Date: Wed, 12 May 1999 23:17:58 -0400 (EDT)
From: Patri Friedman <patri@izzy.com>
To: patri-l
Subject: I guess I done ok...
So read on and hear about it.
After my bad beat in the pot limit tournament, I took some
time off from
serious poker play. I decided that my main purpose here was to
play in
the world championship, and that I had to do that if at all possible.
Sure, it was 10 grand more, but I can afford it, and it would
be a
fantastic experience. I didn't have any more liquid cash, but
I have good
friends, and borrowing ten thousand dollars proved surprisingly
easy. I
hate borrowing money (I think we all do), but I was flattered
by the trust
I was given.
Anyway, on monday I took 100 C-notes and bought in to the main
event of
the world series. It was supposed to start at noon, but it ended
up being
a couple hours late, because it was poorly run, and because an
unexpected
number of people bought in. The total field was 400, the largest
ever
(last year was 320 or 350 or something). I wrote down the names
of the
people at my table, and went off to ask my experienced friends
for a
rundown. Jack Fox, a tournament player from Reno, told me that
my table
was amazingly easy, and he was right. There was one very good
player, a
couple decent players, a bunch of moderate players, and a couple
bad
players. Within the first 15 minutes of play, I could have picked
out the
first two people to go bust, and I was right. This one kid was
playing
terribly. He kept calling and calling. Real poker players don't
call
very often. Either they fold, or they raise. Calling is for wimps,
or
for trapping people when you have a monster and don't want to
scare them
off. I dunno how this guy got into the event, but after two and
a half
hours, he had called away all ten thousand dollars in chips, and
he was
gone.
Unfortunately, I hadn't really gotten any of it. We started
with 10,000
dollars in chips, and I hovered around 10K all day. I went up
to 13, I
went dwon to 8, but never found a big hand or a big situation.
I played
extremely carefully, but I never had a big hand against a good
but lesser
hand, which is how you win money in poker. I watched people set
and
spring traps, and I watched careless players get busted, and I
sat and
played my best game, but I never got into any good situations.
Still, I
never got trapped either, and by the end of day one, I was one
of 230
players still in the tournament. I had 12K in chips, which wasn't
much
(average stack was now about 18K), but I didn't need to worry
about the
blinds or antes quite yet.
It was amazing how many people were rooting for me. Something
about a
young kid with purple hair must really appeal to something deep
in the
human spirit. The underdog, the newcomer, the unknown. At every
break in
the tournament, dozens of people, whose faces I would barely remember
from
the long blur of the week, would ask me if I was still in, and
smile
broadly when I said "of course!". Everywhere I went,
people were cheering
for me. Dealers, floormen, small-time players who couldn't afford
to
enter, everyone who I had met that week seemed to really want
me to get
somewhere, to show the conservative poker community that anything
can
happen.
On the second day, tuesday, I continued to play my careful
game. We
started with 26 tables, and we would play down to 4, and those
36 people
were guaranteed to win at least 15 grand. I played, and played,
and the
room shrank and shrank. At each break, people would anxiously
ask me if I
was still in, and I would assure them that I was. Finally, when
we were
down to 7 tables, I made some mistakes. I busted the player on
my left,
some famous european tournament player (Surindar Sunar), and he
was
replaced by Tony Ma, an
intense, dedicated, and seriously bad-ass tournament professional.
You
don't fuck with Tony Ma, as I found out to my cost. I had 60K
in
tournament chips when Tony came to our table.
Sitting at a players left gives you the advantage, because
play proceeds
clockwise, and thus you act after them on each betting round.
If they
raise, you can re-raise, or fold, but you get to see them act.
Mike Caro,
a poker authority, has said "Money flows clockwise around
the table", and
there is a great deal of truth to that.
A big part of tournament poker is stealing the antes, because
they get so
large. The way you steal is to wait until you have a hand where
you are
one of the last people to act, and everyone else has folded. Then,
you
raise. Usually, everyone else will fold, and you will win the
antes.
Since who acts first rotates around the table, each player has
an equal
chance to be one of the last people to act, and people sort of
take turns
stealing the antes. Of course, if you have a strong hand, and
someone
tries to steal, you can re-steal by raising them back. This indicates
a
strong hand, although it can also be done just because you think
the
stealer has a weak hand and is raising just to steal.
Well, Tony Ma had about as many chips as I did. Soon came a
hand where he
was last to act, and I was second to last. Everyone else folded.
In this
situation, it is almost automatic to steal-raise, since there
is only one
player left to contest the pot, and he probably has nothing. So
I raised.
Tony Ma didn't hesitate. "All-in", he said. He may have
had nothing. He
probably had nothing. He just didn't like my assuming that I could
have
the antes. I had a better than average hand, and if he would raise
with
anything, I would probably win if I called. But it would mean
playing for
all of my chips, and I wasn't about to risk them, as he knew,
so I folded.
Lesson learned. Chips lost. Weakness shown.
A while later, I lost another big pot. I had an ace and a king,
which is
a strong hand because if either an ace or a king comes on the
board, you
have a big hand. But if only smaller cards come, you have nothing
at all.
This was an unusual pot because no one had raised, but 4 or 5
people had
come in (limped) for the small initial bet. I looked down and
saw ace-king, so I
made a big raise to steal the pot (although with a legitimate,
strong
hand). One person called my 10K raise. The board came 2-3-4. No
ace, no
king. I had nothing, but since my raise indicated a big hand,
like a pair
of aces, kings or queens, I bet 10K again. My opponent moved all-in.
I
had to fold, since I had nothing. That cost 20K, but I probably
played it
fine.
A little while later, I was last to act, and everyone folded
to the person
on my right, who just called (not making the automatic steal-raise).
This
meant that I could see the flop (first three community cards)
for free, so
I did, with my 6-7, both clubs. The board came with a jack and
two clubs,
so I had a flush draw. My opponent bet 2K, and I called. The 4th
card
was a 7, giving me a pair of 7's with my flush draw. He bet, and
I
called. The last card was nothing, not a club, not giving me a
flush. He
checked. There was 15K in the pot, and I had 22K left. My opponent
had
70K. I moved all in, trying to steal the pot. I felt that at this
level
of antes, I really needed that 15K, and I didn't think my opponent
would
call. I was wrong. He read me for a bluff (which it was), and
called. I
turned over my hand: a 6 and a 7, which in combination with the
board
made a pair of 7s with a 6 kicker. He turned over a 7 and an 8,
for a
pair of 7's with an 8 kicker. Of all possible poker hands, he
had the one
which was just exactly barely better than mine. He beat me by
a notch.
He had read me for having nothing at all, not even a pair, so
he was
willing to call with such a weak hand. Usually if he called there
he
would have a jack to match the one on the board, making a pair
of jacks
and beating me, which would have been less painful. I had been
bluffing,
he was right, and it was just my bad luck that my bluff turned
out to only
be a notch weaker than his hand. If I had had a 9-7 of clubs,
the hand
would have gone the same way, and I would have won. Such is the
razor-thin line that seperates winning from losing. I ended up
about
60th.
I walked away from the table, and decided I needed a walk.
I had been
focusing on this tournament for two days, and I was out. I needed
some
release of tension.
Binion's Horseshoe, the casino which hosts the world series,
is downtown,
on Fremont Street, which is a covered pedestrian area. The roof
of the
street is a huge light show, a couple hundred feet long, with
dozens of
speakers, which plays several times a night. Despite having stayed
in
hotels on fremont street for a week and a half, I had never seen
the show.
When I walked outside after busting out, hundreds of people were
standing
around, waiting for something. I enquired, and they were waiting
for the
show. Perfect! The show soon began, and I quickly got tired of
craning
my neck to look up at the images on the canopy, so I found a spot
in the
center, and lay down on my back, staring up at the fighter planes
and
meteors and jungle birds which streaked and swarmed and squawked
above me.
The show was wonderful, sort of like a low-resolution IMAX, and
it was
just what I needed. Catharsis accomplished, I headed back inside.
The disappointment among my supporters was universal, but they
were also
glad that I had gotten as far as I did. More than once, I was
told "We
really hoped you'd make it to the money, kid", but more than
that I was
told that getting as far as I did was a fantastic accomplishment.
I
agreed with both sentiments. I felt good about my game, and about
how my
skill compared to the level of play, and I had hoped to get farther.
Still, even my frustrated ambition cannot deny the fact that for
someone
who has only been playing a game for 6 months, getting 60th out
of 400 in
the World Championships is pretty good. I know that I am going
to win
some tournaments, and next year I will come back with infinitely
more
experience.
Other random notes: Wilford Brimley, the actor, played in the
Big Dance
this year. Unsolved Mysteries and Americas Most Wanted both filmed
segments in the Horseshoe, because of the mysterious death of
Ted Binion,
the ?brother? of the current casino owner. And yours truly is
going to be
part of a Discovery Channel special on the World Series. Naturally
my
young, well-dressed, purple mohawk look attracted plenty of media
attention, and so the Discovery Channel crew decided to interview
me. I
got asked about how I got into poker, what I liked about the world
series,
and that sort of thing. I hope they use the footage, I guess I'll
find
out in a few months when the special airs.
Last Modified: The Closing Days of the Millenium
Patri Friedman / patri@izzy.com