"The People's Freeroll" and my 2016 World Series of Poker Staking Packages.
06-03-2016
, 01:07 PM
06-04-2016
, 01:23 PM
06-04-2016
, 01:25 PM
06-04-2016
, 04:11 PM
06-04-2016
, 06:55 PM
06-04-2016
, 07:26 PM
06-05-2016
, 03:27 PM
2016 World Series of Poker Update #1
“Inside of a ring or out, ain't nothing wrong with going down. It's staying down that's wrong.”
-Muhammad Ali
Well, this bull had been waiting for a full year after the biggest tournament gaffe of my poker career to have the chance to get back up again in The World Series of Poker and I was determined to not let you all down again. So, needless to say I was all amped up to get out here from Detroit, Michigan to play in Colossus, but wouldn't you know I ran into some inclement weather and cracked my cell phone screen in Knoxville, Tennessee which caused me to have to stay there an extra day at my families to get a replacement phone overnight mailed to my Mother's house. As some of you all know my Sister recently had a baby and this was the first time that me, my Mother, my Sister, and her baby all got to be together. If you've followed me from my early days back in 2012 on this site and know my families history, you know this was a big deal for me as me and my Mother have recently started to mend some fences. Even though that, "Sometimes, yes sometimes, oh sometimes, she made me feel, just like a "Motherless Child."
As Prince would say, "There is no love, but the love we make" and I've been trying my hardest to make peace with anyone who has wronged me, hurt me, or perhaps caused me to say some things I really didn't mean because they weren't the best Mother, Father, friend, or family member. I'd be lying if I said Prince's death didn't have a big effect on me. What sucks is I've dated a few girls who had drug addictions. Instead of loving them without condition, I'd often take the time to remind them how weak and pathetic they were. Not because I really thought they were weak, pathetic, or some sort of awful person. Mainly because I personally feed off negativity towards me and past mistakes then use is to become a better person, poker player, or whatever. So, it was only fitting that fate take away one of my biggest inspirations with a nasty opiate addiction to teach me a lesson and it did. Life is too short to hold grudges against people, to try to control people, to meet someone then try to mold them into who you exactly what you want to be instead of just loving them unconditionally for who and what they are. I really can't express how sorry I am about all this and if they are reading I hope they accept my apology, in time I'll be giving them one face to face. I swear on everything I love all I ever wanted you to do was "Put down the needle, Put down the spoon."
Desperate is the day that is tomorrow
For those who do not know the time has come
To whip the dogs that beg, steal or borrow
From the table, God set for His son.
Wicked is the witch that stands for nothing
All the while watching to see you fall
Deeper than the ditch that bred your suffering
The one being dug right now by them all.
Happy is the way to meet your burdens
No matter how heavy or dark the day
Pity on those with no hope for tomorrow
It's never as bad as it seems until we say.
Precious is the baby with a mother
That tells him that his Saviour is coming soon
All that believe will cleanse and purify themselves
Put down the needle, put down the spoon.
Precious is the baby with a mother
That tells him that his Saviour is coming soon
All that believe will cleanse and purify themselves
Put down the needle, put down the spoon.
Sacred is the prayer that asks for nothing, oh
While seeking to give thanks for every breath we take, oh
Blessed are we inside this prayer
For in the new world, we will be there.
The only love there is, is the love we make.
Anyway, I'm sure you would all like me to get on to talking about poker. But, this is a Lotgrinder thread, a Lotgrinder post, and as Prince would say, "A strong spirit will always transcend the rules," and that's why you guys have continued to invest in me as a person and poker player for some time now. Perhaps with a little luck, this will be the year that we finally capture "The People's Bracelet" and you'll all be invited to accept it on stage with me or wear it at what will now be an annual event during the WSOP, "The People's Party."
Now that I've got that little introduction out of the way, lets get onto what happened yesterday during Colossus' Flight E here in Las Vegas at The World Series of Poker.
Level 1:
We sit down at table #465 in the Amazon room and wouldn't you know we have the notorious poker degen, scammer, thief, or whatever you would like to call Chino Rheem sitting at our table. Now, I don't know this guy personally, but I do know where there's smoke there's often fire and a lot of people have told me this guy is a cancer in the poker community when it comes to paying back loans, making good on promises to chop tournament winnings, scamming, etc. So, I wanted to make sure everybody on Twitter knew where he was at in case Chino decided to start paying people back and I tweet out, "Hey everybody, Chino Rheem is at my table and says he has the money he owes you, stop by and get it," or something along those lines.
Then, a few moments later, all hell breaks loose when we pick up Ks8s and decide to open to 125 from MP when the blinds are 25/50, there's two callers by the time it gets to Rheem and he 3bets to 500. I figure if he is the kind of guy that's going to be reckless with other people's money, which means you are also probably reckless with your own life and personal health, he's definitely the kind of guy that would get reckless with his poker chips in level one of a tournament. So, I decide to flat call and see what happens post flop. All others fold.
Flop is 8h 3c 2d. Rheem pots it. I tank call. I want him to think he has a chance to fold me out of this hand. The turn is a 10. Rheem pots it again. I tank call again. At this point I firmly believe Rheem has 99+ pocket pair, got lucky and hit the 10, or the biggest part of his range is complete air. River is another 10. Rheem snap ships all in. Well, the river 10 tells me he probably does not have a 10. He also pots it again when he goes all in, which is a very strong sign he could have absolutely nothing or QQ, KK, AA. Something just didn't smell right to me, something smelled like a rat, something smelled like Chino Rheem and I made the decision to call.
Turned out to be a good decision.
Chino rolled Q3 offsuit.
I bet you're thinking, "What an idiot."
Well, what if I told you he tried to bluff a guy wearing this outfit?
Get in the fukking trunk Chino!!!!!
Level 2,3, and 4:
Now, nothing real exciting hand wise happens during level 2 and 3, but I start to get a headache and a back ache because Chino is causing all sorts of fuss flipping out in the back of the trunk. I can hear him crying, screaming, kicking, rolling all around, and my ride is just bouncing around everywhere. I keep thinking to myself, "If this guy hates the back of a trunk so bad, why in the hell did he wind sprint towards my ride like he was Carl Lewis and dive in with perfect form like he was some sort of Olympic diver?"
"Shut the fukk up back there Chino!!!! I got a tournament to play!!! By Gawd!!!"
I slam on the breaks and give myself some whipflash, but thankfully I can hear Chino's dome slam off the back seats and he knocks himself out. Finally, some peace and quiet again. Anyway, by level four some fat tournament jobber chick is like, "Nice Donald Trump hat."
"Thanks," I reply. "I came here to build a wall." She's all like, "What? Huh? What?" All pissed off like Burger King canceled here favorite breakfast crossainwhich deal. Then I say, "Build a wall of chips obviously, how else do you think I'm going to win this thing?" Obviously, she was not amused, but a few other people laughed and so did I and that certainly enough to piss her off even more. Soon after I flopped top two pair in a raised pot, put a guy all in for around 5k, but then he hit his open end straight flush draw and that knocked me back down to around 7,000 chips.
Levels 5,6,7, 8, and 9:
Blinds were 150/300, 200/400, 250/500, and 300/600 during these levels and I started them with around 7,000 in chips. The table looked chock full of dripping wet pussies (like the people who complain to the mods about me circumventing the profanity filter) and I decided that Chino would be better equipped to take advantage of these sort of players then me. So, I popped the latch on one of my back seats and I'm like, "Yo Chino, I got around 25 big blinds, and a bunch of weak passive at my table, what's my plan?" He's like, "If I tell you how to cheat them, scam them, mislead them, 3b raise them out of their 2x opens, and help you steal their blinds will you let me out of this god damn trunk?" So, I decide to cut a deal with Rheem and during these levels he gives me his expert lying, stealing, and scamming advice. Sure enough, I can't even remember showing down a hand during these levels, by by the start of level ten I'm sitting with around 30k chips.
Level 10:
By the time level 10 rolls around I got all the help I was gonna get out of Chino, he starts acting all up in the back of the trunk again, kind of like the scene from "Tommy Boy" where the dear goes buck wild in the back seat of the convertible. I'm like, "Calm down bro. A deals a deal Chino. Maybe you can learn something from this. No need to wreck my ride any further." Then I walk the back, let him loose, and he scurries away like a little rat running down the Rio corridor after he tries to give me a swift kick in the balls. But, you know I got that Rex Kwan Do $hit down pat and I "Block that $hit every time."
A few moments later I get my into this spot.
Small Blind vs Big Blind.
I am BB. SB does not raise.
Blinds 500/1k/100 ante.
Flop 4 5s 6s.
3 k in pot, I bet 2.5k with J3 offsuit because I really feel this guy has no interest in this pot since and I just want to take it down, he thinks for a minute then calls, turn King of diamonds, he thinks for a minute, grabs his chips, then checks while keeping a firm grip on his chips, river 6 hearts, the straight draws and flush draws missed. Now he barrels out almost a pot size bet real quick on the river.
I know he is never donking out a pot sized bet with a 4,5, or K here. He would check back a 4 or 5 because he has show down value and he would bet a K much smaller to get a little value because he knows he sucked out on my perceived small piece of the flop. No Ace in his range or he raises pre because this guy had been active. He also never goes through the thinking and grabbing his chips act if he flops top pair I don't think. I also strongly believe he would have bet top pair if he had it to protect from draws.
I decide my Jack high can only be beat by an exotic Q7 hand. Only thing he could be holding that he would bluff with and his trash would still beat my trash hand.
So I make the call with confidence.
He rolls 97.
Then I think, "I Must Be The Greatest."But, then I have to endure being berated by the guy I called with jack high for the next thirty minutes and remember I still have never even cashed in a World Series of Poker event yet and remain. So, I stay focused and continue to add chips to my stack by using well times aggression pre-flop and not having to show down many hands.
Level 11+12:
Not much to report in these levels, other than my AK sucking out against a new villain we had no information on that had just sat down to our table.
Blinds were 600/1200, new player raises to 3000 from UTG, by the time it gets to me OTB there's been two callers, then another player shoves all in for 15k, and I decide to just ship it for around 45k. The original raiser has around 20k back, he calls, and all others fold.
When the hands are rolled it's KK vs JJ vs our AJ and we get a Q 10 4 flop, x turn, J on the river.
Ship it!!!!
A few people start commenting about how I make calls with jack high and am right and how I am so lucky to have AK beat KK with a jack on the river like that, blah blah blah blah. Then I say, "Well. If you all really want to know how I am going to win this tournament I have no problem telling you how I am going to do it. I can even show you all how I'm going to do it. Then some of them are like, "Please do. Oh please do." So, I pull this picture up on my cell phone and I pass it around the table.
Levels 13+14:
All I remember about these levels is one of them is where I made the money and both of them had me going completely card dead and I'll admit nothing I did in these levels really worked. Every time I tried to steal a person's blinds I got 3b back at or had a guy defend his blinds and then I had to give up after a c-bet because I was on complete air. I had my stack as high as 50 big blinds in level 11 or 12, but by the end of these levels I was back down to around 30 big blinds. I'd say my only tournament mistake was calling a nitty guy to my direct rights 12bb ship with Ad8d when he was SB and I was BB and it folded all the way around to him, then he shoved. Of course he has to be shoving with AJ and couldn't have had a worse ace or another broadway hand I could have beat. Some would say I may be being results oriented, but some nits just have that old man nit look and are so so so so so nitty. They'll be down to like 10bb there and just fold their KQ instead of going all in. This guy had that look. I still called. If I am going to brag about my great plays, as always, I feel obligated to tell you about all my gaffes as well. Those are 12 big blinds I would love to have back.
Level 15+16:
Played these two levels with a 25 bb stack all the way down to a 10bb stack. Lots and lots of 3bet all ins vs active openers and me open shipping in the right spots against people I thought were weak when it came to defending blinds. Gave it everything I had. Around twenty minutes after we could no longer register for Colossus Flight F I picked up Ace/Jack offsuit in MP 1 and it was folded around to me. I was sitting with 15bb and shipped it just like I was supposed to, and of course it folds around to the nittiest of all nits in the big blind and he wakes up with A/K. Unfortunately, as I said before, this report only has one suckout story. Our AJ did not approve and we walk away from Colossus with our head held high because this was actually our first World Series of Poker cash and I really do feel there is lots more to come in the future.
And it goes without saying this post was dedicated to the lives and achievements of Prince Rogers Nelson and Muhammad Ali.
"No, I am not going 10,000 miles to help murder kill and burn other people to simply help continue the domination of white slavemasters over dark people the world over. This is the day and age when such evil injustice must come to an end. I Ain't Got No Quarrel With The VietCong, No VietCong Ever Called Me Nig*er."
-Muhammad Ali
“Inside of a ring or out, ain't nothing wrong with going down. It's staying down that's wrong.”
-Muhammad Ali
Well, this bull had been waiting for a full year after the biggest tournament gaffe of my poker career to have the chance to get back up again in The World Series of Poker and I was determined to not let you all down again. So, needless to say I was all amped up to get out here from Detroit, Michigan to play in Colossus, but wouldn't you know I ran into some inclement weather and cracked my cell phone screen in Knoxville, Tennessee which caused me to have to stay there an extra day at my families to get a replacement phone overnight mailed to my Mother's house. As some of you all know my Sister recently had a baby and this was the first time that me, my Mother, my Sister, and her baby all got to be together. If you've followed me from my early days back in 2012 on this site and know my families history, you know this was a big deal for me as me and my Mother have recently started to mend some fences. Even though that, "Sometimes, yes sometimes, oh sometimes, she made me feel, just like a "Motherless Child."
As Prince would say, "There is no love, but the love we make" and I've been trying my hardest to make peace with anyone who has wronged me, hurt me, or perhaps caused me to say some things I really didn't mean because they weren't the best Mother, Father, friend, or family member. I'd be lying if I said Prince's death didn't have a big effect on me. What sucks is I've dated a few girls who had drug addictions. Instead of loving them without condition, I'd often take the time to remind them how weak and pathetic they were. Not because I really thought they were weak, pathetic, or some sort of awful person. Mainly because I personally feed off negativity towards me and past mistakes then use is to become a better person, poker player, or whatever. So, it was only fitting that fate take away one of my biggest inspirations with a nasty opiate addiction to teach me a lesson and it did. Life is too short to hold grudges against people, to try to control people, to meet someone then try to mold them into who you exactly what you want to be instead of just loving them unconditionally for who and what they are. I really can't express how sorry I am about all this and if they are reading I hope they accept my apology, in time I'll be giving them one face to face. I swear on everything I love all I ever wanted you to do was "Put down the needle, Put down the spoon."
Desperate is the day that is tomorrow
For those who do not know the time has come
To whip the dogs that beg, steal or borrow
From the table, God set for His son.
Wicked is the witch that stands for nothing
All the while watching to see you fall
Deeper than the ditch that bred your suffering
The one being dug right now by them all.
Happy is the way to meet your burdens
No matter how heavy or dark the day
Pity on those with no hope for tomorrow
It's never as bad as it seems until we say.
Precious is the baby with a mother
That tells him that his Saviour is coming soon
All that believe will cleanse and purify themselves
Put down the needle, put down the spoon.
Precious is the baby with a mother
That tells him that his Saviour is coming soon
All that believe will cleanse and purify themselves
Put down the needle, put down the spoon.
Sacred is the prayer that asks for nothing, oh
While seeking to give thanks for every breath we take, oh
Blessed are we inside this prayer
For in the new world, we will be there.
The only love there is, is the love we make.
Anyway, I'm sure you would all like me to get on to talking about poker. But, this is a Lotgrinder thread, a Lotgrinder post, and as Prince would say, "A strong spirit will always transcend the rules," and that's why you guys have continued to invest in me as a person and poker player for some time now. Perhaps with a little luck, this will be the year that we finally capture "The People's Bracelet" and you'll all be invited to accept it on stage with me or wear it at what will now be an annual event during the WSOP, "The People's Party."
Now that I've got that little introduction out of the way, lets get onto what happened yesterday during Colossus' Flight E here in Las Vegas at The World Series of Poker.
Level 1:
We sit down at table #465 in the Amazon room and wouldn't you know we have the notorious poker degen, scammer, thief, or whatever you would like to call Chino Rheem sitting at our table. Now, I don't know this guy personally, but I do know where there's smoke there's often fire and a lot of people have told me this guy is a cancer in the poker community when it comes to paying back loans, making good on promises to chop tournament winnings, scamming, etc. So, I wanted to make sure everybody on Twitter knew where he was at in case Chino decided to start paying people back and I tweet out, "Hey everybody, Chino Rheem is at my table and says he has the money he owes you, stop by and get it," or something along those lines.
Then, a few moments later, all hell breaks loose when we pick up Ks8s and decide to open to 125 from MP when the blinds are 25/50, there's two callers by the time it gets to Rheem and he 3bets to 500. I figure if he is the kind of guy that's going to be reckless with other people's money, which means you are also probably reckless with your own life and personal health, he's definitely the kind of guy that would get reckless with his poker chips in level one of a tournament. So, I decide to flat call and see what happens post flop. All others fold.
Flop is 8h 3c 2d. Rheem pots it. I tank call. I want him to think he has a chance to fold me out of this hand. The turn is a 10. Rheem pots it again. I tank call again. At this point I firmly believe Rheem has 99+ pocket pair, got lucky and hit the 10, or the biggest part of his range is complete air. River is another 10. Rheem snap ships all in. Well, the river 10 tells me he probably does not have a 10. He also pots it again when he goes all in, which is a very strong sign he could have absolutely nothing or QQ, KK, AA. Something just didn't smell right to me, something smelled like a rat, something smelled like Chino Rheem and I made the decision to call.
Turned out to be a good decision.
Chino rolled Q3 offsuit.
I bet you're thinking, "What an idiot."
Well, what if I told you he tried to bluff a guy wearing this outfit?
Get in the fukking trunk Chino!!!!!
Level 2,3, and 4:
Now, nothing real exciting hand wise happens during level 2 and 3, but I start to get a headache and a back ache because Chino is causing all sorts of fuss flipping out in the back of the trunk. I can hear him crying, screaming, kicking, rolling all around, and my ride is just bouncing around everywhere. I keep thinking to myself, "If this guy hates the back of a trunk so bad, why in the hell did he wind sprint towards my ride like he was Carl Lewis and dive in with perfect form like he was some sort of Olympic diver?"
"Shut the fukk up back there Chino!!!! I got a tournament to play!!! By Gawd!!!"
I slam on the breaks and give myself some whipflash, but thankfully I can hear Chino's dome slam off the back seats and he knocks himself out. Finally, some peace and quiet again. Anyway, by level four some fat tournament jobber chick is like, "Nice Donald Trump hat."
"Thanks," I reply. "I came here to build a wall." She's all like, "What? Huh? What?" All pissed off like Burger King canceled here favorite breakfast crossainwhich deal. Then I say, "Build a wall of chips obviously, how else do you think I'm going to win this thing?" Obviously, she was not amused, but a few other people laughed and so did I and that certainly enough to piss her off even more. Soon after I flopped top two pair in a raised pot, put a guy all in for around 5k, but then he hit his open end straight flush draw and that knocked me back down to around 7,000 chips.
Levels 5,6,7, 8, and 9:
Blinds were 150/300, 200/400, 250/500, and 300/600 during these levels and I started them with around 7,000 in chips. The table looked chock full of dripping wet pussies (like the people who complain to the mods about me circumventing the profanity filter) and I decided that Chino would be better equipped to take advantage of these sort of players then me. So, I popped the latch on one of my back seats and I'm like, "Yo Chino, I got around 25 big blinds, and a bunch of weak passive at my table, what's my plan?" He's like, "If I tell you how to cheat them, scam them, mislead them, 3b raise them out of their 2x opens, and help you steal their blinds will you let me out of this god damn trunk?" So, I decide to cut a deal with Rheem and during these levels he gives me his expert lying, stealing, and scamming advice. Sure enough, I can't even remember showing down a hand during these levels, by by the start of level ten I'm sitting with around 30k chips.
Level 10:
By the time level 10 rolls around I got all the help I was gonna get out of Chino, he starts acting all up in the back of the trunk again, kind of like the scene from "Tommy Boy" where the dear goes buck wild in the back seat of the convertible. I'm like, "Calm down bro. A deals a deal Chino. Maybe you can learn something from this. No need to wreck my ride any further." Then I walk the back, let him loose, and he scurries away like a little rat running down the Rio corridor after he tries to give me a swift kick in the balls. But, you know I got that Rex Kwan Do $hit down pat and I "Block that $hit every time."
A few moments later I get my into this spot.
Small Blind vs Big Blind.
I am BB. SB does not raise.
Blinds 500/1k/100 ante.
Flop 4 5s 6s.
3 k in pot, I bet 2.5k with J3 offsuit because I really feel this guy has no interest in this pot since and I just want to take it down, he thinks for a minute then calls, turn King of diamonds, he thinks for a minute, grabs his chips, then checks while keeping a firm grip on his chips, river 6 hearts, the straight draws and flush draws missed. Now he barrels out almost a pot size bet real quick on the river.
I know he is never donking out a pot sized bet with a 4,5, or K here. He would check back a 4 or 5 because he has show down value and he would bet a K much smaller to get a little value because he knows he sucked out on my perceived small piece of the flop. No Ace in his range or he raises pre because this guy had been active. He also never goes through the thinking and grabbing his chips act if he flops top pair I don't think. I also strongly believe he would have bet top pair if he had it to protect from draws.
I decide my Jack high can only be beat by an exotic Q7 hand. Only thing he could be holding that he would bluff with and his trash would still beat my trash hand.
So I make the call with confidence.
He rolls 97.
Then I think, "I Must Be The Greatest."But, then I have to endure being berated by the guy I called with jack high for the next thirty minutes and remember I still have never even cashed in a World Series of Poker event yet and remain. So, I stay focused and continue to add chips to my stack by using well times aggression pre-flop and not having to show down many hands.
Level 11+12:
Not much to report in these levels, other than my AK sucking out against a new villain we had no information on that had just sat down to our table.
Blinds were 600/1200, new player raises to 3000 from UTG, by the time it gets to me OTB there's been two callers, then another player shoves all in for 15k, and I decide to just ship it for around 45k. The original raiser has around 20k back, he calls, and all others fold.
When the hands are rolled it's KK vs JJ vs our AJ and we get a Q 10 4 flop, x turn, J on the river.
Ship it!!!!
A few people start commenting about how I make calls with jack high and am right and how I am so lucky to have AK beat KK with a jack on the river like that, blah blah blah blah. Then I say, "Well. If you all really want to know how I am going to win this tournament I have no problem telling you how I am going to do it. I can even show you all how I'm going to do it. Then some of them are like, "Please do. Oh please do." So, I pull this picture up on my cell phone and I pass it around the table.
Levels 13+14:
All I remember about these levels is one of them is where I made the money and both of them had me going completely card dead and I'll admit nothing I did in these levels really worked. Every time I tried to steal a person's blinds I got 3b back at or had a guy defend his blinds and then I had to give up after a c-bet because I was on complete air. I had my stack as high as 50 big blinds in level 11 or 12, but by the end of these levels I was back down to around 30 big blinds. I'd say my only tournament mistake was calling a nitty guy to my direct rights 12bb ship with Ad8d when he was SB and I was BB and it folded all the way around to him, then he shoved. Of course he has to be shoving with AJ and couldn't have had a worse ace or another broadway hand I could have beat. Some would say I may be being results oriented, but some nits just have that old man nit look and are so so so so so nitty. They'll be down to like 10bb there and just fold their KQ instead of going all in. This guy had that look. I still called. If I am going to brag about my great plays, as always, I feel obligated to tell you about all my gaffes as well. Those are 12 big blinds I would love to have back.
Level 15+16:
Played these two levels with a 25 bb stack all the way down to a 10bb stack. Lots and lots of 3bet all ins vs active openers and me open shipping in the right spots against people I thought were weak when it came to defending blinds. Gave it everything I had. Around twenty minutes after we could no longer register for Colossus Flight F I picked up Ace/Jack offsuit in MP 1 and it was folded around to me. I was sitting with 15bb and shipped it just like I was supposed to, and of course it folds around to the nittiest of all nits in the big blind and he wakes up with A/K. Unfortunately, as I said before, this report only has one suckout story. Our AJ did not approve and we walk away from Colossus with our head held high because this was actually our first World Series of Poker cash and I really do feel there is lots more to come in the future.
And it goes without saying this post was dedicated to the lives and achievements of Prince Rogers Nelson and Muhammad Ali.
"No, I am not going 10,000 miles to help murder kill and burn other people to simply help continue the domination of white slavemasters over dark people the world over. This is the day and age when such evil injustice must come to an end. I Ain't Got No Quarrel With The VietCong, No VietCong Ever Called Me Nig*er."
-Muhammad Ali
Last edited by LotGrinder; 06-05-2016 at 03:38 PM.
06-05-2016
, 06:14 PM
06-06-2016
, 07:16 AM
06-06-2016
, 07:50 PM
We have moneyed on our first bullet in the $600 Goliath $1,000,000 guarantee. I don't think I've won a hand worth more than 6k or lost a hand worth more than 6k since level 11. Needless to say none of my opens or spots I have selected to 3b have worked. Just had to fold my UTG open with AsJ for 2.5bb to a NITs shove from OTB. Blinds are now 2000/4000/500 ante and were are sitting with around 70k. Perhaps some run good and some premium hands that play themselves are on the way. 
06-06-2016
, 09:40 PM
06-08-2016
, 10:07 PM
06-09-2016
, 02:36 AM
2016 World Series of Poker Update #2
The year was 2003, the place was an Indian reservation located near a town named Shepherd, and the event was known as the "Rock N Reggae Bash" which was an ongoing yearly music festival that Central Michigan University students who lived close by simply dubbed, "Reggae Fest." That's how long ago you would have had to know me if you ever wanted to see a backpack's straps resting on the back of these broad shoulders that have military pressing 155lb 8x lately without one sweat, grunt, or squint face at my local Powerhouse gym. I know a lot of you poker goobers are probably thinking, "What the fukk were you wearing a backpack for? Those are for poker rooms!"
But, I started that day with just over three hundred pills of ecstasy, a half pound of high grade marijuana, and a quarter pound of mushrooms. You know I had to store my stash somewhere, so I used the turquoise C.M.U backpack I had bought from the local Meijer to hold my school books before I dropped out to work in the mortgage industry and sell drugs for a living. The wearing of the backpack and the height of my drug distribution career came just about a year before I got popped and ended up in Isabella County Jail for those of you who have followed all my stories over the years. So, rest assured if anything I type about selling drugs makes your blood boil, I have already done my time for it. I do hope you can forgive me and appreciate the introduction to my trip report for what it's worth.
Anyway, for those of you who have ever attended a music festival, you understand most of the audiences primary needs are focused around getting high on a plethora of drugs or drunk on a boatload of $hit beer. So, when any music festival comes to your town you can rest assured that every local drug dealer is making plans to smuggle in every last ounce (or gram) of his product and there's absolutely nothing Officer Sullivan can do about it. Being the pillar of the community that I was, I offered a dirty hippy free drugs all day in exchange for transporting my batch of narcotics in the back of the nice blue Honda Accord his parents had bought him and he quickly agreed to do my dirty work. Some of you might think I was crazy to trust a dirty hippy, but over the course of my life I haven't had too much bad luck dealing with them, they just take much longer than others when it comes to paying loans back. Still, I guess you could say it was a risky move to trust a tree hugger not to drive off into the sunset with around five thousand dollars worth of narcotics, but I was more scared of what would happen if my ride was searched and just really wanted to avoid all the paranoia and overall nervousness that comes with the thought of getting caught with that amount of illicit drugs on you.
Thankfully, our daisy picking fruitcake friend came through like a beacon in the night and we quickly broke him out an eighth of Orange Kush, ten pink CK ecstasy pills, and gram of mushrooms for his troubles. Then he said something like, "Thanks mannnn. I'll bring you some custos too for sure. What do you want for the pills?"
"Thirty a piece," I replied. Then I saw my friend Nighhawk's ears perk up and he said, "$30 a piece, yeah right. You're out of your fukking mind. Most I ever seen anyone pay is $25. You gotta be $hitting me."
Obviously, he should have known I wasn't since 300+ pills was the most I had ever brought to one place at that time, but I had faith in the dirty hippies Central Michigan University drug market analysis and if anything I thought I had brought too little. Nighthawk must have still been holding out some hope for $30 a pill though, because he certainly wasn't coming off the last one hundred he himself had brought in. I had purchased the ones I had on hand from him for ten dollars a piece, but was trying to power broke the remaining one hundred off the pretty boy for $15, but the greedy bastard wouldn't budge.
He kept saying, "I'll save these for the after party or in case we meet some girls." Yeah right, motherfukker just didn't want to give me a monopoly on the god damn market. Most of the other dealers in town had pills a grade lower than ours at that time, so I wanted to be the only one with the pink CKs, but you can't always get what you wanted. However, I heard if you try real hard sometimes you may get what you need in a song before.
Anyway, the dirty hippy takes off to do all the things a dirty hippy does at a music festival and I quickly organize my backpack for business. We had been at the festival for all of ten seconds and of course the girl I'm dating at the time starts begging to eat her first pink CK for the day. Now Rachel wasn't the hottest, but she was the first girl to let me facefukk her, slap her around, fukk her in the ass, and do all the other things you see in pornography that most respectable women who had good parents won't let you do. So, even though I took a lot of $hit because she didn't have the hottest face, her body and sexual performance was satisfactory to me and when you're just fukking someone until someone better comes along what more do you need you know? A lot of people are in or have been in relationships like this they just don't have the balls to admit it. Still, when I am with any girl at any place no matter how much I like her I want to make sure she has the best time possible. So, she got that pink CK put in her hand about three seconds after she asked and I made sure to take care of all my other friends as well before I set out to do business. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone who has ever partied with me that had to do without anything they wanted on the days or nights we were partying. This day and this night would be no different.
I remember I was wearing a red Adidas hoodie at the time and I had strategically placed a big showcase bud of Orange Cush in the front pouch. One of my sales techniques was always whipping it out in front of the potheads to pique their interest, the offering to sell them an eighth for $60 or $50 if they managed to jew me down. I was never really one to negotiate on price because I always had the best product. The worst thing in the world would be to be known as the guy walking around the music festival selling $hitty drugs when you could be known as the guy selling the best drugs. I mean, what the fukk? What kind of drain on society decides to sell $hit drugs at a party or concert? I say these are the kind of people that are ruining America and gays, muslims, minorities, and "illegals" are all fine with me as long as the cocaine they are smuggling in is less than 25% baking soda.
Anyway, after me and my friends begin to walk around and mingle, it's not long until someone who knows me from a local bar called "The Wayside" spots me and asks, "Can I get ten of whatever pills you have on you? I been here since 11am, but was waiting for you because whatever you got is always the best." I go on to say, "Sure that will be $300." Without batting an eye the kid whips three crisp clean hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and replies, "Thanks. Do you think you will have more later? I don't wanna run out." I answered, "I don't know man. You know everybody is looking to party today...." Then before I can even finish talking he whips out another $200 and says, "I know I am $10 short, but can I get seven more?" By this time my friend Nighthawk's eyes are completely bulged out of his head like when the average poker slob sees a hot chick sit down at the table and he watches me finish turning my $170 investment into $500 USD.
This process repeats itself a few times over the course of the next hour, and finally after another satisfied customer is walking away, a $hit eating grin breaks out upon his face as he takes a drag off his Marlboro Red cigarette and exclaims, "Alright buddy. Fukk you. I got the next one!!!" And that he did and then the next one after that and as the day went on Nighthawk's joy slowly start to fade as he realized he simply didn't bring enough drugs for the masses. Being the business man that he was I could understand his dismay.
So, when he starts saying, "Common man. You gotta let me sell all of mine man and you save fifty yourself for after the festival. Common man. Don't be greedy man. Common man. I've never seen anything like this," I finally give in and say, "Ok. But from now on we're selling them for $35." He chuckled and said, "Deal." A hour later two kids walk up at the same time solo operation and ask, "Are you the guys with the pink CKs?" "Yeah," Nighthawk replied, "but we are down to our last one, so we're going to have to have an auction, what do you guys think about that?"
The first frail dirty looking kid with clenched teeth is like, "I got you for $30 dude." His opposition, some fratboy is like, "$40. Lets just end it. That's high enough. I'll take it. But I ain't paying more than $40." Nighthawk hastily replies, "You don't decide what is high enough sir, this is my auction buddy. You're gonna get yourself disqualified." Then turns to the other kid and asks, "What do you got for me?" The skinny dirtball replies, "Man, all I got is $35 and this blunt on me. But, it's blueberry I swear. I swear. And it's my last one." Nighthawk quickly grabbed it, inspected it, and said, "Alright. We got a winner. You're lucky I like weed my friend," then handed the kid his last pink CK pill. Of course the little runt says after, "Hey mannn. Care if I get a drink of that water to wash it down with?" Nighthawk says, "You can have it." Then the kid asks, "Are we going to smoke that blunt?"
Nighthawk replied, "To be quite honest my friend. No we are not. I am saving this for later when me and a girl are in a hot tub. I'm going to tell her a story about how I sold one pill of ecstacy to some idiot for $35 and a blunt. Then I'm going to think of you. Sorry my friend. That's the way it's gonna be."
The frail kid looked sort of dejected and ashamed of himself that he gave a dikkhead like Nighthawk $35 and his last blunt for a pill, but being the nice guy that I am I didn't let him walk away completely empty handed when it come to the herb. I broke him off a little piece of the showcase bud and said, "Save this for later when you come down." He replied, "Awww. Thanks man. You're a lot cooler than your friend. Wish I bought the pill off you." "No worries," I replied, "Go roll balls and have fun." Then he left and seemed to be in a lot better mood about the situation.
On our trek back to the car Nighhawk couldn't stop laughing and he kept saying, "We are coming here every year. Every year. We're coming here. We're coming here. Every fukking year. Oh my god I love reggae fest. If I ever go broke I am just going to get fronted a bunch of drugs and make ten k here. Every year Justin. Every year we are coming here!!! I love Reggae fest!!!"
Anyway, we got back to the spot where all of my friends were and everyone was chilling. By this time I was almost out of drugs so me and my people decided to eat what was left of the mushrooms. By the time I started to trip all I had left was around forty pills, a half ounce of fungi, and an eighth of bud for Rachel, but I had around ten thousand dollars cash in the backpack. Then some strange sense of paranoia started to creep in and all of a sudden I was convinced that everybody is staring at me and thinking about how they're going to steal my $10,000.00 USD and eat what was left of all my drugs.
I managed to convince myself that everybody hated me because they knew I had just come up there to make money and did not care about having a good time. Even people as friendly and care free as the dirty hippy himself seemed to be mean mugging me and my girlfriend. As I allowed my mind to keep wondering people's faces slowly started to turn demon like and their teeth even start to sharpen. Eventually, their eyes started to lose color and things really started to get weird when all their veins started to bulge out of their arms and even their foreheads. This wasn't just random people's faces turning evil either, this was everyone's face, sure some more than others, but even my close friends were turning into demon like beings with hard almost crusting like skin.
I started to panic and kept telling Rachel, "We need to get out of here. These people don't like us and they're going to steal my backpack. Then by nothing more than pure coincidence my friend Ray jokingly says, "Why don't you let me borrow that backpack for a minute?" All he wanted was a personal serving of whatever drugs I had left to offer, but I remember being completely horrified as I said, "No. No!!!" Luckily, as my girl Rachel asked, "Are you ok?" my best friend Tony's little brother Billy walked up who was completely sober at that time and I asked him, "If I give you $500 would you drive me and Rachel back to the hotel right now?"
"$500," he replied? Fukk. I'll do it for $200." As I started to walk away from the crowd my friends kept asking, "Where are you going?" It only made me walk faster. I remember hopping in the front seat and yelling, "Go go go," to Billy as he's laughing hysterically at me saying, "You're high on shrooms aren't you? You think everyone wants to take your money. Ahhh Ha Ha Ha Ha. You think everyone wants to take your money. You're tripping dude!!!!"
This cokksucker wouldn't shut up and I started to think maybe he is turning against me. I was considering just jumping out of the car with the damn backpack. But, my girlfriend Rachel said the best thing she had ever said to me up until the day she said, "You are not the father," and that was "Why don't you just relax and eat a pink CK with me?"
"God damn," I thought. "Motherfukker. What a great idea!!! A downpour of serotonin is just what my brain needs to pull me out of the this wretched trip. Why in the fukk didn't I think of this?" Sure enough, forty five minutes after devouring my first pink CK of the day I was kick backed in the hot tub trying to fluff my flaccid dick up enough to take an A+ cokk sucking from Rachel to calm me down more, but no dice. "Hmm. Maybe food will help," I thought.
So, I tried eating some soft batch cookies and milk I found in the vending machines since I hadn't ate all day, but all I remember is the cookies tasting like gravel and the milk tasting wet. "Why does food taste so awful when you're on uppers and where can I get some dick pills in this town?" I thought. I really wanted to have sex. I mean we had reserved a "Valentines Day Suite" that looked like it was made for pornography and there was at least eight pieces of furniture I wanted to fukk her on before we got in the double seated shower with nozzle heads on both sides.
Finally fortune smiled upon me and I was able to smack my dick off the bathroom door handle enough times after taking a prolonged piss to get the blood back flowing and that allowed me to put on an all star performance that spanned a few hours with a one hundred and seventy eight minute break in between.
By the time I was ready to face the public again all my people were back at an after party and my phone was being lit up like it was a young black male by police when he is trying to sell cigarettes on a street corner. Seemed to be that I had the last thirty five pills or so in town and when I arrived three fraternity kids I knew were clinching forks and knives with their fists slamming them up and down on the table yelling, "Feed me!!! Feed me!!! Feed me!!! Feed Me!!! Feed Me!!! Feed Me!!!" Rather than have them pay me for the drugs I decided it would be best if they engaged in a board game of hungry hungry hippos where the winner would walk away with a free treat.
This game was bought as a joke by my friend Bruce as we used to joke that pill heads were "Hungry Hungry Hippos." But, now it was time to take it to the next level and actually make college students compete at Hungry Hungry Hippos for free drugs. After the completion of the first game, I decided it was so funny that another game should be played, but a brand new set of contestants should be selected. One of these contestants named "E" would go on to be a highly successful cocaine cowboy and do some hard time himself, but on this night he was flat broke and in need of another pink CK just like any other commoner that had spent all his or her money at the festival.
After he barely lost at his first game, he said, "Aww. Come on man. One more game. One more game. I know you got the treats man. Let us play one more time." So, I selected him another group of three opponents and he lost again. "Dude. Common. One more game. One more game. Please. That's it. Just one." he begged. Then he lost again. Finally, after a few more ultra competitive games of Hungry Hippos he pulled me aside and said, "Hey man. I just want to say. Like, I appreciate all the chances you gave me. And I don't wanna ask for another game. But like. I just think. You know. Like so what. Ok. Im not very good at Hungry Hippos you know. And I mean like you are giving free pills away to people you dont even know. And like, I know your best friend Tony. And I mean I'm not complaining. I appreciate the chances. I do. But like I mean you think maybe you could..."
Then I stopped him and said, "Are you trying to ask me for a free treat E?"
"Um yeah," he replied. "But, I'll pay you back. I promise!!!"
"No need," I replied as I handed him the pink ck.
Then he continued to explain that he just wasn't good at Hungry Hippos because all the drugs he ate messed up his hand/eye coordination and I consoled him like any good friend will do. I couldn't count how many times he thanked me for that free treat and I've heard that story still gets told today in Central Michigan University Reggae Fest folklore.
The only other thing I really remember from the last day I ever wore a backpack was my friend Nighthawk making some random fraternity kids eat cigarettes out of an ash tray for free drugs and then a few days after I received a call from my best friend's cousin James crying saying he was going to call the FBI on me because the pink cks hadn't allowed him to sleep for three days.
So, at this point you're all probably thinking, "Well what does this all have to do with poker Lotgrinder? What the fukk is going on with this post? Why in the fukk is it located in your staking forum thread?"
Well, first of all, if I intend to rid the poker community of the backpacking baddies and poke fun at all that comes with a grown man wearing a backpack, scarf, sunglasses or anything I classify as "poker scene" I wanted you all to hear about the last time I could be caught wearing something of that sort straight from the bull's month. I am not a hypocrite and I don't want you grimey little $hitstains searching my checkered past and trying to find dirt on me like I'm Donald Trump running for president of The United States of America.
So, yes. I have worn a backpack before. I even wore a gray scarf once and talked about vegan diets on Halloween when I was being DJ Fukkface for the evening. If that wasn't enough, I was even handing out a CD I titled "The Organic Mix" to a bunch of electronic music scenesters with tracks like Darude's "Sandstorm" and Zombie Nations "Ohhh O O O" or some $hit. Another time I even wore headphones at the poker table during a tournament but they had an extra extra long chord that I draped around my neck like it was a gold chain to make myself look completely ridiculous. Which was ok in my book. There's nothing wrong with wearing items that can be classified as "poker scene" as long as you are wearing the items to mock the pathetic scene itself. I just wanted to be clear on that moving forward because you're bound to spot me in Las Vegas wearing an American flag robe, sunglasses, fanny pack, or pants before this WSOP is over.
Second of all, it should be quite clear and concise what is going on with this thread. I am setting out to make poker fun again and to find a way to stuff every backpacking, scarf wearing, murse toting, vegan diet promoting fggt dead in the back of my trunk and yes I said "fa**ot" because people can be fggts without actually being homosexuals and it is the condescending poker fggt elite I hate and not the homosexuals themselves. This is where I could lie and say I have a gay friend, but I don't. So, you'll never really know for sure if I don't dislike fggts. But, at least I have a black friend, so at least you all know for sure moving forward that I don't hate ni**ers. Although I do vehemently refuse to buy cocaine from black dudes and opt to purchase from Mexicans and Chaldean guys instead. But, when it comes to surfing porn I do have an obsession with watching hot white girls suck big black dicks. So, I mean that proves I'm not racist for sure right there.
Anyway, I'd just like to say before this update is over, that I firmly believe no grown man who has to work a real forty hour a week job just to get money to gambool, and who probably hasn't even had a blowjob from his wife in the last five years, should ever have to come to the casino and worry about losing a pot to a condescending poker fggt or some douche bag at the table wearing a scarf, murse, headphones, sunglasses, or backpack.
No way. That's obscene. The thought of that happening sickens me. At the very least the poker commoner should expect to lose to someone who says, "God damn. I sure am getting lucky tonight. How about I buy you a beer? What are you drinking? If I was in your spot I'd have played it the same way." You poker fish, degens, rec players, and $1/$2 NLHE commoners deserve a better hero and I am going to give it to you. And when I win my first bracelet you're not going to find me popping bottles at Hakkasan with some fellow scarf wearing poker fggt who idolizes euro lagtards. Hell no, I wanna do it the right way snort cocaine out of nineteen year old stripper's a$$hole at The White Rhino with all of you and I am quite sure in time, we will.
But, we're going to have to win a $1,000,000 guarantee or better tournament before that happens. So, onto Planet Hollywood's annual Goliath event we went where we bought in for $600.00 USD after our Coloussus cash and when we sat down we were met with what looked to be the ultimate job squad. I'm sure some of you are wondering, "What's a job squad?" Well, in WWE wrestling a "jobber" is a nobody hired in to lose matches to somebodies. A "job squad" is a poker table full of guys just like that. Obviously, I expected to go deep in this tournament. But, just for fun I tweeted out that I was placing the over under for what level I'd be eliminated by at four.
Now, onto the tournament report....
Level 1:
We started this tournament with a 12k stack and blinds started out at 50/100. I probably opened every pot I could with 76 suited or better to try and get lucky. I know I haven't played in a lot of tournaments as cash games are my bread and butter. But, one thing I've realized is you need to be one of the guys sitting at your table with fifty big blinds or more by level eight so you can just abuse the fukk out of the NITs in the blinds or every player that is waiting around for AQ+ or 99+ to finally call or go all in. I did end up turning a queen high flush in this level when my villain flopped a straight, but sadly I was only able to get 5k off him because he played his hand so passively when the flush card hit on the turn. He literally check/called a flopped straight all the way down.
Levels 2,3, & 4:
Blinds were 75/150, 100/200, and then 100/200/25 ante in these levels. I used all the advice Chino Rheem gave me when him and I negotiated a severance package from the back of my trunk for him. By the time I got to level five I had almost doubled my stack to 24k total and had only shown down one hand the entire tournament.
Level 5:
All I remember about this level is it was the level when Planet Hollywood played ZZ Tops's "Sharp Dressed Man,"and I started shaking because I couldn't stop thinking about snorting cocaine off a big fake pair of titties at a strip bar while I'm dressed in my American flag robe and "Back To Back World War Champions" hat.
Level 6:
This level snaps me back to reality and out of my fantasy because it starts out with me losing a 16k pot with AK vs 8d3d when some tourney donk shoved all in from MP for 8k when the blinds were 200/400. I was in the BB that hand. Then like ten minutes later I am UTG with AA and I make it 800 to go, there's like six callers by the time it folds around to this guy who had just felted out of Colossus and trekked his fat ass to Planet Hollywood to late register for Goliath, and of course he ships it all in for like 12k. I snap call. Everyone else folds. He rolls 63 offsuit.
Flop 4 5 K, turn 3, river 2!!!
Pwnt.
We are down to like 10bbs.
The whole table starts heeming and hawing, I give him a nudge and say, "Nice hand big shooter. I get what you were trying to do. Now watch this comeback."
Level 7:
Blinds are 250/500 now, we end up getting AK in MP and ship like 7 bigs. Some exotic with only around 20bb calls us with J10 sooted. Lol. We hold. Then a few more hands go by and now we're sitting in the BB. There's a kid with around 30 big blinds who has been active, he opens to 1100, it folds to us and we have Ad10d. We ship around 14 bigs and he snap calls us with 4d2d. Lol. Now, we're back up to around 30 bigs and the very next hand we get KK in the SB, it folds around to the kid who just called us with 4d2d, he ships it all in. I snap call him and he rolls 8h6h, is this even fukking real? Yes, we hold and now we're up to around 45 big blinds. Thoughts of me and my long lost Mexican friend Paco partying down in south beach start to creep in my head when Billy Ocean's Caribbean Queen starts blaring from the casino's P.A. system.
I post this up to my Twitter feed.
Levels 8, 9, & 10:
Blinds were 300/600, 400/800, and 500/1000. We were straight ownin and zonin in these levels. Worked our 50bb stack up to an 80bb stack by level eleven.
The highlight hand of these levels was me calling a backpacker's pot sized bet on the river with queen high and scooping a pot in level ten. This call was pretty easy, though. Here's how the hand played out. We were in the HJ with QsJs and opened to 2k, the backpacker was OTB and I strongly believed was calling with any two cards in an attempt to outplay us, float us, get lucky on us, and do everything he could to stuff us and our double fisted red bull and vodkas in his trunk. Our image was fish on a heater.
So, we go to the flop and it's Ks Kh 6h, there's around 5k in the pot. We lead 3k. He quicky calls. Turn is a 6s. We quickly check with full intent to check/raise any bet he makes. He ends up taking a free card which makes me think maybe he has one of the flush draws or maybe something with showdown value that he'll probably also check back on the river or call the river if I bet. So, when the river is a brick 2 I check my Q high knowing there's a real chance that it's good if he makes a bet at this pot. If he checks it back he's gonna roll A high or a pocket pair of some sort. Thankfully, he makes it easy and bet like 10k at the pot. I snap call. He quickly launches his two hole cards into to the muck.
I show the Q high and say, "No way. No way. Can't bluff me." Then continue to drink double fisted red bulls with no vodka. Lol. I specifically told the waitress to pull the red bull in cups with ice and no vodka. Ha ha ha. And also note, they really weren't red bulls, they were sugar free rockstar energy drinks. I was 100% sober during the event, even though everyone thought I was drinking.
Levels 11, 12, & 13:
Basically, these levels were such a nightmare I had to run up to Planet Hollywood's DJ and request Dokken's "Dream Warrior's" just to have a chance to make it to day two. I don't think any of my light 3bets worked or any of my opens got through uncontested. I also lost a coin flip that put a 15 big blind dent in my stack during level twelve. Should have just went to the bathroom and beat off to pictures of my ex-girlfriend in these levels.
Day Two:
All I can remember is hitting the money in level fourteen or fifteen and probably getting dealt ten total hands in the first hour of day two because the floor started going hand for hand when the players were five spots off the money. Then when everyone finally hit the money players started dropping like flys. I think the tournament paid out the top 408 sometime in level fourteen and by level sixteen there was three hundred people left. By level eighteen there was around two hundred fifty people and this is where I thought this could finally be the big tournament we final table because we finally got a big suck out when we needed one on day two.
I can't remember exactly what the blinds were, but they were something like 2k/4k/400 ante and we were sitting in the BB with 50k. Anyway, the guy who had raised six times out of the last 20 hands who had 200k opened to 9k and you just know this motherfukker had to be wearing a god damn back pack. So, what do we do against a villain like this if it folds around to us? We don't even look at our cards and ship it.
The truth is these competent backpackers aren't calling your 10bb+ shoves with anything less than A10, K10, QJ, or 88+ most of the time if you've been playing tight. It absolutely does not fukking matter what your two hole cards are in spots like these. Fukk these backpackers. Put them to the test. Shove all in. If they end up with AsQs like this guy did it is simply a bad beat like waking up with KK and shoving into AA. These backpackers are not great poker players. They are great at thriving and surviving off their opposition's weakness. We will not bend or relent against these tournament toolbags.
So, we ship and proudly roll our 73 offsuit. Then proceed to suck out like a true champion, but do not say one word or celebrate. The backpacker comes unglued and goes on some sort of tirade, I say, "Well. If you'd like to comment on my play I'd just like to add I'm so ****ing happy that out of all people at the table I got to suck out on you. I really deserved that suck out. I been practicing my 3bet shove game so hard at home and it really paid dividends for me right there." Fukk these entitled tourney donk fukks.
If you want to have the opportunity to stuff them in the back of your trunk, you must be willing to dive into the back of theirs by playing tough against their opening ranges. If they are opening hands like 9s8s, it really does not matter what you shove with against them when you are in the SB or BB, they don't ever have very much if they've been highly active.
After this hand we remain patient and choose our spots wisely for the next hour or so until we find ourselves another backpacker to shove on. This backpacker is in MP and we are BB with around 17bb left. He's every bit as active as the last backpacker we sucked out on and what's better is this backpacker is Asian. So, it's definitely time to go all Lotzilla on his backpacking ass. Anyway, by the time it gets to the SB, wouldn't you know another backpacker pipes up and he shoves all in for around 25bb. So, sadly we have to look at our cards in this spot, but we wake up with AcQc, and definitely have to shove with this hand as I am sure it crushes the guys range to my right who is definitely competent enough to shove light on this Asian guy who has been opening three out of every ten hands.
Once the Asian folds I proudly table my AcQc to go up against our villains KcJc and the flop comes out Qh 4c 2c, turn 3h, river Kh, and we have now been crippled down to five big blinds or so. Oh well, can't get mad, one big suck out deserves another and this is what happens in tournaments. The very next hand we get A5 in the SB, it folds around to us and we shove our 5bb stack. We get called by 23 offsuit and he smashes a 3 on the flop. Bull thought he was gonna run wild, bull got tamed, but bull has cashed in both of the WSOP events he's played off just one bullet, and still feels this is our year.
Onto "The Millionare Maker" my friends.
The year was 2003, the place was an Indian reservation located near a town named Shepherd, and the event was known as the "Rock N Reggae Bash" which was an ongoing yearly music festival that Central Michigan University students who lived close by simply dubbed, "Reggae Fest." That's how long ago you would have had to know me if you ever wanted to see a backpack's straps resting on the back of these broad shoulders that have military pressing 155lb 8x lately without one sweat, grunt, or squint face at my local Powerhouse gym. I know a lot of you poker goobers are probably thinking, "What the fukk were you wearing a backpack for? Those are for poker rooms!"
But, I started that day with just over three hundred pills of ecstasy, a half pound of high grade marijuana, and a quarter pound of mushrooms. You know I had to store my stash somewhere, so I used the turquoise C.M.U backpack I had bought from the local Meijer to hold my school books before I dropped out to work in the mortgage industry and sell drugs for a living. The wearing of the backpack and the height of my drug distribution career came just about a year before I got popped and ended up in Isabella County Jail for those of you who have followed all my stories over the years. So, rest assured if anything I type about selling drugs makes your blood boil, I have already done my time for it. I do hope you can forgive me and appreciate the introduction to my trip report for what it's worth.
Anyway, for those of you who have ever attended a music festival, you understand most of the audiences primary needs are focused around getting high on a plethora of drugs or drunk on a boatload of $hit beer. So, when any music festival comes to your town you can rest assured that every local drug dealer is making plans to smuggle in every last ounce (or gram) of his product and there's absolutely nothing Officer Sullivan can do about it. Being the pillar of the community that I was, I offered a dirty hippy free drugs all day in exchange for transporting my batch of narcotics in the back of the nice blue Honda Accord his parents had bought him and he quickly agreed to do my dirty work. Some of you might think I was crazy to trust a dirty hippy, but over the course of my life I haven't had too much bad luck dealing with them, they just take much longer than others when it comes to paying loans back. Still, I guess you could say it was a risky move to trust a tree hugger not to drive off into the sunset with around five thousand dollars worth of narcotics, but I was more scared of what would happen if my ride was searched and just really wanted to avoid all the paranoia and overall nervousness that comes with the thought of getting caught with that amount of illicit drugs on you.
Thankfully, our daisy picking fruitcake friend came through like a beacon in the night and we quickly broke him out an eighth of Orange Kush, ten pink CK ecstasy pills, and gram of mushrooms for his troubles. Then he said something like, "Thanks mannnn. I'll bring you some custos too for sure. What do you want for the pills?"
"Thirty a piece," I replied. Then I saw my friend Nighhawk's ears perk up and he said, "$30 a piece, yeah right. You're out of your fukking mind. Most I ever seen anyone pay is $25. You gotta be $hitting me."
Obviously, he should have known I wasn't since 300+ pills was the most I had ever brought to one place at that time, but I had faith in the dirty hippies Central Michigan University drug market analysis and if anything I thought I had brought too little. Nighthawk must have still been holding out some hope for $30 a pill though, because he certainly wasn't coming off the last one hundred he himself had brought in. I had purchased the ones I had on hand from him for ten dollars a piece, but was trying to power broke the remaining one hundred off the pretty boy for $15, but the greedy bastard wouldn't budge.
He kept saying, "I'll save these for the after party or in case we meet some girls." Yeah right, motherfukker just didn't want to give me a monopoly on the god damn market. Most of the other dealers in town had pills a grade lower than ours at that time, so I wanted to be the only one with the pink CKs, but you can't always get what you wanted. However, I heard if you try real hard sometimes you may get what you need in a song before.
Anyway, the dirty hippy takes off to do all the things a dirty hippy does at a music festival and I quickly organize my backpack for business. We had been at the festival for all of ten seconds and of course the girl I'm dating at the time starts begging to eat her first pink CK for the day. Now Rachel wasn't the hottest, but she was the first girl to let me facefukk her, slap her around, fukk her in the ass, and do all the other things you see in pornography that most respectable women who had good parents won't let you do. So, even though I took a lot of $hit because she didn't have the hottest face, her body and sexual performance was satisfactory to me and when you're just fukking someone until someone better comes along what more do you need you know? A lot of people are in or have been in relationships like this they just don't have the balls to admit it. Still, when I am with any girl at any place no matter how much I like her I want to make sure she has the best time possible. So, she got that pink CK put in her hand about three seconds after she asked and I made sure to take care of all my other friends as well before I set out to do business. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone who has ever partied with me that had to do without anything they wanted on the days or nights we were partying. This day and this night would be no different.
I remember I was wearing a red Adidas hoodie at the time and I had strategically placed a big showcase bud of Orange Cush in the front pouch. One of my sales techniques was always whipping it out in front of the potheads to pique their interest, the offering to sell them an eighth for $60 or $50 if they managed to jew me down. I was never really one to negotiate on price because I always had the best product. The worst thing in the world would be to be known as the guy walking around the music festival selling $hitty drugs when you could be known as the guy selling the best drugs. I mean, what the fukk? What kind of drain on society decides to sell $hit drugs at a party or concert? I say these are the kind of people that are ruining America and gays, muslims, minorities, and "illegals" are all fine with me as long as the cocaine they are smuggling in is less than 25% baking soda.
Anyway, after me and my friends begin to walk around and mingle, it's not long until someone who knows me from a local bar called "The Wayside" spots me and asks, "Can I get ten of whatever pills you have on you? I been here since 11am, but was waiting for you because whatever you got is always the best." I go on to say, "Sure that will be $300." Without batting an eye the kid whips three crisp clean hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and replies, "Thanks. Do you think you will have more later? I don't wanna run out." I answered, "I don't know man. You know everybody is looking to party today...." Then before I can even finish talking he whips out another $200 and says, "I know I am $10 short, but can I get seven more?" By this time my friend Nighthawk's eyes are completely bulged out of his head like when the average poker slob sees a hot chick sit down at the table and he watches me finish turning my $170 investment into $500 USD.
This process repeats itself a few times over the course of the next hour, and finally after another satisfied customer is walking away, a $hit eating grin breaks out upon his face as he takes a drag off his Marlboro Red cigarette and exclaims, "Alright buddy. Fukk you. I got the next one!!!" And that he did and then the next one after that and as the day went on Nighthawk's joy slowly start to fade as he realized he simply didn't bring enough drugs for the masses. Being the business man that he was I could understand his dismay.
So, when he starts saying, "Common man. You gotta let me sell all of mine man and you save fifty yourself for after the festival. Common man. Don't be greedy man. Common man. I've never seen anything like this," I finally give in and say, "Ok. But from now on we're selling them for $35." He chuckled and said, "Deal." A hour later two kids walk up at the same time solo operation and ask, "Are you the guys with the pink CKs?" "Yeah," Nighthawk replied, "but we are down to our last one, so we're going to have to have an auction, what do you guys think about that?"
The first frail dirty looking kid with clenched teeth is like, "I got you for $30 dude." His opposition, some fratboy is like, "$40. Lets just end it. That's high enough. I'll take it. But I ain't paying more than $40." Nighthawk hastily replies, "You don't decide what is high enough sir, this is my auction buddy. You're gonna get yourself disqualified." Then turns to the other kid and asks, "What do you got for me?" The skinny dirtball replies, "Man, all I got is $35 and this blunt on me. But, it's blueberry I swear. I swear. And it's my last one." Nighthawk quickly grabbed it, inspected it, and said, "Alright. We got a winner. You're lucky I like weed my friend," then handed the kid his last pink CK pill. Of course the little runt says after, "Hey mannn. Care if I get a drink of that water to wash it down with?" Nighthawk says, "You can have it." Then the kid asks, "Are we going to smoke that blunt?"
Nighthawk replied, "To be quite honest my friend. No we are not. I am saving this for later when me and a girl are in a hot tub. I'm going to tell her a story about how I sold one pill of ecstacy to some idiot for $35 and a blunt. Then I'm going to think of you. Sorry my friend. That's the way it's gonna be."
The frail kid looked sort of dejected and ashamed of himself that he gave a dikkhead like Nighthawk $35 and his last blunt for a pill, but being the nice guy that I am I didn't let him walk away completely empty handed when it come to the herb. I broke him off a little piece of the showcase bud and said, "Save this for later when you come down." He replied, "Awww. Thanks man. You're a lot cooler than your friend. Wish I bought the pill off you." "No worries," I replied, "Go roll balls and have fun." Then he left and seemed to be in a lot better mood about the situation.
On our trek back to the car Nighhawk couldn't stop laughing and he kept saying, "We are coming here every year. Every year. We're coming here. We're coming here. Every fukking year. Oh my god I love reggae fest. If I ever go broke I am just going to get fronted a bunch of drugs and make ten k here. Every year Justin. Every year we are coming here!!! I love Reggae fest!!!"
Anyway, we got back to the spot where all of my friends were and everyone was chilling. By this time I was almost out of drugs so me and my people decided to eat what was left of the mushrooms. By the time I started to trip all I had left was around forty pills, a half ounce of fungi, and an eighth of bud for Rachel, but I had around ten thousand dollars cash in the backpack. Then some strange sense of paranoia started to creep in and all of a sudden I was convinced that everybody is staring at me and thinking about how they're going to steal my $10,000.00 USD and eat what was left of all my drugs.
I managed to convince myself that everybody hated me because they knew I had just come up there to make money and did not care about having a good time. Even people as friendly and care free as the dirty hippy himself seemed to be mean mugging me and my girlfriend. As I allowed my mind to keep wondering people's faces slowly started to turn demon like and their teeth even start to sharpen. Eventually, their eyes started to lose color and things really started to get weird when all their veins started to bulge out of their arms and even their foreheads. This wasn't just random people's faces turning evil either, this was everyone's face, sure some more than others, but even my close friends were turning into demon like beings with hard almost crusting like skin.
I started to panic and kept telling Rachel, "We need to get out of here. These people don't like us and they're going to steal my backpack. Then by nothing more than pure coincidence my friend Ray jokingly says, "Why don't you let me borrow that backpack for a minute?" All he wanted was a personal serving of whatever drugs I had left to offer, but I remember being completely horrified as I said, "No. No!!!" Luckily, as my girl Rachel asked, "Are you ok?" my best friend Tony's little brother Billy walked up who was completely sober at that time and I asked him, "If I give you $500 would you drive me and Rachel back to the hotel right now?"
"$500," he replied? Fukk. I'll do it for $200." As I started to walk away from the crowd my friends kept asking, "Where are you going?" It only made me walk faster. I remember hopping in the front seat and yelling, "Go go go," to Billy as he's laughing hysterically at me saying, "You're high on shrooms aren't you? You think everyone wants to take your money. Ahhh Ha Ha Ha Ha. You think everyone wants to take your money. You're tripping dude!!!!"
This cokksucker wouldn't shut up and I started to think maybe he is turning against me. I was considering just jumping out of the car with the damn backpack. But, my girlfriend Rachel said the best thing she had ever said to me up until the day she said, "You are not the father," and that was "Why don't you just relax and eat a pink CK with me?"
"God damn," I thought. "Motherfukker. What a great idea!!! A downpour of serotonin is just what my brain needs to pull me out of the this wretched trip. Why in the fukk didn't I think of this?" Sure enough, forty five minutes after devouring my first pink CK of the day I was kick backed in the hot tub trying to fluff my flaccid dick up enough to take an A+ cokk sucking from Rachel to calm me down more, but no dice. "Hmm. Maybe food will help," I thought.
So, I tried eating some soft batch cookies and milk I found in the vending machines since I hadn't ate all day, but all I remember is the cookies tasting like gravel and the milk tasting wet. "Why does food taste so awful when you're on uppers and where can I get some dick pills in this town?" I thought. I really wanted to have sex. I mean we had reserved a "Valentines Day Suite" that looked like it was made for pornography and there was at least eight pieces of furniture I wanted to fukk her on before we got in the double seated shower with nozzle heads on both sides.
Finally fortune smiled upon me and I was able to smack my dick off the bathroom door handle enough times after taking a prolonged piss to get the blood back flowing and that allowed me to put on an all star performance that spanned a few hours with a one hundred and seventy eight minute break in between.
By the time I was ready to face the public again all my people were back at an after party and my phone was being lit up like it was a young black male by police when he is trying to sell cigarettes on a street corner. Seemed to be that I had the last thirty five pills or so in town and when I arrived three fraternity kids I knew were clinching forks and knives with their fists slamming them up and down on the table yelling, "Feed me!!! Feed me!!! Feed me!!! Feed Me!!! Feed Me!!! Feed Me!!!" Rather than have them pay me for the drugs I decided it would be best if they engaged in a board game of hungry hungry hippos where the winner would walk away with a free treat.
This game was bought as a joke by my friend Bruce as we used to joke that pill heads were "Hungry Hungry Hippos." But, now it was time to take it to the next level and actually make college students compete at Hungry Hungry Hippos for free drugs. After the completion of the first game, I decided it was so funny that another game should be played, but a brand new set of contestants should be selected. One of these contestants named "E" would go on to be a highly successful cocaine cowboy and do some hard time himself, but on this night he was flat broke and in need of another pink CK just like any other commoner that had spent all his or her money at the festival.
After he barely lost at his first game, he said, "Aww. Come on man. One more game. One more game. I know you got the treats man. Let us play one more time." So, I selected him another group of three opponents and he lost again. "Dude. Common. One more game. One more game. Please. That's it. Just one." he begged. Then he lost again. Finally, after a few more ultra competitive games of Hungry Hippos he pulled me aside and said, "Hey man. I just want to say. Like, I appreciate all the chances you gave me. And I don't wanna ask for another game. But like. I just think. You know. Like so what. Ok. Im not very good at Hungry Hippos you know. And I mean like you are giving free pills away to people you dont even know. And like, I know your best friend Tony. And I mean I'm not complaining. I appreciate the chances. I do. But like I mean you think maybe you could..."
Then I stopped him and said, "Are you trying to ask me for a free treat E?"
"Um yeah," he replied. "But, I'll pay you back. I promise!!!"
"No need," I replied as I handed him the pink ck.
Then he continued to explain that he just wasn't good at Hungry Hippos because all the drugs he ate messed up his hand/eye coordination and I consoled him like any good friend will do. I couldn't count how many times he thanked me for that free treat and I've heard that story still gets told today in Central Michigan University Reggae Fest folklore.
The only other thing I really remember from the last day I ever wore a backpack was my friend Nighthawk making some random fraternity kids eat cigarettes out of an ash tray for free drugs and then a few days after I received a call from my best friend's cousin James crying saying he was going to call the FBI on me because the pink cks hadn't allowed him to sleep for three days.
So, at this point you're all probably thinking, "Well what does this all have to do with poker Lotgrinder? What the fukk is going on with this post? Why in the fukk is it located in your staking forum thread?"
Well, first of all, if I intend to rid the poker community of the backpacking baddies and poke fun at all that comes with a grown man wearing a backpack, scarf, sunglasses or anything I classify as "poker scene" I wanted you all to hear about the last time I could be caught wearing something of that sort straight from the bull's month. I am not a hypocrite and I don't want you grimey little $hitstains searching my checkered past and trying to find dirt on me like I'm Donald Trump running for president of The United States of America.
So, yes. I have worn a backpack before. I even wore a gray scarf once and talked about vegan diets on Halloween when I was being DJ Fukkface for the evening. If that wasn't enough, I was even handing out a CD I titled "The Organic Mix" to a bunch of electronic music scenesters with tracks like Darude's "Sandstorm" and Zombie Nations "Ohhh O O O" or some $hit. Another time I even wore headphones at the poker table during a tournament but they had an extra extra long chord that I draped around my neck like it was a gold chain to make myself look completely ridiculous. Which was ok in my book. There's nothing wrong with wearing items that can be classified as "poker scene" as long as you are wearing the items to mock the pathetic scene itself. I just wanted to be clear on that moving forward because you're bound to spot me in Las Vegas wearing an American flag robe, sunglasses, fanny pack, or pants before this WSOP is over.
Second of all, it should be quite clear and concise what is going on with this thread. I am setting out to make poker fun again and to find a way to stuff every backpacking, scarf wearing, murse toting, vegan diet promoting fggt dead in the back of my trunk and yes I said "fa**ot" because people can be fggts without actually being homosexuals and it is the condescending poker fggt elite I hate and not the homosexuals themselves. This is where I could lie and say I have a gay friend, but I don't. So, you'll never really know for sure if I don't dislike fggts. But, at least I have a black friend, so at least you all know for sure moving forward that I don't hate ni**ers. Although I do vehemently refuse to buy cocaine from black dudes and opt to purchase from Mexicans and Chaldean guys instead. But, when it comes to surfing porn I do have an obsession with watching hot white girls suck big black dicks. So, I mean that proves I'm not racist for sure right there.
Anyway, I'd just like to say before this update is over, that I firmly believe no grown man who has to work a real forty hour a week job just to get money to gambool, and who probably hasn't even had a blowjob from his wife in the last five years, should ever have to come to the casino and worry about losing a pot to a condescending poker fggt or some douche bag at the table wearing a scarf, murse, headphones, sunglasses, or backpack.
No way. That's obscene. The thought of that happening sickens me. At the very least the poker commoner should expect to lose to someone who says, "God damn. I sure am getting lucky tonight. How about I buy you a beer? What are you drinking? If I was in your spot I'd have played it the same way." You poker fish, degens, rec players, and $1/$2 NLHE commoners deserve a better hero and I am going to give it to you. And when I win my first bracelet you're not going to find me popping bottles at Hakkasan with some fellow scarf wearing poker fggt who idolizes euro lagtards. Hell no, I wanna do it the right way snort cocaine out of nineteen year old stripper's a$$hole at The White Rhino with all of you and I am quite sure in time, we will.
But, we're going to have to win a $1,000,000 guarantee or better tournament before that happens. So, onto Planet Hollywood's annual Goliath event we went where we bought in for $600.00 USD after our Coloussus cash and when we sat down we were met with what looked to be the ultimate job squad. I'm sure some of you are wondering, "What's a job squad?" Well, in WWE wrestling a "jobber" is a nobody hired in to lose matches to somebodies. A "job squad" is a poker table full of guys just like that. Obviously, I expected to go deep in this tournament. But, just for fun I tweeted out that I was placing the over under for what level I'd be eliminated by at four.
Now, onto the tournament report....
Level 1:
We started this tournament with a 12k stack and blinds started out at 50/100. I probably opened every pot I could with 76 suited or better to try and get lucky. I know I haven't played in a lot of tournaments as cash games are my bread and butter. But, one thing I've realized is you need to be one of the guys sitting at your table with fifty big blinds or more by level eight so you can just abuse the fukk out of the NITs in the blinds or every player that is waiting around for AQ+ or 99+ to finally call or go all in. I did end up turning a queen high flush in this level when my villain flopped a straight, but sadly I was only able to get 5k off him because he played his hand so passively when the flush card hit on the turn. He literally check/called a flopped straight all the way down.
Levels 2,3, & 4:
Blinds were 75/150, 100/200, and then 100/200/25 ante in these levels. I used all the advice Chino Rheem gave me when him and I negotiated a severance package from the back of my trunk for him. By the time I got to level five I had almost doubled my stack to 24k total and had only shown down one hand the entire tournament.
Level 5:
All I remember about this level is it was the level when Planet Hollywood played ZZ Tops's "Sharp Dressed Man,"and I started shaking because I couldn't stop thinking about snorting cocaine off a big fake pair of titties at a strip bar while I'm dressed in my American flag robe and "Back To Back World War Champions" hat.
Level 6:
This level snaps me back to reality and out of my fantasy because it starts out with me losing a 16k pot with AK vs 8d3d when some tourney donk shoved all in from MP for 8k when the blinds were 200/400. I was in the BB that hand. Then like ten minutes later I am UTG with AA and I make it 800 to go, there's like six callers by the time it folds around to this guy who had just felted out of Colossus and trekked his fat ass to Planet Hollywood to late register for Goliath, and of course he ships it all in for like 12k. I snap call. Everyone else folds. He rolls 63 offsuit.
Flop 4 5 K, turn 3, river 2!!!
Pwnt.
We are down to like 10bbs.
The whole table starts heeming and hawing, I give him a nudge and say, "Nice hand big shooter. I get what you were trying to do. Now watch this comeback."
Level 7:
Blinds are 250/500 now, we end up getting AK in MP and ship like 7 bigs. Some exotic with only around 20bb calls us with J10 sooted. Lol. We hold. Then a few more hands go by and now we're sitting in the BB. There's a kid with around 30 big blinds who has been active, he opens to 1100, it folds to us and we have Ad10d. We ship around 14 bigs and he snap calls us with 4d2d. Lol. Now, we're back up to around 30 bigs and the very next hand we get KK in the SB, it folds around to the kid who just called us with 4d2d, he ships it all in. I snap call him and he rolls 8h6h, is this even fukking real? Yes, we hold and now we're up to around 45 big blinds. Thoughts of me and my long lost Mexican friend Paco partying down in south beach start to creep in my head when Billy Ocean's Caribbean Queen starts blaring from the casino's P.A. system.
I post this up to my Twitter feed.
Levels 8, 9, & 10:
Blinds were 300/600, 400/800, and 500/1000. We were straight ownin and zonin in these levels. Worked our 50bb stack up to an 80bb stack by level eleven.
The highlight hand of these levels was me calling a backpacker's pot sized bet on the river with queen high and scooping a pot in level ten. This call was pretty easy, though. Here's how the hand played out. We were in the HJ with QsJs and opened to 2k, the backpacker was OTB and I strongly believed was calling with any two cards in an attempt to outplay us, float us, get lucky on us, and do everything he could to stuff us and our double fisted red bull and vodkas in his trunk. Our image was fish on a heater.
So, we go to the flop and it's Ks Kh 6h, there's around 5k in the pot. We lead 3k. He quicky calls. Turn is a 6s. We quickly check with full intent to check/raise any bet he makes. He ends up taking a free card which makes me think maybe he has one of the flush draws or maybe something with showdown value that he'll probably also check back on the river or call the river if I bet. So, when the river is a brick 2 I check my Q high knowing there's a real chance that it's good if he makes a bet at this pot. If he checks it back he's gonna roll A high or a pocket pair of some sort. Thankfully, he makes it easy and bet like 10k at the pot. I snap call. He quickly launches his two hole cards into to the muck.
I show the Q high and say, "No way. No way. Can't bluff me." Then continue to drink double fisted red bulls with no vodka. Lol. I specifically told the waitress to pull the red bull in cups with ice and no vodka. Ha ha ha. And also note, they really weren't red bulls, they were sugar free rockstar energy drinks. I was 100% sober during the event, even though everyone thought I was drinking.
Levels 11, 12, & 13:
Basically, these levels were such a nightmare I had to run up to Planet Hollywood's DJ and request Dokken's "Dream Warrior's" just to have a chance to make it to day two. I don't think any of my light 3bets worked or any of my opens got through uncontested. I also lost a coin flip that put a 15 big blind dent in my stack during level twelve. Should have just went to the bathroom and beat off to pictures of my ex-girlfriend in these levels.
Day Two:
All I can remember is hitting the money in level fourteen or fifteen and probably getting dealt ten total hands in the first hour of day two because the floor started going hand for hand when the players were five spots off the money. Then when everyone finally hit the money players started dropping like flys. I think the tournament paid out the top 408 sometime in level fourteen and by level sixteen there was three hundred people left. By level eighteen there was around two hundred fifty people and this is where I thought this could finally be the big tournament we final table because we finally got a big suck out when we needed one on day two.
I can't remember exactly what the blinds were, but they were something like 2k/4k/400 ante and we were sitting in the BB with 50k. Anyway, the guy who had raised six times out of the last 20 hands who had 200k opened to 9k and you just know this motherfukker had to be wearing a god damn back pack. So, what do we do against a villain like this if it folds around to us? We don't even look at our cards and ship it.
The truth is these competent backpackers aren't calling your 10bb+ shoves with anything less than A10, K10, QJ, or 88+ most of the time if you've been playing tight. It absolutely does not fukking matter what your two hole cards are in spots like these. Fukk these backpackers. Put them to the test. Shove all in. If they end up with AsQs like this guy did it is simply a bad beat like waking up with KK and shoving into AA. These backpackers are not great poker players. They are great at thriving and surviving off their opposition's weakness. We will not bend or relent against these tournament toolbags.
So, we ship and proudly roll our 73 offsuit. Then proceed to suck out like a true champion, but do not say one word or celebrate. The backpacker comes unglued and goes on some sort of tirade, I say, "Well. If you'd like to comment on my play I'd just like to add I'm so ****ing happy that out of all people at the table I got to suck out on you. I really deserved that suck out. I been practicing my 3bet shove game so hard at home and it really paid dividends for me right there." Fukk these entitled tourney donk fukks.
If you want to have the opportunity to stuff them in the back of your trunk, you must be willing to dive into the back of theirs by playing tough against their opening ranges. If they are opening hands like 9s8s, it really does not matter what you shove with against them when you are in the SB or BB, they don't ever have very much if they've been highly active.
After this hand we remain patient and choose our spots wisely for the next hour or so until we find ourselves another backpacker to shove on. This backpacker is in MP and we are BB with around 17bb left. He's every bit as active as the last backpacker we sucked out on and what's better is this backpacker is Asian. So, it's definitely time to go all Lotzilla on his backpacking ass. Anyway, by the time it gets to the SB, wouldn't you know another backpacker pipes up and he shoves all in for around 25bb. So, sadly we have to look at our cards in this spot, but we wake up with AcQc, and definitely have to shove with this hand as I am sure it crushes the guys range to my right who is definitely competent enough to shove light on this Asian guy who has been opening three out of every ten hands.
Once the Asian folds I proudly table my AcQc to go up against our villains KcJc and the flop comes out Qh 4c 2c, turn 3h, river Kh, and we have now been crippled down to five big blinds or so. Oh well, can't get mad, one big suck out deserves another and this is what happens in tournaments. The very next hand we get A5 in the SB, it folds around to us and we shove our 5bb stack. We get called by 23 offsuit and he smashes a 3 on the flop. Bull thought he was gonna run wild, bull got tamed, but bull has cashed in both of the WSOP events he's played off just one bullet, and still feels this is our year.
Onto "The Millionare Maker" my friends.
Last edited by LotGrinder; 06-09-2016 at 02:42 AM.
06-10-2016
, 07:08 PM
06-10-2016
, 10:36 PM
06-11-2016
, 04:36 AM