The trip was a phenomenal success in every way that mattered - except for my results.
I returned home down just over $400. I cashed in 2 out of the 9 tournaments I played, which is actually a very good percentage for these things. Unfortunately both cashes were min-cashes in minor events.
The good news, I learned a lot and had a blast. Best of all, it was just my brother and I, so we had a lot of time to just hang, chat and catch up. He even took me to the fabulous fitness center at the Orleans and showed me how to use a few weight lifting machines for the first time in my life, so now I have zero excuse for not going to the gym.
It all started on a Thursday at the Orleans. One of these days I'm going to cash at this place - the tournaments are structured superbly, the room is run well, everything about it is great - but the clientele is a bit too seasoned to make the room profitable for me.
I'm not saying I was outclassed, but probably the majority of players that sat around me each had many many many more live hours than I did. And they were also nits - meaning they rarely spewed, frequently folded unless they had the goods and were very skilled at value betting me to death.
My first tournament, the $75 nooner, was over in a couple of hours. I didn't have many cards to work with, and the occasional pocket pair I did get amounted to nothing after the flop. I finally got the chips in the middle but was dominated - my AJ ran into AK.
The good news was, I went and saw Jackass 3D at the outstanding Orleans movie theater. Good times, and a most excellent film, replete with fecal matter and genital smashing mayhem. All in eye-popping high speed camera 3D!
After a surprisingly disappointing dinner burger at Fuddruckers I signed up for the $75 7pm Omaha/8 tournament!
This was a lot of fun, and I was surprised at how deep I made it. Levels got pretty painful about 3 hours in, when I flopped a boat and a draw to the nut low. I had A532, the board read 5A5. I fired out on every street and got called down by a fellow with AJ who naturally spiked a fish hook on the river after a meaningless queen on the turn.
I wasn't busted on this hand, but crippled, and out shortly thereafter. I was lightly steamed, but happy enough to have lasted so long.
The next morning I sprang out of bed bright and early and headed down to the Monte Carlo for their $50 9am tournament.
As I mentioned in my pre-Vegas post, this place has absolutely terribly structured tournaments - super turbos - but a very friendly staff and an ultra-mellow early morning vibe that make it a fun place to practice poker.
Turned out, it was also a profitable place on this particular morning. Honestly, there wasn't one regular, or even a serious recreational player in the whole bunch of four tables.
Before I knew what had happened, I was in the money with three players. I stuck in my stack with pocket kings and the good natured Brit called me with a baby Ace. We all know the end to this story.
I cashed for $220 - up $20 total so far.
Then it was on to playing with the big boys at the Venetian $150 nooner.
This was a great day. I played for 6 hours.
Early on I had some fun, and made some pretty good reads. Towards the end, I got a bit dry on good starting cards, and the table was simply too experienced for me to get out of line much.
After the third break, my stack was hovering at around 15 big blinds. I looked down at UTG +1 at Jacks. I stuck it in.
I got two callers who both had AK!
Sounds crazy, but it's true. The flop came AKJ. The turn and river were baby cards and I had tripled up.
Now I was okay, at just under 50 big blinds. A short while later I had jacks again. I popped it from middle position.
It folded around to a short stack who shoved, then to the now crippled small blind from the other three way hand who was now the big blind. She also shoved. I had both of them covered substantially. Easy call.
The big blind had AK, the late position short stacker had a pair of tens.
The short stacker spiked a ten on the flop. I binked the case jack (as I found out from the another player who said he had J5) on the river.
Easy game.
I felt good as we approached the dinner break. 25 players - they paid 18.
At this point with another hour and big blinds and antes bleeding me a bit, my stack was around 60 big blinds, I was happy to fold to the money, which paid $350 for 18th place. With the departure of the two short stacked females, I was the lone fish left in the tank. I promised myself that I would not play any hands until I reached the moolah - with the exception of aces or kings. If I had the opportunity to get it all in pre-flop with either hand, I would unhesitatingly do so.
Careful what you wish for.
One day I will be a world class player and be able to fold my cowboys pre-flop against the eccentric codger who plays transparently with his rockets. But not this day. I stuck it in and fast rolled my kings when he called, he then actually stalled and for dramatic effect (though I confess I knew before his cards hit what he had) slow rolled me a bit with his aces.
"Classy" I thought to myself as the board rolled off harmlessly and his bullets held. This pathetic excuse for a person, not a horrible poker player by any means, pulled out a toy geiger counter and held it over the cards as they came out. He was, it turns out, "The Toy Man" and had a whole duffel bag full of props that he liked to employ at times. I'd never heard of him. "Is that really necessary?" was all I could muster. Other players shook their heads in disgust at his antics. I walked off in silence and within about 5 minutes I felt sorry for him.
Not so sorry for myself. As the famous whale Tony G. says in his unmistakable Aussie accent "You gotta haave haaaaartt!"
The only part that really hurt was getting so close to being up over $300 for the trip. I skipped on the Mirage bounty, as my brother's flight was delayed because Obama was coming to town. I had a big ass Ruben at the Carnagie deli and it was good, though impossible to finish.
The good Dr. David met up with me and we sauntered over to Treasure Island for the $50 10pm donkament.
This was probably the most fun I had all trip with poker - what a good natured blast this room is. Again, like the Monte Carlo, a shit structure - but great dealers, a truly smoke free environment and plenty of drunken fish to exploit.
No hands of note leap into my mind, though I know about midway through I managed to wake up with aces and have them hold up in a multi-way pot.
When I sat down to the final table, I was slightly below average, but not desperate even though the blinds were huge. Across from me sat the chip leader - the good Doctor.
Finally the bubble burst, and I believe I was second or third out after the money. My rags shove got called by Q6 (not a bad call) and I hit the rail booking just under $150 for 4th or 5th place.
Doctor Dave had a sizable chip lead when it went to heads up between him and another recreational player - he got unlucky and ran into a set of sevens which basically rendered him even with his opponent. They chopped first and second, for almost $700 each. Nice.
So Dave was free-rolling on his entry fees, and I was feeling great about my game so far.
I was comfortable as a short stack, comfortable with chips, comfortable among tourists and regulars at the Venetian.
Tomorrow was going to be a great day. And it was. Just not great in the conventional sense.
After my brief and slightly terrifying experiment with the Orleans fitness center, made much easier to bear by the good Doctor, we headed off to the fantabulous Aria for the excellently structured $125 1pm tournament.
I played my best poker so far.
My table was a nice mix of regulars and semi-serious recreational players. With plenty of ammo early on I could speculate, 3 bet and accumulate to my hearts content. There were a couple of crafty old nits who were gold mines - I swear this one guy on my left, all he ever played was Aces and Kings. He called me all the way to the river with his cowboys, and I knew my two pair was good for a nice visit to value town.
4 hours later, my brother busted, two hours after that I was at the final table of 9. They paid 7.
Once again, a recurring theme on this trip, I looked down at jacks in early position. As the short stack at the table, this was an easy one - in went the chips.
It folded to a codger who I found out later played in this tournament 5 days a week. He asked for a count. He looked concerned. Finally he called. A bit over dramatic, I thought, but at least we're probably racing. Hopefully he has tens and not queens.
I turned up my jacks, he turned up bullets.
I rivered a gut wrenching straight to crack his monster.
3 hands later I gave it all away.
I messed around with AQ (bad idea) and found myself bluffing off my stack on the river to a super crusty codger.
I can get mad at his marginal call. I can get mad at him making the correct decision to look me up with TP mediocre kicker. But this hand, as Jimmy Buffett says, is my own damn fault. Entirely.
Our stacks are close, but he has me covered. I stagger out. What the flim flam just happened?
For the first time in live poker, I truly imploded.
After this monstrosity of a finish, I was not in the right frame of mind for poker, though I was anxious to get back on the horse - and I unsurprisingly busted out quickly of the $80 7pm Mirage bounty tournament. It was hilarious table of home game fish though, and I know I would have made a deeper run had my brain been in the right place.
As my brother and I food courted it back at the Orleans, I began to digest what I had done, and for the first time could truly see the positives.
Every serious poker player has melted down - but up until this point, I had never done so in a live game. Plenty of bad plays, plenty of mistakes, but never one big catastrophic bluff 2 spots from the money. Now, I had basically popped my cherry.
I knew what it felt like, the gut wrenching, room spinning sickness that swept over me as I walked out into the Vegas twilight with my brother. It was good for me to go through it, because now I know what it's like. I know I'm a better poker player because of it.
And, this happened at just the right time for me. My blowup wasn't the worst line in the world, but it was wrong all the way down. I could analyze it, and see it plainly. Had I done this 4 years ago I could very easily rationalize it away - that stinking donkey, how can he call me with top pair, crap kicker? He sucks. Now that I'm almost (and as of this writing, actually am) 40, I know better.
I awoke fresh and optimistic on Sunday. Lesson learned, today would be good. And, it was.
Back to the Venetian - this time the nooner was a bit smaller than the Friday tournament. They only paid the final table. Still, the top prize was 4K. Not too shabby.
The good Doctor busted out early and said he was going back to the Orleans to do some work work on his laptop. I found out later that he bee lined it to the Aria, where he also busted out in short order. Ah well, he was still ahead for the trip.
Myself, I played some of my best poker all trip, splashing around without endangering my stack too much, and getting lucky at the right times.
Five hours later, after my table had finally broken, I was again approaching the money.
Long story short. I didn't implode this time.
For the third time this trip, just a handful of players from the money, but now I was truly short stacked. I shoved from middle position with KJ. And ran into AK. Most sick of all, the guy who called took forever - and he had 10 times the stack I did! Ah well.
If a tree bubbles in the forest - does it make a sound? Does that even make sense?
What I'm trying to ascertain is - if I'd had a single big cash early on, enough to cover my buy-ins, and then thereafter simply gotten unlucky early on in all the remaining events, busting early, biding my time all afternoon window shopping in Vegas instead of playing nearly 27 hours of live poker -would that hypothetical trip have been more "successful"? Methinks not.
This was a hugely successful venture for me and my game - results not withstanding. Like I said, if I'd pocketed 1 or 2K in that first big tournament - my kings had avoided or cracked aces - I'd be over the moon; surely my confidence would have been boosted. But would I have even approached the level of learning and sheer number of hours at the tables if I'd gone that route? Who knows. But what I do know, is my agony and my frustration paled in the face of the real. The hard. The greatness that is poker and that I got to indulge in on this weekend.
Speaking of hard and good, my brother and I wrapped things up with H.O.R.S.E. at the Orleans on Sunday night.
It was a blast, I played well, my jacks ran into kings in Hold-em about 4 hours in with the betting levels at astronomical levels.
As I mentioned prior to this post, I consider myself dead money in such an event - and this took a lot of pressure off. I had a blast.
I was on life support for a long time, about 3 big bets remained, and managed to get into a multi-way pot and win it, so I was back up to 10 big bets. Then the aforementioned jacks - kings collision occurred and I made the long walk back up to my dark room. Falling asleep to visions of paper suits and numbers, passing in front of my closed eyes.
Good trip. No. Great trip. Thanks to my brother, my pain and the journey. I wouldn't trade the experience for anything, and I can't wait to go again.
