Another kid Another dream tl;dr
02-15-2010
, 11:21 PM
Quote:
You kidding? That was a 100% standard play and not a "gamble". At worst, he's either 50/50 (against AA/AK/sets, 40/60 vs exclusively sets, which is still fine) with loads of dead money in the pot, or his 3bet folds 1pr hands that beat him such as QQ/JJ and sometimes AK/AA.
1st time villian raised in 6 hrs? With no other info surely we put his range on AA,KK,AK and maybe QQ,JJ and AQs. When the flop comes K
8
9 and he 3-bets $150 into a pot of ~$80 this screams AA or KK and perhaps AK or AQs at worst trying to avoid any flush/straight draw.So what you are saying is that we are 4 betting as bluff to get him off his hand if he does not have AA or top set assuming that all other hands would fold? How often does it have to be correct to be profitable? If he has the set we are what, a less than 60:40 dog? And we have to assume stacks are going in if he does have the set and we 4 bet so we are risking our stack on a 60:40 shot?
In the end given villian has 88 of course the above looks misguided and yes he should have folded to our 4 bet, just interested if that is what you are saying.
Last edited by P0kerM8; 02-15-2010 at 11:33 PM.
02-16-2010
, 07:35 AM
02-25-2010
, 07:21 PM
03-01-2010
, 07:48 PM
Hockey as in Hold'em
Hockey at its core is very similar to Texas Hold’em. A strategic cousin. The majority of the game is composed of passive jabbing and feeling out the opponent, setting up the moment for a knockout punch. Patience and well-timed aggression are rewarded. I believe the great Norman Chad once called poker a game with moments of terror squeezed into hours of boredom. Hockey is the same way, on a smaller scale. Imagine the WSOP showing every hand. Every raise, fold, fold. Every bet, call, check, check. It would be like watching paint dry. Better yet, it would be like watching regular season NHL hockey.
Olympic hockey is a different animal. The High Stakes Poker of its kind. The rink is bigger; the stacks are deeper, the best in the world all in the same arena. Less jabbing, more right hooks. The stage where legends are born. Thankfully the Vancouver games were good enough to justify the two weeks I spent sitting on my couch contributing nothing to society. The rivalry born between the US and Canada was like something derived from a Hollywood studio. Drama, star power, conflict, it had it all. It sucks losing to the Canadians, but hey, while we would’ve liked to be the gold medal champions, that country needed it.
The week sitting on my ass also gave me an excuse to play some online pokerz. Really wanting to improve my PLO game I decided to fire up some micro stakes Omaha. And for a week I proceeded to get crushed at .25/.50 to the tune of about 12 buy-ins. I don’t think I played THAT bad, but even Ray Charles could see that clearly my Omaha game stinks.
If anything, the week helped me realize why I hate playing online so much. In the midst of getting crushed by the cheeseburger stake professionals, I began to see my attitude and temperament transforming in front of my eyes. I became easily irritated, condescending, and just unpleasant to be around in general. One particular hand sparked up a brawl between me and my bedroom wall. I’m sitting on a $150 stack with AAKQ on the BTN. I raise, the BTN 3-Bets having me covered, and I throw in a 4-Bet. Flop brings the 229 and the BB leads into me for pot. I re-pot it and we get all the chocolate chippies in the middle. He turns over A987 and I’m in some pretty good shape. That is until the 9 Ball hits the river, resulting in my right hand hitting the dry wall. One hole in the wall and a presumed broken knuckle later and I decided to shut down the computer for awhile. Why it is that I can lose 3k pots live and move on without blinking but lose a 300 dollar pot online and turn into Bobby Brown I may never know. But one thing's sure if I can’t start controlling my emotions I’m not going to keep playing on the computer. It’s not worth the mood swings.
After realizing I’m no longer good at clicking buttons, I took my game to the live poker scene. The 2/5 NL game has actually been quite juicy since they raised the max buyin to 1k at Hollywood. Within a round of sitting down at the table I knew I was in for a battle when an unfamiliar youngster at the table raised 7 of the first 9 hands I witnessed. He had a stack of over 3k and played a very good LAG game. Usually I would respect this type of player, but this guy was the typical “I’m better than you” online douche bag player. Doing things like lecturing players, as he was raking in their chips, on how they played their hand so poorly. I can’t stand that ****. Especially when he scares off the fish. It’s personal at this point and he doesn’t even know it. I start 3-betting and C-betting him in position with mixed results. He doesn’t back down about half the time and my stack seems stalemated at 1,000. Finally I pick up a real hand on the button when I 3-bet his $35 open to $110 with AK. Flop come 678
and I C-bet $150 and he calls. Turns an off suit 9 and this time he calls $275. I brick again on the river and check back only to lose to A
5
After reloading I catch fire with pocket 5s. IDB (Internet douche bag) opens to 35 per usual and 5 of us call. Flops QT5 with a flush draw and one of the preflop callers opens for 150. I put him allin for 500 total and he doesn’t hesitate shipping the rest of his chips in. AQ can’t improve and my stack is up to $1600.
Very next hand I pick up the same pocket pair; as if I forgot to give back my cards. Me and IDB are alone to the flop, after I call his raise. It’s turning into a theme. I can feel the weight of the table on my shoulders. It’s not so much that they want me to succeed; they would just love to see this guy lose. It’s the Americans vs. the Canadians all over again. Flop comes 5TJ. Bingo. I check raise his $50 cbet to $165. He pretends to count out a raise and only calls. The turn is 2 and I plan a big check raise that fails miserably. God damnit. The Q hits the river leading to an interesting decision. I can check like a wuss or I can try and beat this chump out of some chips. I lead for 225. Canada postures, looks at the dealer and says “raise”. “700 all day”. 89 really? AK? God I hate this mother ****er, but he sure is putting me in a tough spot. I can’t let him come into my casino and own every single one of the regulars. “I call” I say as I flip over my bottom set. IDB throws his cards face down towards the middle, one of them striking the dealer in the arm. Guys who I didn’t even know knew my name make sure to vocalize “nice hand” and “nice call Matt”, loud enough for the IDB to hear.
IDB racked up shortly after and the table calmed down significantly. Hours of uninteresting poker later and I racked up 1000 dollars richer then when I sat down. It’s always good to win, but beating guys like that feels much sweeter.
This Thursday is the first WPT tournament I’m playing in at Hollywood. TR to follow. For the occasion I started a twitter that I’ll update throughout the day to keep anyone whose interested posted. If that includes you, click here: http://twitter.com/#search?q=MiamiMatt19 or search for me at MiamiMatt19.
Hockey at its core is very similar to Texas Hold’em. A strategic cousin. The majority of the game is composed of passive jabbing and feeling out the opponent, setting up the moment for a knockout punch. Patience and well-timed aggression are rewarded. I believe the great Norman Chad once called poker a game with moments of terror squeezed into hours of boredom. Hockey is the same way, on a smaller scale. Imagine the WSOP showing every hand. Every raise, fold, fold. Every bet, call, check, check. It would be like watching paint dry. Better yet, it would be like watching regular season NHL hockey.
Olympic hockey is a different animal. The High Stakes Poker of its kind. The rink is bigger; the stacks are deeper, the best in the world all in the same arena. Less jabbing, more right hooks. The stage where legends are born. Thankfully the Vancouver games were good enough to justify the two weeks I spent sitting on my couch contributing nothing to society. The rivalry born between the US and Canada was like something derived from a Hollywood studio. Drama, star power, conflict, it had it all. It sucks losing to the Canadians, but hey, while we would’ve liked to be the gold medal champions, that country needed it.
The week sitting on my ass also gave me an excuse to play some online pokerz. Really wanting to improve my PLO game I decided to fire up some micro stakes Omaha. And for a week I proceeded to get crushed at .25/.50 to the tune of about 12 buy-ins. I don’t think I played THAT bad, but even Ray Charles could see that clearly my Omaha game stinks.
If anything, the week helped me realize why I hate playing online so much. In the midst of getting crushed by the cheeseburger stake professionals, I began to see my attitude and temperament transforming in front of my eyes. I became easily irritated, condescending, and just unpleasant to be around in general. One particular hand sparked up a brawl between me and my bedroom wall. I’m sitting on a $150 stack with AAKQ on the BTN. I raise, the BTN 3-Bets having me covered, and I throw in a 4-Bet. Flop brings the 229 and the BB leads into me for pot. I re-pot it and we get all the chocolate chippies in the middle. He turns over A987 and I’m in some pretty good shape. That is until the 9 Ball hits the river, resulting in my right hand hitting the dry wall. One hole in the wall and a presumed broken knuckle later and I decided to shut down the computer for awhile. Why it is that I can lose 3k pots live and move on without blinking but lose a 300 dollar pot online and turn into Bobby Brown I may never know. But one thing's sure if I can’t start controlling my emotions I’m not going to keep playing on the computer. It’s not worth the mood swings.
After realizing I’m no longer good at clicking buttons, I took my game to the live poker scene. The 2/5 NL game has actually been quite juicy since they raised the max buyin to 1k at Hollywood. Within a round of sitting down at the table I knew I was in for a battle when an unfamiliar youngster at the table raised 7 of the first 9 hands I witnessed. He had a stack of over 3k and played a very good LAG game. Usually I would respect this type of player, but this guy was the typical “I’m better than you” online douche bag player. Doing things like lecturing players, as he was raking in their chips, on how they played their hand so poorly. I can’t stand that ****. Especially when he scares off the fish. It’s personal at this point and he doesn’t even know it. I start 3-betting and C-betting him in position with mixed results. He doesn’t back down about half the time and my stack seems stalemated at 1,000. Finally I pick up a real hand on the button when I 3-bet his $35 open to $110 with A
K. Flop come 678 and I C-bet $150 and he calls. Turns an off suit 9 and this time he calls $275. I brick again on the river and check back only to lose to A5After reloading I catch fire with pocket 5s. IDB (Internet douche bag) opens to 35 per usual and 5 of us call. Flops QT5 with a flush draw and one of the preflop callers opens for 150. I put him allin for 500 total and he doesn’t hesitate shipping the rest of his chips in. AQ can’t improve and my stack is up to $1600.
Very next hand I pick up the same pocket pair; as if I forgot to give back my cards. Me and IDB are alone to the flop, after I call his raise. It’s turning into a theme. I can feel the weight of the table on my shoulders. It’s not so much that they want me to succeed; they would just love to see this guy lose. It’s the Americans vs. the Canadians all over again. Flop comes 5
TJ. Bingo. I check raise his $50 cbet to $165. He pretends to count out a raise and only calls. The turn is 2 and I plan a big check raise that fails miserably. God damnit. The Q hits the river leading to an interesting decision. I can check like a wuss or I can try and beat this chump out of some chips. I lead for 225. Canada postures, looks at the dealer and says “raise”. “700 all day”. 89 really? AK? God I hate this mother ****er, but he sure is putting me in a tough spot. I can’t let him come into my casino and own every single one of the regulars. “I call” I say as I flip over my bottom set. IDB throws his cards face down towards the middle, one of them striking the dealer in the arm. Guys who I didn’t even know knew my name make sure to vocalize “nice hand” and “nice call Matt”, loud enough for the IDB to hear. IDB racked up shortly after and the table calmed down significantly. Hours of uninteresting poker later and I racked up 1000 dollars richer then when I sat down. It’s always good to win, but beating guys like that feels much sweeter.
This Thursday is the first WPT tournament I’m playing in at Hollywood. TR to follow. For the occasion I started a twitter that I’ll update throughout the day to keep anyone whose interested posted. If that includes you, click here: http://twitter.com/#search?q=MiamiMatt19 or search for me at MiamiMatt19.
03-01-2010
, 11:08 PM
03-07-2010
, 03:18 PM
WPT Action
Unfortunately for me, my first WPT tournament fell on the same day as my school’s “Green Beer Day”. GBD is a traditional act of defiance from Miami students who purposefully had St. Patrick’s Day taken away from them. Back in the olden days the administration at Miami made a point to place spring break over St. Patty’s day in order to stop the excessive drinking that historically took place on the Irish holiday. So what did the students do to remedy the problem? They created their own campus-wide day of drinking. Every Thursday before spring break we wake up at ridiculous hours of the night and begin 24 hours of liver slamming. As each year has gone by the starting time has gotten progressively earlier. Freshman year I woke up at 9, sophomore and junior year at 5. Well, this year we began the escapade at 2am.
After kegs and eggs at a friend’s house we arrived at the bar for some green beer at 530. An hour or so later, I realized it was time to head to bed for a nap if I was going to make the noon starting time of the WPT. I overslept a smidge, but was on my way to the boat at 1215, planning on being there by the beginning of the third level. The tournament was a deep stacked event so I was hardly worried about the 2% of my chips I would be missing. Upon arriving I headed to the tournament podium ready to be the 884th participant in the $300 NL event.
With 3 crispy Benjamin’s in my hand I politely asked the tournament director Gary for a seat with some Run Good. He looked at me puzzled and said “registration ended a half hour ago Matt.” While Hollywood traditionally gives 3 levels for late registration, the WPT rules shortened that time span to one level or 30 minutes. Translation, I’m **** out of luck.
However all was not lost, as the cash games were looking awfully juicy. I sat down in a PLO game simultaneously to my aggressive friend from a couple weeks ago “Self Made.” As the chip runner approached us I pulled out 7 bills and I see SM open up his man bag to grab cash. Usually a man bag loses you major street cred. That is unless your man bag is stuffed to the brim with C-Notes. I was never very good at those “guess how many jelly beans are in the jar” games, but if I had to make a guess, I would say the guy had 80,000 dollars on him. No wonder why he’s calling $500 all-ins with 88T5.
I learned a lot about SM at the table that day. Like most people I’ve encountered in poker, he’s actually a tremendously nice guy once you get to know him. With that being said he’s an interesting character. Even though he “has a house in LA, Arizona, and Vegas” the guy has been traveling around to different poker spots for months on end. He flew into Lawrenceburg after a month long session at the Borgota and went straight to the dealership with his man bag and bought a BMW in cash. My curiosity about his profession only got stronger upon hearing he has 2 felonies on his resume. But not wanting to be part of his 3rd, I decided not to inquire.
I got into my first big pot of the day against my new friend SM. With AK54 called his pot sized preflop bet and hit a monster A74 flop. He C-Bet 100 into 4 of us and I made it 300. He immediately shoved it in and I called to see 4567. I have no idea what to think, as I often don’t in this game. Instead of sweating every card I try to just stare blankly and hope the dealer ships me the pot in the end. The drama ended quickly as the dealer paired the 4 on the turn, leaving SM only 2 river outs. The 7 never came and I was up a quick 700.
After Batman and his (per usual) mountains of chips left the game, I was able to play more aggressively and take over the table captain role. But as is often the case in Omahahaha I was taken on quite the rollercoaster ride. Winning and losing several 400 dollar pots had me sitting on a 1200 dollar stack (500 profit) before I played my last significant hand. SM opened for 25 in EP and 4 of us called to see a 369 rainbow flop. I was holding 669Q. I lead from the BB for 80. SM makes it 180 and Denny, the table calling station, cold calls. With a 9 in my hand I wasn’t very worried about top set and make it 600. SM folds, what he claims was 33, and the decision was up to Denny. I know what he’s going to do long before he says all-in. Denny never folds, why would he fold here? It’s 200 more to me and I obviously call. The turn is an 8 and the river a J. I’m certain I’m beat. “You probably got me, I say”. To which he replies “I’ve just got 2 pair.” I feel kind’ve ****ty as I flip over my set and rake in the $2,000 pot. I apologize to Denny a bit later for the “semi-slowroll” and end the session a $1500 winner, ready to take on Vegas in 2 days…
I got into Vegas at 9am yesterday. Saw some of the usual characters and had quite the interesting 5/10 session. Report to come tomorrow, but for now it’s back to the B, hopefully to make some more money. It feels good to be back.
Unfortunately for me, my first WPT tournament fell on the same day as my school’s “Green Beer Day”. GBD is a traditional act of defiance from Miami students who purposefully had St. Patrick’s Day taken away from them. Back in the olden days the administration at Miami made a point to place spring break over St. Patty’s day in order to stop the excessive drinking that historically took place on the Irish holiday. So what did the students do to remedy the problem? They created their own campus-wide day of drinking. Every Thursday before spring break we wake up at ridiculous hours of the night and begin 24 hours of liver slamming. As each year has gone by the starting time has gotten progressively earlier. Freshman year I woke up at 9, sophomore and junior year at 5. Well, this year we began the escapade at 2am.
After kegs and eggs at a friend’s house we arrived at the bar for some green beer at 530. An hour or so later, I realized it was time to head to bed for a nap if I was going to make the noon starting time of the WPT. I overslept a smidge, but was on my way to the boat at 1215, planning on being there by the beginning of the third level. The tournament was a deep stacked event so I was hardly worried about the 2% of my chips I would be missing. Upon arriving I headed to the tournament podium ready to be the 884th participant in the $300 NL event.
With 3 crispy Benjamin’s in my hand I politely asked the tournament director Gary for a seat with some Run Good. He looked at me puzzled and said “registration ended a half hour ago Matt.” While Hollywood traditionally gives 3 levels for late registration, the WPT rules shortened that time span to one level or 30 minutes. Translation, I’m **** out of luck.
However all was not lost, as the cash games were looking awfully juicy. I sat down in a PLO game simultaneously to my aggressive friend from a couple weeks ago “Self Made.” As the chip runner approached us I pulled out 7 bills and I see SM open up his man bag to grab cash. Usually a man bag loses you major street cred. That is unless your man bag is stuffed to the brim with C-Notes. I was never very good at those “guess how many jelly beans are in the jar” games, but if I had to make a guess, I would say the guy had 80,000 dollars on him. No wonder why he’s calling $500 all-ins with 88T5.
I learned a lot about SM at the table that day. Like most people I’ve encountered in poker, he’s actually a tremendously nice guy once you get to know him. With that being said he’s an interesting character. Even though he “has a house in LA, Arizona, and Vegas” the guy has been traveling around to different poker spots for months on end. He flew into Lawrenceburg after a month long session at the Borgota and went straight to the dealership with his man bag and bought a BMW in cash. My curiosity about his profession only got stronger upon hearing he has 2 felonies on his resume. But not wanting to be part of his 3rd, I decided not to inquire.
I got into my first big pot of the day against my new friend SM. With A
K54 called his pot sized preflop bet and hit a monster A74 flop. He C-Bet 100 into 4 of us and I made it 300. He immediately shoved it in and I called to see 4567. I have no idea what to think, as I often don’t in this game. Instead of sweating every card I try to just stare blankly and hope the dealer ships me the pot in the end. The drama ended quickly as the dealer paired the 4 on the turn, leaving SM only 2 river outs. The 7 never came and I was up a quick 700. After Batman and his (per usual) mountains of chips left the game, I was able to play more aggressively and take over the table captain role. But as is often the case in Omahahaha I was taken on quite the rollercoaster ride. Winning and losing several 400 dollar pots had me sitting on a 1200 dollar stack (500 profit) before I played my last significant hand. SM opened for 25 in EP and 4 of us called to see a 369 rainbow flop. I was holding 6
69Q. I lead from the BB for 80. SM makes it 180 and Denny, the table calling station, cold calls. With a 9 in my hand I wasn’t very worried about top set and make it 600. SM folds, what he claims was 33, and the decision was up to Denny. I know what he’s going to do long before he says all-in. Denny never folds, why would he fold here? It’s 200 more to me and I obviously call. The turn is an 8 and the river a J. I’m certain I’m beat. “You probably got me, I say”. To which he replies “I’ve just got 2 pair.” I feel kind’ve ****ty as I flip over my set and rake in the $2,000 pot. I apologize to Denny a bit later for the “semi-slowroll” and end the session a $1500 winner, ready to take on Vegas in 2 days…I got into Vegas at 9am yesterday. Saw some of the usual characters and had quite the interesting 5/10 session. Report to come tomorrow, but for now it’s back to the B, hopefully to make some more money. It feels good to be back.
03-10-2010
, 11:17 PM
Home Sweet Home
After a night of excessive drinking in Bloomington, Indiana we were on our way to Las Vegas. Wake up call was at 430 and by 8am local time we had touched down in my favorite town. No matter how many miserable experiences I have flying hungover; I never seem to learn my lesson. Add a middle seat into the equation and my morning was about as enjoyable as a trip to the dentist.
Two of my friends had never been to Vegas before. I sort of wish we had flown in at night for their sake. The discrepancy between the cities appearance at night and during the day is truly remarkable. It’s like the girl who you meet at the beginning of the night, a 6 at best. Then 3 hours and 14 beers later and she’s a perfect 10. Anyways, after an awkward (yet successful) attempt at the 20-dollar trick, we were upstairs and upgraded into a way more spacious room at the Planet Hollywood then we had paid for. The casino is not one of my favorites, but for 4 21-year-old guys it’s quite possibly the perfect spot in Vegas.
After a nap and some relaxing we made our way over to the Bellagio. Before I could continue to the poker room, I had to stop by the cashier to pick up the money I had wired. While standing in line and minding my own business, I over heard two males arguing over a sports bet that one had recommended to the other. I knew that voice from somewhere. I turned around and low and behold it was that of Mr. Phillip Ivey. I couldn’t tell what game they were talking about, but Phil was not happy with the pick so I’m assuming they were losing. The line was taking a while, so once the great one took a break from his conversation, I turned around and scooped in. Not knowing what on earth to say to the world’s most loved degenerate, I somehow spit out “hey Phil you gonna head down to the WPT in Indiana this month.” “Nah I ain’t gonna make it,” he responded after a bit of thought. It wasn’t much, but certainly an improvement from the “sup” he gave me during the one time I played 10 hands against him heads up on Full Tilt. At this rate we should be talking about politics and women in no time.
Two cashiers opened up next to each other simultaneously. I let the legend have first choice, obviously. I made sure to be loud and clear when I requested the 20k I had wired. That should impress him. Didn’t even flinch. Just took out his stack of chips, in colors I had never seen before, and was on his way with the 550k he cashed in.
After the obnoxiously long process of confirming my identity, I was very anxious upon sitting down at the 5/10 game. It showed as I played poorly early in the session against two particular players who were showing a decent amount of aggression. One of the players was winning and competent, opening maybe a quarter of his hands preflop for 70, but overall too loose. Down about 300, I got into my first big hand of the trip against him. I limped UTG with 99 and so did a few others. To him in the SB and he bumped it up to 70. Just us two to the flop, as we see the ever so pretty K92. He leads for 120, I smooth call. Turn brings a 2 and this time he bets 250. One more call out of me after some deliberation for effect. River 4 and he shoves in his final 600 without much thought. I beat him into the pot and he mucks upon seeing my full boat.
Up about 600, I played my next crucial spot against the other aggressive player. This particular Middle Eastern man was not competent and capable, just stupidly aggressive. I raised to 50 in mp with TT and he called me on the BTN. We took a flop of 68K and I check called 100. The call was fairly standard figuring he’s betting 100% of his range there when checked to. The 9 on the turn seemed fairly safe and this time I check called 240. This spot was not as standard, but I did not believe the gentleman. River A and he bet out 600. An interesting river to say the least. While he’s aggressive he’s never making this bet with a K. I call with dreams of the table congratulating the new player for making such a sick read with just 3rd pair. WRONG. 57 and all of a sudden I’m down about 5 bills.
I can feel myself tilting. I consider going back to the room and not wasting any more money on the first day. But as a true degenerate I obviously don’t. A few rounds later and I pick up KK UTG. I make it 40 and this time Stupid Aggressive Guy 3-Bets to 150. I can envision the double up. But before it can get back to me the SB makes it 500 all day. Now normally this is actually a tough spot as 4-Bets live are about as rare as a clock in a casino. But everybody knew SAG was reckless, so it was an easy shove. SAG folded and the SB called 500 more, 1,000 all day, while shaking his head. He flips up QQ and I like it until we see a flop of A74. He’s got a , I do not. Turn is the K and I dodge a final bullet on a 5 river. The rollercoaster is back on the upswing.
After a couple more ups and downs I play my final big spot of the session. With QT I raise it up to 40 in MP and get called by everyone and their mom. This works out perfectly as the flop comes 89J. I bet 80 and two players call. I accidentally check a 3 turn, but luckily one of the callers bets out 200. Back to me and I make it 500, he thinks forever. His friend had recently started railing him behind the table, I’m not sure if this makes him more prone to call or fold, but I thought it was important. He eventually calls. The 6 hit the river and I bet out 580. Again thinking forever, and again the gentleman calls. He shows J9 as he counts out his chips to pay me with.
My stack is huge as I rack up. 4300 to be exact. Unfortunately I purchased 2500 of them, but still a very good beginning to the trip. I thought my play was very average and that I made a few mistakes, but I was proud of the way I kept my composure after losing a few large pots.
The next day contained far and away the most disturbing experience of my life, traumatizing me until the end of time. It will pain me to write it, but I will, and share it with you tomorrow.
Miami Matt
After a night of excessive drinking in Bloomington, Indiana we were on our way to Las Vegas. Wake up call was at 430 and by 8am local time we had touched down in my favorite town. No matter how many miserable experiences I have flying hungover; I never seem to learn my lesson. Add a middle seat into the equation and my morning was about as enjoyable as a trip to the dentist.
Two of my friends had never been to Vegas before. I sort of wish we had flown in at night for their sake. The discrepancy between the cities appearance at night and during the day is truly remarkable. It’s like the girl who you meet at the beginning of the night, a 6 at best. Then 3 hours and 14 beers later and she’s a perfect 10. Anyways, after an awkward (yet successful) attempt at the 20-dollar trick, we were upstairs and upgraded into a way more spacious room at the Planet Hollywood then we had paid for. The casino is not one of my favorites, but for 4 21-year-old guys it’s quite possibly the perfect spot in Vegas.
After a nap and some relaxing we made our way over to the Bellagio. Before I could continue to the poker room, I had to stop by the cashier to pick up the money I had wired. While standing in line and minding my own business, I over heard two males arguing over a sports bet that one had recommended to the other. I knew that voice from somewhere. I turned around and low and behold it was that of Mr. Phillip Ivey. I couldn’t tell what game they were talking about, but Phil was not happy with the pick so I’m assuming they were losing. The line was taking a while, so once the great one took a break from his conversation, I turned around and scooped in. Not knowing what on earth to say to the world’s most loved degenerate, I somehow spit out “hey Phil you gonna head down to the WPT in Indiana this month.” “Nah I ain’t gonna make it,” he responded after a bit of thought. It wasn’t much, but certainly an improvement from the “sup” he gave me during the one time I played 10 hands against him heads up on Full Tilt. At this rate we should be talking about politics and women in no time.
Two cashiers opened up next to each other simultaneously. I let the legend have first choice, obviously. I made sure to be loud and clear when I requested the 20k I had wired. That should impress him. Didn’t even flinch. Just took out his stack of chips, in colors I had never seen before, and was on his way with the 550k he cashed in.
After the obnoxiously long process of confirming my identity, I was very anxious upon sitting down at the 5/10 game. It showed as I played poorly early in the session against two particular players who were showing a decent amount of aggression. One of the players was winning and competent, opening maybe a quarter of his hands preflop for 70, but overall too loose. Down about 300, I got into my first big hand of the trip against him. I limped UTG with 9
9 and so did a few others. To him in the SB and he bumped it up to 70. Just us two to the flop, as we see the ever so pretty K92. He leads for 120, I smooth call. Turn brings a 2 and this time he bets 250. One more call out of me after some deliberation for effect. River 4 and he shoves in his final 600 without much thought. I beat him into the pot and he mucks upon seeing my full boat. Up about 600, I played my next crucial spot against the other aggressive player. This particular Middle Eastern man was not competent and capable, just stupidly aggressive. I raised to 50 in mp with TT and he called me on the BTN. We took a flop of 68K and I check called 100. The call was fairly standard figuring he’s betting 100% of his range there when checked to. The 9 on the turn seemed fairly safe and this time I check called 240. This spot was not as standard, but I did not believe the gentleman. River A and he bet out 600. An interesting river to say the least. While he’s aggressive he’s never making this bet with a K. I call with dreams of the table congratulating the new player for making such a sick read with just 3rd pair. WRONG. 57 and all of a sudden I’m down about 5 bills.
I can feel myself tilting. I consider going back to the room and not wasting any more money on the first day. But as a true degenerate I obviously don’t. A few rounds later and I pick up KK UTG. I make it 40 and this time Stupid Aggressive Guy 3-Bets to 150. I can envision the double up. But before it can get back to me the SB makes it 500 all day. Now normally this is actually a tough spot as 4-Bets live are about as rare as a clock in a casino. But everybody knew SAG was reckless, so it was an easy shove. SAG folded and the SB called 500 more, 1,000 all day, while shaking his head. He flips up QQ and I like it until we see a flop of A
74. He’s got a , I do not. Turn is the K and I dodge a final bullet on a 5 river. The rollercoaster is back on the upswing.After a couple more ups and downs I play my final big spot of the session. With QT I raise it up to 40 in MP and get called by everyone and their mom. This works out perfectly as the flop comes 8
9J. I bet 80 and two players call. I accidentally check a 3 turn, but luckily one of the callers bets out 200. Back to me and I make it 500, he thinks forever. His friend had recently started railing him behind the table, I’m not sure if this makes him more prone to call or fold, but I thought it was important. He eventually calls. The 6 hit the river and I bet out 580. Again thinking forever, and again the gentleman calls. He shows J9 as he counts out his chips to pay me with.My stack is huge as I rack up. 4300 to be exact. Unfortunately I purchased 2500 of them, but still a very good beginning to the trip. I thought my play was very average and that I made a few mistakes, but I was proud of the way I kept my composure after losing a few large pots.
The next day contained far and away the most disturbing experience of my life, traumatizing me until the end of time. It will pain me to write it, but I will, and share it with you tomorrow.
Miami Matt