WSOP Recap II

When we last left our hero he was battling the forces of doom and it looked like he was down but not out! Actually we knew he would eventually be down and out, but we didn't know exactly how it would happen.

The night before the $1,500 limit event I was at the Paris with Jean and E.B. playing Pai Gow and trying to turn my luck around. Jake and Chrissy had just left for the airport and while I was having a good time I was worried about blowing even more money playing stupid casino games. I decided to let the gambling gods give me a sign! To this point I had ignored the signs from the gods which in huge neon lights the size of the Titanic all said "STOP GAMBLING!!!" While I was busy covering my eyes to avoid reading those signs I was also repeatedly thinking the mantra of all losing gamblers, "It has to turn around sometime!"

But now I was looking for a real sign. Instead if betting $25 on one hand I went to $50 on each of two hands. I decided if I won both hands, I'd finish my drink, order a shot of whiskey and take one last gasping, hacking, coughing attempt at winning back some of my money. If I lost both, I'd call it a night and leave with whatever money (and dignity) I had left. I got one terrible hand, and one OK hand, but they both got squashed by a monster hand from the dealer. Horsefeathers!

I made my way back to Harrah's and was in my room by 8 p.m. I had the thought that if my 21 year old self was there he slap me in the face, pour a bucket of ice down my pants, and give me an atomic wedgie. He'd say, "You're in Vegas, you fool! It's only 8 o'clock! Why aren't you out there gambling and drinking!" And I'd say, "But, I'm tired and I have a tournament tomorrow and..." SLAP! "You're not 77, you're 27! Now get out there and booze it up! You've got money in your pocket don't you? I never stopped gambling until I was on the plane back to California or I didn't have a penny left on me. Don't you know it has to turn around sometime?"

Anyway I woke up well rested and headed off to the Rio to play my 15th career WSOP event. When I sat down at my table, I noticed Rafe Furst who has 1 WSOP bracelet was sitting two spots to my left. I'd never played against him before and I hadn't seen him play on TV so I didn't really know what to expect, but it turns out that while I was there he was playing a very conservative style and didn't give me any trouble.

I got a fair number of playable hands early and ended up taking my stack from 3,000 up to about 5,000 sometime during the 3rd level. But by the end of the 4th level I was back down under 3,000. When we got back from our second break a little more than 4 and half hours after we started, I knew I would need to make some progress soon.

Around that time a new player got moved to our table. I got the vibe that he was a strong and accomplished player and it wasn't until I was leaving the tournament area later and picked up a bluff magazine that I figured out who he was. He was on the cover with 7 or 8 other players (Doyle Brunson, Jennifer Harmon, and Phil Ivey to name a few) with the headline "Players to Watch at this Years WSOP." It turns out it was Jeff Madsen who won two bracelets last year and in the process became the youngest player in WSOP history to win an event.

When Madsen sat down he said hello to Rafe Furst and within seconds they'd agreed to a $100 best two out of three rock, paper, scissors match. While the dealer was shuffling, bang, bang, bang they knocked out three rounds and a $100 bill came flying across the table to Rafe. I find it interesting to be around people who bet three digit amounts on stupid shit like rock, paper, scissors. Doing that kind of thing has never appealed me, but I find it interesting none the less.

It turns out that the tournaments were maybe the least interesting part of the trip from a blogging standpoint. I had a few hands go against me in unspectacular fashion and I was out. I didn't feel bad about it, because I knew that I had played my best. Not just pretty good, or OK, but my actual best. I was focused, I wasn't the least bit nervous and I felt almost positive that every move I made was the right one given the circumstances. It just didn't work out. For better or for worse, that's poker.