By Matthew E. Milliken
MEMwrites.wordpress.com
July 30, 2023
The morning of my second full day in the desert city, I got up early and walked about four and a half miles. I didn’t take any water with me, which eventually came to seem like a potentially harmful error in judgment. About two miles into the trek, I stopped at a convenience store and purchased a large bottle of water and a sports drink for myself as well as some food and drink for a young woman who was begging outside the shop.
Back at the hotel room, I showered, dressed and ordered a ride-share from my hotel to the tournament site. This turned out to be a bit trickier than I’d anticipated because I wasn’t actually sure where the pickup point was at my hotel. Still, I worked that out and managed to get to the tournament venue in plenty of time.
I decided to grab a large water bottle at a convenience store inside the building where the tournament was happening. This became a slightly nerve-rattling experience, because the credit-card machine was on the fritz, delaying everything. I was sixth or seventh in line. I considered leaving; other people actually got out of line and left the shop. Some people entered the store, saw that there was a holdup and left without even getting in line.
I held my position and was able to buy my water and leave the store after about 10 minutes. There was now a huge rush of people moving through the corridor toward the ballroom where most of the poker was being played. In another unfortunately timed development, perhaps 20 individuals had chosen this moment to take a group photograph in the middle of the hallway. “Good timing, good timing, good timing,” I chattered at them as I passed.
Despite all that, I managed to get to my table about 10 minutes before the tournament began.
I didn’t take notes during the event, but I did write down some hands and general impressions afterward. The 30-something half-Asian military serviceman from New York in seat one was chatty — the kind of fellow who can enliven almost any poker table. Most of the other guys (and we were all men) were pretty buttoned-down.
We had two late arrivals mistakenly attempt to take the vacant No. 5 seat at our table; one was at the wrong table, while the other actually belonged in seat eight. The proper user of seat five was a British guy whom I did not recognize but whom appeared to be a person of some note in the poker world. He caught the eye of one of the roving reporters. The same reporter later paused at the table and started to take notes on a developing hand until Mr. Five folded, at which point the reporter lost interest.
The 40-something South Asian man in seat nine became something of a villain. He mildly berated seat one for what Mr. Nine thought was a poor call early on. Afterward, Mr. Nine said very little and participated in many hands. He won a lot early.
I personally played a mediocre game. I don’t think I made glaring mistakes, but neither did I pull any bold moves. When the cards don’t come, and they did not for me this morning and afternoon, you usually need to make some calculated big plays to collect pots. I did not have the heart to try anything too risky.
Just before the first break, about two hours into the event, I raised from the button with 9-7 off-suit. I don’t remember the amount of my raise, but blinds were 200–400 with a 400-chip big-blind ante.
The small blind, another 40-something South Asian man, called from seat four. The flop was 4-6-7, giving me top pair. Seat four bet 1,500 chips and I called.
The turn was a jack. I didn’t like it very much. Neither did my competitor, apparently. We both checked.
The river was another jack. I still didn’t like it. My rival wagered 3,500. I folded. He showed that he had a four.
As we left the room on break, Mr. Four said that I should have bet the flop. I think he meant that I should have raised, because he bet, and I agree — a raise would have looked pretty strong. Seat four said that he’d suspected that I had had an over pair, which I confessed I had not possessed.
I think that I may have been ahead, but as mentioned above, I didn’t have much appetite for risk.
After play resumed, with blinds at 300–500 with a 500-chip big-blind ante, I got into another hand against Mr. Four. I had 5♦️4♦️ and flopped an inside straight draw on a board of A-3-6. My opponent bet large and I folded. He showed A-6 for top two pairs before returning his cards to the dealer.
I did win a few hands. I made a preflop three-bet with pocket 10s and got called by an older white man in seat six. The flop was not to my liking — it featured a king and a jack — but I made a largish continuation bet and got my opponent to fold.
Once, I shoved all-in with pocket queens. No one called. “Show the three-deuce,” someone joked as I raked in the pot. “I wish I was that good a player,” I said ruefully, which may have been giving away a bit too much information. At another point, I went all-in with pocket eights and got a fold from the white man to my immediate right in seat two.
By the fourth or fifth level, Mr. Nine’s fortunes had taken a decided nose dive. He got short and started moving all-in and not getting callers. Once, late in blind level five, with blinds of 300–600 with a 600 big-blind ante, he shoved and was called by seat two. Mr. Nine had aces on a double-paired board, which was good for the win. Mr. Two was unhappy.
On the very next hand, with an 8-6-6 board, Mr. Nine shoved all-in. Mr. Four called with a high card and an eight, giving him two pairs. But Mr. Nine had a better two pairs thanks to his pocket aces.
Everything changed when the river brought another eight, giving Mr. Four a full house of eights over sixes, crushing the other player’s two pairs. Mr. Four pumped his fist and cried out in elation at our table’s first player elimination.
Late in level six, with blinds of 400–800 with an 800 big-blind ante, a manager came on the public-address system and told us that there were players in our event in another ballroom whose tournament clock lagged ours by 85 minutes. As a result, our second break was going to be extended to nearly an hour. The room instantly began murmuring.
Soon afterward, there was an all-in hand between the Brit in seat five and the mild-mannered American in seat two. They both had ace-queen suited, with Mr. Five playing hearts and Mr. Two deploying diamonds. The flop contained three hearts, instantly guaranteeing that the Brit would collect a pot that in most cases would result in a chop. (The Card Player odds calculator lists the likelihood of a tie in this scenario at 85.69 percent.)
The losing player did not say or do anything untoward. He didn’t need to. He stood up and left, his dismay apparent to all.
Shortly afterward, the player in seat 10 raised from early position one. Action folded to me. I had pocket jacks. I went all-in with 14,900, all I had left from a 40,000 starting stack.
Action folded back to seat 10. He agonized for a short while and then called with ace-king off-suit.
The last all-in we’d seen had been settled on the flop. The same thing happened this time, too: The flop was all kings, giving my opponent an unbeatable four of a kind.
In some order, I said something like, “Wow — nice hand”; I grabbed my backpack; I stood up. “Nice playing with you all,” I said before departing.
I wandered over to a water cooler that I’d spotted and filled up. I left the ballroom feeling tired and disconsolate. I sat down in front of a slot machine in one of the nearby casinos and considered what to do. Ultimately, I decided to walk back to my hotel room to get some rest.
MEMwrites 
Leave a comment