World Series of Poker, Day 12 (June 9, 2019):
Gluttony and my final poker tournament (including marked cards accusations at the table behind mine)

I started the day with a 9:30 am reservation at the Sterling Brunch at Bally’s. Waking up early enough to shower, get dressed and then make my way to a 9:30 am reservation is not really aligned with my night owl/not-a-morning-person body clock, but my pre-trip research had led me to believe this is the best brunch in town. To get a reservation you have to call three months in advance. Not a day sooner (they won’t take the reservation). Not a day later (they will be all booked up). This brunch only happens on Sundays. The earliest reservation is 9:30 a.m. I booked that time in case my poker tournament starts at 11 a.m., which is in fact my reality.

Somehow, I got myself up and there on time. I went for lobster, crab legs, caviar and filet mignon. I did not go back for seconds because I did not want to show up for my poker tournament feeling like a beached whale. When I asked my waiter for a check, he was shocked. I am the rarest of customers at this establishment. I am a glutton in a hurry. Most people make multiple trips to the buffet, then sit at their table for long enough to get a second wind and then eat themselves sick. I would probably (and by probably, I mean definitely) have gone that route (the lobster benedict sounded enticing), but unfortunately I had a tournament to get to so I had to be disciplined. Is being a disciplined eater better than being a degenerate eater at a feast? I’m not certain I made the right call. The siren call of the lobster benedict beckoned. I left feeling defeated. A culinary bad beat.

I got myself to the Rio for my final WSOP poker tournament. I’m pretty sure it was the $1,000 Double Stack No-Limit Hold’em tournament. The first hand of the day I was dealt a pair of nines which lost me some chips against a player with AK who paired his ace on the flop. The second hand of the day I was dealt AK suited and I won a small pot. Hey, I’m getting decent cards. Maybe this is the day I get premium cards with tremendous frequency.

That did not happen. Although I lasted 12 levels of play, the only premium hands I was dealt the rest of the day were QQ once, JJ once, AK once, AQ once, and AJ suited twice. Not terrible, but not exactly an avalanche of premium hands over that many levels of play. Plus, the flop on my QQ contained an ace, and the flop on my JJ contained an ace and a queen. And my AK, AQ and AJ hands all failed to connect with the flop.

Adding to my uphill battle, this was the toughest table I played at in my nearly two weeks at the WSOP. It was impossible to steal chips preflop because the players at this table loved to see flops and play post-flop. The player to my right was addicted to playing lots of hands and did not believe in folding. I think he truly believed that folding leads to cancer. Let me share just one example of his moral aversion to folding. Despite the fact that I had not gotten out of line with bluffs, I was in a hand where I had K-Q. The community cards were J-9-8-6-4 with no flush possibility. After the flop he checked, I bet and he called. After the turn he raised, I reraised/bluffed and he called. After the final card he checked, I raised (still bluffing) and he called with 2-2. I showed aggression all three barrels. It was the first time I had bluffed. He won the hand, but him sticking around after all three times I fired with only 2-2 when there were five overcards on the board (not to mention straight possibilities) was insanity to me especially considering I had not played a ton of hands to that point and had not previously shown a bluff. Was he simply a calling station, or was I that transparent? This hand shook my confidence a bit. C’mon man, I scolded myself. Shake it off. An opponent like this you have to wait to get a strong hand and he will pay you off. He was table chip leader at this point, but I was certain it was only a matter of time until he imploded. I just hoped it would happen against me. Unfortunately, I did not get any decent hands to play when he was in a hand. He did end up unnecessarily giving away all of his chips eventually (just not to me) and he was eliminated a couple of levels before I was eliminated.

Interesting tangent: At one point during the tournament, there was a stir at the table behind mine. A player showed the dealer an ace that had been marked (corner bent). The floor was called, and he said something along the lines of, “If anyone is marking cards you better stop.” That’ll show ‘em. In any event, the deck was removed from the table. Then, like 30 minutes later, another marked card (also an ace with a corner of the card bent) was shown to the dealer. Now several of the players at the table were clearly and verbally upset. The floor was called over again. He announced that a break was coming up in a few minutes, and I think he said something like they would check the cameras to see who the guilty party was. There are cameras? When we come back from break, our dealer is the person who was previously dealing at the card marking table. Someone asks him if he knows who was marking the cards. I get the sense that he thinks he knows, but he stays stone silent. Even the dealers at the WSOP have poker faces and won’t tell you what they’ve got. Not sure if there was ever any resolution. Either the card marker was not caught, or it was dealt with very, very quietly.

OK, tangent over. Back to my tournament. I never had a huge chip stack. We started with 40,000 chips. I dipped down to 25,000, then got back up to 39,000. I dipped down to 21,000, then ran it up to 54,000. The problem was that the blinds were getting very high and about to be a problem for me. The blinds were 1,000/2,000 with a 2,000 big blind ante. I was down to 33,000 chips.

I get down to 10 big blinds. I am dealt J-J and I am all-in. I get called by the table chip leader who has been getting absolutely hit hard by the deck for the last few hours. He is a premium hand magnet. I tell myself he can’t possibly have “it” every time as we prepare to show our cards. He turns over K-K. Apparently, he does have “it” every time. For the first time this trip I have gotten it all-in with the significantly inferior hand. The flop provides no help. The turn however is a miracle jack. I show no emotion because I still have the river to navigate. The river has hated me repeatedly on this trip. The river for once does me no harm, and I have experienced my first all-in suckout in Las Vegas. It’s a weird feeling. I have done an opposing player dirty, but I have received a stay of execution from the governor. I’m still alive. Sorry, not sorry. I’ve finally experienced some run good. I’m obviously happy to still be in the game, but getting it in bad and winning is not exactly an accomplishment to brag about. Still, yay me.

But, even with the double up, my stack is still below average at the table. I have some room to breathe, but I am not flush with chips. I vow to prove myself worthy of the undeserved chips. Unfortunately, I proceed to go completely card dead. Is this the penance one must pay for sucking out on an opponent?

I try to steal the blinds from late position with modest holdings, get jammed on and have to fold. Then, I put in the big blind plus big blind ante and then the small blind in consecutive hands in which I get dealt unplayable cards. My chip stack is now approaching the danger zone, and then with 5 seconds left before a break (I think dinner break), the dealer started shuffling the cards, meaning one last hand. With the blinds getting so high, small stacks were having to get aggressive and we had very recently had three players bust out of the tournament at my table (replacements had not yet filled their seats). Then two other players left early to get a head start on beating the long bathroom lines. That left only a smattering of players at the table. The action folded to me on the button. I looked down at Ah-3h. This is not a premium hand, but with only two players left to act after me, a suited A-3 figured to be ahead of the range of random cards for only two players. I went all in wanting to simply steal the blinds, thereby giving my chip stack a much-needed increase. Unfortunately, the small blind (the fairly newly arrived big stack at the table) woke up with As-Kc. I was way behind. The Ad-7h-9h flop took me off life support. My nut flush draw had a real chance to win the hand. Chip Leader was muttering under his breath. I needed a heart to make a flush or a 3 to give me two pair. I wasn’t ahead, but I wasn’t that far behind. I have a bunch of outs. I’ve already sucked out once at this table. Could it be that the Poker Gods are finally evening the score for me? I decide I am not too proud to get lucky again. C’mon dealer. C’mon Poker Gods. I’m due a river winner after so many river disasters. I’m also OK with a turn card that gives me a flush, no need to wait til the river. I’m ready for better lucky than good. I’m not ready for my WSOP to end. I’m …

… out of the tournament. Alas, there was no help on the turn or river, and I was out of my final tournament at the WSOP. And once again, there was much sadness. I swear I hear Taps playing in the distance. Cause of death? A missed flush draw.

Given how low I was in chips pretty much all day long, I am amazed I lasted 12 levels. Several players at the table who were table chip leaders at various times all got knocked out before I was ousted. I survived a whole lot longer than seemed possible. Which gets me … wait, let me check … a big fat nothing.

I will wrap up my overall thoughts on my 2019 WSOP experience sometime tomorrow.

This exact scenario played out at one of my tables in 2019, but it can't be the same tournament because the dates don't line up.

I'm sorry the trip didn't yield WSOP glory. I had a very similar experience at the 2019 WSOP. Fired four bracelets events, made four dinner breaks, and had zero cashes.

It's tough for us rec players because most of us don't have the time and/or funds to play a full schedule, so our WSOP fates hinge on just a few events. WSOP events pay 15% of the field. If results were totally random and skill weren't a factor then we'd only expect to cash about one out of every 6-7 tournaments. That may represent 2-3 years worth of WSOP trips for the average tourist who is only firing a couple of these tournaments per summer. We can't realistically expect to cash on every trip, yet it's very easy to become frustrated when we strike out. On a short trip, striking out is very normal though.

Thanks for the empathy. I didn't feel bad about the lack of WSOP glory. That wasn't really my motivation. I wasn't hoping to become famous. What disappointed me was the heavy dose of really bad beats kept me from finding out just how deep I could go, from compiling more stories. It kept me from an even greater experience of what a WSOP run can feel like. It kept me from playing even more poker than I did. It kept me from achieving a feeling of validation. Running deep in any tournament is an electrifying feeling, so it would have been awesome to experience that at the WSOP level. That said, I still loved my WSOP experience. I was way more focused on the journey than the final destination in my WSOP experiences.

I did not walk away from my 2019 WSOP feeling sorry for myself. I considered myself extremely lucky for getting to experience the WSOP. I'll reflect more on the conclusion of my 2019 WSOP in my post tomorrow morning.

The talk about registration reminded me of a registration story. It wasn't exactly in that era, but maybe a few years earlier. I wasn't Diamond at the time and/or I was there late playing a Daily Deepstack. At any rate it was about 2 a.m., and there was almost nobody registering. I'm over on the side the proletariat use, but I can see through the reg window through to the folks on the other Diamond side regging, but there's only one person. Mike Matusow. I'm getting my reg business done, but I can hear that they're giving Mike grief about buying in with Bellagio chips. It's long been a tradition that you can buy in with Rio chips or cash, but not any other casino's chips. Except Bellagio. So they're telling Mike Matusow that they have to verify with the Bellagio that it's plausible that he would have $5000 chips.

He's incredulous and yelling a little. But I never hear him say "Don't you know who I am?", and I think they really don't know who he is. I'm laughing out loud. I finish my business and walk out to leave. The place is nearly deserted, except for a guy down the hall named Greg Raymer. I'm hitting the jackpot wrt poker celebrities, and all in a 5 minute span. Greg is one of the friendliest pros you'll ever meet. I'm chewing his ear off trying to get strat nuggets out of him, and he patiently listens and answers my questions. Then here comes Matusow walking down the hall, and he relates the Bellagio chip story to Greg. I'm nearly on the floor laughing. Matusow is cordial despite having just gone ten rounds with the registration person. Maybe he just thinks I'm a friend of Greg's.

Great story. I'm surprised we don't see sports columnists from major metro newspapers spend a week at the WSOP every summer. There are great stories and interesting characters all over the place for a writer who knows how to tell a good tale. Plus, once the NBA and NHL playoffs are over, sports pages are looking for content other than the dog days of Major League Baseball. Now that I think about it, if I ever retire from running my business (which is not imminent) maybe I will reach out to some of my old sportswriting contacts to see if their newspaper is interested in me doing so. Imagine what I could find if I were wearing my journalist hat and wandering the Paris/Horseshoe floors for 10-12 hours a day/night as compared to what I find as a participant in the WSOP from my seat at a single table.

Misery likes company so while I wish you all the best there is a little of me that is comforted that I am not the only grey haired tpt lvl wsop tourist who gets repeatedly ****ed over at MTTs

They really are an awful pain cave

No real stories to share but ran into Moneymaker and Gus Hanson at the welcome party for the PCA.

Both incredibly nice guys and willing to put up with my fanboy nonsense.

That would be an incredible bit, bring back the old school beat writer. Houndstooth hat, notepad & pencil. I’d like to imagine you have a fancy typewriter. I can hear the rapid clicking now. You should take up smoking as well.

Burning heaters, flipping through your pages of scribble, banging away at the keys….

I’m getting carried away here.

Love the stories, keep 'em coming.

June 11, 2019
Final thoughts that I shared in writing to my non-poker friends via social media on what my experience meant to me even though I did not win any money

(Note to 2+2 readers: I don’t claim that what I wrote has any earth-shattering insight to 2 + 2 members, but it might be interesting to see what the WSOP looked like through the eyes of a rookie. In any event, the following is what I posted on social media at the time to my friends):

World Series of Poker: Final thoughts (very long so you probably won’t want to bother reading if you aren’t into poker).

For starters, this event is massive. The accompanying picture is of just one of a half dozen ballrooms/convention monstrosities at the Rio which is going on for about 14 or 15 hours a day, every day.

The thing that strikes me most about this poker community is the laser-focused, single-minded obsession that exists for almost every player. Poker is all anyone talks about. I’m not just talking about at the poker tables. On breaks, in the hallways, during the walk to your car, the only things anyone talks about are poker hands they have played. Not just bad beat stories, which are plentiful. Tons of the time people are discussing hands they played, did they play it right, could they have played it another way? It is like the world outside poker does not exist. When I was a sportswriter, I did not see this almost 24/7 approach among athletes. Yes, some athletes are wired that way, but nothing like poker players at the WSOP. Poker players eat, drink and sleep poker. The obsession to get better is all consuming. When I was a sportswriter covering the Super Bowl, sportswriters did not sit around talking about ways to improve as writers or share tricks of the trade. When I was a part-time artist and part of an artist community, we might share ideas or techniques but more often than not we talked about other stuff. The amount of work and commitment poker players put into their craft is staggering.

Another take away I have had is I wonder just how many professional poker players are actually profitable? The odds are really stacked against them. I will compare these professional poker players to professional golfers or tennis players because of the tournament aspect where you have to succeed in order to make money (unlike professional athletes in team sports who get paid whether they play well or not once they sign a contract). What is brutal for professional poker players is (unlike pro golfers or tennis players) poker players entirely fund the prize pool with their entry fees. But it gets worse. The sponsoring tournament/casino does not award prizes that are 100 cents on the dollar. They take a cut of the entry fees for dealers and tournament expenses, as well as a cut for their profit, plus the WSOP gets all the TV money with none of it going to the players. Then you add all the other expenses poker players have (flight, hotel, food) and that is an additional obstacle in the way of profitability. These expenses are something pro golfers and tennis players face, and it is a fact that for these fringe pros many have to eventually give up the dream because of mounting expenses (and they don’t pay entry fees).

Also interesting is the fact that professional poker players who may seem like they are winning players may not be. Many of these players are running up massive entry fees beyond what the mainstream public realizes. When a player gets knocked out of a tournament, in many cases they can late register a second time. The problem with this is you only get the regular starting stack but by this time the blinds are pretty high and there is less play and more gamble involved. When I played in the Big 50 tournament (28,000+ entries, four different starting days) I entered twice. The first time was Day 1A and I lasted into Day 2 so I did not re-enter on either Day 1A or 1B. Once I got knocked out, I re-entered on Day 1C and lasted so long that, when I got knocked out, Day 1D was sold out. So, I entered twice ($500 per entry). In talking to other people many of them indicated that they entered three, four, five or even six times. Now let’s say you finished in 1,000th place out of the 28,371 entries. You will have finished in the top 3.5%, which is a hell of a difficult accomplishment. The prize for 1,000th place was $1,953.00. If you entered four times ($500 each), you lost money.

I will give another example. An extremely famous professional poker player has let it be known that chasing the Player of the Year title is important to him. When he busts out of a tournament, he late registers into something else. Some days he plays in four different tournaments. Late one night when I busted out of my tournament, I saw him at a table as I was about to leave. As best as I could tell he had late registered this tournament, had only recently arrived and with the blinds being so high versus his starting stack, he went all in pre-flop with a pair of fours, he got called by AK and when an ace hit on the flop he was out almost as fast as he had arrived. The next day I watched a vlog that he posts daily during the WSOP that showed this bust out hand of his. His vlog indicated that he had lost approximately $90,000 so far at the WSOP (entry fees minus cash prizes received). Then, in his vlog, he bragged that he was in the top 50 in the WSOP Player of the Year race since he had cashed in three events so far. So, yeah, top 50 sounds good, but not so much if you are down $90,000. Now, this player is one of the few players who makes a lot in endorsements (which dried up for most players over a decade ago when online poker became illegal in the U.S.) so maybe it doesn’t matter for him, but there are a lot of players without endorsement money who I suspect are doing the same thing. I’m not saying no one makes money playing professional poker, but I suspect it is less than you might think. I think there are some crushers who make big money but I suspect there is a larger pool of players who just muddle along or are losing money chasing the dream.

One final topic. Getting good cards. I didn’t get much help in the way of cards, which was dispiriting. I played in six tournaments. I was dealt pocket aces six times, which is pretty good but not as great as you might think. At 10-handed tables you should get pocket aces once every 182 hands. I would say I lasted an average of 10 levels per tournament. Let’s say 20 hands are dealt per level (I’m guessing). That is 200 hands per tourney so pocket aces once per tourney seems mathematically reasonable. The problem is that my six pocket aces hands only broke even give or take. Twice my aces got cracked costing me big chip amounts. Twice my raise preflop with pocket aces saw everyone fold, meaning I won very few chips. Once I won a huge pot with AA vs KK. Once I won a decent sized pot with AA vs AK.

From there my lack of cards was pretty severe. In six tournaments I was dealt KK zero times, QQ twice (once when an opponent had AA), JJ once.

Then there was the issue of making hands. I almost never did. I was dealt AK fairly often which is not unusual since there are 16 variations of AK versus only 6 variations of any pair (AA for example). The problem was that in all the times I was dealt AK, I only connected with the flop (first three community cards turned up) twice (and I ended up losing one of those times). So, I won with AK once. Not one time per tournament. One time in six total tournaments.

Beyond that I made a full house only once (first hand of a tournament ironically for a very small pot), one straight, trips three times and two pair three times (two times of which I lost to a better two pair when my opponent hit a river miracle).

During one stretch I got knocked out of three consecutive tournaments when I was way ahead heading to the river card, and all three times a river miracle card knocked me out. I used a poker calculator to figure out the odds of me losing all three hands to the river miracle and the answer was .007, as in less than 1%.

As bad as I ran, I was pretty pleased that I lasted as long as I did in most tournaments. Remove the negative variance and it could have been a much more interesting experience. Does this mean I am as good as professional poker players? Of course not. I am way less experienced than pretty much everyone I faced. There was one table I struggled with (although I lasted 12 levels), but other than that one table I felt perfectly comfortable. The poker training site I used for the past year helped me understand what the other players were doing. I suspect that had I avoided the bad beats and gone deeper into the tournaments, I might have struggled against the better players that last that long. The one Day 2 that I made, I could definitely see an increase in skill level, although me having trip queens against trip aces knocked me out (this is called a cooler in poker which means there is no universe in which you don’t go busto on such a hand) before I could really tell how I would fare.

I can’t imagine this being my vocation and having to deal with the frustration of not getting cards or the devastation of bad beats when this is your life’s work. Experiencing this as a bucket list player was somewhat deflating, but it was a lot easier to absorb since this was just for fun and not the way I put dinner on the table.

Overall, the experience was very fun. It is not a lifestyle that I would enjoy on a permanent basis, but getting to experience the life of a tournament poker player for two weeks was fascinating.

Starting tomorrow I will start posting documenting my 2024 WSOP preparations/studying/live MTT play.

Looking forward to it!

And great write up. I think it does a great job of explaining the aspects of poker that normies on social media may not have thought of.

1) really good writeups and I said that as someone who hates tournaments and barely play them.
2)don't worry about hands that play themselves, things you can't control or the river of the cards when all in.
If you have JJ in a shove spot and run into KK so what. If the hands were reversed the same thing happens.
If you have 99 vs AK all in pre and an ace hits the river you just lost a standard flip. No sense in harping on it or thinking you have a black cloud over your head.

You need to run so good to go deep in these fields.
Chances are like 99 percent of the field you won't and that's okay.

Enjoy your 2024 wsop and hopefully you can run super hot in an event.

I have only been to the WSOP one time, as a brief visitor a couple years ago, and I saw and chatted with Greg Raymer in the restroom. that is my special memory. it was a cool experience and I agree he is an awesome friendly guy.

funny thing is I think later that same afternoon he was trending on Twitter for some outburst or argument.

Trip Report Housekeeping

OK, my trip in the poker time machine back to 2019 is over. Now we fast forward to the buildup to, preparation for, and the participation in the 2024 WSOP. I have delivered more than 17,000 words so far. I think this earns me the benefit of the doubt that I will not “blasted” my 2024 trip report.

Note to readers: None of my posts will occur in real time. I feel the writing can be much better if I remove the time crunch that occurs with trying to write Live. Trying to play poker all day/night and then post on 2+2 the same day/night is Writing Theory Suboptimal. Thus, the finished writing will be after the fact, incorporating notes I take in real time as well as an initial rough draft when I am done playing for the night (if possible), which translates to Writing Theory Optimal (WTO). Plus, it should ensure that I make a post a day without gaps. Thus, please pay attention to the date given at the start (first line in bold face) of each entry.

What follows is my buildup to and study preparation for the 2024 WSOP, which will be followed by 12 days of gray-haired 2024 WSOP action.

2024 WSOP Buildup, September 2023
The poker itch returns, channeling Teddy Roosevelt, choosing a poker training site, the memory of blocking the shot of a basketball Olympian

I am now 61 years old. COVID is not entirely gone but the world is back to normal (or at least normal enough for me to feel more comfortable) and out of nowhere I hear the WSOP calling out to me. I have no idea what prompts it, but one day I wake up and I want to play in the WSOP again.

More gray-haired poker at the WSOP. Is 61 (actually 62 when the 2024 WSOP begins) too old for the rigors of the world’s most famous poker extravaganza? As Teddy Roosevelt once said, “Let us rather run the risk of wearing out than rusting out.” Teddy is my guy as you’ll see in the next two paragraphs.

So why am I planning on returning to the scene of the crime where four years earlier I got absolutely crushed by negative variance? Because I still loved every minute of it. Getting to live the life of a (pseudo) poker pro for two weeks (and two weeks only) was awesome. I loved the long hours at the tables. I loved the adrenaline rush of being in a big hand. I loved how alive I felt when trying to make a difficult decision. I loved competing. I loved going up against the best in the world. I loved being, as Teddy Roosevelt once so eloquently stated, The Man in the Arena:

“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.”

Teddy is my spirit guide for this journey.

Inspired by:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A311CnTjfos

Success for me in the WSOP will not be defined by the Holy Grail of a bracelet won (OK, winning a bracelet would constitute success, but come on, realistic expectations). It will be defined by both success AND failure. It will be defined by merely trying. It will be defined by daring to be great. I don’t need a bracelet to tell myself that I joyously and fearlessly chose to put myself inside the arena.

Did I even love the bad beats and coolers I endured four years ago? Well, of course not. Yet, in a way, they serve a purpose that can be seen as a positive. It’s very much like what I have experienced as a Michigan football season ticket holder for more than 40 years. Enduring the lows, the painful losses, the gut-wrenching bad bounces from my seat in the Big House makes success taste that much sweeter (editor’s note: foreshadowing). The devastating bad beats and coolers that I suffered in the 2019 WSOP just make me that much hungrier to want to get back into the arena, that much more motivated to pursue success in the arena. As a former sportswriter I wrote about guys in the arena at the highest levels, but I was merely a visitor in the arena, not a participant. As a participant in the WSOP I get to be in the arena, and that alone is a spectacular feeling that I will never forget. I win simply by showing up. I will return to the 2024 WSOP to make my man Teddy (Roosevelt not KGB) proud.

Does that mean I want to be a full-time poker pro in the arena? Hell no. Hit me over the head with a baseball bat if you ever hear me express the desire to grind poker professionally for 52 weeks a year.

But two weeks is just enough time for me to enjoy the rhythms of professional tournament poker. Let me put it in terms that you might appreciate. If I were to tell you that there was a basketball training site that you could join for a year at which time you could be good enough to play in pickup games over a two-week period with Steph Curry, Kevin Durant and LeBron James, and not get annihilated, would you do it? Hell yeah! You would be outplayed pretty much all of the time, but you’d be good enough to occasionally shine. Why would you do it? Because you’d have stories to tell and experiences to remember. That’s why I love the idea of playing in the WSOP again. I want stories to tell and experiences to remember.

And I have the superpower necessary to put myself out there against superior poker players … I don’t … get … intimidated! When I played in the 2019 WSOP I never cashed in 12 days at the Rio, but at no time did I feel intimidated. If I were playing the pro tournament circuit full time, that fearlessness would probably (and by probably, I mean definitely) translate to bankroll recklessness. It would undoubtedly see me go bust. My courage would be writing checks that my poker skills could not cash. But for two weeks of poker where I can afford to lose all my tournament buy-ins, not getting intimidated, not playing scared is exactly the skill set necessary to enjoy the experience.

Here is an example from my past to show how the superpower of not being intimidated can lead to an achievable and epic story:

The year was 1980. I was a freshman at the University of Michigan. One of my classes was Economics 101. I have never hated a class as much as I hated that class. Reading the textbook made me want to bash my head against a wall so I could pass out and mercifully stop reading the book. The material wasn’t difficult, but I found it mind-numbingly boring. The only positive to the class was the fact that the hottest girl in my dorm (my friends and I referred to her as “Miss America”) sat two rows in front of me in the class. Even that wasn’t enough to keep me in Economics 101, and I dropped the class. Having one less class meant tons of free time. So, in addition to working mega hours at the student newspaper, I started playing pickup basketball 2-3 hours a day at one of the University’s indoor rec buildings.

I was a regular on the top court with the best players. I wasn’t playing a starring role, but I could rebound a ton, set picks, pass unselfishly, play great defense, never get tired and score a bit. One day my team had won several games in a row (winners stayed on the court) when a team of ringers took us on. Their team included a couple of current players on Michigan’s varsity team, a standout from the previous year’s team and Phil Hubbard (who was a former Michigan All-American, a current NBA player and an Olympic gold medalist). My team was more than holding its own against them mostly because we were playing as though this were Game 7 of the NBA Finals while our opponents (with good reason) weren’t taking us at all seriously.

Then came the moment of truth. Hubbard stole the ball at half court and I suspect had a monster dunk on his mind. I was the only one from my team between him and the basket. He dribbled past the free throw line and started to soar. He brought the ball up to his chest, rose higher and … somehow … I blocked his shot. I have no idea how. I’m pretty sure my eyes were open, but I can’t say so with absolute certainty. His teammates took one look at me and started hooting at hollering at Hubbard. I was maybe a fraction over 6-2 in height versus his 6-8, and I was skinny as a rail. Not an ounce of muscle. I was nobody’s All-American. Hubbard did not look pleased. My teammates were beside themselves with happiness and pride, as one of their own had blocked the shot of Michigan Royalty.

A couple of baskets later I stole the ball from one of the other team’s guards and sprinted toward what looked to be an uncontested layup. I left my feet and started to lay the ball toward the basket, when something sounding like a rocket exploded behind me. It was Hubbard. He blocked the ball, and by blocked I mean he eviscerated the ball, sending it screeching into the solar system where I think it may still be circling the earth to this very day. Hubbard looked down on me with a scowl, then cracked a smile and said, “Now we’re even.” Without hesitation I responded, “I can live with even.” That, my friends, is a story. That is the reason I choose to play in the WSOP against players who are clearly my superior. That is why I don’t get intimidated. Not because I think I am a championship player. It’s because I enjoy the experience, and you never know what might happen. I’m here for the stories and the life experience.

OK, so I’m not scared. But a lack of fear without knowledge adds up to a train wreck just waiting to happen. I haven’t played any poker since the 2019 WSOP. It’s time to find a poker training site. I do my due diligence and decide which site I will use. Just one problem. It’s college football season, my favorite time of year. I decide that I will wait until mid-January when college football is over to start up my poker training. Incredibly, a few days later I stumble across the fact that the training site I like is offering a huge discount for a one-year subscription. Something like 40 cents on the dollar. It’s too good a deal to pass up. I decide to sign up and I will study nights in the 10pm – 2am window when my wife is sleeping but I am still awake.

It turns out I am a man of my word. I consistently put in 1-3 hours a night on the training site. Not because I think this will earn me a WSOP bracelet. I put in the grind so I at least have some idea of what I am doing, of what opposing players are doing. I’m learning the GTO style of today that was not as prevalent 4+ years ago when I last played in the WSOP. Will I play a GTO style or will I use my new found knowledge to grasp how GTO wizards are playing? I can’t say for certain. I guess I’ll find out when I’m at the WSOP tables. I’m putting in the work so that I can play without fear and have some cool experiences. Scared money has no fun. I’m sure I won’t play frightened. I just don’t think it’s in my DNA.

I think I’ll leave you with a quote from former associate judge of the Supreme Court of the United States William O. Douglas (hey, I can quote more than just Teddy Roosevelt): “When a man knows how to live amid danger, he is not afraid to die. When he is not afraid to die, he is, strangely, free to live.”

Bring on the danger! No fear!

Yes, I am exactly the kind of opponent you 365-day-a-year poker killers want at your table. It does not bother me one single bit to recognize this fact.

North Dakota kind of claims Teddy Roosevelt because he's like the only famous person to ever publicly say something nice about ND. so as someone living in ND, I approve your TR-spirit TR

2024 WSOP Buildup
Warning: A non-poker tangent

The next two posts from me have absolutely nothing to do with poker other than they took place within the time frame of my poker study grind. LVL purists should feel free to skip them.

That said, I think you still might enjoy the joyous read.

2024 WSOP Buildup, November 2023-January 2024
Field storming at the Big House, going all-in on the college football playoff

While I have been diligently studying a minimum of five nights a week on my poker training site to prep for the WSOP, my true focus has been on the Michigan football season. To say that I am a diehard fan is an enormous understatement. I have lived, breathed, died Michigan football for the past 54 years since I was 7-years-old (more on this in a bit).

Despite being embroiled in controversy all season, my Wolverines just kept winning and winning and winning. The regular season ending Michigan-Ohio State game was for everything. Unbeaten against unbeaten. Two years earlier I did not attend the Michigan-Ohio State game in Ann Arbor because I was still nervous about COVID-19, and when Michigan ended its loooooooong winless streak against the hated Buckeyes the Wolverine fans stormed the field. I may never forgive myself for missing that game. There is a hole in my soul because I did not attend that game. So, for this year’s game I was going with my senior year college roommate NextDoorLou (his dorm room was next to mine our freshmen year, and he has been seated next to me at Michigan football home games for 40+ years), my daughter and her boyfriend. I told all of them ahead of time that if we won, my 61-year-old self was storming the field and they had pretty damn well be prepared to do so with me.

Well, Michigan won the game and I was working my way down the stadium steps toward the field when I noticed a little boy and his dad start to get separated. I told the dad to go ahead of me and stay connected with his son. Sometimes a good deed gets rewarded. The drop down from Row 1 to field level was a good eight feet down. The dad I had helped out saw this old man and he took it upon himself to help me make the long drop down without injury. A small debt quickly repaid. Once I was on the field with my crew, the stadium PA announcer kept asking everyone to leave the field. No one was listening. You want me to leave the field? I’ve waited my whole f#^king life to be on this field basking in a win over Ohio State (when I was in college the on-field security – aka the helmeted and booted oppressors – were armed with billy clubs and weren’t afraid to use them on fans storming the field, but present day they take a kinder, gentler approach). I was in no hurry to leave, nor was anyone else. We took a picture of us with the jumbo scoreboard in the background reading “Please leave the field.” Yeah, right. Come make me! When I posted the photo on social media, one of my friends responded that my crew and I were scofflaws. I’m a 61-year-old scofflaw. I’m a baaaaaaaaad man!

Inspired by:
https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=962468587255740

Next up, the Big 10 title game against an utterly outmanned Iowa squad. I wasn’t planning on going to the game. After all, I went to the Big 10 title game a year earlier. Been there, done that. Plus, there were much bigger fish to fry. But then, a couple of days before the game I had an epiphany. When my dad was in the Army during the Korean War, he was stationed in Fort Sill, Oklahoma. During this time the Oklahoma football team was in the midst of winning 47 consecutive games, which is still a record. My dad used to always tell me that the Oklahoma fans used to complain how boring it was since they won every game and were almost never even challenged. I always thought that was crazy. Bored by their own domination? Crazy talk. So, when I thought about the Oklahoma story, I decided I should not take an appearance in the Big Ten title game for granted. Yeah, we were expected to win easily, but how many times do you get to celebrate a conference championship with confetti flying through the air. At the last minute, I bought a ticket, went to the game and enjoyed a championship won.

Michigan was now the #1 seed in the four-team college football playoff, and I made a decision. Going to both the semifinals at the Rose Bowl and the possible national title game in Houston would be both expensive and time consuming. So, I decided it was national title or bust. Tickets for the national title game were a lot cheaper at the moment than they would be once it was known who the teams playing for all the marbles would be. I went on SeatGeek and bought two tickets for myself and IlliniArt (my good friend who would root for my team while wearing Michigan gear in a show of solidarity), made airline, hotel and car rental reservations, and hoped against hope that Michigan would beat Alabama in the Rose Bowl. And if the good guys lost, I figured we’d still get to see the national title game, which isn’t terrible.

The game against Alabama went into overtime (I could barely breathe) and Michigan made a stop on fourth down to earn a spot in the national title game. My God, I’m going to see my team play for all the marbles. Football final table, head’s up!

2024 WSOP buildup: January 8, 2024 National title game
The greatest night of my life

WSOP studying has been briefly put on hold. For the moment … poker … does … not … matter.

Here is what I was feeling, here is what I was thinking, here is what I wrote to my friends on social media to describe the experience of seeing Michigan play Washington for the national title:

It all starts in the year 1969. I was seven years old and that is when I first started watching sports. On a Saturday afternoon in November, I stumbled upon the Michigan-Ohio State football game by accident. Ohio State was the defending national champion, was again ranked #1 and was being called the greatest college football team of all time. Upstart Michigan pulled off one of the greatest upsets in college football history, 24-12. The view on the TV screen of Michigan’s Jim Mandich being carried off the field, completely overcome with emotion, remains etched in my memory to this day. When the game ended, I immediately adopted Michigan as my team and told myself I was going to go to school at Michigan someday. Why a seven-year old would have that thought I have no earthly idea, but that’s what I was thinking.

Starting the next season, I watched or listened to every Michigan game on TV (only 2-3 games a season back then) or on the radio. The radio broadcasts were a tiny bit scratchy because of the distance away from suburban Chicago (I think I picked up the games from a Benton Harbor, Michigan station). The radio announcer was the iconic Bob Ufer who was a gigantic Michigan fan who lived and died with the fortunes of his beloved Meeeechigan. Year after year my Michigan fandom grew.

Fast forward to the first week of my freshman year of high school. My school had a college counseling room with binders of information about pretty much every college in the country. During a free period, I walked into the room on a mission and asked the adult in the room if he could help me find out what GPA and ACT score I’d need to get into Michigan. He looked it up, told me and I said, “I can do that.” The man who helped me then looked at me kind of puzzled and said, “What year in school are you?” I told him I was a freshman and he said, “Well, that’s a first.”

Fast forward some more, and I found out what the first date Michigan would accept applications and I sent mine in that day. I think Michigan had rolling admission or something like that, so I received an acceptance letter several months before other kids at my high school started hearing back from colleges.

Off I went to Michigan, and my four years there didn’t just live up to my lofty expectations. They massively surpassed my enormous expectations. Ann Arbor is my happy place.

And Michigan sports are my passion. I have had season tickets to Michigan football games for 40+ years. There have been too many amazing wins to count. Of course, there have been a bunch of devastating losses that have been absolute gut punches. My wife still doesn’t understand why the losses make me so upset.

In my lifetime Michigan had won a national title in basketball (1989) and half a national title in football (1997 season). The basketball national title was great, but I wasn’t at that game. I watched it on TV. The half a football national title, I attended the Rose Bowl win over Washington State. It was an awesome experience, we thought we had won it all but back then you had to wait a couple of days for the national title vote from two separate polls, and as it turned out Michigan got jobbed out of half of the national title.

Which brings me to tonight’s national title game. I was at it, and it was winner take all in the playoff format. No TV. No vote. This was for all the marbles and my good friend IlliniArt and I were in the stands.

I was on my feet the entire game screaming my lungs out. Never have I wanted a win so badly. Michigan took a huge lead early. Was this really happening? Could we actually win in blowout fashion? Sheer joy and excitement. But so much game still to play. Then Michigan went into a shell offensively for two quarters and Washington was hanging around, hanging around, hanging around within a score. The emotions switched to frustration, pain, panic, anguish, fear that the worst was coming.

But the defense kept playing ferociously and impenetrably. Was the defense alone going to be enough? It was the fourth quarter and Michigan’s lead was 7, the team hanging on to the lead by a thread. I could taste victory. I could sense impending doom. My emotions were all over the place.

Then Michigan went up by 14. Then the lead was 21. It’s happening. It’s happening!! IT’S HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!! The tears starting to well up. Victory formation!!!!!!!!!!! 0:00 on the scoreboard. Confetti everywhere. NATIONAL CHAMPIONS!!!!!!!!!!

This was the sports fandom moment I’ve waited my entire life to experience. All because 7-year-old me stumbled upon the 1969 Michigan-Ohio State game on TV by accident.

2024 WSOP buildup: January 9, 2024 the morning after
What does this mean in a poker context?

So, what does any of this have to do with poker? How does it relate to the 2024 WSOP I will play in almost five months from now?

As I see it, there are two ways this could go.

Possibility 1: This is the year of rppoker! Everything will go my way at the WSOP. The deck will smack me in the head. My big hands will hold up. When I am behind, I will suck out relentlessly and unmercifully. If you find yourself at my table, get out of my way. Get off the tracks, because the Big Train is coming! I am on the heater of all heaters!

Possibility 2: I have used up absolutely every ounce of run good available to me. A lifetime’s worth. Two lifetime’s worth. An eternity’s worth. I will be card dead beyond belief. And when I am dealt big hands, I will suffer outrageously improbable and unimaginably bad beats. Pure pain will ride shotgun with me the entire Series. Get in as many hands as you can against me, because hellfire will rain down upon me.

I prefer Possibility 1, but whichever possibility takes place I will have a stupid grin on my face. I am good for the rest of my life. No matter what happens at WSOP 2024, it will be the year of rppoker as far as I am concerned. I am free rolling.

I enjoyed the analogy of pain sittin shotgun.

Maybe that’s a metaphor, what do I know. But I can totally relate, on and off the felt.

Insane life journey up to this point. Grateful for the good and bad run. It’s important for me to stay humble, embracing the bad beats.

At the end of the day, we are beyond fortunate to play a game in our spare time, no matter the outcome.

Possibility 3, and the most likely scenario, is your results will be somewhere in between options 1 and 2. Either way, I am sure you will have a blast! I'll be there when you're in Vegas, playing in the Limit Hold 'Em event.

Good luck in the Limit Hold 'Em tournament. I hope you run deep.

What are your dates for this year?
I can’t seem to find them. Many words.

May 28-June 8