Back to Vegas

For those of you new to my live-blogging on playing the World Series of Poker, this is how last year's Main Event blog ended:

The Main Event isn't for the faint of heart. I don't remember the last time I felt this drained.  The prospect of playing another ten hours on Saturday and another ten hours on Sunday before making the cash seems like climbing a Himalayan mountain in your bare feet. And it wasn't the poker play that was tough, it was being disciplined all the time that wears you out. I folded and folded and folded and folded and folded. You don't see that on TV, but that's the reality of this game. You fold and fold and fold and every once in a long while, you play a hand.

Is this fun? It depends on how you define "fun." At this level, it isn't a friendly home game where you make goofy bets and goofier calls because there's not that much at risk. This was fun in the same way that doing high-level MMA is fun - there's the mental game, and then there's getting punched in the face or choked out.

In the end, I'm glad I played, I'm proud of how well I played, and I'm sorry I couldn't bring the bacon home to my backers.  But I'm going to have to think long about whether I want to do this again.

Having thought long about it . . . here I am again.

After my abrupt ejection from last year's tournament on a four-outer bad beat (warning, more poker terms to come - here's a helpful terminology page that may come in handy), I was a little sore about it, but I got over it and decided to make another run at qualifying for a seat in our Houston satellite league.  

30 competitors entered the ten-tournament league for seven spots.  I finished fifth (not easy against some very tough players), and will be in Vegas chasing the bracelet with six other qualifiers - Wojo, John C., Mike H., Marcus P., John L., and Greg P.  Some of my other poker buddies should be in town as well, playing some satellites into the $10,000 tournament.

For those of you unfamiliar with the format, the Main Event of the World Series of Poker begins with four first-day entry points - Days 1A, 1B, 1C, and 1D.  I've decided to play Day 1B, so I will be flying into Vegas on Monday morning, standing in line for a couple of hours to pay my entry fee, and then relaxing at the Flamingo until Tuesday's noon start.  I plan to gamble a little, and then get a haircut and a decent dinner.  Nothing taxing or stressful.

We start with 60,000 chips and play for about twelve hours. We get twenty minute breaks every two hours, and a 75-minute dinner break at about 6:30. With a large starting stack and small blinds (required bets), I should make it through Day 1 still in the tournament.

I then get Wednesday and Thursday off before returning to play Day 2 on Friday.  My wife Lisa and her friends are coming on Thursday to have fun and watch me play (fair warning - watching other people play poker is like watching accountants auditing a Fortune 500 company). They have planned outings to see Hoover Dam, Miranda Lambert, and Morimoto. (I apparently could not convince them to see Carrot Top.)

Last year, I made it to the end of Day 2 before getting bounced. My goal this year is to . . . WIN IT ALL.  No half-measures here.  I can win this thing. Someone has to win it, so why not me?  I've cashed four times in the World Series of Poker (but I can't seem to get them to post a picture of me!):

As the structure sheet for the tournament reflects, winning it all will take 11 days. It's the ultimate grind. If I get there, I will be wearing compression socks to avoid deep vein thrombosis and will be guzzling Diet Coke to maintain my concentration over hours and hours and hours of sitting still.

There are a number of people who will be deeply interested in my efforts. 40 percent of whatever I win will be split amongst the people in my poker league. Wojo and I traded five percent of each other's winnings. My personal trainer Art and my workout buddy Avina own .25 percent each, having put up some money at the beginning of my poker season. And my wife, of course, owns half of whatever I take home.

This is not unusual. Spending $10,000 of your own money to enter a poker tournament in which only the top 15 percent make it to the cash is a pretty bad investment - even the best players in the world only cash about 20 percent of the time.  So we mitigate our risk by inviting other people to invest in us.  Believe me, I will be rooting for Wojo and my other poker buddies as much as I will be rooting for myself.  All it takes is one of us to break through!

I've spent the last week with my extended family on our annual Galveston beach house trip. I am relaxed, partially retired, and prepared for this year's marathon. I will exercise, eat right (mostly), and sleep well. I have learned how to fold kings, to play position, and properly size my bets. If I don't lose my mind - which is a constant risk - I should make it to the money in Day 3.  If I get some good breaks, I could go very deep.

Having you following me on this journey is helpful - it keeps me focused and diverts my boredom over the hours of doing nothing at the tables, which is the plan. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, then SOMETHING. Then nothing again.

Welcome to the cheering section! See you tomorrow.