2010 WSOP Main Event Day 3

"Hello? What time is it?" is all I can say as I pick up the phone.

"It's 7am! Why are you sleeping? Nobody sleeps in Vegas!"

It's my father on the phone. He opens his business at 3am EST during the week, so he feels he's done me a "favor" by "letting me sleep" until 7am...Eastern time.

"Dad, you do realize today is Day 3 of the Main, right? You're ridiculous, I'm going back to bed."

His response, "That's why I didn't think you'd be sleeping. Good luck."

This is where deboarding the Mojito express early yesterday comes in handy. I'm tired, but not hungover...which is huge. I'm able to sleep a couple more hours before getting up at 7am...Pacific time. Unlike most mornings recently, I spring out of bed ready to attack the day. That 2x4 that's usually jammed between each half of my brain is gone.

Being up this early, I don't know what to do with myself. I'm not nervous, but anxious beyond belief. I head downstairs and rock out to some early morning fake Billy Joel on my way to the deli to complete the usual breakfast routine. After the last couple weeks of hating this place I think I may actually miss it...eh, not really.

I eat and head back down to the pool for some hot tub time. My card won't open the pool area and I almost break the door trying to get in when one of the pool area workers tells me they don't open for another hour. I realize I've been here for over 2 weeks and had no idea when the pool opened. This gives me an opportunity to take a quick walk and work out some adrenaline...I'm definitely fired up at this point.

It's been hanging over my head for a while now, but the thought that all of this will probably be over in a matter of hours really sets in. Not just the Main Event, but this whole trip. I've been in Las Vegas for 18 days; it's starting to feel like home. Everything I do every day seems so normal, like I'm just getting myself together to go to work. But in a instant, one wrong shove, one bad card, and I'm back on a plane to Baltimore like none of this ever happened. Back to the real grind. I hope I have more time.

I'm going to do everything possible to extend this trip. I have a flight scheduled for 11am tomorrow, but I have no intention of being on it. I need a deep run. My wife's reward for putting up with this trip is getting to go to the WSOP Europe when I cash the Main. I'm close, but I'm closer to elimination.

Out of the hot tub, I check my phone to a text from Chip that reads:

"I actually think you're going to double up the first hand and I take that $30. You'll get pocket 9's and you'll get called by another short stack with pocket 7's."

I tell him:

"That's funny. All I can think this morning is that I'll have pocket 7's in the first couple of hands, shove, and will get run down with a cheap Ace."

Back at the room, I shower and get my head right. After having the whole weekend to think about it, it's time to just go do it...meet my fate or have that miracle day. Aggressive music the whole way. That's the only way I'll survive...being ultra aggressive right out of the gate.

I pull up to the Rio and park for a few minutes again. This is it. I don't care about the walk up the red carpet today. There is an unmistakable charge in the air today, much as I'm trying to ignore it. Today is the first day that everyone that's left is playing at the same time, which is pretty crazy. Someone in this room will be the next Main Event Champion. I see Richard (the Brit from Day 2) on my way in and he and I wish each other luck.

Once in the UB room, I hang out and talk to a few people. Inevitably, chip counts are exchanged. I get the "death sentence" look every time I give my lowly 20k. Kind of a half-assed goodbye.

Table 297, Seat 2. I get to my seat and find a pretty unexpected sight...no one really has a completely unreasonable stack. MW from Copenhagen, in seat 9 had about 170k. The 5 seat, a friendly older gentleman had around 70k. The 3 seat to my left was an aggressive player from Poland sitting on about 50k...everyone else was between 20k-40k. This could turn out great if they're tentative with their stacks, or terrible if they don't care anymore. I'm going after it either way. Blinds are at 500/1000 100a for an hour.

The button is announced, seat 9. I mouthed it as it was announced. I knew I'd be the BB. Trash, fold. SB..trash, fold to a raise. Five hands in, and I'm down 2k, this is not what I wanted at all. I'm 3k away from being in "must shove" mode. I take a look down at J7 with a 3bet in front...I could probably shove here to try to pick up the blinds and antes and the extra 3k. If I'm called, I'm not that disappointed, because I'm probably live. I fold. A short stack in the 6 calls. 8910 flops. I may have just lost the tourney with that fold. Both had decent enough pairs, I would've tripled up. An older woman moves into the empty seat holding about 60k.

A couple hands later, a (Russian?) girl next to me in the 1 seat shoves her remaining 40k into the big stack following a raise. She takes a coffee from the server as seat 3 instacalls. She stands and tables KK and sees his AA. AA holds up and the rich get richer. The girl throws her coffee onto her chair, just soaking the seat cushion. She starts cussing in 2 languages, grabs her coffee and slams it on the table, spraying me and the dealer. I just smile as I think it's kind of funny. The dealer's upset, and the girl's still cussing. Just then, seat 5 tries to console her.

"Honey listen, worse things can happen. In the 2005 Main Event, I had 250k in chips and..."

"I don't care about your f***ing life story old man! I lost! You're happy...so there, I lost!" She screams as she storms off, giving the man the look of death the whole way out.

Meanwhile, all I wanted to hear was, "Seat open! Table 297!!" I actually did yell it out because our dealer was rather shy and I needed that seat filled (I asked her if I could as not to be rude). The seat was eventually filled by a nice gentleman from Kentucky, the eventual "Bubble Boy".

The next hand I look down at AK off and shove. Folds around and I'm back up to 20k. An orbit later, I face a raise from the big stack to 2400, which had been pretty standard to that point. I look down at 77 and shove my remaining 19k, big stack quickly folds. The next time the button hits me, I'm on AQ with no callers and shove to take down the blinds. I think someone will call me soon, I can tell the table is getting leary. Another orbit or two later, I'm facing another raise from the big stack and shove with AK. He looks me up for a minute, but decides to lay it down. I'm still sitting around 28k.

At this point, seat 7 (probably one of the top 10 best mtt players right now) starts on a journey, the likes of which I'd never seen. He simply asks one of the massage therapists for a rub down. We've got about an hour and a half to the break.

An hour has now passed and the blinds are going up to 600/1200 200a. I'm still around 27k after another blind steal. Under the gun, I look down at AJ off and shove. Folds around to the button, older woman seat 6. She has reading glasses on and a ball cap. She looks me up and down 10 times over. She counts her chips (about 60k), she checks her cards. She waits. I know she's calling. My life tilt hand, AJ, is about to do me in on the grandest stage of them all...I'm an idiot.

"I think I have to. I call". Exactly what I expected.

She tables AQ off and is stoked to see she's ahead. I'm a little disappointed to be called by that hand with her stack, but not surprised. I've shoved a bunch of times and knew I'd be called soon enough. Q49 flops. I stand and start getting my things, as is customary at this event. 10 turn. Seat 5 gives me a look, eyebrows raised. I just shake my head, "no" to him. K snaps the river. I don't say a word, my eyes just wide open. Seat 5 tells me he knew it. I tell him I didn't. The lady in seat 6 is now fuming. I've been pierced by the eyes of some very scary/respected women in my life, but I won't soon forget this one.

My hands are actually shaking while I gather my haul. My hands haven't shook at a poker table since my first live casino tourney at the old Sands in AC. It could happen...Miracle day. There was that hand I needed to run deep. There was that hand that could give me a little breathing room today. Not much, but some.

In a familiar scene from Day 1, Johnny Chan is a few tables behind me again and is again running over everyone. I can see JS a couple tables away also. He had a big Day 2 and is doing well again today. I think he's over 250k.

A few hands later I'm in the cutoff + 1 with AJ off and decide to flat a 3bet from the big stack and try to beat him postflop. Steaming Lady seat 6 repops it to 10k and shoots those eyes at me again. She doesn't even care about the big stack. He smiles at me and folds. I lay it down also and she just keeps staring at me. I want to tell her so bad that I layed down AJ after just cracking her with it, but I think better of it.

I make a couple more light calls/raises and have to fold to a raise pre or bet postflop in a very active first part of the 600/1200 level and drop back down to 50, then 46k. The Polish guy in seat 3 is very aggressive and pushing his stack around a lot...he's the one catching me light most of the time. Seat 5 notices what he's doing and I can tell he's biding his time before he attacks. I get chopped down to around 40k before I decide to do something about it. Just before the break, the big stack seat 9 3bets in early position. I make quickly make it 10k with Q10 suited. Folds around to him and he mucks. I make another steal from the button in the last hand of the level to get up to 55k.

I send out a flurry of texts as I head to the UB room. A few looks of shock as people started to trickle back in. When told I had nearly tripled up through the first couple of hours, people would actually talk to me without that sound of dispair. The UB room proved to be handy again as today was the first day I didn't bring a sweatshirt because aside from that couple of minutes in the Pavillion, it's been rather warm, not freezing like everyone says. I told one of the reps that it was freezing where I was and he brought out a selection of hoodies for me to choose from.

A text from my poker partner back home "Hank Azaria has 105k...you better double up. This is embarrassing."

Back to the action and we're still at 600/1200 200a for the next hour. Also back to action is massage therapist on seat 7's back. I look up this and am amazed/impressed/relaxed just watching it. What did that girl do while we were on break? Was she standing by his empty chair for 20 minutes?

Just then Norman Chad starts circling our table to take notes his coverage. On Day 1, I heard him talking s**t on the Orioles to Mike Sexton, so I decide to call him out on it as he walks past me.

"Mr. Chad. I heard you running your mouth about the Orioles the other day, and I want you to know I think it's BS" I call to him.

"Who was I talking to?" he whines.

"I was at the table next to Sexton on Day 1 when I heard what you said. Once a fan, always a fan. Don't trash them now because they're bad"

Seat 7 chimes in, "They just swept Boston, they're on a roll!"

Norman mumbles something and walks away.

I look at the chip counts every day and find the people from Maryland, the Ft. Lauderdale area, and the Atlantic City area to see if I know any of them. I didn't know many people at all, and some were people that I knew in name only. What happens next shocked even me.

"You're an O's fan. Are you from Maryland?" I ask seat 7.

"Yep" he answered.

"Is your name *****?"

"Yep" is all he said.

Of the people I didn't know from Maryland on that list, his is literally the only name I remembered and I don't know why.

Big stack seat 9 is looking at me like I just walked on water.

"What's my name?" he asks.

"Dude, I have no idea what your name is" I tell him, but he's persistent.

"Just guess. You guessed his name, guess mine" he continues. I tell him I can't even place his accent to be able to venture a guess.

"Just try it" he says.

I really think he thinks I'm going to get his name right. Seat 7 tells he'll have his name in a minute and pulls out his iphone.

"I'm going with Pierre, man. I don't even think you're French, I just have no idea" I laugh as I make my guess.

Seat 7 proceeds to tell him his name and where he's from using the internet. We all make formal introductions and laugh at the exchange. A fun moment for sure in the midst of a pressure filled day...well maybe not for seat 7, who's still being massaged.

After a couple orbits, I've only made a position raise to maintain the stack at 53k. The next hand I'm facing a raise of 4k from middle position. I look down at 89 clubs...the hand of so much discussion last night. A couple hours ago, I'm shoving here, instead I fold. He shows AJ off.

I bleed chips for another 2 or 3 orbits and am down to around 45k. I try to limp into a pot from early position with 56 hearts. It folds to the big stack in seat 9. He checks. We both check a Q49 rainbow flop. Q hits the turn, he checks, I bet about 2/3 pot and he calls. A hits the river, he checks, I bet 2/3 pot again and he folded. I'm definitely in control again, and I'm pretty sure the big stack may fear me. The chip stack is back to 57k.

Just before the blinds move up to 800/1600 200a, I'm able to lay down AJ off one more time when I flat a standard preflop raise from a short stack, then seat 3 repops. Short stack folds as do I. Seat 3 shows AA, short stack says he had AJ, don't know about that.

I start out the next level pushing around the big stack, reraising his raises when I think he's light, cbetting flops out of position. I have a ridiculous read on him right now. I get the stack back to the 60k by doing this. I realize I'm being respected by the table as well. I find that no one really wants to tangle with me, and am able to stay afloat because of it. I end up hitting the next break at 55k again, there are 1800 people left.

I get into the next level ready to maintain my selective aggression. Seat 7 is getting into the next level with more massaging.

"*****, that is seriously the most epic massage I've ever seen with clothes on" I tell him. It really is unbelievable. I don't know how this girl can even feel her hands.

The aggressive pace backfires on me right out of the gate coming out of the break when I try to double barrel with A4 clubs and get shoved upon. I try some preflop raises in position but get raised on and have to fold. It seems the good hands have dried up and the rest of the table is catching up to me in terms of preflop aggression. I'm not able to steal like I have been and the hands are just awful. I'm starting to trickle down to 40k.

Down to almost 30k, and the blinds about to go up to 1k/2k 200a the next hand, I make a preflop raise with QJ to 3500, which is pretty standard at this point. I'm called by seat 9, which is who I want to call. 9102 flops and I cbet to seat 9's call. This worries me as I'm pretty committed to this hand now. Turn is garbage and I fire out a substantial bet. Seat 9 looks me over, sees my now very short stack behind and gives me a look that lets me know he's good. Then he folds. My heart is racing as I thought my tourney was about to be on a draw, but I somehow got away with that to creep back up to about 46k.

A couple rounds pass and my stack is down to 39k. I'm in UTG+2 and look down at AA. I bump it to 5k and get flat called by the short stack. J28 flops and I bet another 5k to his instashove. I call and he tables AJ. A huge near double up to 71k!!!! We're getting close to the dinner break and I'm thinking I can definitely make it through the day.

Two hands later I'm in the BB. The aggressive Polish seat 3 has about 80k raises to 8k. It folds around to seat 9 with about 170k, who reraises to 20k. I look down at KK. I shove without hesitation. I'm 90% sure seat 3 doesn't have AA and I'm 100% sure seat 9 doesn't. Seat 3 folds, seat 9 is put to the decision. He starts writhing around and wringing his hands. He asks for a count. I'm really confident at this point, because now I know for sure my hand's good, and if he folds, I'm up to around 100k. He looks me over, but doesn't know what to do. This is exactly what I want. I've been pounding on him all day, and I'm pretty sure he's going to call because of it.

"You really look like you have aces" he says to me.

I nod my head and say, "It should."

Finally, he stands and says, "F*** it. I've got to see them if you've got them. I call"

Seat 9 tables QQ and we both stand. Nearly 160k in the pot, and a chance for that Miracle Day. The dealer spreads the flop. His hands are covering the window, and the flop from my view.

"Oh No" I hear the older gentleman in seat 6 say with real compassion.

I didn't look, I knew what happened. When I actually did see the flop, my body jerked away from it like watching a car crash. My ipod, in which only one of the earbuds was in, went flying off the table as I jerked away.

It's tough to say exactly what happens from here. I don't really remember. I know what it's like to be physically knocked out. I was a goalie in lacrosse for years, I know what it's like to be hit in the nuts as hard as you can imagine. It was a combination of both at that moment. I don't remember leaving the table or the poker room at all. ESPN's camera's could've been in my face the whole time and I wouldn't have seen them. Instant migrane.

I do remember walking into the UB room saying something along the lines of "I'm out. I just lost a 160k pot to get back in it. I had K's, he had Q's and hit his Q. Thanks for everything."

At least I'm pretty sure that's what I said. I don't at all remember leaving the Rio, driving down Flamingo for the last time, or walking into the V. The next thing I remember I'm walking into a very busy Cut bar to give Chip a UB hat I had got for him. He had just got a text from me about 20 minutes prior that said I had doubled up, so he was confused to say the least.

"Buddy, what the hell happened?" I was still in shock. I tried to explain as best I could, but I didn't want to talk about it. I still had my patches on and such, so people wanted to come listen to the story, but I had to leave. I hadn't really processed what just happened so I couldn't talk about it with strangers just yet.

The emotional swing of doubling up with aces and getting it all in 2 hands later knowing you're at least 80% and losing is tough to handle. I called my wife, who was getting updates from my partner. She was estatic at first because she thought I was calling about the double up. When I told her what happened, she broke into tears. Not because I lost, because we knew that was a big possibility, but because she wasn't there and knew how close I had gotten to achieving my ultimate goal while here, which was to cash the main.

After I got off the phone, I decided to do what I was supposed to do tonight...go to Batistas. I went there right from the V and got a table alone. I had no idea about the free unlimited wine when I went in, as I had planned on crushing a bottle anyway. I proceeded to smash a giant carafe of red and a plate of chicken parm. I know this hangover is going to hurt on the plane ride home, but I don't care.

I head back to the IP after dinner and get a few triple Captain and Gingers as dessert. I know I'm hanging out with Chip later, but I need something to do now. Not having someone to talk to after something like this really is tough. The hand keeps playing over and over in my head. I drink more.

After packing up (which in a drunken stupor was a great idea as there's no way I could've done it in the morning), I go downstairs for more drinks. While slamming another Captain, I say F' it I'm going to be a Strip person tonight. I haven't seen lingerie models be pirates at TI. I haven't even seen the volcano at Mirage go off and it's directly across the street. I load up on more alcohol and make my way up the Strip. I don't remember much of either, but I'm sure they were nice.

After cruising around, I head over to Caesars to find Michael from London and tell him what happened. By the time I get there, I've been walking the Strip for a couple hours and am hammered and sweaty. I find him as I thought I might, at the $80 nightly tourney. I tell him my beat and the table winces. He assures me there'll be worse beats...again, sage advice from a youngster. He'll be OK in this game if he keeps his head straight. We say our goodbyes and wish each other well. I run into JT from Day 1 also, who casually tells me he made it through to Day 4. I wish him luck and leave.

Chip is off as I make my way back to the IP. It's about 1am and I'm pretty much incoherent at this point. I know we went to Kaizen on Paradise for sushi at around 3am. I don't know if this was a good idea or not, but I think it was delicious. I remember an avocado train. Chip and I said our goodbyes and I assured him I'd be back in less than 4 years this time. In fact, I'll probably be back for the Fall DSE at the V.

So here I am. What I wrote weeks ago has come true. My worst fear about this trip is now a reality. I feel like I played really good poker, but didn't get the results I wanted. I understand variance. I also understand that my game needs work, especially handling my emotions. But what I also understand is that I've been playing against some of the best this game has to offer for the last couple of weeks and it's clear that I belong.

There's no way I don't play the Main again next year. The structure just suits my style too much not to. As bad as it hurts right now after taking such an awful beat on such a big stage at such a crucial point, I'd do it all again right now.

Seat 9 went on to a top 30 finish to cash for over $300k, so good for him. At least he didn't donk off my chips.

In the end, I learned a lot from this trip. About myself, my poker game, and about life in general. It has also given me a realistic goal to attain every year. At this point in my life without playing the hours online that I need to, I probably can't do this professionally. I can however, try to play my way into these couple of weeks every year and take my shots at the big time, if only for a short time.