2019 World Series of Poker, day 3 (May 31, 2019)
A massive delay to start Day 2, the money bubble approaches, an unexpectedly quiet Maurice Hawkins, I stomp on the accelerator and go for it – three of a kind vs. three of a kind
Day 2 of Flight A of the Big 50 for me. We were supposed to start at 5:00 p.m., but because there were so many people playing in Flight B, Day 1 of the Big 50 (there would ultimately be 28,371 entries in the Big 50, making it the biggest ever live tournament, hey I’m part of history) plus I suspect other tournaments, there is a massive delay to the start of my Day 2. Apparently, there are not enough tables available, so we have to wait. The frustrating part was they couldn’t give us a new starting time. They just said stay close and we’ll let you know.
So, I waited … and waited … and waited. And then … let me check my notes … I waited some more. For my fellow Day 2 waitees, tension is reaching DEFCON 3. Anger is bubbling to the top. I hope they are this impatient once the cards are in the air at my table. If I were good at it, this would be the time to calmly meditate. Alas, the one time I tried to meditate, I was told to empty my mind and don’t think about anything. And it went like this for me: “Empty your mind. Empty … mind. Think of nothing. Think of nothing. Think of nothing. Think of … think of ... nothing. Mmmmmmmmmm, mmmmmmmmm, mmmmmmm. Is there a football game on TV? Doh!!!!!!!!!!!!! Empty mind. Don’t think … Don’t think … Don’t think, Meat. Bull Durham sure is a great movie. ARGHHHHH! I can’t stop thinking!” And then I stopped after a grand total of … 60 seconds. Is that good?
Eventually it is finally announced that we should head to our Day 2A tables, and we got started. I’M UNBAGGING CHIPS!! Based upon a Hendon Mob search, I knew there were two for certain professionals at my table, and two other players who may or may not have been pros (lifetime earnings of just shy of $250,000). The overwhelming chip leader at my table at the start of play was Maurice Hawkins, he of double-digit WSOP circuit ring fame. He was seated two to my left. Early on he was not at all active. I did not get out of line against him, but the couple of times I raised his blinds he folded which means a) he had junk hands, b) he saw that I was an older player and figured I was a tight player who had a real hand, or c) he was taking his time early on to figure out how people were playing. In addition to being inactive, he was also quite quiet, which surprised me given his reputation for table talk.
In any event, my chip stack was solid when a monster hand developed fairly near the money bubble. At this point I had stolen blinds an appropriate but not out of line number of times and had not been to showdown, so I don’t think I had much of an established table image. Blinds were starting to get up there, but no reason to panic. In the cutoff I was dealt Qh-Qd. The UTG player who had not been terribly active raised 3x the big blind. UTG+2 called. At this point UTG+2 had been the most active player at the table, choosing to just call a lot of pre-flop raises and then trying to take down hands post-flop. Based upon the information I had, UTG was not likely to be splashing around with junk but I did not have enough information to know if he was a Nit or just had been getting bad cards before this hand. I felt very confident that UTG+2’s range was highly likely to be trailing my Q-Q. Based upon my chip stack, my options were fold, call or go all-in.
Yes, I could have folded my way into the money. I’m not going to lie, the idea of cashing in my first tournament at my first WSOP was a thrilling thought. But come on, folding Q-Q in this spot would be gutless. And I felt you can’t just call here since Q-Q three ways is not massively desirable once the flop hits. I felt going all-in was the best option. I was certain UTG+2 would fold if UTG called. I felt that UTG+2 was capped at middle pair to J-J or an ace with a good but not top kicker.
UTG, however, was an uncertainty. I figured him for 10-10 or better along with A-K and maybe A-Q suited. As I saw it, I could be a coward and fold, or go all-in and either get two folds (unlikely but I’d gladly take it), get knocked out (booooo!!!) or win the hand after getting called and have enough chips to be dangerous (yes please). I figured the whole point was to give myself a chance at a deep run rather than just try to min cash. So, I went for it. When the action worked itself around to me, I went all-in. I believe I could have raised without going all-in, but doing so would have meant I was pot committed if someone put me all-in so I figured I’d go for it all, perhaps increasing fold equity and the possibility that I could take the pot down without needing to see any cards turned over.
UTG, who had me slightly covered, then proceeded to tank for at least two minutes. This was unusual since everyone at the table had been making decisions in like 3-4 seconds or less up until now. Thus, two minutes seemed like an eternity. I figured, optimist that I am, this meant he had a difficult decision, which would mean I was either ahead or we would be flipping. Unless he had fallen asleep (unlikely) the remaining possibility was that he was Hollywooding with A-A, trying to induce UTG+2 to call as well.
UTG finally announced he was all-in (please be A-K). UTG+2 insta-folded and showed 10-10 face up. Cards were turned over and UTG had Ac-As. My Qh-Qd was in big trouble.
The flop came Qs in the window. OMG, I flopped a set of queens. Half a second of delirious joy, poker is easy! Followed by a harmless 2c … and then … Ah. Poker is difficult.
And there was much sadness.
My three queens were crushed by a trio of aces. There would be no one-outer miracle case queen on the turn or river and I was out. Hawkins, who was not in the hand, leaned into the table, reached over and tapped the table twice right in front of where I was seated. I don’t know if that meant he respected my decision to go all-in, or if he was sad that the inexperienced, gray-haired, poker old-timer had been knocked out before he could be the one to relieve me of my chips.
I got up, wished everyone good luck and proceeded to walk the hallways of the Rio for a good 15 minutes in stunned disbelief, trying to decide if there was any way I could have played the hand differently. Back and forth I walked the hallways. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Had I made a colossal blunder, or was I right to go for it all? I didn’t know about solvers at the time, so the question went unanswered. Lacking poker friends at the WSOP, I had no one to ask. I certainly wasn’t going to go up to a total stranger with my tale of woe and ask for feedback.
What I was left with was glassy-eyed disbelief. The only time I have ever felt that numb, unable to process what I’d just seen were two University of Michigan football games I attended in the past (my alma mater where I’ve had season tickets since 1980). The first game was the 1994 Kordell Stewart miracle game where Michigan had the lead against Colorado with one play to go only to see Stewart uncork a 70-yard thunderbolt of a Hail Mary pass on the game’s final play, which got tipped in the air and then caught by a Colorado receiver for the touchdown and a miracle reversal of fortune. The other game was Michigan against Michigan State in 2015 where on the final play of the game all Michigan’s punter had to do to ensure the win was catch the snap and kick it (I don’t think Michigan State even had a punt returner back). Instead, the Michigan punter dropped the snap, got spun around, chaos ensued and Michigan State picked up the ball and ran it back for the gut-wrenching winning touchdown. In both cases I just stood there in the stands unable to comprehend the cataclysmic, volcanic, earth-shattering, sinkhole swallowing, tsunami of a disaster that had just happened. I believe in both of these games, my best friend and I just stood there in deafening silence for who knows how long before one of us said to the other, “Let’s get the F#^k out of here,”
Admittedly, I was not a favorite in the QQ vs AA hand, but that is the type of incomprehensible pain I felt in the immediate aftermath. At those two football games I never even considered the possibility that my team could lose on the final play, and then, out of nowhere, catastrophic agony that I will never forget and NEVER get over. At the WSOP just before the set over set hand commenced, I was minding my own business, plenty of chips, feeling calm and serene, the money bubble is just around the corner, all is well with the world, and then in an instant, BAM, I’m poker roadkill.
In any event, after 15 minutes of walking the RIO hallways I had not come up with any answers or feel-good insights into what had just happened. It was at that point that I did the only thing a poker player can do when they are in my shoes at the World Series of Poker …
… I got in line and registered for the next day’s tournament.