Big poker tourney - Part 1 2006

Big poker tourney - Part 1
Originally published 6/5/2006

Big tourn
I went to play in the US Tournament Poker quarterly tournament. USTP is a league where you play free poker in bars all over the Portland area. If you win one of these nightly tournaments, or do well in it, you get little prizes as well as points that add up to qualify you for this big quarterly tournament. I qualified this time. The quarterly involves hundreds of players and takes all day. You report there by 9:30 a.m., to the Elks Lodge in Milwaukie, Ore., and play until there is one person left. Of course it could be a very short tournament for you, if you get knocked out quick. I had booked a gig for that evening, before I knew that the big tournament would be that day or that I would playing in it. I didn't want to cancel the gig, but I went to the tournament wondering what if I do well and it starts getting late and I have to leave for the gig? The gig started at 8 p.m., and I had to haul and set up my own PA, so I'd have to get there early. And it was way north of Portland, and the tournament was way south, so I'd have a 45-minute drive to get there.
I get to the tournament, sign in, stand around and wait. They're selling breakfasts, coffee, drinks. They don't let you bring any of your own food or beverages in. And the stuff they're selling is not cheap. Guess the Elks want to make a few bucks on this too. I've already had breakfast and I don't want a drink at this hour, so I walk around, say hello to a few people I know from my home-bar games, get a book out of the car and read. Finally they let us sit down at the tables but then there are lots of announcements, introductions, raffles, etc. The chips are distributed – we don't start equal. It depends on how many wins and points you have. The range is about 3,000 to 10,000. I'm starting with 4,500. Finally, a little before 11 am, we deal the first hand.
I don't know about the cards, but my table seating turns out to be lucky right away. One of the eight people at our table introduces himself as the owner of one of the bars that hosts poker games. His name is Mike Wren and the bar is Wrenegades. His bar had been giving away T-shirts to people who signed up for a new poker web site and mailing list he was starting. He's a big, jovial guy. He's smiling, joking, and soon asking when we're going to start drinking at this table. "As soon as you buy a round," I say, half-joking. "I'll buy a round if we can get a waitress over here," he says. It's a great big room with hundreds of people playing at dozens of tables, and it looks like only one waitress working it. Oh don't worry, we'll get her, the woman next to me and I both pipe up. We get her attention and she comes over and Mike says "I want to buy a round for the table." She starts to walk away and we call her back. "Oh, I thought you were kidding," she says. We place our orders and thank Mike and drink up. When the glasses become empty he orders us another round. And then another. It's before lunch still. Our table has become the loud one in the room, everyone laughing, shouting, having a ball. People keep looking over to see what's going on at our table. And we're playing slow and friendly. While the other tables are getting combined as people get knocked out, no one gets eliminated from our table for a very long time. Of course Mike tells us to keep him in so he can keep buying rounds. Sounds good.
But finally the party ends – a few people get eliminated from our table and our drinking party gets dispersed among the other table in the room. Fortunately another guy from my original table gets sent to the same one as I do, so I'm not the only drunk at the new table. But still it takes me awhile to adapt to the idea that I'm playing in a serious poker tournament, not just drinking and playing cards for fun. The other players don't take me real seriously, either, with my fancy getup (most of them are in T-shirts but I'm wearing a jacket, white shirt and skull bola tie) and shaker (an African gourd shaker with cowry shells, which I use to hold my cards down, and shake at key moments) and drunken demeanor. But one hand gets their attention and puts me way up: I start off with QT. And for some reason I raise preflop with it. A couple of people call. And the dream flop hits: QQT. Since I already bet before the flop, I go ahead and make a moderate bet on the flop instead of slowplaying. Sure enough, one guy calls. The next card is a 7. He checks and I check, smiling as if I had just been testing him before. The last card is another rag and – oh yes – he bets into me. I reraise all in. He calls. I show my hand and he folds his. Doubles me up and demoralizes him.
Soon we break for lunch and I sober up during it. I come back and soon get sent to another table, and good thing, because this one has turned sour on me. I'm down low when I move, and a few bad hands make me even lower. In fact I get down to 500, when the blinds are 200 and 400! But the new table eventually proves berry berry good for me. The cards start coming and I play 'em strong. Soon I'm one of the chip leaders in the tournament. I check the clock and start to worry: jeez, it looks like I might be here for awhile. I don't want to willfully blow the tournament. But I do have to make that gig. The printed schedule shows a dinner break starting at 6:15 p.m. That would be a good time for me to head out of here. But if I'm still in the running then what to do?
They start announcing how many people are left as it gets close to 50, the cutoff for being "in the money" – or in the prizes anyway. They ask us to deal one hand at a time and then wait to see how many people are still left. They announce 56, 54, etc. It gets down to 50, the milestone, and I'm still in. Very much in. It gets down to 30, and then down to two tables, and I'm still in and doing well. I'm pulling strong moves such as: I limp in with pocket 5s. The flop comes 679. Not a great flop for me, as anybody pairing one of those cards has me beat. But those are not the kind of cards people usually go in with. I make a test bet, and two people call but no one raises. OK. The next card is a 9. OK, if the first 9 didn't help anyone, neither did this one. I go all in, representing the 9. I get a caller! He's on a straight draw, I guess, but he doesn't get it. I'm doubled up again.
A little later I have my only dispute of the tournament, against that same guy, Bill. Another player at our table, with a very short stack, goes all in on the big blind. Bill and I are the two callers. We both check on the flop and on the turn. The last card is a K, pairing me up. Since the pot is so small I don't want to bet a lot and scare Bill out; I just want to get a few more chips out of him. So I bet 300 into a pot of 600. But someone at the table points out that the minimum bet is 800, which was the big blind (if the all-in had been able to afford that).