WSOP 2010 Day One
Sunday, May 30th: Ah, the first day of the series. The part where you’re still genuinely excited to be there. Actually, I find I hold up a bit better than most guys, I suppose mostly because of my attitude towards busting; it’s win win, no matter the result of the hand. You either win the hand and get some chips, or bust out and have your afternoon or evening free in Las Vegas. I suppose there are occasionally those lame 12 hour then bust with four minutes to go days, but even then a whole lot of weed and nothing else to do awaits you at home. It’s not so bad.
I’m feeling particularly good going into this year’s WSOP. I’ve played an awful lot of poker recently during the SCOOP, done some coaching with both my roommates, co-authored and reviewed a book, gotten into the best shape I possibly can, and am mostly abstaining from alcohol through the duration. At the end of the day there’s not much you can do if you get the bitch end of variance over ~30 events, but I like to think I gave myself about as good an improved edge leading up to the summer as I could. Unfortunately, I began things on an off-note by losing my tournament receipt, meaning I’d arrive at the Rio at near exactly noon and have to weed through a sea of hopeful tournament registrants to get a new one. I figured there’d be no line at the 7 diamond club section and walked in without notice. One of the simple pleasures of regularly wearing a suit and tie is that you can walk in anywhere with a knowing look and a nod so long as that’s somewhere people in suits are considered staff, which is many places. I was only eight minutes late to the table, where I sat down with a cheerful “Hey guys” to everyone. People said they thought I was a floor-man.
I started chatting up the middle aged guy on my right and found out that this was his second WSOP event, having played the same event the previous year. He seemed pretty risk averse talking to him, and specifically mentioned that it was unfortunate that he had to put his chips in with a draw at the end of the day, which proved relevant in the first major hand of the day:
Effective stacks: ~3000, blinds 25/25, I hold 4c5c UTG
Preflop: I raise to 75, folds to the BB, BB calls.
Flop: Ac 7c 5h
BB checks, I bet 75, the irregularly small continuation bet that had worked an extremely high percentage on the table. The BB thought briefly and checkraised to 375. It seemed like a pretty awkward spot and I thought that he might not have any hands that checkraise/fold range given how risk averse he seemed, and most of the hands I get it in against I’m not actually doing so hot against. I feel there are very probably zero draws in his check-raise range.
Turn: Tc
BB bets 600, I call. Since I think there’s zero draws in his range, I think he never has clubs, and that if I bomb him on the turn he might get away from two pair because the obvious scare card hit. I think when river blanks I get him for the rest more often by flatting.
River: 2d
BB bets 600, I think a little and shove, and he goes into the tank. Eventually he lines up his chips and slides them in, then disappointedly looks at my flush. He tabled A5 and said he just couldn’t put me on a flush since I’d raised from UTG.
I found a ton of hands worth opening and the table was generally playing very passive and straight forward. I was being flatted pretty often but it didn’t seem like guys wanted to get out of line too much. I played my next larger hand at the blind jump:
My stack: ~6000, Hijack: ~3800, UTG+1: ~1500, I hold AdQd on the CO.
Preflop: UTG folds, UTG+1 calls, MP1 calls, MP2 folds, hijack calls, I raise to 250, folds to BB, BB calls, UTG+1 calls, MP1 folds, HJ calls.
Flop: 3c 9h Qh
BB checks, UTG+1 shoves for 1275, hijack calls, I raise to 3275, BB folds, hijack folds. UTG+1 tables KQ and when the board bricks out I take it down.
My upward momentum continued through the level, until I found myself in a curious situation in the next:
My stack: ~10,000, MP1: ~4500, MP2: ~2300, blinds 50/100, I hold AcTc UTG 8 handed.
Preflop: I raise to 250, folds to MP1, MP1 calls, MP2 looks down at my bet as if it is difficult to see, then sets out 350.
“That’s a raise” says the dealer.
“What?” he replied confused.
“That’s a raise. You’ve put out more than half the initial raise, you have to raise it.”
“Oh.”
It folded back around to me. Assuming the guy wasn’t angling then he basically never has anything good here and the initial guy is pretty loose-passive, so I think the move is to reraise to an amount that allows you to fold to MP1 and call off MP2; so I reached into the pot, took back the chips I had, and threw out 1100. Unfortunately, it seems I had additionally scooped up the BB, causing a need for the floor to be called. Classic live misclick. We were assured that my raise was instead to 1000 and the BB was returned to the pot. MP1 folded and MP2 insta-jammed for 2300 total. I obviously called and he proudly flipped over pocket kings. My man.
“Lawlz” I announced to nobody in particular.
“I am gonna ace ball the fuck out of this guy, I’m running way too good not to today” I thought.
Flop: A 2 3, with the ace on the door.
Turn: 4
River: A
Sweet.
Not long after our table was broken up. I was moved to the other side of the massive room. The WSOP has logistically really done things right this year, using their two biggest available rooms and several other medium ones to run the events. It’s nowhere near as crowded as previous years. I wound up at a table with Ryan Fee’s roommate David, and Pearljammers now fiancé Xtracey. “I thought you were the floor when you came over here, but when you sat down it had to be Bond” she said a few seconds into my arrival. It was the first time I’d ever met her and I have to say that PJ has found himself a very engaging girl. Well played sir. She was very pleasant, and could not understand what she’d ever done to catch hate on the internet. For some reason, that just seems to be the thing about poker society; it’s pretty hateful. Our entire occupation revolves around taking each other’s money and considering that the variance in the game rewards some so much more so than others, it stirs up some serious envy. I definitely used to be one of them, but I suppose I’ve just come to think that all I can control is how well I play and there’s not much point in getting worked up about the shit I can’t control. I think if you want to criticize someone’s play, you can do it in a way that’s polite civil discourse, and not in a wise ass manner that inevitably degenerates into an E-dick waiving contest. Writing this paragraph has made me want to go smoke more weed and watch the “Player haters ball” episode of Chappelle show. That’s definitely happening right after this.
Not long after my arrival to the table we moved up to the 75/150 level. I had been fairly tight when the following hand came up. The BB was a young guy who Xtracy talked to about being an online SNG player, and he’d been playing well thus far:
My stack: ~9000, BB: ~12,000, blinds 75/150. I hold QdQh UTG:
Preflop: I raise to 400, folds to the button, SB folds, BB calls.
Flop: Kc Qs 5s
BB checks, I bet 800, button folds, BB calls.
Turn: 4s
BB checks. I think this spot is close and I’m going to post it. I didn’t think I could double barrel for value against a ton of his range, given most of his flop peels will be flush draws, JT, and one pair king and queens, with the queen naturally being very unlikely. He would often though not always checkraise two pair or a set on that kind of flop, so I think betting the turn against a range of flushes and hands that are likely to fold that don’t have much chance of sucking out isn’t right, but perhaps I’m over thinking here. I checked back.
River: 4h
BB bets 1300, I think a little while and make it 4500. He goes into the tank for quite a while, then eventually folds. He later said that he had Ts9s, and I told him we’d talk about it when either of us busted. He wound up getting short and busting first, and we chatted about it and I told him he’d made a good fold against my queens full.
I mostly stayed out of trouble until the 100/200 level, when I played a major pot:
My stack: ~12,000, MP2: ~10,000, blinds 100/200. I hold 8d8s in the BB.
Preflop: Folds to MP2, MP2 raises to 500, folds to me in the BB, I call.
Flop: Th 6h 3c
I check, MP2 bets 800, I call.
Turn: 8c
I check, MP2 bets 1500, I raise to 4000, he shoves, and I naturally call instantly.
“Do you have 97” he asked?
I tabled my hand and saw the bad news when he flipped up TT. I started laughing and said “When he asked if I had 97 I was all; ah fuck!”
River: 3
I counted out the necessary chips and slid them over to him. I was crippled down to the 2000 area.
A couple orbits later I shoved 99 on the CO for about 1800 and was tank called by the button with QQ. It wasn’t a slowroll or even a nitroll, for some reason this guy tanked pretty much every hand he played, perhaps a student of the John Phan method. The board bricked out then I shook his hand and told him “Best of luck.”
I ran about the Rio for a bit checking in on people and catching up with people I hadn’t seen since last year. I decided to take it easy tonight and not go out since I’ll be playing tomorrow. I looked over the schedule and from what I can tell; I think I’ll have perhaps two or three days off in the month of June. Sounds like fun.