The Best Of The Drifts - Atlanta Is A Half-Ass City

Originally published February 12, 2009

Half Ass City

We are a half ass city.

Like a teenager with self-esteem issues, Atlanta tends to half ass its way through everything.

We built and built and built while half-assing infrastructure until the sewers told us to pony up $4 billion or they would spew sludge into the streets.

We half-assed on transportation and ended up with the most incomplete, dysfunctional transit system of any major city in the country.

But most glaringly, in 1996, exposed to the world, we half-assed the Olympics and when something went wrong, the press handed our half-ass back to us on an ink-stained platter.

And we're about to do it again.

For years, people of many stripes, myself included, have promoted the idea of a casino at Underground. Despite the whines of the moralists, it would solve many problems. It would give the ubiquitous conventioneers a place to wander. It would bring god knows how much revenue to a city strapped for cash. Most importantly, it would finally lance the boil of a city subsidized entertainment district that only entertains as a frightening freak show.

But instead of changing the state law which prevents casino gambling, Atlanta is exploring using a loophole in the lottery law which allows video gambling machines -and not even those poor pitiful video poker machines, but some half-ass lottery spewing chimera.

Left on Lanier correctly notes, "If Atlanta is going to pursue gambling as a correction to budget issues, then it’s best to make it hardcore. Attract big money gamblers by providing live poker with live dealers, pit bosses, additional security, the whole works. Over time, we could add the fountains and lighting and attractions, and become a mini-Las Vegas- complete with police presence and a general sense of well-being in the city center".

But I doubt we will. We won't because we don't understand the concept of all-in. We'd rather cautiously play a little here and a little there - never making that breath gasping push. And every poker player of any skill knows the inevitable result of this strategy - no money left and out of the game.

Half Ass City

We are a half ass city.

Like a teenager with self-esteem issues, Atlanta tends to half ass its way through everything.

We built and built and built while half-assing infrastructure until the sewers told us to pony up $4 billion or they would spew sludge into the streets.

We half-assed on transportation and ended up with the most incomplete, dysfunctional transit system of any major city in the country.

But most glaringly, in 1996, exposed to the world, we half-assed the Olympics and when something went wrong, the press handed our half-ass back to us on an ink-stained platter.

And we're about to do it again.

For years people of many stripes, myself included, have promoted the idea of a casino at Underground. Despite the whines of the moralists, it would solve many problems. It would give the ubiquitous conventioneers a place to wander. It would bring god knows how much revenue to a city strapped for cash. Most importantly, it would finally lance the boil of a city subsidized entertainment district that only entertains as a frightening freak show.

But instead of changing the state law which prevents casino gambling, Atlanta is exploring using a loophole in the lottery law which allows video gambling machines -and not even those poor pitiful video poker machines, but some half-ass lottery spewing chimera.

Left on Lanier correctly notes, "If Atlanta is going to pursue gambling as a correction to budget issues, then it’s best to make it hardcore. Attract big money gamblers by providing live poker with live dealers, pit bosses, additional security, the whole works. Over time, we could add the fountains and lighting and attractions, and become a mini-Las Vegas- complete with police presence and a general sense of well-being in the city center".

But I doubt we will. We won't because we don't understand the concept of all-in. We'd rather cautiously play a little here and a little there - never making that breath gasping push. And every poker player of any skill knows the inevitable result of this strategy - no money left and out of the game.

Foldy Foldy Foldy

Biloxi - Day 1

Buy-in: $500
Entrants: 429
Finish: Somewhere around 120

A frustrating day and Gustav is sweating me so I'll be brief.

Typical of my early tournaments, I didn't have much success but not much failure either. I grinded for six hours always keeping my head just above water. But I didn't have my A-game and the cards didn't go my way.

At the end, I was short stacked enough where I had to play any decent hand. With 44 all my soldiers went into battle. I was called by two players. One had JJ and one had KK. Oh well.

An interesting sidenote is I experienced a new form of play - storm play. With the big G sitting somewhere around Cuba many players were walking the swords edge of a desire to do well but the need to get home and prepare. This weird combination led to unusual strategies as many couldn't figure out just the hell what to do.

Now, there are mandatory evacuations and I'll be either leaving today or in the morning - probably with no more poker played. It's too bad because I love the facility at the Beau Rivage, love the poker and am feeling it today. But when the governor says you got to go - you got to go.

See you in the flipside.

Dodging Storms

Enough of the dark and seedy. It is time for something a step up the sleaze scale from politics. Gambling.

I'm headed south for the Gulf Coast Poker Championship. So, go ahead Democrats and take a few more days to thump your chests. The touchy one won't be here to hear.

Tunica: Day Four - Bleh

Event 14

Entry: $1000

Entrants: 140

Finish: Somewhere in the middle

Let's just not talk about it. Let's just leave it at it was one of those days where you get the feeling nothing is going to go right and then doesn't.

But I did get to play with this guy which was pretty cool.

Enough poker. Time to go home. After all the legislature awaits.

Tunica: Day Four - The Big One

Today is the first $1000 entry. This is the one I've wanted to play since I got here. But given my poor runs of the past few days it's time to pull out the big mojo. Despite the 30 degree weather, it's time for the PBR t-shirt.

Tunica: Day Two - Not Deep Enough

Event 12

Buy-in: $700

Entrants: 380

Finish: 70

It was a long day but not long enough.

For the first three hours, I was stuck in neutral. I was never higher than my starting chip stack but never low enough to be in true danger. Somewhere in this malaise I reached a new level of poker enlightment.

Almost exactly one year ago, in my first live multi-table tournament, I discovered the level of tired - the point where you are doing something continuously and the untrained mind begins to wander. In that larval stage, my thoughts turned to how comforting it would be to not be playing poker - to be back in my hotel room.

Mired in mediocrity, yesterday I reached this point after only a few hours. Frustrated, I mentally committed to just getting the hell out. Then the wheel turned and the old surrender turned into a new fight. I remembered and old poker maxim - in order to live, you must be willing to die. One year ago, I wanted to die, but on this day, I wanted to live.

I immediately became more aggressive, eliminated two players and by the time I was moved to a new table had built my stack up to 25,000.

The new table had several short stacks and only one really dangerous big stack. It would be the sight of my greatest triumph and my greatest failure.

I played with one of the players at this table the night before and felt I had a good read on him. I knew he liked to gamble. Not crazy gamble but I knew he would raise in late position with less than premium hands.

With me in the small blind and this player in the cutoff, he popped for three times the big blind. I looked down at a pair of eights. There's a couple of ways to play this but more about that later. I immediately knew exactly how I would play this hand all the way through. It's a clarity that some players refer to as the zone. Also Sara was standing just behind me and our recent intense discussion on playing pocket pairs may have influenced my play.

I re-raised. He called. The flop was A-8-x. Now for the twist. I had decided to bet out no matter what the flop contained and I stuck with the plan. Most would check here hoping he would push but I wanted to make like I was trying to steal. I bet out 9000. He immediately pushed all in and I immediately called. He never caught and suddenly I was up to nearly 60,000.

Later, Sara told me that I would have been in trouble if the 8 hadn't hit on the flop. I told her I would have played it the same way. She seemed shocked but I explained that I felt I knew him and if the flop was a bad one (which it was not) I would have easily pushed him off. But if it was a good one for him (which it was) I still would have put him to a test. Sometimes you just have to test another player - risk dying to live.

Not long after this critical hand came another pair. This time I had pocket tens in early position. I popped the pot wanting to take it down right there but not averse to some action. I got one caller. The flop came K-J-8. Not a good flop for me and my brain froze. I checked.

First mistake. Never give up the inititiative. The caller had about 17k left and immediately pushed. Since I gave up the initiative I should have taken my lumps and surrendered right there. Instead what followed was a horror of hubris and ignorance.

I felt I had a read on him. I felt he caught the 8 and not the face cards. For the first half hour I sat at this new table he had been a stone cold silent gargoyle. Now suddenly he was talking. Laughing. Taunting me. This didn't seem right so I called. He casually flipped over a K-Q. I didn't improve and was suddenly back down to around 30,000.

Over dinner break, three things about this hand haunted me.

After the hand for the next hour, the silent gargoyle turned into a jolly joke-making round ball of Russian. What I saw during the hand was not a tell. It was his real personality. If the hand had happened even 10 minutes later I might have made the correct read. Instead, my arrogance led me to believe I knew what I did not.

Worse, I did not pay attention to my presence in the tournament and tournament management is one of my strengths. If I had taken the time to glance at one of the tournament monitors I would have seen I was easily above the tournament average in chips with only 80 players left and the money in sight. These factors would have certainly mitigated my risk.

And worsest, I destroyed my table image. After the 8's play, I was a strong player willing to make strong plays with a large stack - the kind of player everyone steps around carefully. After the foolish 10's call, I was just another cowboy willing to risk too much on too little. To everyone else I wasn't quite an idiot but I was close.

Then things only got worse. Immediately after dinner break I was moved to a table which had several monster stacks. I was a mouse in the company of elephants.

Now with only 22k and the blinds increased again, I had to find a place to get all my chips in and double up. On about the fourth hand with the big stack in the big blind, I looked down at J-J. I pushed. He called with pocket 4's. Perfect. Then the board made a straight and we chopped the pot. On a hand which should have pushed me up to 40k, I had made exactly half the blinds and antes.

Just a few minutes later the same guy took me out. Same situation but he had just been in a hand which cost him half his stack. When I pushed he really agonized. He easily had me covered but I could tell it was weighing on his mind that two hits in a row would hurt. He finally called and flipped over 10-J. I flipped over A-9. There was a jack right in the window and no ace in sight.

The end is always so sudden. One second you are alive and the next you are dead. I knew I had been a wraith for a while so I had little hope but it still hurt. I had been on the cusp of going very deep and had no one but myself to blame. But with poker, re-incarnation is only the next entry fee away.

Today, I'm taking a mini-break. I'm going to watch Sara in the ladies event, then head to Memphis to visit the Stax Studio museum. Then I'll re-incarnate at the $200 buy-in later this evening.

Tunica: Day One - Crapshoot

Event 11

Buy-in: $300

Entrants: 1000

Finish: Somewhere in the middle

As we entered the registration area an hour before the starting time, the line snaked through the roped queue. When we returned 55 minutes later, it was five times longer. As the event started, players were still registering. Welcome to the perfect storm of a WSOP event with a low buy-in on a friday afternoon. When all was done, there were exactly 1000 players. Including myself and sarawara.

The experienced players hoped the new structure with a starting count of 10,000 chips would balance out some of the chaos but a few hours in even the hard core were wondering about the upside of wading through such a large field for such a potential small payday. The tourney would pay down to 72 and the bottom of the money would only pay a little over 500 bucks. Was it really worth it to play for 14 hours then have to come back the next day for such a small margin?

My day started well. I took down a couple of good sized pots and worked my way up to 15,000. I continued my usual small ball and was close to 20 grand when I was moved to a new table. Very few hands in, I picked up A-K offsuit in the small blind. The table had been playing together for a while and had the relaxed feel of a home game. Everyone knew the habits of all the others except for one. The new guy. Me.

There were a couple of callers making the pot just rich enough for me to make a move. I raised from the small blind. The big blind called and the rest folded. The flop was A-K-x. Wanting to fake weakness I led out with what appeared to be a scared bet. The big blind called immediately. The turn was another king. Now I had him. But this time I checked. Big blind checked also. The river was a total rag and it was time to try to make some money. I made a value bet of about 40% of the pot and that got the big blind to talking. He said he didn't think I had anything and that's when I knew I had him. He called, I turned over the Kings full of Aces and raked the pot. Unfortunately, you usually only get one good play like that at a table. Now everyone knew my game.

The end came as it always does - with horrible injustice. I bounced around from 17,000 to 22,000 for the next hour. With the blinds still relatively low and about to slow down even further, I was in pretty good position to make a move and go much deeper.

I picked up KK in the big blind. It folded around to the button, a charming young woman I had already pegged as a gambler, who called. So did the small blind. The pot was now big enough that taking it down would be a tidy profit but I wanted more. I raised an enticing amount hoping for action. The button obliged but the small blind got out of the way.

The flop was A-K-7 (two diamonds). A more beautiful flop was never seen. I put the button on some sort of Ace and this was the opportunity to double up. I bet out, she raised enough to put me all in, I immediately called. She suddenly said, "I know you've got me but I want to gamble". As I flipped over my set of cowboys a cold knot formed in my stomach because I knew she didn't have an Ace. She turned over Q-J of diamonds. The fifth diamond came on the river completing her flush and knocking me out.

It certainly didn't seem fair but when does it? I went from a sure double up to zero in the time it took the dealer to turn oer some raggedy old diamond. Then again, as I walked out of the room I looked at the mass that remained and realized the crapshoot had only begun and the snake eyes could have come many exhausting hours later.

Later that night, on a full stomach of New York strip, I wandered back into the poker room to play in a $100 turbo and spotted the girl who took me out. She caught my eye, laughed and said if she won the whole thing she'd find me to give me a little something. I laughed and gave her a thumbs up. Three hours later she was still somewhere in the dwindling mass of people and I finished 7th out of a field of 76 to almost make back all the money I had lost for the day.

And the beat goes on. Day two brings a $700 entry event. Of course I'm playing.

Tunica: Day One

Today. $300 buy-in.

They've changed the structure radically to favor a more strategic brand of poker. This should favor my game. We'll see. Also a similar event on Monday had over 700 people.

Departure New Orleans

Time to leave. I wish I could write more about New Orleans the city but my week has been limited to hotel - casino - Bourbon Street. Saying anything beyond I had a good time would be dishonest. It's one of the downsides of being a travelling poker player. You visit great cities but you never see them.

Now it's back to the real world. A quick stop in Moultrie to take care of some farm business and then back to Atlanta. See you tomorrow.

New Orleans: Day 4 - The First Rule

Easy day today. I accomplished everything I came to do except qualify for the main event, but the thought of another eight hour day of poker had no appeal.

So instead I played one single table with a small thought of winning my way into a bigger satellite but mostly just to have fun. I was richly rewarded with a table full of guys who were good players but also wanted to have a good time.

We cut up, splashed around in the pot and just about drove the dealer crazy since we were playing such junk. Every hand looked like a mongrel. The poor dealer could never tell right away who was the winner since every hand was such junk. But she was a good sport and laughed right along.

I punched out in fifth. But it was so much fun I hung around and kept ribbing the remaining players for taking too long to knock each other out. They were taking things "much too serious".

I later explained to one of my poker cohorts about the difference in players. Players who don't really get it take everything far too serious. They will wear their shades and stew over a hard call and bitch and moan even when they are playing a $65 single table. What they don't understand is it is supposed to be fun and everything has its place.

Those who have passed through the veil of poker enlightenment play with grace, play with respect and do play with a certain seriousness. But they also play because it is fun. And most of all the know there is always room for a good laugh.

New Orleans: Day 3 - No Regrets

Event 8

Buy-in: $1000

Entrants: 260

Finished - 11th

The day began with low expectations and ended with no regrets.

As I made my way into the poker room yesterday morning I was shaky, tired and my brain was foggy. Knowing I would be playing in the toughest event I had ever faced, I planned to go to bed early the previous night. Instead I was out long past midnight watching idiots ride some mechanical bull. I was actually looking forward to punching out so I could return to the hotel for a nap.

This maelstrom of idiocy led to one of the stupidest incidents ever. I looked down at QQ and raised the standard. One older gentleman followed me into the pot. The flop came 10-10-10. About as good a flop as I could expect. I bet out anyway and the gentleman called. Uh-oh. I had already doped out he was a caller by habit so this could mean he had Ace high or he could have the case 10. The turn was a Q making my boat even better. I bet out again and he called again. At this point I knew I had him. I knew he had AK and was chasing broadway. The river was a J and then it happened.

He bet at me. Exactly as I knew he should but the the brain froze. I looked down at my chips and realized I would have very few left if I just called. So I moved all in. He instantly called and flipped over AK. As the dealer began pushing my full house cards forward, I was gathering my things together. That's when the players at the table all started saying, "no no no". I had become so fixated on him making the straight, I completely forgot I had him crushed.

Later I apologized to him telling him it was not intentional. He just laughed and said, "it happens to everyone".

The mistake woke me up. He doubled me to twice the starting stack. Over the next 5 hours I would work my stack up to twice the average stack and stayed there.

The most fun was the table just before the dinner break. One end of the table was like a library. I was not at that end of the table. At my end were two high limit Omaha players, a local and a gentleman from Mt. Hermon, La. named Travis. Travis was a dead ringer for a friend of mine back home even down to both working in the cattle industry. Travis is about as nice a fellow as you could meet and kept us in stitches the whole afternoon.

Unfortunately for us all, following the dinner break Travis and I clashed.

We were two of the larger stacks at the table. Travis had position on me and smooth called the blinds. I looked down once again at pocket Queens. I put in a substantial raise. Everyone but Travis folded. He immediately came over the top of me for another raise. A jolly gentleman who check raises is a great danger. I said, "If we tangle, it could get really ugly". Travis said, "I know" and was uncharacteristically quiet. With this change in manner I immediately knew he had either AA or KK. But I could not lay down my ladies. Even though a call in this situation is not the best play, I had enough chips to not hurt if I had to get away after the flop.

The flop came Q-9-3. Travis immediately moved all in. I immediately called. He flipped over the pocket Aces. I flipped over the pocket Queens. Travis muttered, "I knew it". My fourth Queen came on the turn dealing Travis the death blow. He actually had me covered so he wasn't eliminated until the next hand. But he left with grace and told me if he saw me later we'd have to have a beer. A man of his word, later that night as I was still playing, I felt a tap on my shoulder, turned around and Travis was standing there, a grin on his face. He said "I just want to see how you are handling my money" and laughed.

The grind down to the money was taxing. I had enough chips to survive so I was not worried but this was easily the toughest field I ever faced. Most of the players were local or nearby ring game specialists with a few travelling pros mixed in. But at about midnight the bubble burst and everyone relaxed.

After two of the most stress filled hours I've ever played, what followed was two of the most fun hours I've ever played. Everyone was a good player and tactical play was rewarded. But unfortunately for me, the cards went dead. I limped along, grinding out a few pots here and there but the blinds and antes were slowly chewing my stack.

It happened just before 2:00am CST. We were down to 11. In New Orleans the final table is 10 so the next person out would miss.

I was the second short stack in the tournament. The big stack was to my left. I had played with him earlier and knew him to be aggressive and any move I made would probably result in a push.

I don't know if was frustration at not seeing cards for an hour or just a tired brain, but on the button with A-5, I raised to 10k (about one third of my stack). Big stack, who was from Tallahassee, immediately moved all in. I went into the tank. I looked over at man from Texas who was the short stack. If I folded we would have about the same. I knew I was behind but had the vague hope that the big stack would call with anything. Maybe he had K-J and it would be a race with me slightly ahead. Pulling everything together, despite my desire to make the final table, I realized my only play was to call and gamble.

Big stack turned over A-Q.

I was crushed. Completely dominated. Only a Five or two pair on the board would save me. Hope sprang as the flop came out with a pair of rags. But it was all dashed with two more unpaired rags on the turn and the river. He shook my hand and everyone else let out a huge sigh of relief. The last man had gone down.

Many who do not understand poker might not understand why I did what I did. All I can say to those people is poker is a test. Always a test. I faced my test on that last hand and instead of meekly walking away from the adversity, I looked it right in the face. This time the test was the better of me. Next time, it may be different.

New Orleans: Day 3 - Sniffin' It

Event 8. Finished 11th. One off the final table. Final play was pretty stupid but no regrets. More tomorrow.

New Orleans: Day 2 - Satellite Success

Playing single table satellites is a good way to blow off steam. They are super-aggressive, generally friendly and over in under an hour. The complete opposite of playing in a big event which may last 13 hours.

My first single table was completely ridiculous and barely merits a mention. Let's just leave it at I got crippled in the first five minutes and eliminated in the next five minutes.

The second was a hoot. Sat next to what I call a gregarious guy. He's the type of guy who gets on many a person's nerve and that's probably his game. But I've been next to far worse so he didn't bother me at all. I think he recognized this fact and we settled down and had a grand old time. We laughed. We poked fun. And most importantly for a couple of gamblers, we won. When we were down to four, I knocked out two with one hand, then me a my new friend chopped the winnings.

So today I enter Event 8 at half price. I'm not sure what's going to happen as I am still recovering from a late night on Bourbon Street.

New Orleans: Day 1 - Deep Into The Night

Event 6

Buy-in - $300
Entrants - 280
Finish - 13th

Given my earlier disaster, I entered this one much more relaxed. I became even more relaxed when I sat down next to a gentleman from Texas intent on having a good time. He began bouncing his chips into a cup holder. One after another in an endless stream. Despite him being in his 60s, I told him I would never play quarters against him.

Good thing I had that moment of levity too, because as I looked around the table, I immediately realized it was one of the toughest I had ever faced. I spotted what appeared to be at least four seasoned tournament veterans and only one real fish. My read was pretty correct as early on one of the younger guys put a beatiful check-raise play on me and drove me out of the pot. It was a beautiful play. But I got him back a little later.

A critical hand happened about 1 hour in. Once again, I had A-Q. It seemed to be my hand of the day and as you will see later, it was not finished. But in this hand, I was sitting on about the same chips I had started with. Since I was in early position I just limped in. A guy all the way at the other end of the table made a standard raise and I was the only one to call. The flop came down Q-8-6 rainbow. I decided to make a play. I checked. He made a raise which was about half my stack. I paused for a second and then pushed everything in. He went into the tank. Finally, he said, "I'm showing you a lot of respect" and folded a pair of Kings face up.

I pulled my chips and and the table chatter became frantic. Everyone debated whether I had hit three of a kind on the flop or if I was full of crap. As I stacked, I glanced up and noticed one of the seasoned players saying nothing, just staring at me. I couldn't help myself. I gave him a wink.

The tournament developed its normal rhythm of ups and downs and soon I was moved to a new table. It was an odd mix of experienced and inexperienced.

In every long tournament, especially one where you are not running very well, a player will reach the nadir point. It is a crossroads where due to bad luck, tiredness or just plan fed-upedness a player will do something foolish. Deep in the brain, the primal instinct starts whispering that things will be better if you just finish the misery no matter what. The result of the nadir point is usually elimination but sometimes it launches the player on a new run which will carry him deep into the tournament. Guess what hand was my nadir point.

Despite my earlier success, I was still grinding around the average chip stack. It had been a frustrating day and I just couldn't get any traction. Once again I looked down at A-Q. I made a substantial pre-flop raise and it folded all the way around the table to one young kid. He pushed all in and I let out a sigh. He had me covered. I didn't think I could take another substantial hit to my stack and face the slow climb back out of the hole. I muttered, "Okay let's get it over" and called. He flipped over kings. I hit the Ace on the flop and took it down. The kid was devastated and I suddenly could see the other side of the hill.

Over the next several hours, I continued to build my stack to more and more respectability. I doubled up again by playing pocket Aces perfectly against a guy who had pocket Kings. I finessed a slow play of a set of cowboys against four players to eliminate one player and drag a huge pot. Suddenly, I was on the edge of the money.

Considering my stack was now way above the tournament average, I walked into the money. Now down to 18 I was moved to a new table with a new set of factors. Of the nine players, six I had not seen all day.

I was sitting on about 40k in chips and the tournament average was about 23k. Only one person had a larger chip stack. As is usually the case in the late stages, the short stacks were eliminated one by one until all that was left were people with decent stacks and decent games.

Late in a tournament, you have to gamble. You must play hands that you know will be close and you have to win. This is where luck starts to factor. To win any tournament, you have to win at least a few of these situations. At about 11:30pm, I put on a clinic on how to lose half your stack. It began when my A-J doubled up an all in player who had K-10 and only got worse from there. Over the next hour I dropped half my stack.

The end came with me holding, you guessed it, A-Q. The other player flipped up A-K and I never improved. Out in 13th place with enough money to cover both buy-ins for the day.

So 13 hours later I was dead even. But it was my second cash in three tournaments and this feels good.

Today, I am not going to play any heavy poker. Maybe just a few single tables. And God help me, if I look down at A-Q, I honestly won't know what the hell to do.

New Orleans: Day 1 - The Long Day Begins

A pattern is being established. If you click on the poker tag at the bottom, you will see I seem to always do fairly poorly in my first event and fairly well in subsequent events.

Event 5

Buy-In: $500

Entrants - 180

Finish - Somewhere around 120

Winning early is a bad sign. Generally, I like to take a few hands to get a feel for the table. But in this one I looked down at A-Q suited on the very first hand. After a pre-flop raise and a call, then a post-flop raise and a fold, I took down a fairly nice first pot. It would be the last chips I would drag in the tournament.

What would follow would be over two hours of frozen cards and every time something materialized, several other players would follow me in and catch. The worst was a hand where I made a set on the flop and another player caught a flush on the turn. That cost me 1/3 of my stack.

The final moment rang with the theme of the day. After seeing not one face card for almost an hour, I looked down at A-Q again. With a stack only 5 times the big blind, I pushed. Immediately one of the large stacks called. Then the other large stack also called. All I could think was "oh lord I am doomed". After the flop, they both pushed all in and I just let out a sigh of dejection. Turning over the cards, one had Q-Q and the other had a flush draw. With my Ace I still had a chance. But the flush caught on the river and it was all over.

At 2.5 hours it was my shortest outing yet. I drank a beer and considering the karma thought about giving up on the rest of the day. But there was a second event at 3:00 and I decided to give it a try.

Lesson learned? No matter how good, never play the first hand.

New Orleans: Disaster And Recovery

Punched out of the first event early. Frozen cards and couldn't catch. That about says it all.

Finished 13th out of 280 in the second event. Broke me even for the day.

And that's all I got for now. More in the morning.

New Orleans: Day 1

Day 1 at the World Series of Poker New Orleans. Today I'll play in Event 5 - a $500 buy in. Despite the confidence of others, I now know how the deal works. Although I have more confidence after cashing in Tunica, I know the chances of cashing again remains low. So time to play my game and let the cards fall where they may.

Sara is also here and playing in her first big time tourney. Make sure you check out her impressions. So far they have been a severe need for drink and sedatives.

Tunica: Another View

Max Shapiro has an excellent write-up of my World Series final table. You can read his view of "the bluff" and the "bad beat".

He also gets the board right on my "bad beat" play. It was a 9 instead of a 3 on the flop. But as Max correctly states, it was in the middle of a flurry of huge hands and I guess I just remembered. Not hard to do after such a horrific beat.

Tunica: Third

Third. But close. Oh so close.

At 3 hours I was the chip leader. Possessing 2/3 of the chips in play and only three players left. But poker is fickle and soon I was back down to having about the same as the other two. That's when it happened. The bad beat which I knew must come.

In every tournament, to reach a certain level of success, two things must happen. You have to get lucky and come from behind and you have to weather some horrific injustice. Last night I told you about my one lucky draw. But for two days, I had not suffered a really bad beat. There had been a few minor bouts of annoyance but not the truly devestating tragedy from which a player might not return. Every poker player knows it's coming. They all pray it doesn't come late.

Three hours into the final table I had outlasted five other players. By playing my usual tight aggressive game, I had stayed above the table average the entire session. With three players left, I called an aggressive player's all in and doubled up. The very next hand a young but very good player bluffed me off 30 grand. The hand following that all three of us got everything in the middle. Post-flop I only had an ace high and knew I was probably behind at least one player but given the chance to win the tournament right there, I had to call. I didn't improve and they both caught. Now we were back to all three nearly even.

For a while we jousted and then it happened.

In the small blind, I picked up KK. The button folded. I knew the big blind was an aggressive loose player so I bet 18 grand into him. He called. The flop was 3-5-8, all hearts. Potential danger but given his ability to play anything I felt he probably did not have the flush. Plus, one of my kings was a heart, so unless he had the ace of hearts, I still had outs.

I led out for another 20 grand. He pushed all in. Don't ask me how because this is where poker voodoo comes into play, but I knew he didn't have the flush. I called. He turned over 7-9 of diamonds. He actually did have the inside straight draw, so I suppose you could call his move a semi-bluff.

At this point, I was a near 90% favorite. And then it happened. The turn was the six of spades. He made the straight. But it wasn't over yet. Any heart on the river, I win the hand, take him out and have a huge advantage for heads up against the final guy. The river was the 2 of spades.

It took some time to count the chips involved, so I slowly walked around the tournament area. We had a small crowd watching and I could see the sympathy in all eyes. But there was wisdom in the faces of the older players. They had all been there before and they understood as did I that sometimes it just happens. Life ain't fair and poker is less so.

Down to 15,000 with blinds at 3,000-6,000 plus a 500 ante, I had one move. I went all in the next hand, didn't improve and it was over.

It took me some time to pull myself together. I admired the young guns I played with, who as soon as they were eliminated would immediately leap to another table and start playing again. Maybe with age comes the need to process everything before you move on. Maybe I was just tired and my brain isn't as lean as it once was.

Maybe after two days, nearly 15 hours of complete focus, I just had little left. But as I walked out, an older gentleman was there to shake my hand and wish me congratualtions. I met him the day before and although he was playing across the way, he kept coming over to see how I was faring. I realized the little I had left was the comfort of meeting some great people.

Like the gentleman farmer from Iowa and his daughter who were waiting for his wife, her mother, to return from visiting kinfolk in Alabama and join them for the weekend. Like the pilot who enjoyed gambling, good conversation and upon seeing my PBR shirt told me about a rich client who refused to board any plane which didn't have his favorite beer. Like the young man from Missouri who described his hometown as so small if you held your breath you could drive all the way through it. Like the young players who were so intense, so prepared and so hard, but eventually caused me comfort just from having their professional demeanor near by.

Tomorrow, I leave Tunica with a little cash in my pocket, some pride at my success and the renewed belief that in life there will always be the good, the bad and the ugly, but for the most part, poker people are still good people.