The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.... and then the Good

Flying into McCarran Airport in Vegas, I got that feeling shooting through me that one gets when they return to fondness. There's a certain level of comfort I feel here that I can't really explain. It's not the safest, happiest or most welcoming place... but for some reason all the chaos and mayhem suit me just fine. I've experienced the city in a number of ways: the strip vs. downtown, solo vs. in a group, being utterly broke vs. becoming (for me) fairly wealthy, and found different kinds of happiness through all of it. I was here in October and didn't play a single hand of poker. This time, in 28 hours I haven't had a single drop of alcohol. Which is even more impressive considering some of the poker I experienced today...

I wanted to play in a tourney before "the" tourney, and I knew about a tournament series at the Venetian where you start with deep stacks. So I headed over there in the morning to check it out. It was my first time in the Venetian, and it's pretty sick. Giant pillars when you walk in, images on the walls and in the ceiling, it's got a kind of classic, beautiful feel. I have no idea what that means, but it seems to apply here. There were two long lines right by the tournament area, I waited in the left one which led to the tournament booth. When I got there, I was informed that I needed to go to the other line to get a player's card. Dammit. 30 minutes later, I was seated at the table. It was my own stupidity, I should have asked somebody. It was a different kind of stupidity that crippled me in the tournament though. We started with 12,000 in chips, and I had about 9000 when the hand in question came up. A couple of people limped in with the blinds at 100/200 and I did as well from the small blind with Q 10 of spades. The flop came down K 10 3 with two spades... a big flop for me. It was checked to this dude in a Badgers (not WI) t-shirt, who had been aggressive, but solid for the most part. He bet 550, and I decided to just call. The turn was an offsuit 5, I checked, he bet 1200, and I decided to get weird and make a small raise to 2800. I can't exactly say why I did it...later I was scratching my head struggling to figured out what I was trying to accomplish. It was a weird spot because I thought calling was too weak, but raising was too strong. He ended up calling, the river was an offsuit 7, so I missed the flush and was sitting on a pair of 10s. I checked, he bet 4000 very quickly.. and I thought for a long time before reluctantly calling and he showed 33 for a set. There was like a 5% chance he was bluffing there, and I called anyway. It was stupidly dumb. I was out shortly thereafter. So much for a tuneup...

I ate a chicken salad sandwich, potato salad and peanut butter chip gelato. Better. I was going to head to the Rio at some point to register for the tourney, but first I jumped into a 2/5 cash game. I usually only play 2/5 in Vegas, it's a bit high for me but not enough where I'm out of my comfort zone. I bought in for $500 and had about $430 when this hand came up. I raised it to 20 with AQ offsuit, two people called... and the flop was AA6. It was checked to me, I bet $30 to look weak, and a dude on my left called. The turn brough a 4, and I checked. He bet $50, and I had a decision. I could play a big pot now or wait until the river. It was going to be obvious to him that I had an Ace if I check-raised him on the turn. I decided to put him to the test and raised to $150. He deliberated for about a minute before pushing the rest of his chips in, having me covered. The move surprised the hell out of me....so much so that I didn't think too long before calling for the rest of my stack. He had 66 for a flopped full house, and when a King hit on the river, all my chips were being pushed his way. It was a total cooler... but I still think I could have gotten away from it had I thought for a while. The problem was I didn't know if this was the kind of guy who would move in with any ace.... and my kicker was the second best possible. Sigh. I rebought for another $500... and built my stack up to $850 over the next five hours..... and then.....

I was getting ready to go to the Rio to register... the table had become fairly tight with no one really giving away chips. The two drink dudes had long since left, one of them apologizing to me after beating me in a pot, telling me I "seemed like a really good guy." Haha. He was nearly falling asleep at the table by the end his run, ultimately he called a guy's $300 bet on a board of QQ974 with three hearts..... with A5 of clubs. Oh boy. He ended up leaving as he didn't have enough on him to rebuy, so he GAVE me and the guy next to me $20 each before he left. It was quite a little scene.... but the mood turned serious shortly after....

A new guy got to the table with about $800 chips and he raised the pot to $25. One guy called, and I looked down at AK of hearts in the small blind and re-raised to $80. The raiser called and we went to the flop. It came down Q of spades, J of diamonds, 10 of clubs. Yahtzee. I had flopped the nuts, now it was time for extraction. I bet $110, and the guy called after a short deliberation. I knew he had some semblance of a hand, I was just hoping not to lose him later on. The turn was the 5 of clubs and I thought a bit before betting $180. He called fairly quickly. The river was the 7 of clubs, putting three clubs on the board. I had about $500 left and decided to bet half of it, $250, half expecting him to fold and half expecting him to call. "I'm all-in" was not expected. Neither was the AQ of clubs he showed me after I called. He had gone runner runner clubs to make a backdoor flush and steal the $1700 pot. I felt like I had been gutted. Chipswise, I had, I only had $50 or so left. Oddly, no one at the table really spoke for like five minutes... it was almost like they were afraid to talk after what had just happened. It was by far the biggest pot in a live game I had ever lost... and the way it went down made it all the more painful. I was kind of separated from my body for a while...and I felt drunk without being so. Oh, this game. As I wrote in a text shortly after, it's not for the faint of heart.

So I was out $1300 playing on the day... and after cabbing it to the Rio and dropping the $1000 for the tourney, I have $2300 less on me than when my plane landed. And to boot, day 1A of the tourney Saturday is sold out, so I'm playing Sunday instead. It wasn't part of the plan, but neither was losing one ugly and one disgustingly hideous hand on the day.

Suffice it to say, I was bummed on the cab ride to the Rio. As I stepped out of the cab, a few people were milling around and it was a little dark. A guy asked me to take a picture with his cell phone. I obliged and he took a step back and put his arm around the guy next to him. It was as I was taking the picture that I realized the other guy was Daniel Negreanu, one of the poker greats and an all-around good dude. The kid shook Negreanu's hand profusely and thanked him, and then he was gone. And with that, my mood shifted. The killer hand from an hour ago was gone. Fricking Negreanu. Kid Poker. Sometimes 15 seconds is all it takes. I walked into the Rio with the hop back in my step. Waiting in another line for 45 minutes to register? No problem whatsoever. Life was good again.

Then I entered the tournament area and stood on the rail for the big tourney going on, the $40k NL tourney. 201 people started, and they were down to 29. There were a lot of big names still left, Greg Raymer, David Pham, Ted Forrest, JC Tran, Vanessa Rousso, online studs Justin Bonomo, Sorel Mizzi, Dany Stern and Alec Torelli to name a few. The scene at the World Series is like a specialized convention, like the ones for comic book or Star Trek fans. Thousands of people descending upon one place, all with a common passion and desire. With poker, it's flocking to the rail to witness those who do it the best, hoping one day you might do it as well as them. And the great thing about poker is that on a certain day, in a certain hand, you can. Dennis Phillips finished 3rd at the Main Event last year, but I had his number when we were at the same table throughout the day, outplaying him in three significant pots. I love going to baseball games, but I know that my dream of playing with the best players in the world died a long time ago. But when it comes to poker, I've barely fallen asleep.

Sitting in my room now at 3:13 PST, I'm pretty content with my life. Both the life I'm leading here and the life I'll ultimately return to. Looking out my window, the bright lights of the city are flashing deep into the night. It can't match the view of something like great sunsets or majestic mountains. But I'm loving it something fierce right now.

So it goes...

The City that REALLY Never Sleeps

I'm headed back to Vegas tomorrow night, staying at the Excalibur, the same place Will and I stayed during his AAU tournament nine summers ago. That was my first trip to Vegas, and on the last night I pulled an all nighter and ended up with $150. I was so excited I ran back to the room where Will was just waking up to play his final game. When I saw him I yelled, "I've got this!" (and showed him the $50 bill) "AANNNNDDD THIS!!" (and showed him the $100 bill). We still get a kick out of it today... how huge that was back then. Now I'm about to put up $1k of my own money in a tourney with about a 75% chance that I won't get any of it back. And I'm fucking excited.....

The end of Ocean's Eleven is on right now. I really like this movie, and the scene outside by the Bellagio watching the fountains makes me smile every time. So many memories by that fountain, in that hotel, in that city. Here's hoping the best one is ahead of me.

Next update from the Excalibur.

Goodbye to You.....

Bad bad bad bad bad. Bad......

The good news: I'm playing in the $1k NL tourney this Saturday in Vegas

The bad news: My online bankroll just went from $700 to $20 over the last six hours.

Not exactly the way you want to roll in. A shitty end to a fun ass weekend.

And the Cubs have lost 8 in a row. Something just doesn't feel right with them. I know it's only May, but I'm definitely worried.

Need to get a shout out to the younger Jefferson for taking down a live tourney in Wisconsin Saturday for $1370. Atta kid.....

I have other things to say but I don't want to write them.

The Grind

Living with regret sucks. Since the perfect life is a made up idea, everyone has things they wish they would have done differently. Sometimes it's early enough where a change is possible, but sometimes it's too late. For the longest time, I told people that my biggest regret in life was not catching a flyball in deep left center during the state semifinal baseball game the summer after my senior year of high school. I took a bad route at the ball, had to dive awkwardly, and it hit off my glove. It was the 8th inning, the bases were loaded at the time.. and all three runs scored to tie the game 11-11. We lost in extra innings, then lost the next day too and the greatest team I had ever played on was no more. I have much to be happy about for what I was able to do on the diamond over the course of my life, but still it's the one play that August night in Beloit that I see over all others when I close my eyes. The whole game of "what if?" that I'll never be able to completely answer or fully shake...

Now, of course, that seems like a pretty silly regret compared to how most people might answer the question. You might say I've been pretty lucky if that's the top one on my list. But say I make that catch, we win that game and ultimately win the state championship. We go to Indianapolis for the regionals and I keep hitting the ball like I had been (won't get into details, but it was silly), and some scout or coach sees me, gets the ball rolling and things happen from there. I'm not saying that would have happened... not even saying that was at all likely... just that because I wasn't there, I'll never know. I get bummed out sometimes that I never got to a point in baseball where I knew I had gone as far as I could go. And I'll always wonder because of that. And always wonder what that one play may have cost me...

So I've basically decided that I'm not going to let that happen when it comes to poker. I'm going to take my shots. I finally decided to roll up my sleeves last year and try to qualify for the World Series. Now that my foot has been in the front door, I want to check out the entire mansion. One reason I've never really considered playing poker for a living is that I suck at the grind. I have trouble playing many, many hours at low stakes trying to turn a small profit. I get antsy and start to play bad. I'm never going to be in a situation where I get myself in trouble financially, but my poker bankroll has certainly seen some crazy swings over the last few years. My biggest flaw is that sometimes the big picture evades me. I fail to grasp that one night is merely the tiniest percentage of a lifetime playing. The game is a marathon and not a sprint. But it's hard to shake a nickname like Wheels sometimes...

The main event of the World Series of Poker starts July 3rd in Vegas. I very might could play and go out earlier than last year. But I'm gonna take my shot. That's one thing I won't regret...

Weekend Ramblings

I can't say I've ever had any good friends act in plays, never had any bad friends act in plays either, but a guy from Allianz who I like a pretty decent amount does some acting here and there, and Friday night I went to see him in action. I tried to get others to go but between tending to dogs, nursing injuries and going out of town, potential accompaniers fell through the cracks. So I anted up and went solo... and was very glad I did. It's one thing to act in movies or TV where you can shoot a scene until you get it right. It's completely another to act live on a stage without do overs as an option. There's something pure and intimate about it, and I particularly enjoyed seeing Mr. Ben Tallen in action. I had seen enough just around the office to know he possessed dramatic flair, and he proved to have the stage presence to go with it. The kid has game, and in our brief conversation afterwards, he said he's going to be writing and acting in a Shakespearean version of Pulp Fiction this August. Count me in...

I went on a run down by Calhoun Saturday morning....errr.... afternoon after I got up. The eliptical and treadmill at work can start to wear on you. But when you spot someone running up ahead of you who doesn't appear to be running very fast... and you look up again three minutes later and he's widened his lead on you.... that can wear on you too. Dad, thank for you still calling me Wheels, that's nice of you. Unfotunately it's no longer accurate...

Bar crawl down Lyndale with the Allianz crew on Saturday. Herkimer, Moto-I, Bulldog, CC Club. Those were the four establishments I entered. It's pretty cool how many great people I've managed to surround myself with at work. The group is just oozing with quality. Not gonna name names, you know damn well who you are. Two outsiders showed up too, and yeah I kinda really like them a lot too. There's the love fest for all you sentimentalies....

Last year Nate and I were headed to his place to watch the Antonio Margarito/Shane Moseley fight that he had recorded since we were at a concert earlier in the night. Well of course on my way to his place, I get a text from my brother that said, "Down goes Margarito." Outcome known, plan foiled. Same scenario Saturday night, on my way to a different friend's to watch Manny Pacquiao/Ricky Hatton. I know I'm gonna be a few minutes late but should only miss the first two rounds or so. And of course, three minutes away I get a text from Brent that said, "That didn't take long." I showed up five minutes later to watch the replay of Manny's destruction, but it wasn't nearly the same. It wasn't quite Wolff's beloved "Ultimate Fail," but it's getting close...

Golf in New Richmond with my brother the doctor, who is not really a doctor but I now call him that all the time and if you know what that is from then I like you a teeny bit more than I did previously. I finally figured out how to hit my irons solidly and occasionally majestically, which rules. I still suck balls off the tee, hitting low screamers to the left every single time. If there was ever a gallery watching me, they would have to start calling me The Lopper. My kid bro can really stroke it though, it's pretty cool to be around. He didn't have what he would consider a great round today, but it won't be long before he's putting it all together every time out. Hopefully he lets me caddie for him when he's on the tour. I could dive in lakes after balls for him and give him putting advice while wearing one shoe....

I enjoyed the movie State of Play at the theater tonight (Ben Affleck surprisingly old but suprisingly good), I enjoyed the company I was with (she didn't request the buffer seat like Nate does, lucky me) and I enjoyed the fact that Southdale has officially gone to the dark side with the price of movie tickets. Not. The $10 barrier has been broken. There's no telling what might happen next.

And to the five, maybe six people who read this and will know what this means:

Happy No Substance Day. May 3, 1998. A day that will live and live...