BARGE.
Chowaha - I won't rehash the details, since most of you know them, but it's
quite a game. The other is the must-toke game - incoming dealers have so
many chips rained down on them that they carry slot machine coin cups with
them to hold them all. Then there is the occasional call of "incoming,"
which is always followed by a barrage of chips headed the dealer's way. Not
hard to imagine why the dealers love BARGE.
That's pretty much it for my first BARGE. I can't believe it's taken me
this long - Lou has bugged me for years to go, but events kept conspiring
against me. Now that I've done it, it will be permanently a part of my
August schedule.
this long - Lou has bugged me for years to go, but events kept conspiring
against me. Now that I've done it, it will be permanently a part of my
August schedule.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Planes, planes, taxis and automobiles (Part 2 of 2)
September 15, 1999
When Sharon told me on Friday that she was in the hospital with a blood clot, my first impulse was to head straight for the airport. Sharon talked me out of this quickly - her doctors had no idea how long she would be hospitalized, and she made it very clear to me that she didn't want me there while she was still in the hospital.
(I should point out here that I had already spent quite a bit of time with Sharon in hospitals previously - we had a scare on a prior visit involving suspected appendicitis.)
The following Monday, her doctors told her that she would most likely be released on Wednesday. I made reservations to fly out that day, arriving late evening Wednesday, planning to stay until the following Monday or Tuesday. That's when the least fun travel odyssey of my life started.
Everything began normally enough. I got a ride to the airport on Wednesday from my best friend, Randy. On the way, he reminded me that it was hurricane season in the east, and that there was a hurricane heading up the coast. I told him I had checked with USAir, and the flight was departing as scheduled.
I checked in, had a drink (which I usually don't do when I'm flying) and boarded the flight. I almost never sleep on planes - I'm not sure why, but I just don't seem to be able to stay asleep for more than 30 minutes, even on long flights. But this time, a combination of exhaustion and one drink did the trick - I fell asleep almost immediately, and didn't wake up until the plane was on the ground. I collected my carry-on bag and computer bag and shuffled off the plane.
I grew up in northeastern Pennsylvania, and had traveled through Philadelphia International Airport innumerable times, including at least four times in the prior six months, so I knew the airport pretty well. The airport I saw when I exited the plane didn't look quite right, but I remembered that they had been doing a lot of renovations. But after walking a hundred yards or so, I knew something was wrong. I returned to the arrival gate and found a USAir representative.
"I know this will sound like a weird question, but - where exactly am I?" I asked.
"You're in Charlotte, North Carolina. Where were you expecting to be?"
"Well, I was hoping to be in Philadelphia," I said, still digesting the idea that I was 500 miles from where I expected to be.
"Oh!" the USAir rep said. "You must have been on the flight from Los Angeles. You were diverted to Charlotte because the Philadelphia airport is underwater."
This took a minute to register. "Underwater?" I said blankly.
"Yes, Hurricane Floyd just made landfall not far from there, and they've had 10 inches of rain so far. The airport is closed."
I called Sharon, who had already heard about the diversion. She is not the excitable type, but was not at all pleased at this development. I told her I'd call as soon as I had an update. By this time, it was around 7pm; I was supposed to land in Philadelphia at 6:15, so Sharon thought I'd already be at her house by then.
USAir, to their credit, did everything they could to find me a flight. There were some indications that the Philadelphia airport might reopen, so they booked me on a few flights that ended up being canceled. Finally, at midnight, they threw in the towel and put me up at a nearby Marriott.
I called Sharon again, who by this time was mad. There was no one to blame, of course, so I bore the brunt of it. But I was the dutiful boyfriend, and that was my job, so that's what I did. I told her that I was returning to the airport at 6am to try again, and would call her as soon as I knew what was happening.
USAir sent a car for me and got me to the airport just after 6 the following morning. When I arrived, they informed me that the Philadelphia airport had reopened, and booked me on a 7am flight. That was perfect - I had just enough time to get to Starbucks for a coffee and pastry. I took my boarding pass and headed for Starbucks, which took me past the flight status board just in time to see the "On Time" message next to my flight change to "Canceled."
I headed back to the gate. The USAir representative was profusely apologetic - the information they had gotten was wrong, and they weren't sure when the airport would reopen. There had apparently been a massive power failure, as well, so things just weren't looking very promising.
We continued with several more cycles of hope/diminished hope/cancellation. Finally, around 11am, I asked if there was a flight to one of the New York airports. There was a flight to Newark scheduled to depart at noon. I asked to be put on that flight. The USAir rep started to tell me that this was off my itinerary and might cost extra. I tilted my head down gave her my best baleful look over my glasses.
She got the message and got to work. Five minutes later, my CLT-EWR boarding pass in hand, I headed to the gate for my long-delayed flight.
Much to my surprise, the flight took off on time and did, in fact, land in Newark. I took the New Jersey Transit train from the airport to Penn Station in Manhattan, then bolted for the Amtrak ticket counter.
"One roundtrip to Philadelphia, please," I said to the ticket agent, and handed over a credit card. He printed the ticket, had me sign the voucher and I was off. I had taken this particular train many times, and knew exactly where to go and when it ran. I called Sharon to let her know, then headed down the escalator to the tracks.
After waiting for thirty minutes, I started to get concerned. Not only had the train not arrived, but there was no indication on the board that it would arrive. I gathered my stuff and went back up the escalator to the Amtrak ticket booth, where the same agent was reading a newspaper.
"Any idea when the train to Philly will arrive?" I asked.
"The Philadelphia trains have all been canceled. 30th Street Station is flooded," he said, and returned to his newspaper.
I was uncharacteristically speechless. Finally I was able to say, "You do remember that you sold me a ticket for that train a half-hour ago?"
"Yes," he said.
More silence.
I said, "You sold me a ticket knowing the train wasn't running."
"I had no way of knowing when you were traveling, sir." I always know I'm against a brick wall when they call me "sir." I asked for a refund, and was treated to a truly unpleasant experience involving much grumbling, paper-shuffling and supervisor-calling. I did get a refund, not that it mattered much. I thought about suggesting that the ticket agent call Sharon, since I certainly didn't want to.
I took a few deep breaths and called Sharon, who was on a lot of pain meds and was not amused. By this time, she knew that I was making a Herculean effort to get there, but that didn't make either of us feel much better.
I left Penn Station and walked up 8th Avenue to the Hertz car rental station. There was a line out the door. As I stood there, looking forlorn and feeling like the situation was hopeless, the guy in front of me said, "You know, there's another Hertz location on 57th. You want to share a cab?" I nodded, and we flagged down a taxi.
On the way, I told the story up to this point. My taxi companion said, "So you're going to Philadelphia?" I nodded. "Funny, me too."
We arrived at the Hertz station, which was empty. I happened to get to the counter first and asked for a car.
"Do you have a reservation?"
Uh-oh.
"No," I said, "I've been trying to get to Philadelphia since yesterday afternoon."
"I do have one car," the Hertz rep said. I immediately felt terrible, and turned to my taxi buddy.
"Let's split it," he said.
So we got Hertz's very last car, which happened to be a quite pleasant Lincoln Town Car. And just over three hours later, I pulled into the Hertz lot at Philadelphia International Airport, where Sharon was waiting to meet me. (Her mother drove.)
"Just in case you weren't sure if I loved you..." I began.
"Just get in the fucking car," Sharon said, and hugged me for a long time.
Everything began normally enough. I got a ride to the airport on Wednesday from my best friend, Randy. On the way, he reminded me that it was hurricane season in the east, and that there was a hurricane heading up the coast. I told him I had checked with USAir, and the flight was departing as scheduled.
I checked in, had a drink (which I usually don't do when I'm flying) and boarded the flight. I almost never sleep on planes - I'm not sure why, but I just don't seem to be able to stay asleep for more than 30 minutes, even on long flights. But this time, a combination of exhaustion and one drink did the trick - I fell asleep almost immediately, and didn't wake up until the plane was on the ground. I collected my carry-on bag and computer bag and shuffled off the plane.
I grew up in northeastern Pennsylvania, and had traveled through Philadelphia International Airport innumerable times, including at least four times in the prior six months, so I knew the airport pretty well. The airport I saw when I exited the plane didn't look quite right, but I remembered that they had been doing a lot of renovations. But after walking a hundred yards or so, I knew something was wrong. I returned to the arrival gate and found a USAir representative.
"I know this will sound like a weird question, but - where exactly am I?" I asked.
"You're in Charlotte, North Carolina. Where were you expecting to be?"
"Well, I was hoping to be in Philadelphia," I said, still digesting the idea that I was 500 miles from where I expected to be.
"Oh!" the USAir rep said. "You must have been on the flight from Los Angeles. You were diverted to Charlotte because the Philadelphia airport is underwater."
This took a minute to register. "Underwater?" I said blankly.
"Yes, Hurricane Floyd just made landfall not far from there, and they've had 10 inches of rain so far. The airport is closed."
I called Sharon, who had already heard about the diversion. She is not the excitable type, but was not at all pleased at this development. I told her I'd call as soon as I had an update. By this time, it was around 7pm; I was supposed to land in Philadelphia at 6:15, so Sharon thought I'd already be at her house by then.
USAir, to their credit, did everything they could to find me a flight. There were some indications that the Philadelphia airport might reopen, so they booked me on a few flights that ended up being canceled. Finally, at midnight, they threw in the towel and put me up at a nearby Marriott.
I called Sharon again, who by this time was mad. There was no one to blame, of course, so I bore the brunt of it. But I was the dutiful boyfriend, and that was my job, so that's what I did. I told her that I was returning to the airport at 6am to try again, and would call her as soon as I knew what was happening.
USAir sent a car for me and got me to the airport just after 6 the following morning. When I arrived, they informed me that the Philadelphia airport had reopened, and booked me on a 7am flight. That was perfect - I had just enough time to get to Starbucks for a coffee and pastry. I took my boarding pass and headed for Starbucks, which took me past the flight status board just in time to see the "On Time" message next to my flight change to "Canceled."
I headed back to the gate. The USAir representative was profusely apologetic - the information they had gotten was wrong, and they weren't sure when the airport would reopen. There had apparently been a massive power failure, as well, so things just weren't looking very promising.
We continued with several more cycles of hope/diminished hope/cancellation. Finally, around 11am, I asked if there was a flight to one of the New York airports. There was a flight to Newark scheduled to depart at noon. I asked to be put on that flight. The USAir rep started to tell me that this was off my itinerary and might cost extra. I tilted my head down gave her my best baleful look over my glasses.
She got the message and got to work. Five minutes later, my CLT-EWR boarding pass in hand, I headed to the gate for my long-delayed flight.
Much to my surprise, the flight took off on time and did, in fact, land in Newark. I took the New Jersey Transit train from the airport to Penn Station in Manhattan, then bolted for the Amtrak ticket counter.
"One roundtrip to Philadelphia, please," I said to the ticket agent, and handed over a credit card. He printed the ticket, had me sign the voucher and I was off. I had taken this particular train many times, and knew exactly where to go and when it ran. I called Sharon to let her know, then headed down the escalator to the tracks.
After waiting for thirty minutes, I started to get concerned. Not only had the train not arrived, but there was no indication on the board that it would arrive. I gathered my stuff and went back up the escalator to the Amtrak ticket booth, where the same agent was reading a newspaper.
"Any idea when the train to Philly will arrive?" I asked.
"The Philadelphia trains have all been canceled. 30th Street Station is flooded," he said, and returned to his newspaper.
I was uncharacteristically speechless. Finally I was able to say, "You do remember that you sold me a ticket for that train a half-hour ago?"
"Yes," he said.
More silence.
I said, "You sold me a ticket knowing the train wasn't running."
"I had no way of knowing when you were traveling, sir." I always know I'm against a brick wall when they call me "sir." I asked for a refund, and was treated to a truly unpleasant experience involving much grumbling, paper-shuffling and supervisor-calling. I did get a refund, not that it mattered much. I thought about suggesting that the ticket agent call Sharon, since I certainly didn't want to.
I took a few deep breaths and called Sharon, who was on a lot of pain meds and was not amused. By this time, she knew that I was making a Herculean effort to get there, but that didn't make either of us feel much better.
I left Penn Station and walked up 8th Avenue to the Hertz car rental station. There was a line out the door. As I stood there, looking forlorn and feeling like the situation was hopeless, the guy in front of me said, "You know, there's another Hertz location on 57th. You want to share a cab?" I nodded, and we flagged down a taxi.
On the way, I told the story up to this point. My taxi companion said, "So you're going to Philadelphia?" I nodded. "Funny, me too."
We arrived at the Hertz station, which was empty. I happened to get to the counter first and asked for a car.
"Do you have a reservation?"
Uh-oh.
"No," I said, "I've been trying to get to Philadelphia since yesterday afternoon."
"I do have one car," the Hertz rep said. I immediately felt terrible, and turned to my taxi buddy.
"Let's split it," he said.
So we got Hertz's very last car, which happened to be a quite pleasant Lincoln Town Car. And just over three hours later, I pulled into the Hertz lot at Philadelphia International Airport, where Sharon was waiting to meet me. (Her mother drove.)
"Just in case you weren't sure if I loved you..." I began.
"Just get in the fucking car," Sharon said, and hugged me for a long time.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Planes, planes, taxis and automobiles (Part 1 of 2)
September 10, 1999
[NOTE: I made a pledge a few
months ago that I would post at least once every seven days, and if not I’d donate $100
to the charity of the first person calling me out. I missed this week for the
first time. Congrats to Taki – I’ll let you know what his selected charity is.]
in 1999, Sharon and I were
carrying on a cross-country relationship, alternately meeting up in the east
(New York City, Philadelphia, various places in New Jersey) and the west
(usually Redondo Beach). One of us traveled at least once a month.
Around this time, I started
receiving offers from the Venetian in Las Vegas, which had just opened. I had
been a regular player at the Stardust and Treasure Island; I suspect some host
moved to the Venetian and brought me along. The offers were hard to resist –
three free days, plus a variety of goodies like meals, cash and show tickets. I
had tried several times to convince Sharon to meet me, but we weren’t able to
coordinate schedules so I went by myself. It was my first trip to Vegas since
early 1997, when I was dating a woman who lived there. I was looking forward to
checking out the Venetian, and to playing some poker at the Bellagio.
I arrived early afternoon on
Thursday, checked into the Venetian and dropped off my stuff. I wasn’t sure how
far the Bellagio was, so I asked a valet, who told me it was walking distance
but urged me to take a few bottles of water. He was right that it was walking
distance; however, it was somewhere in the 105 degree range. By the time I got
there, I was drenched and parched, although I had downed both bottles of water
on the way. But as is typical in Las Vegas during the summer, it took only a
few minutes to dry out, so I looked slightly less scruffy by the time I made it
to the poker room.
The rarely-helpful floor staff at
the Bellagio informed me that a seat in a $6-12 or $10-20 limit hold ‘em game
would likely be a several hour wait. I was on a very limited bankroll at the
time, so playing bigger than that was not an option. I decided to wait. A few
minutes later, a $6-12 Omaha High-Low seat opened up, so I sat in on that game
while I waited for a hold ‘em seat.
[NOTE: In case you’re wondering
why I wasn’t playing pot limit or no limit, remember that this was 1999. The
poker boom hadn’t happened yet. I would guess that there were ten or less ‘big
bet’ games in the entire state of Nevada back then.]
I’m not a very good limit Omaha
player, but the deck smashed me on the head over and over during a two-hour
stretch. I don’t think there was a single sizable pot I played that I didn’t
win at least half of. I had stacked my chips in unruly towers of varying sizes,
and only had a vague notion of how much was in front of me. As fate would have
it, at that moment a seat opened in a $15-30 game. I quickly took inventory and
counted almost $800, more than enough to take a shot at the $15-30 game.
I asked the floorman to lock up
the seat. He feigned not hearing me. I asked again, loud enough not to be
missed. He finally nodded, apparently quite unhappy that this request wasn’t
accompanied by a tip. I racked up my chips and headed to the $15-30 game.
I decided to wait to come into
the game until the button had passed me. I went out into the casino and called
Sharon at her office, but got voicemail. I left her a message letting her know
about my early success and went back to the game.
The $15-30 game didn’t appear to
be particularly good. There were a few old grizzled characters that appeared to
have a thin coat of dust on them that extended to their chips. I saw a guy I
used to play with at Hollywood Park, who didn’t acknowledge me. The rest of the
players didn’t look like tourists; they looked like local rounders.
However, don’t underestimate the
power of a horseshoe up the butt. I bought into this game for $500, and less
than an hour later I had $1,500 in front of me. As if fate were giving me a
nudge, at that moment I heard, “Seat open, $30-60.” Before my brain could catch
up, I heard myself saying “Lock it up.”
I went to the cashier to exchange
my red $5 chips for brown $10 chips and dropped them off at the $30-60 table. I
decided to wait again, and left to call Sharon. Still no answer, either at the
office or at home (she didn’t have a cell back then). By this time it was late
afternoon, which meant early evening in the east, and I was starting to be a
little concerned.
I sat down in the $30-60 game,
having no idea what I was getting into. Typically, a game this size had more
serious players than the $3-6 to $10-20 games, and a typical hand had 2-3
players seeing the flop. The very first hand I played, eight players went to
the flop for two bets each, and I quickly realized that this was to be the
standard.
Had I realized how volatile the
game was, I wouldn’t have played – a game like that doesn’t favor thin
bankrolls. But I was there, and decided I’d play to my blind and then decide
what to do. Two hands later, I won a substantial pot, and the very next hand I
flopped quads after calling three bets cold with pocket jacks. Suddenly the
$1,000 I sat down with had grown to $3,000 and I felt a lot more comfortable.
And that’s when the first of two
of the most memorable limit hold ‘em hands ever happened. I was first to act
and looked down at the Ace of hearts and the King of hearts. I raised, and by
the time it got back to me, it was capped (one bet, four raises - $150 per
player), and every player at the table
had called. I didn’t love my hand any more, but at that point I was getting
something like 12:1 to call, so I called.
The flop came out T44. It was
checked to me. I checked, and by the time it got back to me, it was capped
again. This time there were only eight callers. I don’t recall how many players
made it to the river – I think it was five – but by that time the pot was
absolutely enormous, well over $4,000.
When the river action was done,
the tiny woman in seat 10, who had barely said a word since I sat down, said,
“I think I have this one,” and turned over 44 for quad fours. The dealer pushed
her the pot, and it took at least four both-arm pushes to get all of the chips
to her. There were chips everywhere, falling into the dealer’s tray, on the
floor, on the woman’s lap.
Someone asked for a deck change,
which the dealer did. He dealt the next hand, and when it got to the little
woman in seat 10, she couldn’t even find her cards under all the chips. She
said, “I call blind,” and put in $30. It was capped once again, and once again
every player at the table called. I was in the big blind this hand, looked down
at a pair of threes and decided to call.
The flop came down with the exact
same three cards as last hand – T44. I checked and then folded when it came
back to me. There was less action this hand, but by the end of the hand there
was still over $3,000 in the pot. The woman who had won the previous pot said,
“You’re not going to believe this,” and turned over 44, having flopped the same
quads on two consecutive hands.
I’ve seen a lot of bizarre stuff
at the poker table, but in all my years of poker, live and online, through
millions of hands, I had never seen that before, nor did I since. But the story
isn’t over.
The next hand, I was in the small
blind, and once again, for the third consecutive hand, the betting was capped.
At this point, I really didn’t care what I had, but I looked, and guess what? I
had two black fours. I called.
The flop, unfortunately, wasn’t
good for my hand – 992. I checked, and folded when it got back to me. The big
blind had folded already, so I showed him my hand. He nearly jumped out of his
seat. “YOU FOLDED?!?”
Yes, I told him – calling five
more bets with that flop just didn’t seem like a good choice. He told me he
would have bought my hand from me had I let him. And just as he was saying
this, the four of diamonds popped off the deck.
My neighbor just couldn’t resist.
“YOU SEE? YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED!” he practically shouted at me.
It would be a fitting, if
unbelievable, end to this story if the case four came off on the river. It
didn’t, but my fours full would have won.
Sharon wasn’t yet a poker player,
but I thought she would appreciate this story. I took a break to call her, and
at that moment, my cell rang. It was Sharon.
“You won’t believe what I just
saw!” I said. I started telling her the story.
She interrupted me. “I’m in the
hospital,” she said, and sobbed a little. Sharon doesn’t sob much; I knew it
was serious.
“I have a blood clot in my leg.”
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