Big poker tourney - Part 2 2006

Big poker tourney - Part 2
Originally published 6/5/2006

I start to pull back my 3 chips so I can think this over, but that same commenter says no, you made a move at the pot, you can't take it back. I wasn't sure I wanted to take it back anyway, but now I want a director's ruling to know what my options are. Different directors come over and say different things, but one who sounds authoritative says my choices are to increase my bet to 800 or to fold and forfeit the 300. "I'm not forfeiting anything," I say, and push the rest of the 800 in. Bill of course figures I don't have anything since I was reluctant to bet the 800, and he calls. I show the K and he can't believe it. It wasn't a lot of chips from his stack, but he's pissed. "You've been playing all day and you don't know how to bet yet," he says. "I haven't been here all day. I just got here," I say. "They've been blinding me in all day." He thinks this over before realizing I'm joking. But he's not laughing. "Go out to your car and smoke another doobie," he tells me.
I hang in there as the numbers get trimmed. I was getting some good breaks. Four times during the day I was all in (either my opponent or I was all in, that is) before the flop with A-low card against A-higher card, and I won three of those contests and split the pot in the fourth. Besides getting lucky when I needed to, I was making some bold plays and succeeding with them. Stealing blinds occasionally. Raising with marginal hands and taking down pots. My reputation grew as my stack did, enabling me to get away with more stuff.
I make it to the final table, which is very formal. Ten of us move to a big red velvet table. And there's a dealer now (before that, everyone had dealt in turn, as in a home game), dressed formally. There's an announcer with a microphone and there is an audience of at least 150 people. The announcer asks us to introduce ourselves and which bar we play at. Every one of the 10 is from a different bar, so different factions of the audience cheer in turn. There are two women at the table, including an 89-year-old! Of course she gets huge audience support, but she doesn't last long. Eric, a young player from my bar, the Interstate Lounge, is my main supporter there. I've coached Eric, as he often credits me, and helped him become a very good player who wins the weekly bar tournaments regularly. He's proud of me for getting this far. But I've told him of the gig I have to get to. He offers to go play the gig for me. No, but you can take over the poker game for me, I say. I doubt they'll allow that though. He says I'll have to just blow off the gig and keep playing. I can't, though. OK, I tell him, here's what I'm going to do: Play superaggressively. Take my nine opponents out boom, boom, boom, right around the table. End the tournament in half an hour, which is all I have.
And the plan proceeded quite well for awhile! Boom, boom, boom. I started going all in and taking out players. And shaking my shaker and delighting the crowd. And amassing chips and confusing my opponents. We got down from 10 to three in no time.
The trouble was, I lost a few thousand chips somewhere along the line, and was no longer chip leader when we got down to three. I think the time pressure helped me in that part of the tournament. But as Carl, the director of my local game, explained to me the next day, a big tournament is like about six consecutive tournaments, each requiring a different strategy. You (if you're playing correctly) play very differently in the first few rounds of a tournament from how you play in the middle or in the end. And, he says and I agree, there's a different strategy for the beginning of the final table from when it's down to three. I not only agree, I felt that at the table. When it got down to four, even, I felt like slowing down, tightening up, settling in. But I did not have time to do that. I had to just keep going nuts, forcing all-in confrontations and hoping the chips would go my way.
Soon after we got down to three, the guy with the big stack was first to act, and he raised into me. Now, from the way I had been playing, he should have expected me to reraise all in. And I didn't disappoint him. I held KQ suited, and I reraised all in. The third player folded, and the original raiser called, putting my chips all at risk. We flipped up our cards and he held AK offsuit. I'm at a big but not overwhelming disadvantage. I could pair up the Q or get a flush or straight to win. I've made better catches during the day, that's for sure! But it was not to happen this time. An A and a K came up on the flop. Then another A after that, I think. I wasn't really looking too hard after that. I shook my opponents' hands, went to the side to have my official photo taken, and accepted my little prize.
The prize? For coming in third out of hundreds? A piece of poker jewelry. I don't know what it's worth, probably no more than $25. Second prize is the same thing. Only first place is a significant prize: a trip to a major real-money tournament in Lake Tahoe, including all expenses and buy-in. Or $1500 in chips for a local Indian casino. And you can go to the casino and cash in the chips if you want. So it's $1500 for first, $10 (assuming you could sell the jewelry for that) for second and for third. Really a winner-takes-all tournament. It took awhile for that to sink in. I was still excited about getting so far in the tournament, and rushing to try to make my gig in time. It took a bit for it to sink in that I had come so close to winning $1500 and blew it at the end. Or failed to do it, anyway. Very sad. They hold these tournaments every three months, and I'll try to make sure I don't have a gig to run to next time, but it's not like I'm likely to get to the top three again next time. For example: the guy who won the previous tournament was first out this time! A lot of things have to happen right for me to ever get the chance again. Well, I guess it was a learning experience for me. And an enjoyable one, most of the time. And I got a few free drinks and met some nice people. I might get a gig at Wrenegades. And Carl is baking a cake to celebrate my success (to him and to everyone else from my little bar, this was a great success) at this Thursday's game.
After driving frantically, I made it to the gig just on time – if I didn't have such a lengthy setup. The restaurant, Mark's on the Channel, is really on a channel. It's one of those dockside places, and you have to park far away and walk across a long metal dock and then a couple of wooden ones to get in. I had to make about five trips to carry all my gear over there. But the manager didn't mind at all, and neither did the customers. It was a rockin' evening and I was very well received and very happy that no matter what happens on the poker table I can still play the blues.