“Big egos have busted many poker players … I mean, on any given day, my little sister could beat me.”
Phil Ivey said those words during a taping of “Learn Poker From the Pros” that aired on Fox Sports a couple of years ago. His statement was a subtle reminder of a fundamental rule that even some top pros often seem to lose sight of … never underestimate your opponent. Those who turn the game into a test of ego or some sort of personal battle with an opponent are destined to fail.
Unfortunately, two top-name pros became unintentional poster children about the dangers of this behavior with monumental televised breakdowns in the 2007 World Series of Poker Main Event that cost both of them the elusive chance at the bracelet and a place in poker history.
In Scotty Nguyen’s case, his ego-induced meltdown denied him a chance at becoming a two-time Main Event champion in a day and age when many poker observers believe it would never happen again because of the huge and diluted fields that are coming in droves to the tournament. Kenny Tran ruined several days of world-class poker by letting ego get in the way of basic reasoning he should have used in letting a rather predictable opponent take all of his chips.
You could almost see the demise of the “Poker Prince” coming, and it was hard to feel sorry for Nguyen after witnessing his tableside behavior in the moments leading up to his breakdown. Consistently at or near the chip lead with two tables left, he dangerously insisted on playing rather big pots on a regular basis, often with a marginal hand at best, and often out of position.
He got away with it a few times, but Scotty, whose beer breath you could almost smell through the TV screen, seemed genuinely offended when one of his opponents dared play a pot against him. After Tuan Lam check-folded his busted draw to Nguyen on the river (Scotty made trip jacks by calling a raise from the big blind with J-8), the former world champion stood menacingly, raked in the chips and taunted his opponent.
“You want to keep fucking with me?!” Nguyen chided Lam. “This is what you’re gonna get if you keep fucking with me! Think you can fuck with me??!!”
Lam had check-raised the flop when his Q-10 flopped an open-ended straight draw, then he led out again on the turn. He checked the river when he missed, and that should have been the end of it. Lam never said a word during or after the hand and, if simply playing a strong draw aggressively against a loose-wild opponent was his biggest crime, then Nguyen has a liberal definition of being fucked with.
But the true object of Nguyen’s disdain sat directly to his left in the person of fearless UK native Phillip Hilm. The two had already engaged in some pretty intense blind-on-blind battles, and you could sense it might get ugly at some point.
That, it did. The climax of Nguyen’s self-destruction came when he found A-Q in the small blind and Hilm called the raise with 5-5 from the big blind. The Q-6-5 flop was going to be trouble for Nguyen no matter what, but a dose of logic instead of ego could have saved him some chips. He bet the flop and Hilm called, then Nguyen checked when a king hit the turn.
At this point, Hilm made a marvelous bet of $1.2 million that was designed to look like a steal. Scotty leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms on his chest and again looked disgusted that an opponent would dare make a bet against him. Without too much hesitation, he declared “all-in” and was drawing dead when Hilm beat him into the pot with his set.
It was Nguyen’s ego talking when he said “all-in.” A world-class player like Nguyen just does not make such irrational decisions with so much on the line. Except, evidently, when he has a few too many drinks and decides that the game has become some sort of machismo battle. Hilm’s call on the flop should have told him something; the turn certainly should have slowed him down. A hand like K-Q wouldn’t be an unreasonable holding for an opponent who called a pre-flop raise, then called a bet when the flop came queen-high. Again, Nguyen was destined to lose some money on this hand, but it didn’t have to be nearly his whole stack.
Predictably, Hilm was the one who put Nguyen out of his misery. Down to around $2 million in chips after the disastrous hand, Nguyen called Hilm’s raise with the 9-10 of clubs, then auto-shoved when the king-high flop came with two clubs. Hilm’s K-Q held up and sent Nguyen to the rail in 11th place.
As his devastated opponent left the table, Hilm offered a handshake and said, “It’s not personal, Scotty. It’s just a poker game, and I just happened to win. That’s all.”
It was a lesson Nguyen should have learned long ago, and definitely should have called upon in the key hand.
Cash game specialist and occasional TV tournament player Kenny Tran was likewise on his way to the final table when he took his self-described “genius” reading skills a bit too far. Tran had made his way through the field with a clinic of bluffs, value bets and, with increasing frequency, calls with marginal hands on the river against would-be bluffers.
But Tran’s incessant gloating and patting himself on the back might have clouded his judgment in making two critical mistakes against Jon Kalmar. The first, was that his opponent’s actions in the hand clearly defined what he had. If those weren’t enough, Kalmar’s actions after the hand should have told Tran all he needed to know.
Holding Q-10 off-suit, Tran made about a pot-sized bet when the flop came 10-high with two clubs. Kalmar, holding the A-8 of clubs, check-called the flop, and when the turn produced a 7 that also gave him a gutshot, Kalmar check-called again. A check-raise on either street would have been a much stronger play, but that’s another argument.
When a third club hit the river, Klamar immediately went all-in. Tran looked down and seemed to be in deep thought, when he should have been watching his opponent. Kalmar trudged smugly around the table with a huge canary-eating grin crossing his face that he couldn’t disguise. Everything about his body language and posture was begging for a call.
In the absence of this observation, Tran should have considered how the hand played out. His opponent check-called the flop and turn, then went all-in on the river. This was textbook amateur play of a draw; either that, or Kalmar had something like a small set or another hand that had Tran crushed to begin with.
After working his internal genius for a few minutes, Tran pointed at his stack and said, “I call!” which prompted an outburst of celebration from Kalmar, and a walk to the exit by Tran.
If you needed further proof about Ivey’s warning to leave your ego at the door when you sit down at the poker table, look no further than the examples given by Scotty Nguyen and Kenny Tran on the game’s biggest stage.
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