From: "Eric J. Holtman" Date: Thu, 26 Apr 2001 21:33:59 -0400 Subject: TARGET/WSOP trip report posted to rgp, the barge list, and the target list....... I suppose a trip report is mandatory here...... I'm sure many of you have heard these stories, especially those of you that had to listen to me repeat them over and over and over in the 6-12 game after the dice tour. Remember kids: repetitiveness is the cornerstone of drunkeness. I arrived at in L.V. around 12 noon on April 18th. I immediately receive my first bad beat of the trip, as the line for cabs takes almost a half hour to get through. Guess I should have hit the BellTrans and stopped at every hotel between McCarran and the Golden Nugget instead. Not. After checking in and dumping my bags, I hustle (well, walk as fast as I ever walk) over to the Shoe. Just as I arrive, I hear "We have one more seat in a NL satellite". SOLD..... So, I sit down for my first taste of WSOP pocker. A quick look around, and I see eight players I don't recognize, and soon-to-be-persona-non-grata Paul Phillips. I'm asked if I want to join the $100 last longer bet, in which there's already six players. One guess as to who's instigating that. I pass. Math weenie question #1: It's a $225/pp winner take all satellite. Given that you know none of the other players except Paul, should you take the $100 side bet? I get absolutely no cards for this entire satellite. Somewhere in the middle, I make a raise with AQd. Flop comes three baby clubs. Ooops, I guess I missed. I bust out shortly thereafter. They're starting a LHE satellite right then. Well, I did come to play WSOP pocker.... SOLD. This might possibly have been the tightest satellite ever. Ten players, $800 in chips each. In the fourth limit, playing $100/$200 blinds, $200/$400 limit, we have nine players alive. Yup, nine. I bust out about five minutes away from the money. I take a quick break and win $30 shooting dice, and $25 playing blackjack. I then return to the poker room, dump a rack and a half at 4-8, before heading off to bed. Thursday, I wake up at 6am, and call the office back home (New Joisey). I can't fall back to sleep, so I schlep back to the Shoe. Pick up at least a rack from the dumpage Wednesday night, and then head upstairs for more lightning fast NLHE action. Next satellite, I see one of the most atrocious displays of nolimit cluelessness ever: Decent player open raises in middle position. Everyone except the small blind folds. Flop comes Q66. Check, bet small, call. Turn is a rag. Check, check. River, Ace. Check, and the decent player, who has only $175 (easily covered by the SB), thinks for about 30 seconds before betting only $100. Small blind flat calls. Decent player rolls over AQ, for top two. SB rolls over rag-6, for trips, but leaves the decent player with 3 green chips. Let me repeat that: the SB flat called, leaving a good player with 3 chips and a chair. Which the guy runs up to $1500 before busting. WTF? I finally catch some cards in this one, and after I bust out the third player, I have 44 chips, my opponent has 36. Blinds are 2/4. I offer to take $1100 of the $2100. My opponent immediately accepts. Math weenie question #2: Given that I thought my opponent was a decent player, how badly (if at all) did I hose myself by offering this deal? I hook up with ADB Foldem, and we adjourn to the Las Vegas Club, to see if we can abuse^Wtoke Razzo. He's not there, so we decide, "well, we're here, and they've got a dice table, so, WTF?". We shoot dice with a knockout blonde woman who was easily 7'6". After returning to the Shoe, I again feel the WSOP jones, which I sate by burning up another $225, this time in a limit satellite. After that, I sit back down in the 4-8, and take a couple of hours to dump another $75. (Yeah, my ring game needs work. Or alcohol. I was trying to remain mostly sober until the weekend). After picking up from the 4-8, I head back to my room. Or, would have, if I hadn't bumped into another dice table and dumped two quick bills on the way to bed. Maybe I should quit betting the Dark Side. Friday, I wake up. Then, I went downtown, To Look For A Job. Oh, wait, that's not right. I found another NLHE satellite, and decided AQ was a good hand. Apparently, it wasn't, IGHN. I get into a 6-12 game at Binions which just sucked. First, they spread to game on the smallest stud table ever, so we had to play nine handed, because ten people just wouldn't fit. Then, players decided to walk. Then, players decided to leave. And since the brush was situated, well, On Fucking Mars, we couldn't ever get any new players, without someone from the game travelling to Mars to inform the brush. Some things about Atlantic City might suck, but the floormen with the wireless radios to talk to the board crew really rock. After two hours of playing basically six handed, Foldem and I move to the Mirage. Oh, baby, what a smart move that was. Not. I sit down in a 6-12 and get nothing. Over and over. At least I had Chris Colby there to keep me from killing someone. Finally, I have 89c. Flop comes 6c 7c 4h. I have the top end, up and down str8flush draw. I get to make it 5 bets on the flop, and we take the turn 6 handed. Brick. Checked around, I think. We take the river six handed. Brick. I drop 360 before we had back downtown. Peter and I find a relatively deserted $2 dice table. I'm winning small, Peter's getting crushed. Dice come to Peter, and he says "Well, I never do this, but I'll shoot from the Dark Side". Of course, he rolls until we're both broke. Some people just don't have the knack. As we're walking away licking our wounds, we spy a foursome of nicely dolled up wimmen. So, we decide to shoot more dice. Saddenz for Jaeger, as the leader of the girls holds the dice for a good twenty minutes. They had obviously never shot craps before, as the dealers were having to remind them to place odds, to even out the odds on nine and five, etc, etc. All in good fun. One of the girls was also betting the hardways. At one point, the stick says, "Hey, the point is nine. You want a hard nine." "Uh, sure". She tosses the guy a chip. "You have to bet at least $2, mam." At this point, I'm sure he's trying to get her to bet a hopping 6-3, 5-4. Which, while legal, is seriously stupid. He takes the two chips and just holds them. Dice roll, some meaningless number. He tosses chips back, saying "Just kidding". Kinda weird. I've seen them book hopping bets. (O.K., O.K., I've _made_ hopping bets), and they always take the chips, give them to the box, and he usually places them above the "Any Seven", with an "on" lammer on them, so the camera knows there's action. They didn't do this, so the boxman must have known the stick was kidding. Wonder what they would have done if a nine rolled, though..... "Oh, that's 5-4..... nine, easy". Anyway, the Spice Girls only get about $30 of my money, but that make Peter healthy. And helped his bankroll, too (Ba dum, bum!) We pass back through the WSOP area, and pick up David McVey, who drags us off to the Plaza, to play 1-4 stud, drink beers, and chase their $60,000 bad beat jackpot. We spy Alan Bostick shooting dice (well, Secor spies him, I've never met the guy), and we drag him into the game. We succeed in all our goals, except no one got quad Jacks cracked, so we had to leave without the jackpot. Well, try to leave, anyway. Once again, Jaeger trips over the dice table on the way to bed, and drops another bill. Saturday. Ah.... TARGET. But first, a little buffet. I love the Mirage buffet. As I return to the table with a plate laden of all sorts of health food, I see the waitress filling champagne glasses. Excellent. We get the tables set up. Foldem has kindly provided each table with a protractor, for measuring tilt. We tried to use it on Jim Geary after he lost three consecutive hands by having premium pairs cracked, but it melted. I sit quietly for the first few orbits, watching Keith Bronson pick up many pots, while I relax with a few drinks. Finally, I get ATo. I make the usual small raise on the button, and Keith calls out of the blind. Flop comes AT7, with T7 sooted. Keith makes a small bet. I jam. Keith calls. He has 89 soooted. Math Weenie question #3: Am I a slight favourite here? (Top two vs. str8flush draw). Brick. Brick. I cripple Keith, and he's gone soon thereafter. I also take Bill Chen's last money when his JT is no good against my KQ. I almost get all of Dan Sammartino's money, but he spiked an A to go with his AQ against my QQ. We break the table shortly thereafter, and I decide to pretend my chips are glued together. Either they all go in the pot, or none of them do. Math Weenie question #4: Given that the field is really tough, and I am pretty hammered, is this a bad strategy? Sticking with my "get big cards, and jam" strategy, I soon find myself in possession of four lammers, and $100. How r00ling is that? Foldem and I get on some lists, but the lines are just way long. We decide to try Bellagio. The brush at Mirage tells us not to bother. So, we hope in cab, and I suggest the Mandalay Bay. What a great choice. When we get there, we're seated immediately in a 4-8 game. At the 6-12 game next to us is "Tony, the Human Jukebox". This guy knew almost any song you cared to name, and would sing it, basically on key, in a nice loud voice. There were also two other tourists in the game, who, we were told, had been up all night. We get a table change. Then, I'm, treated to a display of a new skill that _I_ _Must_ _Master_. Guy to my right straddles, and takes his shirt and pulls it over his head. "I don't want to look." , he says, and he never does look at his downcards, or any part of the board. I call with AQ. Flop comes ATx. He starts waving his hand over his chips like those quarter amusment park games where you try to grab a furry toy for your girlfriend. His buddies give him directions: "Left, no, right. STOP. That's a red chip.". He bets. I call, as does the field. Turn: Q. He does the same crane picking performance again. I call again (I'm sure I'm winning, and don't want to drop the field). River: J. Well, fuck me. Same crane picking performance. I call, someone behind calls. Crane-boy fishes a K out of his hand, for the nuts. IGHN. After catching a ride back downtown, Peter and I glom down a large amount of food at the Fitzgerald's McD's, and head over for the dice tour. Others have covered the exceptional ugliness of this event. In short, at a $2, double odds table, I quickly burnt $200 before I ever got to shoot. I'm sure that's all due to the bad karma brought on the tour by Ken's whining about the darksiders. Fucking darksiders, I hate them. Oh wait. I was betting the darkside. Oooops. Math weenine question #5: How much extra EV am I giving up betting against Jeff Okamoto's girlfriend, an announced dice virgin? Answer: You're giving up all of it. Then, you'll reach into your wallet, and give up more. Then, we'll grab you by the ankles, and shake you, until you're totally bankrupt. I still had fun, though. I left the light siders to their game, and headed back to Binions for some 6-12, a few drinks, and a good time. I think I achieved all those objectives, but, to quote Hunter S. Thompson: "tape casettes for the next sequence were impossible to transcribe due to some viscous liquid encrusted behind the heads. There is a certain consistency in the garbled sounds, however....." Sunday, I basically slept all day. Monday...... an actual WSOP event. Seven Card Stud. $1500 entry. Whoa, boy. I'm actually glad they give you lammers for this. Having never played in an event with in buyin over $200, I don't think I could have actually counted off 16 crisp hundreds. Yeah, I was nervous. I take my seat (table 72, seat 5) around 1150, and just read Poker Digest, and try to relax. Just as I've about got everything under control, the opponent on my immediate right arrives, and plunks himself down. It's TJ Cloutier. Could be worse, I guess. He could be on my left, and we could be playing no limit holdem. Still, the heartrate picks back up. The other notable at my table is Brent Carter in seat 1. Actually, there might have been other notables as well, but since I don't play many major tournaments, I couldn't tell you. At 12:10pm, the cards are in the air. Wow. I'm actually playing in a real World Series event. TJ is a very entertaining non-stop chat machine. Brent, on the other hand, doesn't ever seem to be happy about anything. He complains about the way someone stacks their upcards. He complains about the breaks. He disses the staff. It's an amazing study in contrasts. I play one pot early, but am forced to abandon my middle pair when my opponent's door card pairs. I attempt another steal, and get nowhere. When the lunch break arrives around 2pm, I have 1200 of my 1500 left. And that's basically where I stayed for the next 5 hours. I could find a hand to steal with, when I needed it. I doubled up once, when I started with TT and runner-runner-runnered a broadway after I was allin. But I could never find those crucial two or three hands in close succession to make a real move at some chips. I finally die an honorable death in the 300-600 round, getting allin on 3rd street with my TTx vs. K9x. I catch another T on fifth, as my opponent catches a K, but he flushes on 6th, and I can't find a miracle pair on the river to escape. Sadly, unlike RGP events, there's no applause. I just stand up, tap the table, and head out. After unwinding from that experience, I decide to take my final two shots at the NLHE satellites. In the first one, I manage to build a nice stack while staying out of the way of the table's Action Fish. Finally, I catch a hand with AF, and we get it allin preflop. He's got TT. I've got KK. T on river, IGHN. Well, not quite home, I get a $100 chip rebate. Which lasts all of one hand. Last NLHE satellite: I do nothing for the first orbits. Then, I jam with 77 UTG. Action goes: call allin, call allin, call allin, RERAISE allin, drop back to me. Flop 678, turn 8, river Q. Sevens full gooot!! Unfortunately, I then take AK up against AA, and AQ up against QQ, no help. All in all, I ended down $200 in WSOP related events: I entered seven $225 satellites, TARGET, and the $1500 7CS. I chopped one satellite, and won TARGET. I was a card or two away from winning or chopping at least two other satellites. For a WSOP rookie, I think I held my own. Bill Chen likened the WSOP to a religious pilgrimage. "When you're ready, you'll show up and play", I think he said. I'd been planning to go the past two years, but, for various reasons, I didn't. I really hope the situation with Paul and Rick gets straightened out, because next year, I _know_ I'll be ready. I just hope there's a tournament in May that I'll feel like showing up and playing in. JTC.