And there you have it.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
DAY 1D. THE JOURNEY TO HELL AND BACK...AND FUN PEOPLE. B.A.P., ANYONE.?
It was downright "Twilight Zone" to be sitting back at Table White 51 in the Pavillion Room. Of all the tables in the Rio, the one where I "left off" with a bust in 2009 (my only other WSOP main) was the most curious spot to land in this years event. In the seat of the guy who busted me no less. Kind of like they divide day one up into day one A, B, C, and D...this felt like I was playing in event 2009-B. The conclusion of a cliffhanger. A do-over. Something.
So I was a little terrified when ol' TT landed in my palms again. But it worked out well, and I played it right.
2009's unceremonious exit was extra heartbreaking because the guys at my table and I were all having a great time.
Ditto 2011. Deja vu all over again.
I don't know why it is that I always seem to have a great time at main events. Maybe it's the awesome structure. Maybe it's the magnitude of the event paired up with people on day one that one can only wonder how on Earth they got in, or landed in a lucky enough gene pool to have such funds available.
But it's probably the nervous tension that I pick up on at the table and try my hardest to twist that nervousness into a fun time. Toss around a few insults with a smile and a wink, tell a few stories that make no sense...then stop and look around confused... whatever it takes, I always try to turn that nervous energy into a good time. And this bunch of guys, well, at least on my side of the table, were game. The other side of the table? Not so much.
Then there were our two mildly psychotic dealers. Picuted immediately below is "Raven." Presumably her stage name. This self-proclaimed witch, as in "Wiccan," decided she absloutely must wear my ridiculous leopard skin sunglasses. She was, to say the least, a lot of fun, and had no reservations about being excessively goofy despite the size and importance of the tournament. After she put my glasses on, a tablemate told her she should "lick his glasses to give them some witch magic." She wasted no time and covered my glasses in a nasty, glossy veneer of 62-year old saliva. The table roared laughing! All except for the stoic Jedi-Knight hooded Dwanna-be's in seats 3,4, and 5....more on them in just a moment.
"Raven" had lots of good one liners, and really cracked me up when one of the Dwanna-be's took forever on a hand, released it, and she taunted him by saying kind of quietly, "Baby...I still need to get my toothbrush back."
Gold!
Then there was "A.J." a dealer from Thailand who reminded everyone that if you play AJ you'll wind up in the parking lot, and that her nickname in fact was "Parking Lot."
"Wanna go to Parking Lot, honey?" she'd ask. Then she'd insist that me and the dude next to me had to give her a lapdance. Even took a couple of stray dollar bills out of her pocket, and begged for it! Hysterical!!!
By level three, of course, most of the laughter had subsided...and the rest of the entire Pavillion Room no longer had to wonder why our remote corner of the room was having such a great time.
As I was slowly grinding my way up to $35,000 from my starting stack of $30,000, aiming for my calling station target who I'd named "Darth Spewer," the wheels came off and took me from in a great mood, to so angry I actually believed I couldn't physically see for a few seconds.
Darth Spewey, who's mission in life seemed to play Ace-rag from any position and river two pair against anyone, looked down to find himself with a commanding stack of 70,000 pretty quickly. Make no mistake about it...I liked that quite a bit, since another guy in seat two really seemed to be the best player at the table, I'd much prefer Darth to have the chips. Or so I thought. It's no fun when your target's special Sith power is not "force lightning," but "catching abilities."
I raise big. I flop a perfect one-gapper straight. Darth Spewey calls. I jam it. Again. He rivers a flush with a lovely J6h.
I look down at AA against him. 9,3,2, J,9. I jam huge every street. He has A-9o.
At about this time, I look down at 9k in chips, taste the full, rancid flavor of defeat in my mouth, and start to have a Helmuthian meltdown of rage. More like a blackout where I just had to walk it off...for twenty minutes.
Picked and clawed my way back up to 14k, doubled up somehow with AK, won another big one, clawed and scratched some more and finished with 64k. WHEW!!! Comeback!
About the same time that Monkey and I are sending creative suicide plans to one another via text message, he makes a REMARKABLE comeback as well. El Monkez went from 1,975 (about a small blind, big blind and an ante) to finish the day at 42k. Wow.
Almost a shame...because I kind of liked the idea of sending a long rope through the rafters in the ceiling of the Pavillion Room and going Saddam in front of the crowd.
No? Too soon?
Well, there's always tomorrow, but I'm really planning on cashing this thing instead. Stay tuned.
Lastly, just a word of confirmation to Gabe Costner and Michael "Car Wash" Schneider, who have 20% of me, and a 1% save-swap respectively. Also, I'm glad to see my 40% of Monkey didn't vanish into the land-of-broken-dreams-o-sphere yesterday, and is positioned for what I can only hope will be a strong run starting today at high noon. Also predicting Claudia "The Claw" Crawford to make a big run. Don't know why that is, I just trust my gut. Hope she'll swap 1% with me tomorrow.
And as I look at that, I realize I'm really overinvested in myself for this one. I'd like to probably sell another 25% or so of my action. Or at least a swap. You guys let me know... but not too late, and we'd have to have some sort of a written deal, of course.
Off to get a good night sleep in a comfortable bed, have a great run through the crack corridor of Las Vegas tomorrow morning, and if I don't get shot, stabbed, or beat down, do some good things tomorrow. Hope my A-game shows up.
Boom Shaka Laka Laka,
K
 |
| 6,865 players this year. Just a few of them here. |
So I was a little terrified when ol' TT landed in my palms again. But it worked out well, and I played it right.
2009's unceremonious exit was extra heartbreaking because the guys at my table and I were all having a great time.
Ditto 2011. Deja vu all over again.
I don't know why it is that I always seem to have a great time at main events. Maybe it's the awesome structure. Maybe it's the magnitude of the event paired up with people on day one that one can only wonder how on Earth they got in, or landed in a lucky enough gene pool to have such funds available.
But it's probably the nervous tension that I pick up on at the table and try my hardest to twist that nervousness into a fun time. Toss around a few insults with a smile and a wink, tell a few stories that make no sense...then stop and look around confused... whatever it takes, I always try to turn that nervous energy into a good time. And this bunch of guys, well, at least on my side of the table, were game. The other side of the table? Not so much.
Then there were our two mildly psychotic dealers. Picuted immediately below is "Raven." Presumably her stage name. This self-proclaimed witch, as in "Wiccan," decided she absloutely must wear my ridiculous leopard skin sunglasses. She was, to say the least, a lot of fun, and had no reservations about being excessively goofy despite the size and importance of the tournament. After she put my glasses on, a tablemate told her she should "lick his glasses to give them some witch magic." She wasted no time and covered my glasses in a nasty, glossy veneer of 62-year old saliva. The table roared laughing! All except for the stoic Jedi-Knight hooded Dwanna-be's in seats 3,4, and 5....more on them in just a moment.
 |
| The "sexy" pose. |
 |
| Spit. It's the new "rust-coating." |
 |
| NNN TSS NNN TSS NNN TSS |
"Raven" had lots of good one liners, and really cracked me up when one of the Dwanna-be's took forever on a hand, released it, and she taunted him by saying kind of quietly, "Baby...I still need to get my toothbrush back."
Gold!
Then there was "A.J." a dealer from Thailand who reminded everyone that if you play AJ you'll wind up in the parking lot, and that her nickname in fact was "Parking Lot."
"Wanna go to Parking Lot, honey?" she'd ask. Then she'd insist that me and the dude next to me had to give her a lapdance. Even took a couple of stray dollar bills out of her pocket, and begged for it! Hysterical!!!
By level three, of course, most of the laughter had subsided...and the rest of the entire Pavillion Room no longer had to wonder why our remote corner of the room was having such a great time.
 |
| "Parking Lot." |
 |
| How the other side of the table "rolls."On their collective bookshelves: "Being a Tool for Dummies." Do they all shop at the same garage sales? I don't know, but pictured center is"Darth Spewey, Lord of Jedi Clowns." |
I raise big. I flop a perfect one-gapper straight. Darth Spewey calls. I jam it. Again. He rivers a flush with a lovely J6h.
I look down at AA against him. 9,3,2, J,9. I jam huge every street. He has A-9o.
At about this time, I look down at 9k in chips, taste the full, rancid flavor of defeat in my mouth, and start to have a Helmuthian meltdown of rage. More like a blackout where I just had to walk it off...for twenty minutes.
Picked and clawed my way back up to 14k, doubled up somehow with AK, won another big one, clawed and scratched some more and finished with 64k. WHEW!!! Comeback!
About the same time that Monkey and I are sending creative suicide plans to one another via text message, he makes a REMARKABLE comeback as well. El Monkez went from 1,975 (about a small blind, big blind and an ante) to finish the day at 42k. Wow.
Almost a shame...because I kind of liked the idea of sending a long rope through the rafters in the ceiling of the Pavillion Room and going Saddam in front of the crowd.
No? Too soon?
Well, there's always tomorrow, but I'm really planning on cashing this thing instead. Stay tuned.
Lastly, just a word of confirmation to Gabe Costner and Michael "Car Wash" Schneider, who have 20% of me, and a 1% save-swap respectively. Also, I'm glad to see my 40% of Monkey didn't vanish into the land-of-broken-dreams-o-sphere yesterday, and is positioned for what I can only hope will be a strong run starting today at high noon. Also predicting Claudia "The Claw" Crawford to make a big run. Don't know why that is, I just trust my gut. Hope she'll swap 1% with me tomorrow.
And as I look at that, I realize I'm really overinvested in myself for this one. I'd like to probably sell another 25% or so of my action. Or at least a swap. You guys let me know... but not too late, and we'd have to have some sort of a written deal, of course.
Off to get a good night sleep in a comfortable bed, have a great run through the crack corridor of Las Vegas tomorrow morning, and if I don't get shot, stabbed, or beat down, do some good things tomorrow. Hope my A-game shows up.
Boom Shaka Laka Laka,
K
Sunday, July 10, 2011
SOME STUFF I'VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE...EVER...REALLY!
What an exhausting couple of days. As you are certain to see, my brain is so dog tired that I can't properly write.
Sorry, kids. No clever writing today, gigantic women, hideous shoes...but a story so shocking, it's a shame I can't tell it better at the moment. But I promised myself I'd spit something out for you.
Shipped the $2K Mega for myself to get into the main yesterday. Pretty pleased with that; wound up spending my max allocation for the main: $3k and got in. I've only played the WSOP LV main once before in 2009. I was thrilled to, as anyone should be.
Strange to think that after a certain amount of time, you expect to get into the main event (anywhere), and place so much internal stock on whether or not you can make the cut.
So it was nice shipping tonight's 1K Mega as well tonight, for a friend of mine who staked me out of the blue. Back to back Mega shipping feels good (earning two "seats" in two nights), but I hope I haven't worn myself out for the main tomorrow. Truth be told, I'd never been staked ever before and was wondering how it would affect my play today. I'm not the guy to go out and "Eskimo" people on the rail begging to get into anything. I've always played with my own money, independently and stubbornly. To some I suppose that means increasing my variance, but to me it's decreasing my variance.
Anyway today's $1K became a hysterical zoo unlike anything I'd ever seen before as panic set in for those without an above average stack. With 624 entering the event, and with 61 getting their Golden Willy Wonka WSOP seat, more screaming failed "deals," obvious collusion, fights, accusations of cheating, flashed cards, insults, etc. took their toll on management...
What do you think of their decision on how to deal with all of this...
The three floormen decided that to end the problems, we were to go hand-for-hand with 65 left (61 would get paid). To counter the "soft play" among players that was accused at about every table, management decided that from now on, each player, as they folded, was not to throw his cards into the "muck," but to "fold" their hand by putting it out just a little bit in front of them. After a pot was awarded, management would order EACH FOLDED HAND SHOWN! Upon viewing each folded hand, which was lying right in front of each player who had discarded it, management would subjectively decide whether or not the player was "soft playing," and would inflict a one-round penalty upon that player.
A player at the table next to mine, was revealed to have folded pocket tens to three larger stacks (on the bubble) and was given a one-round penalty!
HUH?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!??!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
He rightfully lost his mind and raised hell.
Management then decided to no longer persue that policy about fifteen minutes later. Time to go from 65 players to 61? About three hours. Yes. Really.
When fights resulted and hysteria broke out with 62 left (yes, just one from the money), management threatened to end the tournament right then and there and refund all 624 people's $1060 buy-ins.
HUH?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!!?!?!?!??!!??!!?!?!?!?!??!!?!?!?!?!??!?!!?
Yes, they were dead serious.
Remember...this wasn't at some VFW bingo hall.
This was at the World Series of Poker at the Rio $1060 mega to the main event. Today. Yes. You read all of that stuff right.
Anyway, I'd write more on the subject, but tomorrow's that special day.
How's this for a peculiar omen. I'm playing at the exact same table I played at in 2009. Know how many tables there are at the Rio? Even weirder... I'm in the exact seat of the guy who busted me that day.
Guess we'll see soon what this all means...
Boom Shaka Laka Laka,
Kai
Sorry, kids. No clever writing today, gigantic women, hideous shoes...but a story so shocking, it's a shame I can't tell it better at the moment. But I promised myself I'd spit something out for you.
Shipped the $2K Mega for myself to get into the main yesterday. Pretty pleased with that; wound up spending my max allocation for the main: $3k and got in. I've only played the WSOP LV main once before in 2009. I was thrilled to, as anyone should be.
Strange to think that after a certain amount of time, you expect to get into the main event (anywhere), and place so much internal stock on whether or not you can make the cut.
So it was nice shipping tonight's 1K Mega as well tonight, for a friend of mine who staked me out of the blue. Back to back Mega shipping feels good (earning two "seats" in two nights), but I hope I haven't worn myself out for the main tomorrow. Truth be told, I'd never been staked ever before and was wondering how it would affect my play today. I'm not the guy to go out and "Eskimo" people on the rail begging to get into anything. I've always played with my own money, independently and stubbornly. To some I suppose that means increasing my variance, but to me it's decreasing my variance.
Anyway today's $1K became a hysterical zoo unlike anything I'd ever seen before as panic set in for those without an above average stack. With 624 entering the event, and with 61 getting their Golden Willy Wonka WSOP seat, more screaming failed "deals," obvious collusion, fights, accusations of cheating, flashed cards, insults, etc. took their toll on management...
What do you think of their decision on how to deal with all of this...
The three floormen decided that to end the problems, we were to go hand-for-hand with 65 left (61 would get paid). To counter the "soft play" among players that was accused at about every table, management decided that from now on, each player, as they folded, was not to throw his cards into the "muck," but to "fold" their hand by putting it out just a little bit in front of them. After a pot was awarded, management would order EACH FOLDED HAND SHOWN! Upon viewing each folded hand, which was lying right in front of each player who had discarded it, management would subjectively decide whether or not the player was "soft playing," and would inflict a one-round penalty upon that player.
A player at the table next to mine, was revealed to have folded pocket tens to three larger stacks (on the bubble) and was given a one-round penalty!
HUH?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!??!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
He rightfully lost his mind and raised hell.
Management then decided to no longer persue that policy about fifteen minutes later. Time to go from 65 players to 61? About three hours. Yes. Really.
When fights resulted and hysteria broke out with 62 left (yes, just one from the money), management threatened to end the tournament right then and there and refund all 624 people's $1060 buy-ins.
HUH?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!!?!?!?!??!!??!!?!?!?!?!??!!?!?!?!?!??!?!!?
Yes, they were dead serious.
Remember...this wasn't at some VFW bingo hall.
This was at the World Series of Poker at the Rio $1060 mega to the main event. Today. Yes. You read all of that stuff right.
Anyway, I'd write more on the subject, but tomorrow's that special day.
How's this for a peculiar omen. I'm playing at the exact same table I played at in 2009. Know how many tables there are at the Rio? Even weirder... I'm in the exact seat of the guy who busted me that day.
Guess we'll see soon what this all means...
Boom Shaka Laka Laka,
Kai
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)