Found myself in an unusual position in last night's Riverchasers event. I had chips.

Lots of chips.

I zoomed to 10,000 in no time flat by stacking two people early. Picked up some more when I flopped a set of 9s and took out Kat.

I had 15,000ish chips at the first break, comfortably in the top 3.

How do you play then? I'm never in that position.

The Full Tilt RNG ended up dictating what I did, by declining to give me anything resembling a playable hand. At least for the most part. I did manage to get hosed once again by Jacks when I decided to try and pick off a short stack with my last pocket pair, TT. JJ was OK for someone else and I dropped back down to just above 10k.

After an hour of folding 99% of hands I reached the 2nd break with a pretty average stack of 10kish.

I made two very marginal steal attempts early in hour 3 and was picked off both times. Suddenly I was real low on chips.

A timely AQo allowed for a late double up, but by that time I was short and the blinds were high. Went out 18th when I ran a late position J9s into AQ.

I'm sure that I could have, should have, played differently, but the "how" portion escapes me. I suppose I could have tried to resteal occasionally, but I admit to being loath to do so with 63o or 42s.

As always, I have a lot to learn.


Tonight is Dollar Donkament night, and I plan to engage in some cheap pushmonkey therapy. See you there.


Six lousy days until Las Vegas. Just thought I'd throw that out there, in case you didn't know.

I'm killing time doing anything but preparation for tomorrow's trial du jour, as a result you get blog spew. Sorry.

Anyway, I was looking through my collection of trip reports last night - not all of which have been posted here - and found myself revisiting previous trips to Las Vegas for blogger gatherings. Here is one of those random experiences that make Vegas unlike most anywhere else.


Friday, December 9, 2005
Excalibur, Las Vegas

It hadn't been a winning trip so far, and my visit to the Excalibur was no different. Dozens of bloggers had "stormed the Castle" for an evening of donkey poker, prop bets and wheel spins. By wheel spins, of course, I mean trips to the desk to spin the giant wheel labeled with various bonus prizes. You got to spin the wheel if you cracked pocket aces - I don't recall if there were other ways to qualify. I was able to spin the wheel once when I cracked BG's aces with a set of sixes. I think I won $40, which didn't quite cover my poker losses.

The table broke about 3:30 a.m. and I strolled around the Excalibur. I figured that most people would be dragging themselves off to sleep, while thanks to a cracked-out sleep schedule I was just getting warmed up. It was coming up on four in the morning, I'm wandering around by myself - "raging solo" some would call it - what should I do?

Isn't it obvious?

I mean really, isn't it obvious?

I had to go downtown.

Downtown.

By bus.

I purchased my ticket at 4:04 a.m. and boarded the double decker "Deuce" bus. There were a decent number of people on board, most of whom you would have looked at and said 'yeah, I can see you on a bus in Vegas in the small hours of the morning'. I hoped that I was tired and grouchy enough to fit in, but figured that my enormous size and surly attitude would keep me out of trouble. I plopped down on a seat upstairs and proceeded to mind my own business for the hour or so it took to get downtown.

That's not to say that I didn't get free entertainment along the way. A couple of groups of African-American gentlemen boarded at various points and seated themselves behind me. They seemed to know each other and were soon absorbed in discussing the NFL. At a very loud volume. They added an F-bomb, or the F-bomb's less common but more colorful cousin, the MF-bomb, every second or third word for emphasis. It was pure verbal artistry. I could do nothing but enjoy and admire experts at work.

After a while the bus driver had enough and came on the intercom, basically telling them to knock it off. I wondered if the driver was feeling his oats, since he'd just kicked a creepy, disheveled bum off the bus. The NFL guys shut up and I decided that I better not give the driver any crap. We made it downtown without further incident.

I wandered in the direction of Binion's, formerly the Horseshoe, for a dose of old school Las Vegas and a graveyard special. 4:55 a.m. It was time for steak and eggs.

Must. Not. Play. $10 rebuys.

Work kept me late last night, so I was still pretty wired when I got home. I decided to donate a buyin by playing the MATH. It was a $10+$1 rebuy this week, 1000 chips to start, 1000 for a rebuy and an optional 1500 add on.

Must. Not. Play. $10 rebuys.

Ugh. I went back and did a quick review of the hand histories. If I have my numbers right, I was dealt 105 hands in the first hour, including the following:

AA twice
KK
JJ four times
AKo
AQs
55
33 twice
"show horse" hands (AT, KQ, KJs, AJo, AJs, KQs) eight times

How did I end the first hour?

Why, with 3400 chips of course. For you scoring at home, that's a starting buy in, minus 100 chips for a last folded blind, plus a last minute rebuy, plus the add on.

I could have just skipped the first 58 minutes and saved myself thirty bucks.



Must. Not. Play. $10 rebuys.

I will concede that I played like a moron. That's pretty much standard. It would have been nice to not get stacked for the third time with jacks when I flopped a set (vs KQo), but gutshots happen. I could have gotten away from my set of fives against a flopped A-rag flush. I didn't. That's life. But, dude...

That's the single best run of cards that I've seen in forever. And it did me zero good. Zero.

Sigh.

I did manage to double up once after the break when TPTK was better than TP2ndK, but that was the high point. Having AKs go down to Mary's A9o didn't help things and I only hung on well into the third hour by playing short stack ... quick, what's the opposite of ninja? Elephant? ... and by laying a sick beat of my own with 44 making a one card straight against QQ. Finished 17th.

No mas.

No. More. $10 rebuys.

Back to playing games that my bankroll can support. Any rebuys will be strictly of the $1 variety.

The experience was good for one thing -- I was reminded that I definitely need to work on my short stack skills. It seems like I can tread water for a long time by getting the occasional steal or rare double up, but I'm way too dependent on cards. By the end I've usually opened my range to open-shoving with almost any two, but that isn't good enough. Last night I declined to shove with a 2, 3 or 4 kicker (unless it was a sooted A or K), and was promptly dealt 12 of those unplayable hands in a row. Death by blinds and antes.

I've got nothing else. Tonight is the Bodonkey on Bodog - not a BBT2 event but worth playing anyway because of the sweet overlay. I think I've got enough left for one more buy in. If not, I might actually have to investigate deposit options for the first time since the UIGEA. Or not. I really just play for play money.

It's true. Every weekend is unfortunately followed by a Monday. Today really got off to a great start. As I was leaving this morning I gave my doorknob a tug to shut the door behind me and I ended up with half a doorknob in my hand. Oops. Looks like I'll be heading over to Home Depot momentarily for a new assembly. Mondays.

I hope that everyone had a great Thanksgiving. For me, a four day weekend was exactly what the doctor ordered. Sweet relaxation.

Not much of note happened. Played the Friday Night Dollar Donkament, which was stupid good fun as always. Finishing 5th when 3 places paid wasn't as much fun, but whatever. There were special guest appearances by Royal and by the Rooster, both of whom went deep.

There was a fair amount of football watching on Saturday and Sunday. I had a fantastic weekend over at Fantasy Sports Live, picking up three firsts and a second in the four contests I played. I had a chance for the sweep, but the return of Laurence Maroney and the Eagles putting up a fight prevented any garbage time yards from Heath Evans when I needed a couple more points. No complaints, though. And now that I've jinxed myself I'm sure I'll spew the winnings back into your pockets before football season is over.

The snow we received on Friday had melted by Sunday, so I made it out to the golf course. It wasn't a beautiful day, seeing how it was about 40 degrees, breezy and overcast, but it was nice enough for almost-December. The course was deserted - no staff working the pro shop, no pins in the cups, piles of leaves scattered about wherever the wind had deposited them. We saw two groups playing ahead of us, but by the time we finished we were the last ones on the course. Our own private golf course, one last round.


Another full week of poker opportunity is lined up and there for the taking. Tonight is Mondays at the Hoy, with a special $10 rebuy format. I probably won't be there I'm an idiot, I'm there (10 PM EST start).

Time is running short to win a seat to the BBT2 Tournament of Champions freeroll.


T-10 days suckas.

Until next time, I'll be wondering what else is going to go wrong today.

Monday was a home game, where I won a few bucks despite playing like an idiot. Already covered that.

Tuesday was the Bodonkey, where I had a chance to go deep despite playing like an idiot, until my irresistible force ran directly into an immovable object. I posted about it and because I had no idea there was an Arlington in Massachusetts, I didn't realize who the perp was. Next time I'll remember to add "Byron!" after screaming "Goddammit" at my computer.

I'm glad to have been of service. Nice card rack you got there. Donkey.

I kid, I kid.

I'll make it up to you. I'll link to you a bunch of times. And when I'm done with this post not only will you be restored to your proper place in the listing of "Poker Blogs of Choice" (the updating of which will probably not be complete until 2012), I will make a note to buy you a drink in Vegas.

Man, pretty much every one of my posts feels like a bad beat post. They also look, sound, taste and smell like bad beat posts. Except the ones which involve linktarding or promotion of Kat's Friday Night Dollar Donkament. Please don't tell anyone else, though -- I don't have enough dollars to cover the tab for an entire horde of money-seeking blog readers.

Speaking of tabs, can I pay you back by buying you a beer using a free drink coupon at the Imperial Palace and saving the buck for a tip to the waitress?*

You can take advantage of this generous offer in this many days:

* Actually, if one of the cocktail waitresses I saw in October at the IP is working, she'll get as many ones as I happen to have on me at the time. Wow.

On Wednesday I received notices for two pretrial conferences to be held on Friday, December 7. I did my best impersonation of a two year old after you've taken his toy away, which proved to be sufficient to get the dates changed. Score one for the middle-aged brat.

Wednesday was also the Mookie, where I flamed out early in an unspectacular fashion after playing like an idiot. For some reason I decided that it was a good idea to raise hands like 86s out of position during level 1. I want to memorialize that performance if only because it was probably the worst poker I've ever played. Which is saying alot.

I considered posting a picture of the pizza I had for dinner, knowing that doing so would probably tilt the Boy Genius, but decided against it.

I spent the rest of the evening doodling and pondering various bets to make in Las Vegas. As you may recall, earlier this week I leaked some prop bet lines. Those drew a few comments. One was in response to these odds:

I was drunk. Or maybe I wasn't. I forget.

Okay, not I don't. Truth be told, I was looking at the list of attendees and wondered if there should be lines for some of the people I haven't met yet. I had just caught up on my blog reading and had noted that you'd left complimentary comments on several, the first two of which happened to be written by ladies. Don't make me link to them, it's been a while. LJ was probably one of them.

+1 drink for you, sir. I better move that line up.

Yesterday, of course, was Thanksgiving. Which meant stuffing and getting stuffed. I got up early, peeled about 20 pounds of spuds and went off to dinner number 1. I got to do most of the cooking for that one - even though I don't do gourmet, I make darned good comfort food. Had enough time in between meals to do the potatoes and then it was off to dinner number 2. So good. There aren't many meals that I'd want to eat twice in one day, but turkey with all the trimmings is definitely one of them.

Wound down with a couple of drinks* and by playing the Riverchasers. I, um, played like an idiot. Seriously. By folding a lot I managed to survive the first hour and reached the break dead last in chips. I survived longer than another dozen people or so, never once moving my chip count up more than a set of blinds, before busting out mid-pack. Horrible, awful poker.

* I'm preparing for Vegas -- for Pai Gow and for plague fighting purposes -- by drinking Greyhounds 3-to-1 Dogs. A 3-to-1 Dog is much like a Greyhound. It's 1/3 vodka, 1/3 grapefruit juice and 1/3 sparkling water. With ice. Good stuff.

Once I get to Vegas, I plan to drink many vitamin C containing drinks and to gamble heavily. Speaking of gambling, I got another comment on this prop bet line:

As for the rest, here's a brief primer on lines. On this one, because "YES" is listed at -999, you'd have to bet (risk) $999 -- ignoring any house juice -- in order to win $100 (plus get your $999 bet back). On the other hand, if you were to bet "NO" and it came in, you'd get back $800 (plus your $100 wager) on a $100 bet. Obviously the line maker doesn't think that's likely at all -- who gives 8 to 1 ? -- and the odds are that it is VERY certain that YES, you will have a good time. This is the New England Patriots versus the Mason County Eastern 8th grade football Vikings certain.

That said, rigging the outcome is of course encouraged. I will do my part by contributing a drink and a toast to the safe return of the good Doctor.

Offer valid in how many days, StB?

{Ed note: I apologize to anyone who's still using dialup}

Let's take a little trip into the future. I'm pretty sure this is going to happen.

May 23, 2008

Phil Helmuth Jr. was soaking in his backyard jacuzzi and contemplating lunch when the phone rang.

"Hellmuth residence, the 11 time world champion of poker speaking."

"Phil, this is [name redacted] at Ultimate Bet."

"[Name redacted], how the hell are you? I'm great. I'm going to win number 12 this year and I'm not going to stop there let me tell you. I'm already the best poker player that's ever lived and this is the year I put some real distance between myself and the pack."

"Um, Phil..."

"You see, I'm going to play more events. First I revolutionized how to play hold'em, now I'm going to crushizzle those other punk games. Those inferior players won't know what hit 'em."

"Uh, Phil..."

"It's all part of my marketing plan. I'm already famous. This year, I get MEGA famous."

"That's the problem, Phil..."

"What problem?"

"You're not famous ... at least not famous enough."

"Do you know who you're talking to? I'm an 11 time world champion. I've written books. People come up to me every time I play and thank me for teaching them how to spot Elephants and Eagles at the poker table. How can I not be famous enough?"

"It's the kids, Phil. We need the kids. Too many of them weren't born when you won the main event back in 1989. When we ask them what they think of Phil, they think we're asking about Ivey."

"Ivey? Why that ...."

"Phil, you're the face of Ultimate Bet. We need you. More than ever. We need to keep scrutiny off our relationship with Absolute Poker and that whole scandal thing."

"Um.."

"You see, Phil, we need the kids if we're going to make money. And by make money I mean keep paying you."

"You got me. What do you want me to do, consigliere?"

"Like I said, Phil, it's all about the kids. We've been doing market research, trying to understand them. We've picked up on some trends. For one thing, the kids are just crazy about this Myspace thing. And their music. They can't get enough of something called Soulja Boy."

"Soulja Boy? What the hell is that?"

"Phil, I'm old and white. I don't get it. But the kids, they're cranking dat. We need you to get in on this. Trust me."

{fade out}

I'm pretty sure this is the poker equivalent of that scene in the movies, you know, the one where the bad guys are losing the cops in a high speed chase, the driver of the getaway car turns his head for a split second to see how far back they are and BLAMMO the car runs right into a light pole.

From tonight's Bodonkery:

Hero has JJ on the button and 3600-ish chips. 17 left of 21 runners.
Blinds are like 60/120.
EP - I'm not good with Bodog screen names - with big stack of 9k-ish raises to 500.
Hero is a retard.
Hero smooooooooooooooooth calls.
Announcer: "Hero is a retard".
Blinds fold.
Flop J T 7 with two clubs.
EP overbets pot for 1500.
Hero is still a retard.
Hero insta-raise shoves.
EP calls, shows KK.
Turn is another T

Tires squeal.
All the ladies in the theater are grabbing their men or averting their eyes.
There's a scream from an innocent bystander.

River K.

"Illinois Nazis... I hate [censored] Illinois Nazis ..."
"Wrong movie, dude"
"{gurgle}"
Wide angle shot of carnage.
Roll credits.

I am on super hyper mega monkey life tilt this morning, so if I say anything too terribly offensive, apologies in advance. I try to keep this blog relatively expletive-free, but sometimes the rage is too powerful.

***

One of the banes of my professional life - and this is probably true of many people who are self employed - is the lack of control I am able to exercise over my calendar. I exist largely at the whim of my clients and of our local court system, which seems to be run more or less on the principle of "you will be here when we say so, or else". Virtually every week I am supposed to be in two places at the same time, which is of course impossible unless you're a criminal defendant and the ability to bend the laws of physics is critical to your alibi.

When a calendar problem crops up I generally have three options:

1. Reschedule a hearing if I am allowed to do so;
2. Hope that something settles or gets rescheduled by the other side; or
3. Find someone to cover for me.

Thankfully, I haven't yet had a situation where I just flat missed something. It's a pain in the neck but I've managed.

That doesn't mean, however, that I'm always successful in getting things rearranged to suit my wishes. Take, for example, this little get together in Las Vegas in just over two weeks. I've been planning this trip for MONTHS. I booked my plane ticket in July. I let the clerks of my usual courts know when I would be gone.

Sure enough, late last week I got a trial notice. Monday, December 10. Be there.

DAMMIT.

I'm supposed to be in the air all day. Coming home. Recuperating.

#$%^&*$%^&*$%^&*!

I reviewed my options.

There's no way in hell I'm getting this trial rescheduled. For one, it involves a type of case where the state court rules say a hearing has to be held within 56 days. December 10 is very close to the 56 day deadline. For another, I'm informed that the local judges announced a crackdown on adjournments at a conference a couple weeks ago - I don't really want to be a test case as to whether a pre-existing vacation constitutes "good cause" for an adjournment. For a third, I wrote to the out of town person on the other side (who doesn't have an attorney) asking if they'd like to schedule the trial around their holiday travel plans and got no response. That person pretty much refuses to talk to me, so I can forget any consideration there.

I found out yesterday that there is no chance that this gets settled. So scratch that option.

And it's an ugly type of case which everyone hates and that depends heavily on knowledge of the facts, so there isn't any way I'm going to recruit anyone to cover for me. Strike three.

I'm going to have to be here on that Monday.

***

I accepted reality this morning. I'm still going to Las Vegas, but I'm going to miss out on Sunday NFL action. And I'm going to end up spending valuable vacation time worrying about a [censored] trial.

Tilt level high.

Time to make the changes. It cost more to switch my return flight (thanks to the $100 change fee and the higher fare) than it did to originally book the ticket. The new plane ticket costs more than I've spent on airfare + room + meals (other than a fancy dinner at 3950 in 2005) on any of my other visits TOTAL. The trip bankroll just took a major hit.

Tilt level higher.

Work-related digression: I swear, if I receive another whiny call in the next ten minutes, someone's going to get their throat ripped out, by me, over the telephone.

Tilt level highest.

Deep breath. Think positive thoughts.

I still get to go. It won't cost anything to cancel the last night at the hotel, since that night was comped anyway. There will be one less day's worth of crap piled on my desk when I get back.

Tilt level easing. Slightly.

I still better not get any stupid phone calls for a while.


Lost in all of this rage was an enjoyable home game yesterday. I picked up a buy-in and a half without having any hands of note. It was a very loose passive game, meaning that I could see a lot of cheap flops and make decisions later. They were mostly easy decisions of the "fold" variety.

I also was introduced to a new concept - the "verbal string bet". Player X was playing with his chips and the action came around to him. He tossed his cards in the muck and immediately said "call". Chips were pushed forward. Oops, too late. I think there were some expletives involved when he realized that he'd folded.

Good times.


Obviously I missed the MATH last night. Someone else punched their ticket to the Tournament of Champions. Money was made, money was lost.

Tonight is the Bodonkey, unless it's off because Smokkee is away on his honeymoon. If it's on, the KOtB being absent greatly increases your odds of winning.

Wednesday is the Mookie. With the holiday, I might stay up and play it. Assuming that I get those 20 lbs of potatoes peeled in time, that is.

I have no idea if the Riverchasers event goes as usual on Thursday, but if it does, I'm sure I'll be there, stuffed and unable to move beyond making simple mouse clicks.


Wow, blogging is sure good for relieving tilt. Spew the rage into the tubes and it's mostly gone.

T-16 days.

I am ever so happy about that.

If I don't post before then, have a happy Thanksgiving.

I'll be giving thanks for not having received any notices to appear for December 6 or 7. If any do come today or tomorrow, I suspect that I'll be serving the liver of whoever did it as a turkey day side dish.

Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

A quick post for a Monday morning. Let's hear it for short weeks.

There was a Big Game last night. Somebody won. I railtarded for a bit but there were still about 20 people left when I crashed. Congratulations to that somebody for a nice payday and an entry into the BBT2 Tournament of Champions.

The Las Vegas countdown clock is currently at T-17. Dr. Pauly has updated his useful assortment of tips for surviving the Winter Classic, it's worth a read if you are not a grizzled Vegas veteran.

Bookies all over the Valley are scrambling to put together prop bet odds for the WPBT experience. Here at Res Ipsa Poker * we got a sneak peak at some of the early lines:

The usual disclaimers apply: For entertainment purposes only, I don't endorse illegal wagering because doing so could result in an idiotic waste of law enforcement resources, dammit think of the children before exposing them to these lines, WON'T YOU PLEASE THINK OF THE [CENSORED] CHILDREN??!?, etc, etc.

There may be a leak of tourney-related odds before December, but we'll have to wait and see.

Don't forget Mondays at the Hoy tonight, another chance to win your way toward a FREE trip to Australia.

Until next time, I sigh in exasperation at the thought of having to get back to work.



(* That's right, Res Ipsa Poker just linked to Res Ipsa Poker. That's an old internet ninja trick I learned somewhere.)

This is absurd. The Full Tilt random number generator has definitely decided to punk me.

I'm killing time waiting for the Friday dollar donkament by playing in the nightly $26 token frenzy. So far, I've been dealt a 3 in eight out of eighteen hands. I'm running at better than 44 3s/100. Last night it seemed like 99 3s/100. That's a lot of fawking threes.

There are only supposed to be four 3s in the deck. I had to retake statistics a few times in order to finish my degrees, but I think a rough approximation for how often you should receive a 3 would be:

P= (4/52) + (almost 4/51) = about 2/13

Theoretically, shouldn't this mean that a normal person would run at about 15 3s/100?

Don't answer that, I've now been switched over to face-rag soooooooooooooooooooted.

Over my last 12 hands I'm running at 50 f-rs/100. Mother f-rs.

I'm breaking out the Reynolds Wrap big time tonight.



We're through the looking glass here, people.

Psyche!

Yay! Something different!

I can hear you now. Your most sarcastic voice. "What, no bad beat stories this time?"

Um, about that ...

Yes.

So anyway I found way to bust out of a tournament that I hadn't experienced in a while. Death by blinding. I finished 6th in the Riverchasers for another thoroughly irrelevant cash. The Tournament of Champions remains out of reach and I'm once again really, really tired.

With 7 left, I was in decent position, in more or less a tie for 3rd in chips. I'm going from memory here, but I want to say I had like a 24k stack with 600/1200/125 blinds. Not big, but not in any immediate danger.

And then I didn't couldn't play a hand for about 45 minutes.

Almost every hand was raised preflop. Almost every hand I had something with a 3 kicker. I've never seen so many 53o and Q3o hands in my life. It got so bad that I considered trying to steal from UTG with J2s. Madness. Pathetic.

Sucko's buddies relentlessly stole my blinds and I found nothing I could come over the top with. I mean it wasn't close. I guess I could have called an all-in the one time I had an ace (A7o) in the big blind, but isn't that just foolish?

Despite expanding my range as things developed to the point where I would have shoved with any ace, any king with better than a 5 kicker, any two cards 9 or higher, any pair, any sooted cards, any connectors or one gappers, I still had no chance. About 20 hands in a row didn't meet any of those criteria.

Sigh.

So when I finally got two face cards and ran them straight into a blind's Aces, I didn't really mind all that much. Like getting your head chopped off after a month of water torture.

Back later to "pimp" tonight's dollar Donkament.

Since I was still awake and working on a post, I gave in and played the Mookie. Truth be told, it might be a stretch to say that I "played", since I went out in a matter of minutes. Call it a donation. A fine example of why you should never enter MTTs when you're focusing on something else and my worst finish in quite a while.

I thought it was pretty amusing, though, that I was the third player out from my table ... and the third player out overall.

Managed a 7th in the Bodonkey on Tuesday, again playing distracted. I did apply a pretty obnoxious beat:

Victim raises preflop.
I call with 8s 7s in one of the blinds.
Flop is 8x 5s 4s. We go to war. I'm a tard, this tournament is WAY too tight, let's get it all in.
Turn is the 6s.
Who cares about the river.
Hero shows a straight flush eight high, victim shows Ks Qs and goes looking for a towel. Dirty.

Busted out much later on your garden variety coin flip.

The upgraded software at Bodog is an improvement, but it's still not great imo. Full Tilt and Stars are still considerably better. That said, if I can get some money onto the site (swap anyone?) I'd like to take a crack at some of the juicy looking low buyin tournaments. If I ever have time, that is.

"If I ever have time". My life in five words. And now I'm out of time. So long for now.

(Ed. note: I'm slightly clairvoyant. I can sometimes see the future, but things in that future may be a little fuzzy. Like how I once told a friend of mine that she was going to get married and move to a city elsewhere in the Midwest. She ended up staying put and marrying a guy with a cat named after that other city. True story. Anyway, here's a post from the future. I'm pretty sure about this one.)

I just flew back from Australia and boy, are my arms tired.

(rim shot)

Let me tell you all about it. Here is my trip report, complete with pics!

If you've been hiding under a rock or something, you should know that the whole thing began with this amazing contest put together by some fellow bloggers and the kind and generous folks over at Full Tilt Poker. (Sentence too long, need oxygen, deep breath). If you won a select blogger-hosted tournament, you picked up a bonus entry into a "Tournament of Champions". The TOC winner garnered a sweet $18,000 package to go play the Aussie Millions - complete with entry, air, hotel, spending money, the works.

I tried, but I never won one of those tournaments. I'm not good.

Fortunately, Full Tilt also threw those of use who suck at poker a bone. You could write your way to an entry into the TOC. Even though I didn't like my chances - the English language and I don't always get along - I took a shot. You can find my entry in the archives if you're bored. Somehow, I won.

Clearly this contest was rigged. I like stuff that's rigged. Rigged is practically my middle name.

Once I had my entry into the TOC, I needed a strategy. I used to win blogger donkaments, but the players are way better than I am now. The repeated nut-shots administered by tens of thousands of hands of Pot Limit Omaha have sapped most of the aggressiveness from my game. I'm about as bold as a plate of Velveeta. I needed to re-learn how to make some moves. I needed some chili. Mmmm, chili.

Anyway, lacking the time to study or otherwise improve my game, I decided to just go all in every hand. Once things got underway, I knew I was in good shape -- after I won the first hand with 52 offsuit, a package of bacon went flying by outside my window.

Long story short, I won 42 of 51 hands in one of the briefest multi-table tournaments ever. I'd recite the losing hands in order to keep up my blogger cred, but I don't really want to pay each of you a dollar. I'm saving those for Friday night dollar rebuys. Speaking of dollar rebuys, I just got stacked again. Stupid donkeys.

Now that I had lucksacked my way into a FREE trip to Australia, I needed to get ready. Step one: Get a passport. I last used mine in 1986. The scene at the passport office was like something out of a Dickens novel. Somehow, as you are my witness, I survived.

Steps two through 27 don't need to be repeated here. I booked, I flew, I got to hang with some Full Tilt pros on the flight. We ate wings and played Chinese Poker for wet naps. I think there were a couple of beers consumed, but I don't really remember this part. I'm just glad that nobody was carrying a "Sharpie" or duct tape. Funny guys, those Full Tilt pros.

Twenty odd hours later, we arrived in Oz.

"Let's play some poker!" I exclaimed to nobody in particular.

"Shut the [censored] up willya?" was the reply. I was comforted to find a surly New Yorker behind me in the immigration queue. I felt at home in Australia already.

The Crown Casino was all it was billed to be. It had a casino and a swank hotel. I think there was a pool. If not, my apologies to whosever pool that was. Melbourne was swell, a truly cosmopolitan city with friendly people, lots to see and do, great food and a courteous constabulary. I was relieved that I'd made the correct read in leaving my body armor and personal weaponry back in Detroit.

The main event at the Aussie Millions started on Monday, January 14. 1008 donors entered, making for the largest prize pool in hemispheric history. I drew seat 2, table 7. Of course. It was about to be hammer time. I made sure to have Dr. Pauly take my picture so I could prove to my employer that I really deserved the ten days off and wasn't just sitting at home watching 'General Hospital'.

I was on edge. Raring to go. That might have been due to the vegemite eating prop bet I'd won earlier that morning. I was fired up. Time to play some aggressive poker.

The first hand I was in the small blind. I curled the cards back and saw QJ offsuit. "Those are pretty good cards!!111!" I thought. The button came in for a raise and I smelled weakness. I smooth called, a move I learned on an internet poker forum, and planned to take the pot away with a min-raise on a later street.

The flop came down A K T rainbow. Straight! That's the immortal nuts for those of you scoring at home. I bet however many red chips I had. It was a lot. To my surprise, the button called.

The turn was another A. I was pretty sure I was still good, but I bet some green chips to find out. The button called again. He looked worried. I would ordinarily be troubled by the call, but I was pretty sure that the sweat on his forehead was a tell.

The river was whatever it was. No card would have scared me at that point. I checked, inducing the button to bet. He obliged and bet all but one chip, keeping one behind so he could continue to talk to me while I was thinking. At least I think that's why he did it. I'm told that the internet kids refer to that move as a "Hoy". Or a "reverse Hoy". I forget which.

My countdown timer was running low. I had to make a decision. I went all in.

I lost.

Of course the villain had AA. What a fawking cooler.

I was the first player out and was serenaded by a hearty cheer of "Gigli, Gigli, Gigli, oi oi oi!" from the rail. I received some lovely partying gifts and had confirmed my position as the worst poker playing blogger in any hemisphere. I went off in search of a Razz game. I think that in the future I'm going to stick to online poker.

Busting out early did have some benefits. I had a chance to really enjoy Melbourne. I spent some time railtarding the better players. I learned a few things that I'm anxious to put into play at our next home game. I'm going to be the Phil Ivey of the $2 tournament scene. I also got to take a quick flight out of town for an evening with the Lost Dogs, something I never would have been able to do anywhere else.

The tournament?

The tournament. Chris Ferguson won, beating out two other Full Tilt pros at the final table, and took down the first prize of more than a million Aussie bucks. You can read all about it on the Full Tilt Blog. I recommend it. Unlike me, Michael Craig isn't afraid of gerunds and participles and stuff.

Weekend update time, consider yourself warned.

They call me (or at least they should) Mr. Bottom Cash. As in I managed to sneak into the money once again in one of my Fantasy Sports Live contests this week. I made my picks in a hurry and didn't really like them very much, but I was bailed out by a lot of players having down weeks. I'll take it.

Being Mr. Bottom Cash is a lot better than some of the other possibilities. How much would it suck to go through life being taunted for being in a Subway commercial? Yo, Mr. Big Hot Pastrami, here's your dry cleaning!

Peyton Manning also picked a good week to throw 6 picks - I was already down 60 points in my main league with Peyton left. My opponent still had Tomlinson, so unless Manning had the greatest day in NFL history, I was going to lose anyway. Way to get those bad throws out of your system, boss.


Friday night was right for donkeration. I played Kat's Friday Dollar Rebuy Donkament and was, um, donkatstic. There was a great turnout of over 30 members of genus equus asinus. Donation mode was definitely switched on as I double rebought ten or fifteen times. Busted out in about 9th (3 places paid). For an el cheapo tournament, the Friday Donkament certainly has a nice prize pool -- over 250 rebuys pushed first place well over $100.

Unlike most weeks I wasn't playing any other tables -- actually, I was working on my entry for the BBT2 "write your way to the tournament of champions" contest - so I made more of an effort to chat. I sincerely apologize to anyone who I may have offended.

***

I went to Panera Bread for a bagel this morning. While I was waiting, I surveyed the place, identifying who would be found at Panera at 8:00 on a Monday morning. Results: One table of old fogeys, who'd obviously been drinking coffee since the place opened, and six tables occupied by individual professional types working away on their laptops.

This means something, but since I'm not fully awake yet I have no idea what.


The weather was adequate here this weekend, so I got in what are possibly my last two rounds of the golf season. That meant very little time for poker and not much time for other stuff. The leaves remain unraked - I'm not going to beat myself up for that, since I have a huge maple tree that has 80% of its leaves yet to fall. I didn't get the laundry finished or the house cleaned. I got started on a lot of tasks, but finished none. Maybe Mr. Never Be Closing would be a better moniker.

Actually, I'm gonna belie that and close this post right now. Work beckons. Have a good day.

***

***

***

Today is the last day of operation for the local thoroughbred track. There will be live racing this afternoon (weather permitting, I assume) and then they'll close the doors after 20 years in business.

I'm not a horse racing buff (unlike some people) but I've always been impressed by what a decent facility it is. This isn't the biggest market, so it's not like it's Canterbury Park or anything, but it's a nice place.

More importantly to me, the track has been home to regular, well-run charity poker for the last couple years. I've been up there twenty to thirty times for live game play - it's absurdly convenient to have legal live poker five nights a week less than 15 minutes from your front door. The games will go on, but the new location is a lot less convenient - it's almost 30 minutes away and not right on the highway.


When I realized that this was the week the track shuts down, I made plans for a farewell session. I went up last night about 7:00. There was a pretty good crowd - compared to what I've seen on other days - of a few hundred people watching the live racing on a raw November Monday. They actually made some noise as one of the races came down to the wire.

The poker action was slow. The games only go on Monday and Tuesday during the first week of the month. One table of $1/$2 "NL" cash was going and a small tournament got underway shortly after I arrived. I had to wait about 15 minutes for a second cash table to get going.

The players, as usual, were comprised mostly of the same diehards that play every night of the week. I don't play often enough to have all the names or playing styles memorized, but I recognize the faces. No drunk noobs or crazy asian LAGtards were present.

There wasn't a great deal of action in the early stages. I folded a lot of junk, limped in position too often and didn't catch a piece of anything worth playing beyond the flop. I did receive AA in early position, raised and won $3 in blind money. Sigh.

With free time on my hands, I could watch the last couple races of the evening. It started snowing heavily during the 8th and I wondered just how miserable it was for the jockeys and horses. Sure was pretty to watch from inside, though.

A new player entered the room and immediately got the attention of the regulars at my table. Several put in table change requests, seeking to sit with him if he was placed at the other table. He was a scruffy looking older dude in sweats who didn't appear to have showered recently. Someone said he ran a junkyard. Since I didn't get his name, call him Junkyard Joe.

Junkyard Joe was seated directly behind me at the other table. I folded the next hand, turned around to watch him play and was greeted with a sight you never want to see in a poker room. Or anywhere else for that matter. You're familiar with the term "plumber's crack"? Well ol' Junkyard Joe was treating the back side of the room to eight or nine inches of visible ass. The most crack you'll see anywhere outside of the Detroit city limits.

Ugh.

Joe lasted one hand at the other table before being moved to our table -- thankfully the other end -- and I quickly found out why the regulars who knew him were so eager to have him join the table, ass and all. JJ made sure EVERY HAND* was raised preflop. Every hand was some amount between $12 and $20 to go. He'd call a raise if someone else bumped it first, but if nobody had, he was in there raising. His cards didn't matter. Position didn't matter. He was there to gamble, at least preflop.

Post flop, though, Junkyard Joe had a problem. Essentially, that problem was that he was a pussy. He'd call down with draws, but didn't have anything close to the same reckless abandon that he showed preflop. One of the regulars with position bet out on every street, was called by JJ on every street, showed queen high at showdown and won.

Joe had a couple of wins - making a full house with 75o vs 88 for one - but his stack vanished in a few short orbits. I only had one hand where I even considered mixing it up: AKs in early position. I limped, hoping for a heads up opportunity against the maniac, but the very solid kid on the button popped it big. Rather than play for my whole stack out of position, I dropped, which turned out to be the right decision against the button's big pair.

Once the white Sanford busted and left, things settled back down and I went back to trying to grind out a win. I did have one semi-highlight, turning quads out of the small blind. Didn't get paid, though, as nobody else had enough of a piece to call my less than 1/2 pot sized bet. I guess I could have checked there and hoped someone liked their hand on the river, but I think that the board pairing would have killed my action anyway.

When I reached +$100 it was time to call it a night. It was nice to go out with a win (considering the pounding I'd taken during my last stretch there) and I think that'll probably be the last live poker I play before Vegas in December. Unless someone throws a home game, that is. Hmmm. Thanksgiving holiday weekend, could be a good time for one...

* When I say every hand, I mean literally every hand. Except one. On one occasion, he just completed his small blind and about six people saw the flop for $2. I was immediately suspicious that he had an actual hand, but he folded immediately to a very small bet on the flop. That was the one and only hand that wasn't at least $12 to play.


Don't forget, tonight is the BODONKEY. 8:35 pm ET on Bodog. $10+1, T$600 added. Check out Smokkee for more information. I think I'm freerolling on T$ from last week, so I'll be there.

Dear Diary:

Another weekend just bit the dust far too quickly.

I got in as much poker as I have any time in recent memory. I played (too) many different games on Friday night - two donkaments, a sit-n-go, a few cash tables - but the results were okay. I took 3rd in the SnG, collected a knockout bounty in one of the tourneys and won about a buyin at cash, so it was a somewhat positive evening. Played for a couple hours Sunday morning and made a whopping $0.14. Considering that I got stacked right out of the gate when 88 cracked my aces, I'll take it.

I should be on fantasy sports tilt. His team down four touchdowns, Brian Westbrook keeps catching eight yard dump off passes. He picks up enough meaningless yardage to bump me out of third place in my Saturdays with Dr. Pauly contest by a half point. A freaking HALF point. I had also made Adrian Peterson my first pick on one of my teams, but talked myself out of it on the rationale that he was facing a tough defense. Oops. GG, Chargers D. Still, considering that I didn't love my picks, I'll take the results. Still a net win for the week. And I do have Peterson in my regulation fantasy league, so there's that.

Golf season is winding down. Played in a little two man event on Saturday, played well, took home some cash. Played on Sunday, couldn't do anything right. Go figure.

Just over four weeks left before it's time for another vacation. If I survive this week, it's all downhill from here.

I'll try to do better next time, Diary.

<3