I hope you guys don't mind me posting this here as well. I did in '09 and '10, but I recognize I haven't been as active with the Pokercast as in the old days. Still, I consider this my true 2p2 home.

So, by way of introduction: I’m Adam. I used to be a winning micro/small stakes grinder, but I haven’t played nearly as much online since Black Friday. This is my fifth consecutive year playing in the World Series of Poker. I wrote trip reports for my first three trips, here:

2008 Trip Report
2009 Trip Report
2010 Trip Report

They were enjoyed by many 2p2ers, some of whom relished the chance to visit Vegas vicariously, and others who liked my writing style and my unique take on things. Others didn’t like them, but felt compelled to read and comment anyway. Some were in between. The common negative theme was that I was a mooch with my rich backer, Steve (and before that, Andrew Robl, my previous employer and first WSOP backer). I’ll own up to that. The other frequent criticisms were that I gambled too much and am not especially good at poker. Since I have a certain susceptibility to emotional swings, I let the haters get to me a few times during previous trips and even decided not to share a trip report last year. I started a write-up of my brief 2011 trip, but later on in the year both it and my pictures from the trip were lost to a computer virus that tanked my system. Nothing all that memorable happened while I was there, either, so apart from my tweets (@warteen, which I’ll be updating again this year if you don’t want to wait for my write-up), that trip may as well never have occurred. I figure I’ll suffer the negativity I risk this year in order to avoid having that happen again. That, and I know there are enough people who legitimately enjoy these write-ups to make them worthwhile.

Quite a bit has changed for me in the last couple of years. I finished my second degree at MSU as well as my intern year as a high school math teacher – I’m looking for work now, but the job market in Michigan is pretty brutal. Also, my wife and I have our first child on the way in October, a son. I say this is my final trip report because I’ve agreed with my wife that since the kid is on the way, I won’t be doing this trip without her anymore – and I have to figure that I won’t have the time to write one if we go together (or with a kid in tow). I’ve undergone quite a bit of personal growth as a result of my internship (which was extremely trying), marriage, and impending fatherhood, but obviously I’m nowhere near where I want to be yet, so try not to be too hard on me. I’ll say preemptively that I intend to gamble (but play more poker than before), and I fully plan to let Steve pay for anything he offers to and not feel guilty about that (he can afford it, I can’t very well, and he’s been exceedingly generous with me up to and including covering my gambling expenses at times). However, after reading previous years’ TRs in an effort to better myself, I see that I need to be careful not to be a cheapskate with the little money I do have or manipulate/guilt Steve (or anyone else) into taking care of me. I’m sure you guys will keep me honest on that front. Honesty, I think, is the main thing I have to offer. That and my mad writing skizz-nills. If you don’t like any of that, stop reading now and save yourself a headache/douchechills (in b4 “too late”). (-:

I’ve taken previous trips that were too long (12 days, 8 days) or too short (4 days), so this time I’ve planned to make it a worthwhile trip and not overstay my welcome/budget (5.5 days). Since it’s my final trip of this type (i.e., without my lady), and Steve and I haven’t had any success at the WSOP previously, I’m going to do everything I can to make this the best trip I ever take. To that end we’ve both been practicing tournaments over the last few weeks; he’s improved tremendously (with the results to reflect that) and despite my bad run, I did manage to break through to a final table recently (and finished 3rd in that large $11 MTT) and, I believe, make my game better. With the sheer amount of poker we’re playing on this trip, I’ll be disappointed if one of us doesn’t make a deep run in something.

The other thing I’m planning to do is not be quite as quick about posting my TR as I have been in the past. This is a measure of emotional protection, I suppose. I’m posting as much as I have now, and then the next entry likely won’t come until I’m at least halfway through the trip. I’ll still be active in the thread(s), and I hope that’ll encourage people in Vegas to come meet up with me and be part of my journey. Especially since, for the first time, my good friend Jason (MSUpokerGOD/JDLade) isn’t joining me – he’s just started an internship of his own in Chicago – and Steve has his girlfriend flying out, so it might be a little lonelier than before if I don’t broaden my social horizons. I’ve met so many awesome people, 2p2ers and otherwise, in my previous outings. I hope this year is no different.

Okay. That said, I hope you find this enjoyable, for whatever reason. I hope that whatever I write here doesn’t reflect too poorly on me or on the God I serve (the extent of the proselytizing I’ll do here, with apologies to those who take exception). If I can’t pull that off, at least I’ll have a detailed record of these halcyon days to look back on. Let’s get started, shall we?

FRIDAY, JUNE 22ND
My wife and I wake up at 5:05 A.M. at our home in DeWitt (north of Lansing). I split my toe open last night in the dark, which hurts like a mother, but other than that everything is set up for my trip. I eat some cereal, bid our pets farewell, and we’re off. Lauren feels sad I’m leaving; I remind her I’ll be back Wednesday night, which isn’t so long at all. I get out at the airport and say goodbye to the woman I love. I have her snap the first of many pictures from this trip before she goes.


Me, at the onset of the trip, trying to display the kind of confidence that will ultimately deliver victory.

I’m quickly through security – small airports are great – and on the plane. Steve texts me and says my room at Caesar’s is set, and he’ll contact me when he wakes up, wishing me a safe trip. This is a short trip from Lansing to Detroit departing at 6:00 A.M., and it’s unremarkable. I continue to reread A Storm of Swords and the flight’s over before I know it. I’ve got a two hour layover in Detroit, so I bust out my laptop and write exactly what you’re reading… right… now. Woah. I also watch some TV shows on my computer (MasterChef Australia Season 3, since I’m a reality competition junkie and I’ve already seen all the good American ones), because there’s no free internet here. At this point there’s still an hour to kill and nothing else to write about, so I’ll just, uh, stare off into space I guess. (A+ TR so far.)


Me, waiting at the airport. Not every moment can be exciting, people.

I finally get in the long line to board the plane, reading my book, and I realize I could definitely use another hour or two of sleep. Perhaps when I get there. My seat on the plane is an aisle seat near the front, which is nice, and next to a cute girl, which is also nice (but ultimately meaningless since I’m spoken for, and I’m guessing it’s her boyfriend sitting next to her). At one point I glance over and notice that she’s looking at bikini pics on her phone, possibly of herself, which is mildly interesting I suppose. Out of duty to my readers, I consider taking a stealth shot of her, but I ultimately decide that would be inappropriate.



About halfway through the trip my laptop’s battery dies, so without a lot else to do I end up talking to the girl a bit. Her name is Ashley, she’s a 21-y.o. bartender and ex-gymnast, and I’m familiar with the area she comes from. She’s in Vegas for a friend’s wedding, so I give advice she might find useful from my Vegas experience and we talk about assorted things. The trip comes to an end at around 10:00 and though I lose track of Ashley before I can say adieu, I’m happy to finally be in Vegas. I take a call from my wife Lauren, and she tells me that the stray cat we took in the other night has feline leukemia and had to be put down. )-: I head down to the taxi concourse, where the line is the longest I’ve seen it.


Hooray, Vegas! …hooray, lines.

I look for someone to share a cab with to cut down on cost; I find a couple headed to the Bellagio who agree, but then join up with someone they know instead. Eventually I ask a father and son, Clarence and Mike, if they’re heading to the Strip, and they confirm that they’re on their way to MGM. That seems a bit far from Caesar’s from what I recall, but I’d be happy to save the dough so I ask if they’d be willing to split a cab with me. They oblige, and we head together to the MGM Grand. On the way, the lady cab driver asks for the spelling of some names for an electronic game, and I’m happy to find I can correctly spell Maserati and Lamborghini. When we arrive, Clarence says the cab is his treat, since I have to walk. I thank him profusely and wish the two men luck on their trip. That worked out nicely! Or so I think, until I grasp the length of the walk in front of me.


My first look at the Strip this year, after I emerge from a detour through MGM Grand.


It’s a long way to Caesar’s, there in the background, made longer since I’m carrying my luggage. (Or lugging my carryage.) The Cosmopolitan was new last year, and I think the shops on the right are new this year.

Yikes. I start walking, cutting through MGM to the Strip, and then realize I’m hungry to the point of feeling weak. Steve mentioned getting food after I got here, but he’s probably still out cold and the time zone change has messed with my stomach. I duck into Subway and get a breakfast sandwich to hold off my hunger, convincing the girl to give me the combo deal that didn’t quite apply to the one I ordered since I hadn’t spotted the sign in time (and tipping her in thanks with the extra money I’d have spent). The sandwich is seriously, like, manna from heaven. It gives me the strength to continue lugging my gear to Caesar’s. The Strip is much as I remember it, though they’ve put up a few new buildings since last year, I think. Tons of street performers abound – I see a Batman, Elmo, Hello Kitty, Iron Man, human statue… Lovers of performing and needers of money come from all over to glean a living from folks walking around with abundant cash and a desire for cheap thrills.

I check in for the room that Steve’s gotten comped for me a little after 11:30, putting my credit card down as insurance. I’m in Augustus Tower, one of the nice new ones. Unfortunately, I find out that internet access here costs 15 bux a day. Yikes again. I’m not willing to get ripped off like that, so I’ll have to figure something else out to get my fix. I’m pretty tired at this point, so I update the TR and watch ESPN while I ponder taking a nap.


The room I got to stay in. I know beggars can’t be choosers, but I’d probably choose something like this anyway!

I pass out until 1:45 or so and see that I’ve missed a text from Steve, enumerating another secret I’ve got to keep from Summer (choose your colloquialism, I suppose), and his room number. I decide to grab a shower and change clothes first, because I’m kind of grimy from the plane ride and it feels almost like a new day – I could be up late. I realize that the one thing I’ve forgotten is a comb, but I make do and head out. Downstairs I get a $2 comb at the gift shop that’ll serve, and meet up with Steve in his fancy villa in the Roman Tower (the same one he’s had the last 2 years).


Steve and me, in one of the side rooms to his villa. The goal is for one of these faces make it the front page of wsop.com before the trip is up.

Also there is his cousin Brett, who I believe I met last year. We catch up about what they’ve been doing since they arrived on Wednesday (partying, mostly, though I already knew that Steve played in Event 38 at the WSOP), and poker plans for the trip. He mentions possibly playing on Carbon Poker, so I tell him my wireless situation. He says he’ll get that comped, too; we just need to switch it so that the room’s on his card rather than mine. We then decide to grab dinner at the Noodle Company No. 9 downstairs, which made for a really good meal last year. Steve’s friend Adam (A.K.A. “Thousand”) shows up to join us, but this is the extent of his entourage this year, until he discreetly flies them out before Summer arrives on Sunday.


Brett and Adam at dinner. Does Adam have the crazy eyes? I feel like Adam has the crazy eyes.

Dinner for me is roast duck, which comes out cold and not as tasty as I would have liked. But there’s fried rice and good company, so I leave full and happy. Steve and I walk by the craps table, and he wants to play a bit; at a $25 minimum, though, I’m not going to be foolish enough (or degen enough) to want to do that – at least not yet. So I just keep him company at the table, which is fun for me because I haven’t gambled in a couple months to build up for the trip. After Steve wins a bit of money (including on my own roll, which the stickman lets me do despite not playing), I encourage him to set some back so we don’t lose too much, because he has a limited roll (a lot of his funds are tied up in Silver right now) and we want to be able to play enough poker. So when a few bad shooters come, we walk away from the table with him down only two hundred (which is pretty small for him). I still haven’t gambled yet, which is good I think. I don’t want to overdo that. We swing by the Diamond Lounge (ooh, free cookies) to do the credit card switch.

We all head back up to the villa and Steve says he’s going to take a “30-45 minute power nap”. I sit with Brett and watch old SNL episodes on TV. Over an hour later, Steve hasn’t emerged (he’s been going at it a little too hard if you ask me), so Brett and Adam decide to head down and play some blackjack. I go with them, and when they can’t find a suitable table I introduce them to Three Card Poker (and explain the very simple optimal strategy) instead. I plunk down some of my own money to join them, since it’s just a $5 table. We have fun with that for a bit, and run pretty good against the dealer, so Adam and I are both up when we leave. They’ve been having room key issues, so Adam goes to the desk to sort that out, Brett goes off in search of blackjack, and after getting a new rewards card, I try without success to find Brett. I end up wandering by the sports book and the poker room, just taking it all in since I haven’t been here in a while. No more gaming for me at the moment, though. I realize that despite my nap, I’m still a little groggy. I probably can’t do a crazy amount of poker tonight. But that’s okay, because tomorrow I’m going to be playing in the WSOP event. Eventually I go back up to the plaza, and everyone’s there. Steve says he’s got a headache and is going to sleep for another hour (which could mean longer). I suggest that he sends me ahead to the Rio to try a few satellites – again, not intending to play past my capacity – and he agrees, flipping me a $500 chip and saying he’ll meet me there later. I run back up to my room to update the TR before I go, because if I let it go too long I’m likely to lose some details (which might not seem valuable now, but I think Future Me will appreciate them). I plan to get on the internet later on tonight; even though it’ll be comp points for Steve, I still don’t want to order more than I need. So one 24-hour session starting late tonight to post this, and then we’ll go from there. For now I’m off to the Rio, intending to get some caffeine once I get there.


Another angle of the Strip, from outside the front of Caesar’s before I head the Rio for some pokah.

Once the taxi drops me off, there’s no easy caffeine to be had, but I feel ready to jump into a satellite anyway.


The Poker Pavilion set-up at the Rio this year. Even after all these trips, it’s still staggering for me to see this much poker going on at once.

Game #1: $175 STT
I’m in the 7 seat for this game. It’s only 1000 in chips, and my strategy here is going to just nit it up when there’s poker to be played and exercise perfect pushbotting at other times. That gives me enough of an edge over the field. The table is pretty quiet, both verbally and in their play. Raises are enough to take down most pots in the early going. I pick up a pot that makes it to the flop early with top pair. Still at the 25/25 level, however, I raise late position with KQo, and the big blind, a black guy with sunglasses who I find it impossible to read, calls. The flop comes J-hi and I fire a small cbet, which he calls, then on the A turn I decide to carry on, but he calls that too. I give up and he rolls over ATo, hurting me. I’m low for a while, but double up with AA>AKo, then start playing poker again. I get AQo 3 times in the ensuing levels, pushing and repushing without getting looked up. I show every time, because I know that when I’m inevitably pushing with crap I want them thinking I’m strong. At one point I make a nitty laydown of 99 vs. a push from the Asian guy to my immediate right (probably the second-friendliest guy at the table), and he shows AJo after taking it down. I build up a good stack, but Seat 1 is always ahead of me and abuses my blinds. Eventually he and I are in the final 3 with my friendly neighbor, and we’re all playing fairly standard with a lot of aggression and folds, because nobody can pick up a hand. This goes on for several orbits, and Seat 1 has well over double the chips of both me and Seat 6 near the end of the 150/300 level. He proposes a deal, though, after the first one he thought of wouldn’t work with the payouts offered: We’ll chop everything 3-ways evenly, and the two of us each give him $100 cash. I look down at my cards on the button as he’s saying this: 62o with around 7 big blinds in front of me. Furthermore, I like both of these guys – I learn the 1 seat is Danny, the 6 seat Jay – and I’d love to start my trip with a win in poker, so I’m happy to take the deal. (As I’m talking to them, I find that both guys have folded some pretty strong hands to my pushes, so my effort at creating a table image seems to have paid off.) By the time the payouts are resolved, I’ve turned $175 into $440 (and cash into a lammer, but that’s okay because Steve and I will be buying into events). A strong start, as far as I’m concerned.

I go back toward the desk, still feeling fresh enough to play another one, and the desk man is holding onto one 175 ticket, so I grab that and go again!

Game #2: $175 STT
I’m right back in the 7 Seat again at the very same table. Hopefully I can duplicate my run. As I get seated, a fellow player in a Batman shirt says, “Hey, Warteen!” I smile and ask him to remind me who he is – he says that he met me once, 2 years ago, but since I’d recently reread my 2010 trip report, that’s enough to jog my memory: It’s 2p2er spoonfox! He’s in the 1 Seat. I talk with him a bit, surprised he remembers me. He says he really enjoyed my trip reports, which I guess made me memorable, and I appreciate the compliment. I let him know that I’m working on another one as we speak. On the first hand, a girl cripples herself bluffing against the old guy with a trucker ‘stache in Seat 3, and I notice in subsequent hands that he’s a super-passive calling station, and I see him limp KK once and pick up a pot with it. He runs really good and builds quite the stack. This table is a lot more talkative and outgoing than the last one, which suits me fine. At one point I come up with the line, “An eight, a jack, or a punch in the face… Any one of those things would have knocked you out,” to the table’s amusement. I wait patiently for a hand and don’t get one until the 25/50 level when I have about 875 chips left – I pick up AA in the big blind. The button, a young guy, raises to 225. I’m thinking about what I might do here but ultimately decide to just shove after shuffling my chips indecisively. He looks me up with KQo, then is disgusted that I shoved instead of doing whatever he would’ve done. LOL, leveled. I double through him, and build a nice stack through continued tight play. Spoonfox gets coolered (AT vs. 34 on an A34 flop) and busts, the talkative fish to my left finally goes out in 5th after hanging around for a while, and suddenly I’m the chip leader with 4 to go.
That’s where we pick up the action: I’m the big blind at 150/300 with roughly 4200 chips. (Yes, the structure is super shallow.) Cutoff folds, button (the super-passive calling station with 2k or so behind) limps, SB (decent-ish old guy, also 2k behind) completes, and I look down at AJo. I’m torn here. I’ve seen the button limp with KK already. But on the other hand, my hand is begging to see five cards and these guys might well fold since I comfortably cover. Go on, something inside me says. Do it. What are the chances he’d limp-trap twice? So I push all-in. Button beats me into the pot and rolls over QQ after SB folds. A queen flops and about half my chips are gone. The very next hand, I openshove my SB into the BB’s ~1500 stack with T6s. He wakes up with KJo. A 6 flops, but a J turns and I’m all the way down to 500 after being the big dog two hands ago. I double up with Q8>J9 on the next hand, and after that I shove 89s in the CO/UTG. The big blind really looks like he doesn’t want to call, but he saw my T6s push and ultimately does call with K9o, and just like that I’m out in 4th. Sad times. I pat him on the shoulder, say “nice hand”, and make my exit.

I realize I’m too tired to play another game just now, and I’m a bit hungry as well. I text Steve to see what’s going on. He says they’ve saved me some food from room service and I should come back to maybe go to the club with them. I hop a cab back to Caesar’s and enjoy the food at their villa. I call Lauren and wish her good night. Steve agrees with my AJ play (questionable) but not the T6s SB push (super standard IMO). He’s a bit of a nit TBH. I need to go back to my room and charge my phone (and update the TR obv), so I tell Steve to call me when he knows what’s going on, letting him know that I might not go to the club (much as I’d like to get some pics, there’s really nothing else for me there and I’m getting pretty tired). The text comes shortly thereafter; he asks what I want to do. “Gambool a bit, then sleep,” I respond. “Okay, I’ll give you $500 to gamble with, meet me at the craps table now?” Uh, yes. Okay, good. Wasn’t expecting that, but not going to turn it down. At the table ($25 min), Steve takes out a $2000 marker and puts down some bets. He loses them all very quickly. He puts down some more. Those are quickly picked up by the bad guys, too. One more round of losses ensues. Disgusted, Steve decides to go back to the room to prepare for the club. He gives me $500 in chips and bids me come with him to pick up the lammer I’d left there. He decides to give me another $840 in cash along with the $500 lammer and the chips he’d given me - $340 to play with tonight, and everything else to buy into tomorrow’s event. That’s mighty fine, since I don’t plan to be out much longer anyway. We agree to leave by 10:45 or so in order to register at the Rio. I say goodbye, reminding him and his boys not to party *too* hard because we have some poker to crush tomorrow.

I take a look at the Caesar’s craps tables, but they’re all full and, yep, too expensive. So I venture forth onto the local Strip in search of something more reasonable, so I can extend the fun and not blow all of Steve’s money right away.


Caesar’s Palace comes alive late on Friday night. With this many people, it’s going to be hard to find much to do.



The Strip by night. The only other place I’ve ever been that’s impressed me more with the sheer overwhelming nature of it was New York City.

I end up at Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall and plop down a hundo at a $10 craps table. Unfortunately, the dice aren’t any kinder to me than they were to Steve, so I lose quickly and head out. I walk in one direction, then the other, going through the Flamingo and Paris, not doing much. I roll for a while at Paris, but only finish slightly below even. It’s not even that much fun, because of how worn out I am, so I’d best quit soon. I notice the teeming mass of people outside, most of them pretending to be something they’re not. (What? Where did that thought come from? Man, I am tired.) I realize I’m running out of gas and still want to do some writing tonight, so I trudge back to my room, arriving around 2:00. I originally woke up in Michigan about 24 hours ago, so I figure that while I can get the writing done tonight, the posting will have to wait.

I’ve done a lot in Vegas today. Maybe too much; I’ve still got a lot of time ahead of me. But it’s been a good start to the trip all the way around, and I’m ready to rest and hopefully be refreshed and prepared for whatever faces me tomorrow.

To be continued! (Probably on Monday.)

FRIST.

This image came up on googling for 'first':


Close enough!

Sleeves too long and elbows pointy imo:

You can't even SEE her damn elbows, you vondruke!

And she eats too much candy. I can't get into girls with a potential for adult onset diabetes

There should probably be a "Like" button for individual posts. You'd get one from me for the broad grin with which you just delivered me to begin my day.

SATURDAY, JUNE 23RD
I wake up at 6:00 and then again for real at 8:00, post what I’ve got so far of the TR as a starter (the rest will come later) – it takes a little while to get the formatting and pictures right – and grab a shower. I don’t feel super awake, but I think I’m mentally there enough to play about as well as I can today. I head downstairs a bit before 10:00; haven’t heard from Steve yet. I decide to do a bit of morning gambling, playing some Crazy 4 Poker. I do really well at first with some of the money left over from last night, but the dealer change kills me shortly thereafter – seems like an ill omen for the day ahead.

I take a walk for a bit, looking for something cheaper, and eventually head to the craps table. I lose a bit there as well. I’m cutting it a little bit close on time, but I’m still waiting for Steve to contact me at 10:40 or so, so I put up what little there is left back at the first game I played (giving the dealer a chance to apologize for crushing me obv). I get down to the very last bet I have left, but manage to survive still. Steve texts me and says he’s going to head to the Rio in another hour, so I should just go without him. I plan to do so as soon as I’m done here. A new dealer comes in, and I go on a truly sick heater (flushes, straights, two pair, and edging the house with my one pair hands) and end up leaving with over $400, making up for all the losses from last night and this morning. Nice. The only downside is that it’s past 11:00 now, I still need to eat, and I know there’s going to be a big line for WSOP registration. I cash in at the cage, also exchanging the $500 in Caesar’s chips Steve gave me last night to register, and head out.

I have the taxi driver (a large, friendly woman) take me to the Gold Coast, because I think there’s a Subway there and I want to eat quickly (and cheaply, if possible). A lady at the bar tells me I’m mistaken, but there is a snack bar in the bowling alley where they have burgers and dogs. I thank her and head upstairs.


The bowling alley upstairs in the Gold Coast. At $3 a game, this might be an entertainment option later on.

I consider bowling here later as I run through the place. I order a double bacon cheeseburger and get it in about 10 minutes.


Heart attack on a plate? Yes, please.

Then I head over to the Rio. The line is pretty long, but it goes quickly. I trade $1000 cash for 2 lammers with a guy who has a bunch of them, asking him to do the same for somebody else someday. I mean, if we don’t pay people for these things, then it’s not really worth playing in the satellites, and the system breaks down, you know? We should help each other out. I chat up an Australian in line with me, Arthur (Clarenceton or something), a nice bloke who mentions that he was briefly on TV in the ’09 ME. I figure I might be at the same table as him because we’re both late reg’ing, but after I register I see we’re headed to different tables. My first table is Pavilion Black 164, and I make it there at about 12:25.

World Series of Poker Event #43: $1500 No Limit Hold ‘Em

I’m in the 10 seat. With 4500 in starting chips and the first level being 25/25, there’s plenty of poker to be played. My plan is to be relatively tight and occasionally mix it up if the opportunity presents itself. I have a tendency to be a little too expressive, so I’ll make judicious use of my sunglasses and try to keep my face a mask while I’m in a hand. The players at my table seem really quiet – in fact, the whole room does. There’s an Asian guy to my right who’s surfing the internet on his iPad, a slew of tricky young players in the 1-4 seats (except for Seat 3, an older Asian guy who seems to play pretty straightforwardly), a slightly older guy in the 5 seat who I think has a sullen face, and nobody too remarkable in 6-8 (well, the 8 seat isn’t entirely unfriendly).


My first table at Event 43.

Early on I open the cutoff to 75 (seems to be the standard raise at this table) with A 4 . The 1 seat 3bets me. I muck, mentally noting that this guy is making plays at every pot that’s not nailed down and vowing to play EVEN MORE TIGHTLIER. My chips dwindle to about 4.2k as I don’t get too many hands good enough to go up against the aggro player to my left and the guys in Seats 2 and 4. The most interesting hand that happens is when Seat 5 raises to 75 UTG. He gets 2 callers and I look down at 7 8 and start salivating. I love playing hands like this early, and I haven’t made any moves so far. I squeeze to 325. UTG folds (he’s a bit tight, so I’m happy with that), but the other two come along, which doesn’t thrill me. The flop, though, is a threadbare Q 3 2 , and I’m able to take down a decent pot with my small cbet. I start talking with the youngish Asian guy to my right, finding out his name is Jerry and he’s from New York, but he doesn’t want me to take his picture. Nobody else at the table is even talking despite my attempts to get them to do so, so Jerry the Unseen gets to be the face of this table. Two guys at the table bust themselves by bluffing all-in. Seat 1 tries to do the same by shoving 57 into JJ on a T874 board, but he catches a 5 on the river and doubles up, much to my chagrin (I really don’t want the aggro guy to my immediate left having a bunch of chips). Shortly thereafter, in the 25/50 level, I pick up J J :diamond. Seat 2 calls my raise IP, and I’m a little bit nervous with my overpair on the 9-hi flop (not sure if the guy will make a play at me), but he just folds to my flop bet. I’ve got just over 5k as we go to the first break. I’m happy with my play so far, but I haven’t been involved in that many hands.


My chip stack as we go to break. Patience, Daniel-san.

We return at the 50/100 level, and I patiently wait for something big, but it never comes. I don’t think I even play a hand for a few orbits, just sitting back and watching what everyone else does. During this time Seat 5, who wouldn’t have been my first guess at who’d finally open up socially, talks with me. His name is Brian and he’s actually a pretty nice guy. I lose some chips playing a couple of pocket pairs for set value and whiffing. Finally, about halfway through Level 3 Jerry opens up the CO. He’s been more active after mixing it up with Seat 1, so I decide to 3bet him with T 3 . He quickly mucks after the blinds fold, saying he knew I was going to do something like that since the table was breaking soon. I smile, note I haven’t done that at all hand yet (“That doesn’t mean you didn’t not have it,” he responds), and that I didn’t actually know our table was breaking, but he’s right on both counts. Before the table breaks, Jerry gets into it against the 8 seat. I take notice when the board is 8 9 6 A . Seat 8 has check/called twice and they’ve both put a huge amount of chips in, leaving himself just under 3k behind with the pot at well over 5k. The river comes 7 and Seat 8 shoves. Jerry rolls his eyes in disgust, but eventually calls. The 8 seat wins with K T . Jerry reveals A A as his losing hand, and seems to take it pretty hard (I think I see tears welling up a bit tbh). I feel bad for him, but I wouldn’t have made that call on the river. The table breaks and I’m on my way over to the Brasilia room – 35 Silver – with 4.7k in chips.


My second table. I feel there’s a decent chance at least one of these guys is a known pro, but not known by me.

This room seems a lot more like my kind of atmosphere, but everyone at the table seems to have more chips than me. I’m in the 7 seat and there’s a bit of time left in Level 3. On my first hand, I open the cut-off to 275 with my A T . The button, a mid-twenties Euro, 3bets me to 675. I don’t know where I’m at with this table yet, so I decide to fold. I talk with him a bit, even though he’s quiet, and learn his name is Manic and he’s from Germany (“If you’re going to be taking all my chips, I should at least know your name,” I joke). To his left is a tight old guy, followed by a little young guy in the 10 seat who also seems solid (but is slightly arrogant toward the way other people play their hands sub-optimally). There’s nobody notable on the other side of the table, although the 2 seat does look a bit like Alan Boston (but only based on the old FTP icons of him, since I have no idea what the guy really looks like – all I’m saying here is that he’s a bald white guy). Despite the atmosphere of the room, nobody at this table’s doing much talking either – in fact, it’s even worse than at my other table. So much for the social aspect of the game. This must have been what Jamie Gold felt like.

After the blinds go up to 75/150, I open raise 2 more times with reasonable but not terribly strong hands, and both times the aptly named Manic takes it away from me with a reraise. Sigh. After the third time he’s taken chips away from me, I half-sing, “Whyyy are the aggro players always to my left…”, then say, “That’s a song I wrote for you, Manic.” “That’s cool,” he responds. Bastard. (-; Since I’m completely card dead and all the way down to 3.2k, I do talk with Manic a bit more in the ensuing time. I find out he’s an online pro now residing in London who had about $40k tied up on Full Tilt, and I tell him a little bit about myself when he asks. I see him and the 10 seat get into a few hands, since they’re both deep and active, but Manic seems to destroy him every time, winning sizeable pots with things like one pair and ace-king high. The 10 seat knows what he’s doing, but he and I are pretty clearly both outclassed here. At one point Seat 1 raises to 400 UTG and I look down at A Q in the CO. I decide to just flat, because he could be pretty strong (he hasn’t played many hands and seems tight). The flop comes T 6 2 and he checks to me. I make it just 400, thinking it’ll look strong enough to make him fold if he has AK or whatever. So naturally he checkraises me all-in instead, and I fold. Well, no more poker to be played, now it’ll just be pushbotting time. I wait for a hand but don’t get one. I fold 55 in early-mid position (since I’ve got about 13 big blinds left and can find a better spot), and we go to break before I can try to double up.


Aww, come on. Grow, my chippies! GROW!!!

I’m feeling kind of down at this point, since I never got a hand to fight back against Manic and others with, but I’m not out yet. I buy some Sweet & Hot Jack Link’s Beef Jerky (the official snack of the WSOP) to pick me up, and briefly play some Casino War (you really couldn’t ask for a simpler game) before going back to the table. Okay, I decide, I’ve let this table run over me long enough. Manic returns late from break. With a new attitude, I inform the 10 seat that he’s going to double me up three times, and then I’m going for all of Manic’s chips. I feel confident, relaxed, and happy to be there (amazing what a little food and time to breathe can do). On the very first hand at 100/200, I push my 2100 stack in UTG with A Q . Sure enough, the 10 seat calls. He has K K , but I just smile and wait to see how I’ll win this one. I don’t have to wait long, since the flop is T 6 4 . Good times. My confidence is further boosted and now I can start playing a bit. Manic returns after I win the next pot (his dead big blind and another player’s limp), and I inform him that this has been his table so far, but I’m taking it from him with sheer force of personality, which is perfectly legal. He chuckles and says okay. While I’m still in late position, I pick up A K and flat an early position raise. I smile inwardly and wait for my ace or king, which comes: A J 6 The raiser bets the flop and I just flat him, waiting to pounce. The turn is the T , giving me a nice redraw in case I’m behind. He bets again, and this time I shove over him. He doesn’t snapcall, so I’m relieved and confident I’m ahead. He tanks for a while but eventually folds. On the next hand I 3bet with A Q , take it down, and show. This hand has been really good for me, going all the way back to the satellites. I’m at nearly 7.5k now and on a mini-tear, but I lose some when I take QTs too far against Manic, calling his raise and check/calling the AKx flop for the chance to crack and surprise him (frankly, the only way I’m going to beat this guy). After he bets me out on the turn, I remark that he only has one gear against me, but it’s an effective one. However, I vow that that’ll be the last time he owns me. If I have to bluff all-in against him to not be pushed out next time, then so be it.


This stack brought to you by Jack Link’s Beef Jerky (TM). Don’t mess with Sasquatch.

After one more orbit, I’ve got 5.8k and I look down at A Q . I open the CO to 625. The little guy in the 10 seat hesitates for a moment, then jams on me. He barely covers.
So now I’ve got a non-trivial decision (at least, I see it that way). Here’s where I’m at:
-This guy is still steaming somewhat since I doubled through him and Manic has been crushing him.
-I’ve finally been a little bit aggressive and very talkative compared to before, and this guy probably thinks that means I’m not that strong here.
-He’s a solid player – I’m thinking 2nd best at the table – and I essentially have the opportunity to knock him out without having to outplay him. Plus, I can build a much better stack if I can double up here.
-My gut says he’s not that strong.
So ultimately I decide to make that call. He looks disappointed that I called, saying if I have a pair he’s beat. I don’t have a pair, and he rolls over 7 7 . So I was right about him not being that strong, but I think I needed to include hands like KQ and AJ in his range to justify that call, so I’m not thrilled about the race here. Still, it’s not a bad spot.
That is, until the flop comes 7 3 4 . That is not good. I ask the dealer for running hearts, but the turned T kills my chances, and my tournament. Gotta win those flips, son.

It’s a tough pill to swallow, but I did everything I could. I mean, I didn’t have to call with the AQ there being so deep, but I couldn’t let those two guys push me around forever and I decided to take the chance at greatly improving my position at a (probably) better player’s expense. I’m disappointed and steaming a bit, and losing some more at the Rio’s Crazy 4 Poker (which I’ll find out later actually has only a 1% house edge with optimal strategy, KQ84 or better) doesn’t help. I head over to craps to continue to blow off steam, and end up staying there for a long time riding the roller coaster of variance and talking with an older black dude standing next to me, enjoying having someone to share the experience with for a while. I have 3 solid rolls myself, and make some money on other shooters as well, winning back what I lost at the card table. I exchange texts with Steve about what’s going on. I found out earlier that he actually decided to skip the event today, because he partied hard last night and his other friends are leaving tomorrow. (I’m in town until Wednesday.) I ask if I should get food, and he says to come back to the villa instead because they’ve got pizza. He says he needs cash. The day is starting to wear on me, so I head out. I get back to Caesar’s at about 9:00, great the guys, and enjoy some pizza, thanking Steve for the food and explaining what happened in the tournament. He doesn’t take issue with any of the plays I made, which is good. Nobody wants their backer to lose confidence in them. I give Steve the $400 cash I have left of his money, because he’s getting cash poor a la Lindgren (well, not quite like that). I’m pretty wiped out at this point.


Adam, Steve, and Brett in their last night in the villa.


I might look high here, but really I’m just tired. Oh, and note to spoonfox: This is a Batman shirt.

I go with Steve and Brett to bring some Nikes they bought to his other room (the one he’ll be sharing with Summer – as far as she is to know, I’m instructed, the villa and Brett and Adam being there never happened). Brett tells me about the party they were at last night at Pure, Kendra Wilkinson’s birthday party (for my part, I don’t know who she is until he tells me, but it sounds like it was special to them).


Brett borrowed my camera and snapped a pic of the view from Steve’s new room.

Then I decide to just go back to my room, telling Steve to call me if he still wants to do anything. I take a call from Lauren and we talk about not much in particular. I take a hot bath and sweat out what’s left of the day, because when you have a bathroom this nice you should use all of it.


Jacuzzi tub, TV in bathroom, marble counters… fancy schmancy.

I’m too mentally exhausted to work on the TR tonight, so I give myself a pass and end the day at around 12:30.

To be continued!

why the triple post

You could possibly have the nutlow fashion sense

#252 Manig Loeser $2,992 Bad Homburg - Germany

Was that the german that was owning you? Looks like he cashed in that tournament

Random post is random

SUNDAY, JUNE 24TH
I wake up several times in the morning without opening my eyes, and when I’m finally up for real I see that it’s only 6:30. This time-screw has happened to me on these trips before, so I know that despite the lack of sleep I’ll come up with the energy and mental acuity that I need somehow. I write yesterday’s TR and peruse 2p2 with what little internet time I have left. I found out from Jerry yesterday that the Rio has free wireless in the poker area, so I should consider bringing my laptop over there at some point. Since it’s Sunday morning, I watch part of an old message from my most excellent pastor back home. He’s giving a new lesson today, but I’ll have to catch it online later.


The view from my own room isn’t as good as Steve’s, but it’s still got character.


I haven’t done any gambling with my own money yet, and I haven’t heard from Steve, so I decide to go for a walk. It’s sunnier outside than before. I head over to the Bellagio and think about playing some blackjack, but the dealer can’t get a card out of the machine as I’m sitting down. Then I remember that I don’t want to play automatic shuffle anyway. I go play craps instead, enjoying the classy atmosphere of the place. I finish just a bit down. I take the walkway over to Bally’s, since I haven’t been there yet, and play a little bit of $5 Crazy 4, losing, and then craps, where I enter part-way through a lady’s 5-point fire roll. I’m well up at that point, but unfortunately the table goes ice cold after she’s done and I manage to lose everything I put down. All told I’ve lost $150 by noon, which is a pretty big amount to me right now. Should’ve gone to church instead, I think wryly. I’ll have to tone down the amount I’m gambling unless I can turn it around, or else it’s going to be a depressing second half of the trip. (At least I’d find creative ways to make the report interesting, I guess.) I’m hoping to play some poker, but I can only do that if Steve backs me, and I still can’t reach him, so I head back up to the shelter of my room. I start updating the TR when he finally texts me. I tell him I’m starved and going busto. He says he’s all those things too, so he jokes we’ll just have to read a book or workout. I say we need to eat – I’m not THAT broke yet. Though if he’s run out of liquid fundage halfway through the trip, and his girlfriend hasn’t even arrived yet, that’s not a great sign of things to come. Well, we’ll see how it goes. Don’t want to put Steve out; we’d planned to play plenty of poker, but he might have spent so much money partying with his buds and gambling that it just can’t be an option anymore. But that’s Steve for you, I guess. Lauren texts and she’s mad at me; she’s hurt her back trying to remove some old carpet from the future baby room that I’d neglected to carry out before I left. Sheesh, this has not been a good day thus far. Steve tells me to forget everything on the trip so far (me: “forget what? I’ve just been playing poker and gambling. badly.”), and meet him at the craps table (lol wat?). So I go, planning to get food ASAP.

I meet Steve at the craps table, where he’s taken out another marker. He says he’s thinking about having us play in the Bellagio tournament at 1:00, and I say that’s fine, though I suggest that a probably lower variance option for us would be the Rio single table satellites. He wonders where there is to get food at the Rio; when I mention the All-American Grille as an option, he jumps on it and we take a cab there. On the way over, I let him know about the differences between the $175 and $275 satties. He oscillates between wanting us to be at the same table and wanting to play different limits – Steve is very much someone who makes decisions on the fly. I also suggest that he see Penn & Teller if he wants to take Summer to another show (in addition to Celine Dion). He responds, “I’d like to cut her up and take her to a dumpster.” My mouth hangs open. While at the restaurant, Steve tells me he’s just received a $250k dividend check, so we’ve got very little to worry about financially. We share chicken quesadillas and a chicken club sandwich, and each get a tasty milkshake. Then he’s psyched to go play some poker.

Too much hookers and blow have saddled Steve with a nasty case of athlete’s face.

We head down to the satellite area and after he grabs his $275 ticket, there is only one more left – so he says I should take it. Nice, moving up through circumstance! As we head over to pay I bump into both Josh Hicks – a poker acquaintance from Dean Hamrick’s former Club on the River in East Lansing – and the guy I shot craps with for a long time last night. I warmly greet both of them, feeling very positive that I can run into so many people I know so far from home.

Game #3: $275 STT
In this game we have 1500 starting chips and 20 minute levels (as opposed to 1000 and 15 in the $175s). As we’re looking at the table from a distance, I mutter to Steve, “Look at all these old fish!” Turns out, though, that one of them is a Mark Smith, who’s won a WSOP Circuit Main Event and four lesser events. Ah, the hubris of youth. I’m in the 3 seat and Steve has the 6. To his left is a fairly pretty Middle Eastern girl. I, on the other hand, am sitting between two extremely talkative big guys; the 4 seat sounds like the tourism director of Alaska, he talks so much about it, but he’s friendly enough and I don’t mind. The 1 seat busts on the very first hand, weirdly and possibly rudely saying “goodbye” before his top two pair is revealed against what would be a made straight. That’s really the only weird thing that happens for a while, though. I crack jokes through the whole table as I like to and play very tight, not really getting involved in any hands early. At one point a guy with a WSOP bracelet comes over to visit with the girl in the 7 seat. I find out he’s just won the bracelet in the event last night.


Steve, recent bracelet winner Ronnie Bardah, and the girl at our table who’d turn out to be a named character in this little drama.

The girl is pretty aggressive and builds a big stack, then later shows a successful bluff push against Mark. With 8 people left and me sitting on roughly the starting stack, Steve cripples himself by calling her river raise on an A2x43 board with two pair; of course she has the 5. He busts shortly thereafter and leaves to go meet up with Summer, who’s just flown into town, giving me $300 for another buy-in before he goes. I shove a few hands and take down the blinds once we’re down to about 6; finally at the 100/200 level I push the CO for about 7 big blinds with T 9 and Mark looks me up with ace-jack. The board comes beautifully for me: 7 8 3 T Q . The next orbit, the girl shoves, barely covering me. I look down at AKo and I make the call all-in. She has 77, the hand that busted my overs in the event yesterday. This time, though, I catch a king on the turn and double up, crippling her. However, she gets several lucky double-ups and becomes healthy again at the expense of others as we get down to 4 players, losing Mark and the friendly 2 seat. During this time Steve starts sending me some messed-up texts about how much he hates his girlfriend. He really kind of goes overboard with it, even though I know this is typical behavior for him. This whole time I’ve been talking to the table, the girl hasn’t said anything or even smiled, really. I then take out both the talkative, tight player to my left and the final remaining player besides me and the girl with some big hands, aggressive pushes, and good luck; we enter heads-up play and I have a 2:1 chip lead.
Before we go too far I suggest that we think about a deal. She says she doesn’t care. I can’t think of a good fair deal at this point for the 5 ($500 WSOP buy-in) lammer, $120 cash prize pool, so I settle for a 1 lammer safety because I’d be extremely disappointed to have made it this far and leave empty-handed. As I realized yesterday, any kind of win has tremendous emotional value. She agrees and we carry on to play for the rest. I continue to try to get any kind of positive reaction out of her, since she won’t say much of anything, and I get a little bit bothered as we play that someone could be so humorless, commiserating with the dealer Dale (to whom I’ve been talking for most of the game). We go back and forth for a while until the blinds go up and I start pushing her around and chipping up, because even though she’s played well up until this point, she’s not raising nearly often enough (and I’m running pretty good with starting hands). She asks for a card wash twice. I get her all the way down to 2800 (of the 15k in play) and shove QTo at the 300/600 level; she calls all-in (for the first time) with T7s. She catches her 7 on the flop, naturally. Then she complains to the dealer that I’m not counting out my chips to pay her off quickly enough, so he takes care of it. The next hand I get it in with 77 against her A8o, and she catches an ace on the turn. She’s pleased but somehow not happy, if that makes any sense. A guy who’s waiting for the table to open up meanders by and says we should make a deal; I respond that she wouldn’t want to make a deal because she’s getting so lucky. Well, that gets a reaction out of her, as she takes serious exception. She starts angrily chewing me out that I wasn’t calling her lucky when she got bad beat earlier (in a hand I didn’t see), “So please. Please. Please.” I try to explain that it wasn’t a slight at all because she’s played well, but she’s not having it. Wow, what is this girl’s problem?
She has the chip lead now and is looking to land the finishing blow. I push QTo and she calls me with Q9s. “Please don’t put a nine on the board,” I plead with Dale. “I’ll take a ten.” The board comes A 7 7 K, and it looks like we’re chopping… but then the ten comes on the river! Holla! As I’m stacking my chips, I tell her, “And I got lucky that time. It’s not an insult.” She’s just about out now, and when she pushes I call without looking. I have 5 4 against her two middlin’ cards and while I don’t flop much, it goes runner-runner spade to deliver me the flush and the win!!! Most excellent; this completely covers that $1500 tournament loss yesterday, and I am quite pleased.
My victory is somewhat soured, though, by waiting for the payout with someone who pretty transparently hates my guts (she asked if I had a lammer to give her already and I did not). The floor comes with the payout in a couple of minutes. I hold one of the lammers out to the girl, who rips it out of my hand and storms off, complaining about how long the payout took and going over to the next table to yell at a Middle Eastern guy to mind his own business about how she did. I seriously have no idea what this girl’s issue is, nor does Dale. I tip him $30 of the $2120 I’ve won and call Steve with my results. He says I should play in another one, and I’m ready to do so, charged from my win. I head back to the desk and grab another seat card, and coincidentally it also happens to be the last one in the box. Hopefully that means I can continue my good luck at the next one.

I go to the table and greet the dealer. Once all the registrants are accounted for, he makes to deal out the seat cards. I reach for the one he throws me, and suddenly there’s the same girl from before, getting in my face. She angrily says that I’ve taken her seat card, because it was in front of the seat that was originally hers, and tries to grab it from me. Well, I’ve had enough of this girl, and I unload on her rather loudly (though not nearly so loud as I’m capable of being): “What is your problem? Lighten up! You are a piece of work!!! Here, take the card! Is it okay if I grab this one?!” I take a different card and move to the 9 seat. “What is your issue?” I say, exasperated. “I’m the friendliest guy at the table!” She doesn’t respond. I don’t feel great about that outburst, but a man can only take so much. The other guys at the table didn’t see what happened at the last table, so I draw a few curious stares, but nobody says much. I see from the girl’s seat card that her name is Anat Haftzadi, which I tweet so I can throw it in the TR later. Just such a mean person. Nothing justifies that – not her reasonably good looks, not the expensive-looking jewelry she wears, and not her country of origin (which someone will later posit as a cultural explanation).

Game #4: $275 STT
The table is quiet and for the first few orbits I’m still steaming about what just happened – but not so much that I’m going to let it affect my play. I eventually relax some as Steve amuses me with some texts. Most of the players at the table seem solid enough and pretty tight, but I don’t get too many hands worth mixing it up. I’m calm again by the time I get ATo and raise MP at the 25/25 level. The black dude with earbuds in the 3 seat flats me in position. We both check the 9-hi flop, then I bet the T turn and he calls. He’s staring right at me as another T hits the river, so I sloppily reach down to grab my sunglasses (this far into the hand) and put them on crooked and upside-down while staring back at him. A few of the other guys get a good laugh out of this, which was my goal. I don’t want to forget to have fun out here. I bet and he folds, then I make to respond to a text from Steve; the 2 seat asks if I’m tweeting that “the sunglasses trick worked”. “Yes,” I say, “and you can follow me, @SloppyGlasses.”
The young Asian guy to my left reveals himself as a 2p2 lurker when he mentions that his friend on the rail should give his regards to Doug Lee, which makes me laugh; he relays some of the toolbox stories I’d already read (“I would have folded the full house to quads there, but I’m a world champion.”). He says he loves poker memes, but I find out he hasn’t seen the that_pope thread yet and advise him to check it out.
Anat bluffs her way to failure before too long. After she’s gone, the 1 seat confides that he played with her in an event and she was horrible to the dealer. The table understands where I was coming from earlier.
With 5 players left at the 100/200 level (the 1 & 3 seats, a surly guy my age chewing tobacco in the 4, the old Asian Yankees fan to my right, and myself), I push in 2.1k with 77. The 3 decides to repush from the small blind with A J . I would not have gotten involved in his position, but the flop comes 744 anyway and I double up. He gets bad beat out of a big pot shortly thereafter and is out; we’re down to 4 and I’ve got about 4k in chips. After the blinds go up to 150/300, the 4 seat pushes 2.9k from the button and I look down at 66 in the big blind. I hem and haw from my 3.8k stack, and eventually decide to fold (because I want fold equity when I put my stack at risk), but after he pushes a couple more times I kick myself for the decision. The 1 seat is active and wins a number of pots from all three of us without confrontation. Finally I get down to 2700 myself when I can’t pick up any hands, and push the button with K 9 . Seat 4 swiftly calls with TT and I don’t catch anything, so I’m out. Before I leave, he says he had ace-nine when I folded my sixes, and the dealer says the seat card that caused the confrontation earlier was actually intended for me, because he deals to people, not empty seats. The moral victory over Anat doesn’t entirely put my mind at ease about her nature, and my own behavior.

I talk to Steve again, who’s now feeling murderous in his relationship with Summer and has entered the 7:00 $110 at Caesar’s. I tell him I’m going to stick around the Rio and try to trade the lammers for cash. He says I should do that and then I can use some of the money to buy food, then play another tournament. I tell him I want to gamble a bit as a break to clear my head first, then I’ll eat, then one more satellite. I go over near the registration room in the hopes of getting cash for the lammers. I fail to do so for some time, even with an older Euro who has cash in hand and is headed to the cage. I’m a little bit frustrated that no one will help me out, but finally I spot someone I recognize: Jimmy Fricke (gobboboy/gobbo). I’d encountered him in previous years and he was always friendly with me, and so I approach him to see if he can help me. He’s more than willing to trade cash with no vig, and he’s very kind as well. People are nervous about buying them because they think they’re fake, he explains. He says that he’s been having a ((crappy)) Series so far when I ask, and that people can be real ((jerks)) about charging a premium to give out cash for lammers (if they’ll take them at all). He only has enough cash on him to take one of them, but he says I can PM or call him later and he’ll take my entire balance tomorrow. I thank him profusely and wish him the best of fortune, both for helping me out and for just being a decent person (from my perspective) in a world where there aren’t enough of them.

I go outside and cross the street to the Gold Coast (my old frienemy), where I plan to play some $5 craps (because it’s all I can afford now) and eat dinner before my final tourney of the evening. I take a call from Lauren while I’m on the sidewalk; she’s feeling better and wanted to hear my voice. We talk about the kinds of things married people talk about, I assume – but also my encounter with Anat, and Steve’s screwed up relationship with Summer, and how I’m sad that things like this are happening despite being happy with the trip and excited about sharing the TR with those who haven’t had the privilege of doing what I and so many others are doing here in Vegas. And I can handle the haters when they come, now, because I know that my life is so much more than this. I’ve got a little bit of perspective, I guess, at least for the moment. I’ve undergone personal growth in the last few years. Lauren does that for me.

At the Gold Coast craps table, I strike up a deeper conversation with the floor guy (David) and one of the dealers than you would expect, starting at the nature of most floormen and moving (after a stop-off at Full Tilt Poker’s downfall) toward the nature of people in general – why people cheat each other, and what an awful shame it is. I recount the time I got scammed and the way that made me feel, and talk about the way people will take advantage of others for money, sex, and power, and why it’s so hard to trust people anymore. This all came as a result of my experiences today and before, with Anat and Steve and Jimmy and Lauren. I don’t care if it makes me naïve – I just want people to be good… or at least better. I lament the fact that we live in a fallen world. I lose at craps.

I walk away and head to the Asian restaurant in Gold Coast, Ping Pang Pong, to get some dinner. It’s a hectic environment, but it’s priced cheaply enough and they serve tasty, authentic food. I get the duck, wanting to give another chance to what I know can be a delicious dish, and some sesame shrimp rolls.


Ping Pang Pong at the Gold Coast. I highly recommend it, as long as you don’t mind eating somewhere loud.


I feel the need to eat all the food in front of me, and it’s very good, but I definitely feel that it’s too much at the same time. Still, I finish everything and decide to stand at the craps table for a bit longer. I break even and leave before I’m too tired to play my last tournament properly, walking back over to the Rio. I use some of the cash gobbo traded me for the buy-in. Steve got bad beat out of both his live tourney and an online one and is now down on poker as well as Summer. I’d really like to see him book a win, if only because of how generous he’s been with me. So I hope I can be the one to get the win for him.

Game #5: $275 STT
I’m in the 6 seat this time. The 3 seat is a talkative big 50-y.o. guy with a mustache named Richard. He tells a story about a fat guy and a proctologist that ends with me responding, “Pro tip, sir: The dealer probably didn’t appreciate being called an ‘Oriental’.” To my left is a talkative Hispanic guy about his age, and I find him pretty entertaining. Several of the other seats are taken up by guys who are pretty clearly young pros (or at least grinders), and not the most social folks in the world. The 1 seat, a young Asian guy, talks with friends about playing in the $3k limit and chips up early with some run-goot. Someone check-minraises him early and he 3bets all-in; I joke that you can’t minraise him, because he has so much practice playing against that move. I think I recognize the 2 seat, but only from seeing him at previous trips here. The table is by far the most active of the three I’ve played in today; early on I put in a small 3bet against Richard on the button with J 9 and he jams on me, so I quickly let it go. Another time I raise QJo in the CO and the 8 seat 3bets me. I don’t pick up any other strong hands in the first two levels as a few people, including Richard, bust at the very confrontational (in their play) table. In one such case, the 8 and 9 seats both get all-in on a 5 6 8 ; the 8 has A 7 and the 9 has A 7 . We laugh at the situation as they bump fists, then the dealer tells them to take their bets back but realizes his mistake when the turn is a diamond, and sure enough, the river is a diamond as well. Runner-runner flush to bust the 9 seat, getting a big reaction from the table. I kid, “Man, you might have just used up the rest of your luck for the night. You may want to make this your last tournament.” “I don’t know,” he responds, “I’ve got a lot of luck.” Seat 1, the limit king, loses a 3-way all-in right after the 50/100 level starts and is fairly disrespectful about it, saying something like, “I can see why you guys like no limit. All-in with a draw.” I laugh and say, “So, ‘This game sucks because I lost. The game is flawed.’ That what you’re going with?” Right after I say that, I look down at 44 with my 1025 chip stack UTG+1. UTG, one of the guys who’s been using high-level poker lingo, raises, and I just jam. The 2 seat repops it to 2.2k or so, and I’m happy about the protection, especially when UTG open-folds 88 and the 2 rolls over AKo. UTG is not pleased and he lets me know it with a few comments as I win the flip and double up. “You put your tournament life on the line with pocket fours?” he says, among other things. “Don’t be too hard on me,” I respond. “It’s the best hand I’ve seen, and I don’t have that many chips. There really aren’t many plays to make.” He still won’t stop talking about it, so I say, “I mean, it’s like saying, ‘Why’d you go skydiving?’ ‘Well, I’m 85 years old. There wasn’t that much life left to risk.’” The dealer laughs at that. Even after that, he keeps up with the snide comments, saying it’s completely standard here in sit n’ go land. I say aloud, “Wow, you guys are really kind of arrogant, aren’t you?” (They know who they are.) I say it’s okay, though – I actually don’t mind that nearly as much as something like the crap I went through with Anat earlier. I much prefer the snide comments, but I’m going to call someone out if they’re acting that way regardless. That’s just who I am. The table remains friendly enough for my liking even after that. First hand in the 100/200 level, the guy I doubled through pushes and goes out with 44. I know it’s not the same situation at all, but it seems to me like a little bit of poetic justice that he went out doing that after his comments. I push a couple more times and don’t get looked up. Eventually we make it down to 4 people at the 150/300 level – me, the 8 and 10 seats – both headphone wearers – and the limit king in Seat 1 (they 3-way chop their last-longer bet, which pleases me and the 10 seat nods at my reason why; I’m happy that even in a selfishly motivated game, the guys can work together for a positive outcome). I wait for a hand patiently. “I hate to say it, but 4th has kind of been my spot in these things,” I tell them. The next hand, Seat 8 raises to 650. I push in the rest of my 1.8k with 7 7 in the big blind and he has to call with 2 2 . I’m in good shape. The flop, though, is 2 2 5 . “Wow,” I say. “Well, I guess I called for it! Man, you weren’t kidding; you are lucky!” He’s a class act and shakes my hand after the bad beat. I smile at the table and wish them luck, then head out.

I let Steve know what happened – he wants to know how much I’ve got for him ($1730 including the lammers, which I’ll trade to gobbo tomorrow) and is talking about playing one of the deepstack tournies tomorrow, perhaps at the Bellagio – and take a cab back to Caesar’s, heading straight up to my room. I’ve got a lot to write about today – which means it was a good day, as far as I’m concerned. I prop the curtains closed with my shoes so there won’t be too much light in the morning. I have very little of my own money left, which is unfortunate, but man have these experiences been worth it. I hope I can run good at whatever I do for the next few days. I send gobbo a PM about meeting up tomorrow, then work on the TR for a good long while as I watch TV shows on my laptop. I get to sleep around 2:30, finished with most of it to this point and unable to stay awake any longer. What a day.

To be continued!

why the double post?

I think the connection here must be screwy. JD, help a brother out?

Pocket 7s never lose.

You never mentioned whether or not the guy sitting next to Ashley on the plane was her boyfriend. Was it? If not, I would have asked to see those bikini pics. She obviously wanted someone to see them.

Oh, and to walk from MGM Grand to Caesars w/luggage in the summer Las Vegas heat. What's the deal with that?