WSOP 2010 Trip Report: Part 2

2010 WSOP Trip Report: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Day 3

My Day 3 starting table looked promising. There were a few strong players, including Brian Jensen, the winner of the 2007 Poker Stars Caribbean Adventure, and Dan White, a successful online tournament player who goes by uscswimmer.

Then there were the actors. I was playing with both Vince Van Patten, the color commentator for the World Poker Tour, and a a guy named Michael Bunin who stars in a TBS sitcom called “My Boys”.

Van Patten reminded me of a funny story. I was on the elevator headed down to play my first day, and there were several other scruffy guys presumably headed the same way. The elevator stopped at floor 6 and on stepped Mike Sexton, who is Van Patten’s partner on the WPT broadcasts. I recognized him anyway, but just in case, he was wearing a patch with his name on it.

Several of the guys said hello to him, and he said hello back without smiling, looking up, or otherwise being at all sociable about it. Someone asked him if he was playing today, and he again answered curtly and with no hint of warmness. Then someone asked, “So what happens if you go deep? Do they have to get someone else to do the commentary?”

Now sounding downright annoyed, Mike answered, “I announce for the World Poker Tour, buddy. That’s a different program,” and stepped off the elevator.

I’d never met or seen him before, and to be honest, he came off as kind of a jerk. I actually ran into him again later in the day, though, and got a little more insight into why he was so hostile. This time, I was in the bathroom during one of our 20-minute breaks. Mike walked in and over to a urinal. A journalist followed him right over, holding a miniature voice recorder up to the man’s mouth. Let’s just hope, for the sake of the journalist’s audience, that he had a high-quality directional mic.

An Early Mistake

I came out of the gate playing fast and aggressive, and I increased my stack by about 20% before anyone started actively playing back at me. Unfortunately, I didn’t adjust to them adjusting to me as well as I could have, and it cost me the biggest pot I’d lost so far in the tournament.

When I coach and teach poker, a major theme that I emphasize is avoiding “sloppy poker”- forgoing any attempt to think about what your opponent may have and just deciding, “I have a strong enough hand and I’m going to play it strong and if he has me beat than so be it.” Yet this is essentially what I did in the hand in question.

Blinds were 500/1000. The UTG player raised, and I called UTG+1 with AK offsuit. In retrospect, I think re-raising is better here, and not just because it would have saved me money in this hand. I had an aggressive enough image that a small re-raise might get called by worse hands like AQ, and in bad position with an unsuited broadway hand I don’t really want to invite a multi-way pot.

Anyway, Brian Jensen re-raised to 8500 from middle position. The original raiser folded, and I moved all in without giving enough consideration to the risk-reward ratio or how often I could really expect Brian to fold. Sure enough, he happily called me with a pair of Kings, and I lost about 55,000 chips.

I wouldn’t say this was a huge mistake, but it was at least medium-sized. Of course it was unlucky for me to be dealt a strong hand when Brian had an even stronger one, but better play on my part could have minimized the damage. Looking back on the whole tournament now, I’d say this is probably the biggest mistake that I made, and in the end I don’t think it affected the outcome terribly much.

Chipping Back Up

This left me with about 75,000 chips, though it wasn’t long before I doubled that number. An older Japanese man who was one of the more active players at the table raised from middle position, and I called with 99 on my big blind. The flop came A92 with a flush draw, about as perfect a board as I could ask for. I checked, he bet 4000, and I raised to 14000.

On this board, against this player, with these stacks, slowplaying is out of the question. If he has a big Ace, he’s never folding it, but he’s not betting it on three streets, either. If he has less than an Ace, he’s not going to keep bluffing. Especially since I’ll need three bets to go into the pot if I’m going to stack him, it’s best to raise the flop.

He called very quickly, and the turn brought another Ace. While that made it a lock that he was never folding an Ace, it also gave him some additional outs. To be honest, I didn’t expect him to fold an Ace anyway, so on balance that was probably a bad turn card for me. Not that it changed my plans any. I bet 30K, he put me all in for 75K total, and I called and held against his AQ.

That hand may have tilted him a bit, because the next pot we played was a strange one. I opened Qc8c UTG+1, and the same guy called on his button. The flop was Js9d4c, and I had a feeling that he was just playing fit-or-fold, so I bet 7K, which he quickly called. The turn was the As, which seemed like a good card to represent, so I bet 21K, which he quickly called again.

The river was a 4s, and he checked out of turn. I was really tempted to fire at it, but this guy seemed loose and his quick turn call worried me. I checked and told him he was good. He indicated for me to show, so I did. He showed QT, and we chopped the pot. I guess I should have bluffed river, but what an awful turn call, especially since he wasn’t even going to represent the flush. Whatever, I was thrilled to get half the pot back.

That hand pretty much ran my image into the ground, so I had to tighten up, and it was a while before I played another interesting hand. Vince Van Patten in particular had been complaining about how I was fighting him for every pot, so I raised his big blind with 75s. He called, and the flop came A52 with a flush draw.

He checked, I bet 4400, and he quickly raised to 20K. The raise felt extremely bluffy to me, since he clearly expected me to bet the flop with anything, and he probably would have tried to induce more bluffs from me if he actually had a big hand. I called, and the turn brought another 5. He checked, and I had a big decision to make about how play my hand.

Given my read that he had nothing, it might make sense to check and give him a chance to bluff the river or maybe turn a pair that would pay off a bet. In the end, though, I thought he was going to be done with the hand no matter what if he had been bluffing, and it would be better to try to get two bets out of him if he did happen to have an A. I bet 28K, and he hemmed and hawed for a long time before folding. I showed him the 7c, hoping to rankle him, but he nodded and said, “7-5 of clubs, huh?”, so I don’t know if I actually got under his skin or not.

My image was still terrible a while later when I opened ATo UTG+1 to 5700 at 1000/2000/300. A younger guy who was relatively new to table and hadn’t done much, but had observed some aggression from me, called. The flop came AA9 with a flush draw, I bet 11K, and he called.

A 4 on the turn made a second flush draw possible, but I checked anyway. My Ace wasn’t particularly good consider that I raised from early position, so I wasn’t eager to bet it for value on three streets. I was hoping he’d either bluff the turn or check behind with a hand that could call a river bet. He checked.

The river was another 9, making the final board AA949 with no flush possible. I checked again, expecting him to bluff counterfeited pairs and to value bet anything good enough to call a bet. He bet 15K, I raised to 60K, and went into the tank for a long time before calling. I showed my hand, he mucked, and I went to dinner with 300K.

Bluff-Catching

After dinner, my Japanese friend got rivered and looked to be steaming even more than before. One of the more active players at the table raised to 3500 from early position, the steaming guy shoved 35K, and I called with AKo in my SB. The original raiser folded, and my hand held up against A8.

A few hands later, the same active raiser opened in early position again, Vince Van Patten called, and I called 88 in my small bind. The flop was T97 with a flush draw, and we checked around.

The turn was an offsuit 2. We checked to Vince, and he bet 20K, which was nearly pot. I called, and the third player folded. I checked an offsuit 9 on the river, Vince quickly bet 35K, and I went into the tank. I thought it was very unlikely he slowplayed two pair or better on the flop, and I couldn’t see him value betting a T like this.

“I feel like you’ve had a bullseye on me for a while, Vince,” I told him. He shrugged awkwardly and looked angry. I pushed calling chips into the pot, and he mucked his hand.

That wasn’t the end of the bluffs, though. On my next button, I opened to 4500 with K3o, and Brian Jensen called in the big blind. The flop came A42, and we both checked. He bet 6000 on a turn T, and I called. The river was a blank, we both checked, and he announced J-high. I showed and won with my K-high.

A few hands later, Jensen raised in early position, and I flat called Ace-King offsuit on my big blind, having learned my lesson about overplaying AK versus him. We checked through a K62 rainbow flop. I thought about betting a turn A, but decided to check and give him the chance to bluff or value bet it instead. He checked. The river was a blank. I thought about overbetting but settled on 15K, which was nearly pot. He snap-called and nodded knowingly when I showed the winner.

The next time I had the button, I had Ace-King again. I raised to 4500, and and Jensen called. He checked and called 7K on an AhTh5s flop. The turn was the Jh, and he checked and called 17K. The river was a blank, we both checked, and again I showed the winner.

The last hour of the day passed without fanfare, and I finished in 27th place out of more than 1200 players remaining. Naturally, it was a pretty awesome feeling, especially after my lackluster first day.

Day 4

I came into Day 4 with a monster stack relative to the field. I had over 500,000 chips, when the average was about 180,000, ranking me 27th among the more than 1200 players who remained. Day 4 was a particularly good day for this, as it was also the day that would separate the players who would win nothing from those who would take home at least $19,000. With 747 players to be paid, no one wanted to be eliminated in 748th place (or 762nd, for that matter), which meant that most people were playing more conservatively than usual.

I had the biggest stack at my table, and the only person who even came close was a guy two seats to my right whom I’d never heard of, who was sitting on about 400,000 chips. It looked like all the stars were aligned for me to steamroll the table and steal steal steal, but it didn’t go quite so flawlessly as I’d imagined it.

This Town Isn’t Big Enough for Both of Us

For one thing, I only thought I’d never heard of the other big stack. At the end of the day, I learned that while I didn’t know him as Shane Rose, I did know him as NoLuck17, an occasional player in the high-stakes online games who is in fact extremely good and whom I avoid when possible.

Shane seemed to have the same game plan as I did for the day: steal from the shorter stacked players who were trying to get into the money. It was a classic “only room for one sheriff in this town” situation. One of us was going to have to back down and let the other run over the table, and I felt like I had all the advantages on my side. I had more chips, I had position, and (I thought at the time) I was the better player.

Right away, Shane was raising a lot of hands, and I decided to put him in his place with some re-raises. He folded the first two times that I did it, and the third, he had opened to 7K UTG when I found myself sitting on his immediate left with Ace-King offsuit. From such early position, this wouldn’t ordinarily be a 3-bet for me, but given our history, I made it 20K.

Shane quickly 4-bet me to 55K, which was exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Arguably I should fold right now, especially since I’m not suited, but I called. It was early in the day, I still had aspirations of bullying the table, and I wanted to send the message that I was not going to let go of a pot easily.

The flop came out K44, giving me a good hand but one that was still behind the range he was representing. I knew I was about to win or lose an awful lot of chips, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Shane bet 55,000, and I called. He checked a blank turn, and I was happy to check as well. The river card didn’t change anything, and now he bet 145,000. I wanted to throw up. All I could beat was a bluff. My heart thumped harder, and I could feel my face redden. What had I gotten myself into?

I took a few deep breaths, cleared my mind, and thought through the hand. Could he be bluffing? If he was, why didn’t he just bet the turn? The way he played it, it sure seemed like he was trying to keep me in the pot rather than chase me out. I tried looking over at Shane for a read, but he was giving away nothing. After several minutes of thought, I threw my hand away. I’ll never know what he had or if I made the right fold, but even in defeat I felt I’d sent a message: if you want to take a pot away from me, you’re going to have to push awfully hard.

For a while after that, Shane was actually the chipleader at the table, though my position still gave me the opportunity to keep him in line with the occasional call or re-raise. Finally, I got the opportunity to collect on the aggressive reputation I’d established with him. I was dealt a pair of Aces, and sure enough there was Shane raising it up in front of me. He made it 8K at 2000/4000/50, I re-raised to 24K, and he called.

The flop came K64, all different suits, a very safe board for me. Shane checked, I bet 32K, and he called.

The turn was 9, which I didn’t expect to help him at all. He checked, I bet 80K, and he called. The river was a 7, a pretty safe card, but nonetheless I had a decision. I was fairly sure I had the best hand, but I needed to decide whether Shane would call with hands worse than mine.

I thought back to how tough Shane’s big river bet had been for me, how I’d almost called with Ace-King, and how many times I’d re-raised him today. I decided he could talk himself into calling, and so I made my biggest bet of the tournament, 175,000 chips.

There was no agonizing deliberation for Shane. No sooner had the chips left my hand than his cards left his. I have no way of knowing what he folded or whether my bet was a good one. Frankly, I have my doubts. Again, though, at least I’d sent the message that I was willing to fire relentlessly at the pot, and that if he called one bet, he’d better be ready to call more. I could only hope that his fold would nag at him the way mine continued to nag at me, though that sure wasn’t the impression I got.

The Bubble

As the money bubble approached, play slowed to a halt. Everyone was taking more time with his decisions, and fewer and fewer people were going out. The table was getting very boring.

Just in the nick of time, a short-stacked and big-mouthed French Canadian named Charles filled the empty seat on my right. He would go on to provide the entertainment for the evening. I jotted down a few of his quips and one-liners to share with you, but they just aren’t as funny in writing, so you’ll have to take my word for it. The combination of his accent and mannerisms plus the generally tense and slow pace of the day had the table in hysterics.

My first introduction to his wild play came when blinds were 2500/5000/500. He opened to 11K on the CO with barely 100K behind. I felt he would need a stronger than usual hand to open the pot as a short stack near the bubble, but I was also getting very good odds and thought I might be able to put some pressure on him, so I called with JTs on the Button.

The flop came QJ5, he bet, and I called. The turn was a K, and we both checked. He bet again at a blank river, I folded, and he showed me T5 offsuit. So much for needing a stronger than usual hand.

I called Charles’ next raise with AQ and got an AA5 flop with two diamonds. He bet, and I called. The turn was a third diamond. He checked, and since I was holding the Qd, I checked as well. A Q on the river gave me the mortal nuts. He bet, I moved all in, and he folded very quickly.

The next time that Charles opened, I flatted him with Kings, but none of the short stacks behind me picked up on the fact that this was a great squeezing opportunity (or maybe they just didn’t care because it was the bubble). The flop came Kc 8c 4c. He checked, I bet 10K, which was about 1/3 of the pot, and he raised to 29K. After some thought, I made it 50K. He thought for a long time and then folded, telling me he was sure I had the Ace of clubs. “Could you beat the Ace of clubs?” I asked him, but he just smiled.

Whereas I was trying to be relentless but subtle with my stealing, Charles was blatant and loud with his. Every time he won a pot on a bluff, he would proudly show the cards and brag about how he was abusing the money bubble. Honestly, there wasn’t much the short stacks could do about it even though they knew exactly what he was up to. He kept telling them that he would call, even with garbage hands, if they moved all in on him. It’s hard to say whether he really would have or if he was just trying to intimidate them, but no one ever put him to the test.

Because I was not short-stacked, however, I was able to take advantage of Charles’s loose play by calling or re-raising him liberally in position. In fact, I had no choice. He raised at just about every opportunity, so if I ever wanted to play a hand, I was going to have to tangle with Charles.

The third time he raised during hand for hand play, opening to 13K at 2500/5000/500, I made it 35K with KJo. He told me I must have a big hand, since I knew he never folded to 3-bets, and then called. We both checked an AQ5 flop. He checked and folded to a bet of 45K on a turn 8. Several of the short stacks, eager to see Charles punished for stealing from them, asked me to show a bluff. I showed my hand but remarked that, honestly, I didn’t think I was bluffing. It still seemed to bother Charles, though.

He was losing a lot of pots to me but stealing a lot of antes and otherwise winning pots against most everyone else at the table. He actually ran his stack up from 110K to over 500K quite quickly despite his losses to me.

She’s Not Crazy

A few orbits after the bubble burst, Shane opened to 11K from middle position, Charles called, and I made it 44K with A4o on my CO. I had position on the two loosest players at the table, so it seemed like a good spot for a squeeze. Shane folded, but Charles called without hesitation. He did, however, check and fold to a 60K bet on a KT6 flop.

At some point, I stepped away from the table for a minute to talk to my girlfriend, who was standing on the rail. As it happened, Charles’ girlfriend was standing right next to her. I introduced myself and made some conversation, but I got the distinct impression that beneath her friendly demeanor she was actually grilling me for information that could be valuable to her boyfriend.

Later, during a break, I mentioned to my girlfriend that Charles was doing well for himself and that his girlfriend was considerably more attractive than he. “She’s probably crazy,” my girlfriend assured me. “Most of the hot ones are.”

Sure enough, during the last two hours of play, Charles had to step from the table more than a few times to take phone calls. Once, he returned, muttering, “I’m in the money in the World Series of Poker and I have to deal with this fucking crazy woman.”

I smiled and decided to show my hand on this one. “You know,” I told him, “my girlfriend and I were wondering what you were doing with someone that good looking. We thought she might be crazy.”

“She’s not crazy,” he told me. For a second I thought that my good-natured ribbing might have offended him, but then he continued, “She’s fucking crazy.” I smiled. “But thank you for the compliment,” he said, quite genuinely.

After four days of poker, we were finally in the money, with better than $20,000 locked up. It was nice to have some money in the pocket, but in terms of chips, I had little to show for the day. In fact, I had slightly fewer chips than I’d started with. They felt hard-earned, though, and that felt good.

2010 WSOP Trip Report: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3