Note: If you haven't yet read Indian Larry and the Online Misfits, click this link before reading on.
At my new table I immediately recognize a familiar face from the World Poker Tour, none other than “Gentleman” John Gale. If you know his post knockout ritual, you’ll know why I desperately did not want a hug from this well known poker pro. I immediately searched my memory (as the day went on my focus increased and things were coming to me much clearer than usual) of what I’d seen from his play in a few TV telecasts. I recalled that he’s rather tight but when he gets into a pot, very aggressive. I did not want to tangle with him without a very good hand. The Gentleman held true to his reputation, politely chatting with his fellow players and dealers, and methodically building his chips. It felt good though, to notice he didn’t have a whole lot more than me. Yes, these guys put their pants on one leg at a time, just like us.
By this time, the money was getting very close and play was tightening up considerably. I did my best to subscribe to the bubble axiom of taking advantage of the tight play but the cards weren’t coming and I wasn’t about to risk weak hands against the guys who were one by one being forced to play. And after an under the gun raise by a young lady with average chips, I’ve never so easily laid down pocket jacks on the button. Everyone folded, she showed Kings, and I again reminded myself how much of a genius I was. Then it was announced. We were on the bubble. 64 players remained. 63rd got about $1,700 and 64th got nothing.
On the bubble, the tables play hand-for-hand, meaning that one hand is dealt at every table and the next hand is not dealt until all the tables finish playing the current hand. This is to avoid any confusion should two players be knocked out at relatively the same time. Play tightens up considerably. The blinds were 2,000 - 4,000 with a 500 ante. I had 70,000, no danger of being blinded off, and no reason to go nuts without anything but a monster. The nice thing about the bubble is that you don’t have to worry about dwindling your chips very quickly. The hands move sooo slooooooow and almost all of them get folded around to the blind, were you just pick back up what you’ve invested that last round if you didn’t win a pot anyway.
Waiting for every hand to end, I had plenty of time to get a quick check on Jay and Blake. While Blake seemed ok with about 40,000, Jay was justifiably nervous with about 18,000 and the big blind only 2 hands away. As we were about to return to our respective tables a roar erupted two tables over and the high fives began instantly. The bubble had burst and we were all in the money. You should have seen the smile on Jay’s face, it was priceless. I later learned that the bubble buster happened when pocket kings lost to 6-7 offsuit. I did not want to see the look on that guy’s face. It was 12:15 and it was announced we would play to the end of the blind level at 1:00 AM. Incidentally, Jay and Blake were 63 and 62, the first two out in the money! What’s worse for Jay, he flopped trips and lost to a straight on the river.
As one may imagine, the play immediately loosened up. The 20,000 stacks were now gambling and as long as it took to knock the bubble out, they were now going out pretty quickly again. Although I didn’t want to do anything stupid, I was looking for a spot to play. Soon I would get the opportunity to do both. Against the best player at the table. Mr. Gale, who like everyone else folded his way through the bubble, opened in mid position for a raise to 12,000. It folded to me in the big where I held A-8 of spades. I’m not immune to boredom and against my better judgment I ….called. What was I looking to do? Flop an ace and perhaps leave in an unceremonious vortex of domination? Flop two spades and gamble the rest of my stack on a flush draw? What’s worse, the flop came 8 high, men’s warehouse. Instead of doing what I did next, it would have been better if I had just grabbed a handful of chips, walked over, handed them to Mr. Gale, and dropped my A-8 in the nearby garbage can. I committed the ultimate sin of the “weak lead”. Let’s see, there’s my 12, his 12, 2 in the small blind, and 4000 in antes. Into a pot of 30,000 I led out for …..13,000?
Before the chips hit the felt, I realized the grave err of my ways. Gale’s a pro. Pros make their living by pouncing on weakness whenever they see it. Regardless of the quality of my hand, my bet looked weak and I was immediately 100% sure I would get raised. While the small mistake was calling the preflop raise, the HUGE mistake was leading weak because it didn’t do anything to define to Gale the strength of my hand. Whether he even wanted to or not, he knew had to raise. I knew he did too, and therefore I quickly had NO idea where I was in the hand. He could easily have 99 or better, maybe a monster and he was raising to see if I flopped a set, or maybe nothing but the knowledge that I underbet the pot and it was his for the taking if he just showed a little initiative. He quickly made it 20,000 more to go. As the “what the hell have I just done” thoughts kept running through my head, one overriding thought kept coming back: I want to play tomorrow. Maybe he’s making a move here, maybe not but I still have 50,000 left and it’s enough to still do some damage.
On the last hand of the night I got all those chips back anyway. With two limpers in the pot, I looked at A-K of clubs on the button, moved all in and hoped, almost prayed for a caller. I was either taking the 20,000 pot, busting out, or doubling up. Everyone folded and I was back to 72,000. I bagged up my chips, put my name on them, ordered my FIRST Ketel & Tonic of the evening and strolled out of there absolutely wired with adrenaline. I found the rest of the guys at the blackjack table, cut the deck for them, they started winning, and I went back to the hotel, laid in bed smiling, and as far as I know I caught a little sleep.
Day 2
Coming in for day 2 was pretty cool. There was a print out of all those remaining in the tournament, their home town, and their chip count. There was 56 players remaining and I was only slightly less than the average of 90,000 with 72,000. Looking over the tournament sheet I also noticed the payout structure. I tried not look but with only 12 big blinds (the blinds were now 3,000 – 6,000 with 1,000 antes) it’s a good idea to know the money situation. What I saw was not encouraging. The payout structure was incredibly top heavy. Not every player received a gradually increasing payout; it was structured in brackets where 48-54, 41-47, 35-40, etc. got the same payout. And the increases in every level were quite miniscule. The first bracket got $1,800, the next $1,920, the next $2,048, etc. I noticed the payout didn’t jump to over $3,000 until something like 15th place or so. I knew I just couldn’t fold my way to more money; it was just so far down the road for any material increase in payout. Tournament organizers know this and they don’t want to be there til 5 in the morning either.
Tight play was way out the window. Chips were flying, small stacks were dying, and the big stacks were getting bigger. At my table, two guys got knocked in a hurry and, like just about every other table, we were playing shorthanded at 7. The blinds and antes were costing 16,000 a round and reality was setting in. Another problem I had was that there was only one stack shorter than me, the rest of the guys had a lot of ammo. If I didn’t get some chips, I would be out in less than an hour. Then reality really set in. The fortunate beneficiary of both the previous knockouts started raising. A lot. With his stack, I thought to myself, I’d be raising a lot too. On his 3rd raise in the last 4 hands I was in the small blind with a pair of 7s. Then I started thinking about the wrong stuff. I was thinking of the antes, the 9,000 in blinds every 7 hands, the slow payout structure, the need to double up. What I didn’t do was relax, sit back, and take a long look at my opponent for any signs of strength, weakness, nervousness, comfort. As I’ve been told by many an ex-girlfriend, I was only thinking about myself. I felt the need to double up so I said, one last time, “I’m all in.”
With only 50,000 more left and his huge stack, there was no question that he was going to call. I knew that and I wanted to get into a race, gamble for some chips or hit the bar. I was looking for Ace-King.
Although I was flying home on USAir, he must have been on American Airlines. He had Aces. Jay was watching me on the rail and others had planned to join later. I looked up at him, forced my best smile and said “Well. That’s it!”
To this day, I stand by my play but I don’t think I’ll do the same if I ever get the chance again. Reason number 1: Who knows when I’ll get that chance again. Reason number 2: Like my buddy Mr. Positive says, in tournament poker you always want to be the one pushing the action. Moving in with a mid pair to a guy who is guaranteed to call isn’t exactly pushing the action. And while the blinds were getting there, my stack was still nowhere near critical condition. At this stage of the tournament, 10 big blinds is not that small of as stack. I gave up a little early. I failed to realize that until I got to the payout table.
We started play at 2 PM that afternoon with 56 players. I went out in 42nd place, at 2:35. In 35 minutes, 15 players got knocked out. While the pace of knockouts would slow as the field shrunk, I realized that I didn’t totally take all the short stack gambling into account. Who knows, maybe I could’ve knocked one out, then doubled up to 200,000 in two hands.
Like I said, I stand by my play but next time I’ll probably do it differently.
One thing is for sure, I have not experienced such an adrenaline rush and the high of competition since playing for the state championship in High School Hockey.
At my new table I immediately recognize a familiar face from the World Poker Tour, none other than “Gentleman” John Gale. If you know his post knockout ritual, you’ll know why I desperately did not want a hug from this well known poker pro. I immediately searched my memory (as the day went on my focus increased and things were coming to me much clearer than usual) of what I’d seen from his play in a few TV telecasts. I recalled that he’s rather tight but when he gets into a pot, very aggressive. I did not want to tangle with him without a very good hand. The Gentleman held true to his reputation, politely chatting with his fellow players and dealers, and methodically building his chips. It felt good though, to notice he didn’t have a whole lot more than me. Yes, these guys put their pants on one leg at a time, just like us.
By this time, the money was getting very close and play was tightening up considerably. I did my best to subscribe to the bubble axiom of taking advantage of the tight play but the cards weren’t coming and I wasn’t about to risk weak hands against the guys who were one by one being forced to play. And after an under the gun raise by a young lady with average chips, I’ve never so easily laid down pocket jacks on the button. Everyone folded, she showed Kings, and I again reminded myself how much of a genius I was. Then it was announced. We were on the bubble. 64 players remained. 63rd got about $1,700 and 64th got nothing.
On the bubble, the tables play hand-for-hand, meaning that one hand is dealt at every table and the next hand is not dealt until all the tables finish playing the current hand. This is to avoid any confusion should two players be knocked out at relatively the same time. Play tightens up considerably. The blinds were 2,000 - 4,000 with a 500 ante. I had 70,000, no danger of being blinded off, and no reason to go nuts without anything but a monster. The nice thing about the bubble is that you don’t have to worry about dwindling your chips very quickly. The hands move sooo slooooooow and almost all of them get folded around to the blind, were you just pick back up what you’ve invested that last round if you didn’t win a pot anyway.
Waiting for every hand to end, I had plenty of time to get a quick check on Jay and Blake. While Blake seemed ok with about 40,000, Jay was justifiably nervous with about 18,000 and the big blind only 2 hands away. As we were about to return to our respective tables a roar erupted two tables over and the high fives began instantly. The bubble had burst and we were all in the money. You should have seen the smile on Jay’s face, it was priceless. I later learned that the bubble buster happened when pocket kings lost to 6-7 offsuit. I did not want to see the look on that guy’s face. It was 12:15 and it was announced we would play to the end of the blind level at 1:00 AM. Incidentally, Jay and Blake were 63 and 62, the first two out in the money! What’s worse for Jay, he flopped trips and lost to a straight on the river.
As one may imagine, the play immediately loosened up. The 20,000 stacks were now gambling and as long as it took to knock the bubble out, they were now going out pretty quickly again. Although I didn’t want to do anything stupid, I was looking for a spot to play. Soon I would get the opportunity to do both. Against the best player at the table. Mr. Gale, who like everyone else folded his way through the bubble, opened in mid position for a raise to 12,000. It folded to me in the big where I held A-8 of spades. I’m not immune to boredom and against my better judgment I ….called. What was I looking to do? Flop an ace and perhaps leave in an unceremonious vortex of domination? Flop two spades and gamble the rest of my stack on a flush draw? What’s worse, the flop came 8 high, men’s warehouse. Instead of doing what I did next, it would have been better if I had just grabbed a handful of chips, walked over, handed them to Mr. Gale, and dropped my A-8 in the nearby garbage can. I committed the ultimate sin of the “weak lead”. Let’s see, there’s my 12, his 12, 2 in the small blind, and 4000 in antes. Into a pot of 30,000 I led out for …..13,000?
Before the chips hit the felt, I realized the grave err of my ways. Gale’s a pro. Pros make their living by pouncing on weakness whenever they see it. Regardless of the quality of my hand, my bet looked weak and I was immediately 100% sure I would get raised. While the small mistake was calling the preflop raise, the HUGE mistake was leading weak because it didn’t do anything to define to Gale the strength of my hand. Whether he even wanted to or not, he knew had to raise. I knew he did too, and therefore I quickly had NO idea where I was in the hand. He could easily have 99 or better, maybe a monster and he was raising to see if I flopped a set, or maybe nothing but the knowledge that I underbet the pot and it was his for the taking if he just showed a little initiative. He quickly made it 20,000 more to go. As the “what the hell have I just done” thoughts kept running through my head, one overriding thought kept coming back: I want to play tomorrow. Maybe he’s making a move here, maybe not but I still have 50,000 left and it’s enough to still do some damage.
On the last hand of the night I got all those chips back anyway. With two limpers in the pot, I looked at A-K of clubs on the button, moved all in and hoped, almost prayed for a caller. I was either taking the 20,000 pot, busting out, or doubling up. Everyone folded and I was back to 72,000. I bagged up my chips, put my name on them, ordered my FIRST Ketel & Tonic of the evening and strolled out of there absolutely wired with adrenaline. I found the rest of the guys at the blackjack table, cut the deck for them, they started winning, and I went back to the hotel, laid in bed smiling, and as far as I know I caught a little sleep.
Day 2
Coming in for day 2 was pretty cool. There was a print out of all those remaining in the tournament, their home town, and their chip count. There was 56 players remaining and I was only slightly less than the average of 90,000 with 72,000. Looking over the tournament sheet I also noticed the payout structure. I tried not look but with only 12 big blinds (the blinds were now 3,000 – 6,000 with 1,000 antes) it’s a good idea to know the money situation. What I saw was not encouraging. The payout structure was incredibly top heavy. Not every player received a gradually increasing payout; it was structured in brackets where 48-54, 41-47, 35-40, etc. got the same payout. And the increases in every level were quite miniscule. The first bracket got $1,800, the next $1,920, the next $2,048, etc. I noticed the payout didn’t jump to over $3,000 until something like 15th place or so. I knew I just couldn’t fold my way to more money; it was just so far down the road for any material increase in payout. Tournament organizers know this and they don’t want to be there til 5 in the morning either.
Tight play was way out the window. Chips were flying, small stacks were dying, and the big stacks were getting bigger. At my table, two guys got knocked in a hurry and, like just about every other table, we were playing shorthanded at 7. The blinds and antes were costing 16,000 a round and reality was setting in. Another problem I had was that there was only one stack shorter than me, the rest of the guys had a lot of ammo. If I didn’t get some chips, I would be out in less than an hour. Then reality really set in. The fortunate beneficiary of both the previous knockouts started raising. A lot. With his stack, I thought to myself, I’d be raising a lot too. On his 3rd raise in the last 4 hands I was in the small blind with a pair of 7s. Then I started thinking about the wrong stuff. I was thinking of the antes, the 9,000 in blinds every 7 hands, the slow payout structure, the need to double up. What I didn’t do was relax, sit back, and take a long look at my opponent for any signs of strength, weakness, nervousness, comfort. As I’ve been told by many an ex-girlfriend, I was only thinking about myself. I felt the need to double up so I said, one last time, “I’m all in.”
With only 50,000 more left and his huge stack, there was no question that he was going to call. I knew that and I wanted to get into a race, gamble for some chips or hit the bar. I was looking for Ace-King.
Although I was flying home on USAir, he must have been on American Airlines. He had Aces. Jay was watching me on the rail and others had planned to join later. I looked up at him, forced my best smile and said “Well. That’s it!”
To this day, I stand by my play but I don’t think I’ll do the same if I ever get the chance again. Reason number 1: Who knows when I’ll get that chance again. Reason number 2: Like my buddy Mr. Positive says, in tournament poker you always want to be the one pushing the action. Moving in with a mid pair to a guy who is guaranteed to call isn’t exactly pushing the action. And while the blinds were getting there, my stack was still nowhere near critical condition. At this stage of the tournament, 10 big blinds is not that small of as stack. I gave up a little early. I failed to realize that until I got to the payout table.
We started play at 2 PM that afternoon with 56 players. I went out in 42nd place, at 2:35. In 35 minutes, 15 players got knocked out. While the pace of knockouts would slow as the field shrunk, I realized that I didn’t totally take all the short stack gambling into account. Who knows, maybe I could’ve knocked one out, then doubled up to 200,000 in two hands.
Like I said, I stand by my play but next time I’ll probably do it differently.
One thing is for sure, I have not experienced such an adrenaline rush and the high of competition since playing for the state championship in High School Hockey.
