Continued from Part Three
As anyone who has ever cashed in a poker tournament will testify, things tend to go a little crazy post-bubble, particularly live. And while I was attempting to remain composed having just won $15,000, it was difficult not to get caught up in the atmosphere at that precise moment in the Crown poker room. 64 people had just been rewarded for 3 days of mental torture and it was fairly easy to tell from looking at their faces who it meant the most to. Naturally, I tried to look as bored as I possibly could whilst updating my Facebook status. I certainly hadn’t felt out of my depth at any stage of this tournament, but I didn’t want to give anyone that impression by celebrating a min cash, even though I’d been singing and dancing around my own house when I won the package to the tournament.
One of the happiest people at my table was the short-stacked big blind from my hand with Annica Ivert, who had barely played a hand all day. I fully expected him to just shove-bomb every hand post-bubble, but he waited four or five hands until my big blind before he pulled the trigger. Everyone folded around to me and I squeezed out As-9d. He had shoved for around 12 big blinds if I remember correctly, so I didn’t have much of a decision, but I remember not particularly liking having to call because he had hung around for a while even after the bubble popped before he shoved. He showed me Ad-Tc, so he clearly did have some shoving requirements.
I waited until the turn to suck out, even giving him a lot of false hope on a K-8-3 flop. I apologised for spiking my 9, but I don’t think he heard me. He was so happy that I think his ears had taken to filtering any negative words before they reached his brain. The happy local was soon replaced by Clonie Gowen, who upped the table attractiveness quotient considerably, but also added to my positional problems. I now had to get through Mizzi, McDonald, Gowen and Ivert if I opened from an earlier position than the cut-off. That was going to seriously damage my chances of building a final table stack, I felt. But then just as quickly as Clonie had sat down, the floor man came back and bumped Sorel Mizzi to another table. That was a huge relief and definitely gave me a boost. I had only been involved in one or two pots with Sorel so far, but I knew he’d up his aggression considerably now that we were approaching the final stretch.
Some time passed before I was involved in another 'key tournament hand', but then I played out three of them all in close proximity to one another and, unfortunately, I probably won the minimum from them.
First up, I tangled with Tino Lechich again. I opened Ks-Qc in early position and Mr. Lechich called in the big blind. He then ‘donk bet’ - long before the term was coined - betting a pot-sized 15,000 on a Kd-5c-2c flop. I was a little puzzled, but flatted to let him donate some more chips to me on the turn. The turn was the Tc and Tino quickly bet 20,000 into 45,000. He had a habit of doing this - he’d bet really quickly without really considering the pot size or counting out how many chips he was betting, or at least it seemed that way. I probably should have just called again, but I put in a raise to 45,000, thinking that he most likely wouldn’t three-barrel top pair and another club on the river might lose me value that he could give me right now.
He instantaneously announced “All-in” and gestured his chips towards the pot. When I asked for a count, I was amazed that he still had over 300,000 back. I realised quickly that I couldn’t call and let my hand go, wondering whether calling the turn would have been a better option but being perplexed as to what on earth he’d take this line with. I figured it was probably a baby flush or a set, but I was never completely sure. He’d now taken two significant pots from me and had left me confused at the end of both of them, so I figured it might be best if I avoided him for a little while.
With that in mind, I decided to pick on Annica Ivert again. It wasn’t through my own choosing this time, though. Annica opened in early position and I looked down at pocket jacks on the button. I immediately started to think that this could be a very big pot; I had no doubt that she was going nowhere if I three-bet. I put out an extra 8,000 on top of her 5,000 open and she wanted to peel a flop as I expected.
The flop dropped As-Js-8s - gin for me. There were plenty of draws for Annica to represent and a crowbar would have been required to get her off an ace against me, I felt. I should point out at this stage that by no means did I think Annica was a bad player, but that Scandinavian attribute of wanting to win every single pot was a little too evident in her game, in my opinion.
Annica checked to me on the flop and I bet out 15,000, which she called without too much thought. I now knew that I was going to land a monster blow in this hand if no more spades appeared. The turn was the 4c, just the sort of card I was looking for. Annica checked once more and I considered my options. I still wasn’t totally convinced that she had anything, so I wanted to give her some room to manoeuvre. If I could have put her on something like A-Q then I’d have aimed much higher, but I bet 33,500 as I thought she’d be more likely to go to work with a flush draw on a smaller bet. She quickly called again.
By now, news was filtering around the room that a big pot was brewing between two big stacks and just like the Demidov hand on Day 2, I had to put up with a television camera being stuck in my face before the river card was dealt. With Annica only check-calling the turn, I was fairly sure now that she had an ace - perhaps with a back-up spade draw. My preferred river card was an ace, but I definitely did not want to see another spade. I got an 8d.
That was a pretty safe third choice. It solidified my position in the hand just in case Annica had taken a quirky line with a flopped flush, but on the flip side I didn’t think that it was a great card for me to get more value out of Annica’s ace with. She checked to me again and I took a while to consider how big I wanted to go. I settled on 65,000, which was almost exactly half-pot. It’s possible that I could have gone higher, but I thought that winning a 230,000 pot would more than justify my setup work in the 9-3 off-suit hand. To my amazement, Annica asked, firstly, for a count of the bet because I had slid out three stacks of chips double-fisted, and then how much I had behind. I knew I’d give something away if I said anything, so I let the dealer count it for me.
“Could she really have aces?” went through my mind briefly, but she cut that thought short by splashing in a call and then sighing and mucking on sight of my cards. My live rail let out a huge roar – by this stage I was the sole surviving online qualifier from the site I was representing and most of the others now had my back. I undoubtedly had the largest support in the room at that point, which was a pretty impressive feat considering I lived over 10,000 miles away from the casino. It turned out that my dramatic surge up the leaderboard on Day 2 had even added a few supporters I’d never met to my legion. Two guys from “Boomboomland” – that’s their term for Iraq, not mine – would later introduce themselves at the dinner break and wish me good luck. All of this was brilliant for boosting my confidence, but I had to remind them to keep quiet now and then so that I could steal some blinds without anyone noticing.
While I was stacking my new chips from that hand – and there were a lot of chips to stack – the action continued at my table. Annica got straight back into it with a raise from under the gun. Both the quiet player to her immediate left and Zac Fellows, a Canadian who had recently filled the 9 seat, called. I looked down at 5-4 suited, which seemed like it might be worth a spin given how exceedingly tilted Annica must have been at this point, but I let it go, happy to relax for a hand after such an adrenaline-filled past few minutes. Clonie Gowen called from the big blind and I looked on as the flop went four-way. It came out A-3-6 and I suddenly felt a little sick. I inwardly pleaded with the poker Gods not to put a 2 or a 7 out there.
I’m not someone who hangs on hindsight bias, but when the flop betting was over and Clonie and Annica starting raising the hell out of each other on the 7 turn, I felt like jumping into the Yarra River. Fifth street completed a backdoor flush which let them get to showdown without the money going in. Clonie showed down 33, but Annica scooped the pot and recovered most of her losses from the hand against me with 6-6. I have absolutely no doubt that if I’d played my 5-4 suited; I’d have busted both Clonie and Annica in that hand and gone back into the top three counts. It was a tough one to swallow - even though I still had 360,000 chips - and in every hand I’ve ever played since, I’ve been sure to put the merits of playing or folding it ahead of stacking my chips.
Thankfully, our dinner break wasn’t too far away, so I didn’t get a whole lot of time to dwell on it at the table, which could have been dangerous. I even managed to bust one more player in those last few pre-dinner hands when the young player to Annica’s right – who had been extremely quiet all day – shoved on my big blind from the cut-off when action folded to him. I joked with him that he’d been so tight that I’d probably need to find aces to call him. Then I looked at my cards and saw two aces staring back at me. I called as quickly as I could to dispel any notion of a slowroll, but I think he knew I hadn’t looked yet. It was just a rather funny coincidence, particularly as he had A-T.
When dinner arrived, I went back to my hotel room to meet my dad who had already gone back there in plenty of time to get room service ordered. I talked to him about some of the hands he’d missed and he tried to take my mind off the 5-4 suited hand, but I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t keep entering my mind.
I had to get it out of there, though. There were now only 44 players remaining and I was sitting in 11th. I was guaranteed $20,000 and only three more players had to exit before that increased to $25,000, as my dad kept reminding me. It was really tough at the time to bring him around to my thought process of “I’m guaranteed $20k – I’m happy with that. I don’t want $25,000, I want $2 million.” In hindsight, I’m amazed at how well I managed to blank out the cash jumps after the bubble popped. My dad must have been having a mini heart attack every time I entered a pot.
The most important thing for me post-dinner was that we were now only 8 eliminations away from my table breaking and the tournament going to a six-max format for the remainder, in which I felt I’d excel. When I sat back down and saw Raj Ramakrishnan sat in the empty seat vacated some time ago by Sorel Mizzi, I wanted the table to break as soon as possible. I’d played with Raj very briefly on Day 2 and he was playing rather wildly to say the least, but it was paying off. He easily had more chips than me and Annica combined and he was running like Linford Christie. I knew he’d bloat pots at every opportunity and I wasn’t in a gambling mood just yet.
He took his first victim shortly after dinner and it was a major one. Action had folded to me on the button and I eyed up Mike McDonald’s stack before electing to pass Ad-2s. At 85,000, it was big enough for him to re-shove wide with, but I didn’t feel like I’d want to call off so much with a small off-suit ace. And, of course, I would have to get through Raj, so I folded. Raj opened for four times the big blind and Mike shoved with pocket sevens. Raj beat him into the pot with A-5 of clubs. The door card was an ace – even though Raj had one and I’d folded one – and Mike didn’t catch up. Even though we hadn’t tangled in a single significant pot all day, I felt like that elimination was a huge boost for my chances of going really deep. While Raj was a little reckless, which is always dangerous, I would much rather see him with chips than Mike.
I’m not sure if I played in another pot until the tournament reached 36 players and our table broke, but just when I was starting to realise how realistic a goal final tabling the Aussie Millions now was, I got another table draw that winded me a little:
Table 12
Seat 1: Annica Ivert
Seat 2: Kelly Kim
Seat 3: David Docherty
Seat 4: Dixon Ruecker
Seat 5: Zach Gruneberg
Seat 6: Annette Obrestad
I knew having Annica there was good, but I wasn’t overly excited about the rest of the draw. Kelly Kim had final tabled the WSOP Main Event with Ivan Demidov two months earlier, Annette Obrestad’s record spoke for itself and I was well aware that Zach Gruneberg was another online phenom much like Mizzi and McDonald. He had a lot of support in the room too. I didn’t know anything about Dixon Ruecker, but when I got to the table and saw that he was younger than me and spoke with an American accent, I guessed that he was probably pretty good. This had to be the toughest table left in the room, but I hoped they might be a little wary of me themselves given the backing I had and the surge I’d been on.
Kelly lightened the mood by asking all of us our age. Incredibly, I was the second oldest at 21 years and 9 months. I guess that’s what made me think the draw was so tough, because I wasn’t expecting the older ‘live pros’ in the field to adapt to the six-max format quite as well as my generation.
It didn’t take me too long to cut my teeth at the table. Annette Obrestad opened for 13,000 preflop with the blinds at 3,000/6,000 and I elected to call with Ad-6c, since I thought she’d make my life hell in position if I inflated the pot now. The flop was As-7s-3s. I led out for 20,000 and then called when Annette made it 50,000. I really can’t explain my thinking behind that move. It’s something I would never do nowadays and it actually went against my reasons for just calling preflop. I should have gone into check-call/pot control mode as soon as I seen the flop.
Anyway, the turn was the Tc, which looked completely safe for my hand. I checked, hoping Annette checked behind but not really expecting her to. She bet 74,000 into the now rapidly increasing pot of around 140,000. I asked her for a count and she responded by telling me that she had approximately 270,000 back. I had around 340,000. I went deep into the tank. To date, it’s still the longest I’ve thought over a single decision at a poker table. I easily spent seven or eight minutes in there and much to the table’s credit, no-one called the clock.
I went over absolutely everything. I didn’t think she’d bet the turn with any one pair hand other than maybe A-K with the king of spades. I wasn’t even sure if she’d bet a set because she’d be in a horrible spot if I check-shoved on her. It was possible, but less likely than flopped flushes, a king or queen high flush draw and complete air which were what I eventually narrowed her entire range down to. I studied her intently and while I was no body language expert, she seemed very nervous. She knew that I was showing no intentions of folding, so what about that was causing her nerves? I thought if I could figure that out, I’d arrive at the right conclusion.
I wasn’t thinking of calling at this stage. I was shoving or folding. The pot was worth taking down right now given its size and I knew she’d fold all her flush draws, including the A-K combo draw. But I just couldn’t come to a decision, so in the end I let a combination of maths and my live ‘read’ make the decision for me. I knew it was around 120:1 for someone to flop a flush and I knew that she didn’t require a flopped flush to take this line.
So, after eight or nine minutes, I announced, “I’m all-in.” Annette beat me into the pot. My heart sank. I buried my head in my cap as she turned over Q-6 of spades. I was drawing dead on the turn in an 800,000-chip pot. To make matters worse, the TV cameras appeared once again and I had to suffer the indignity of having my hole cards zoomed in on. We then had to wait another minute or two for the river card to be dealt, even though I was drawing dead. It was hell on earth.
When I counted down my remaining stack, I had 11 big blinds left. “I’ve done this before,” I thought. But I was absolutely deflated, this time I really didn’t believe I was coming back. I tried to be as upbeat about the situation as I could and joked with Kelly Kim, asking him if he had any short stack tips. He had made the final table of the WSOP Main Event in November with an ‘M’ of just 4. Astoundingly, he still managed to outlast Craig Marquis to finish eighth.
I managed to maintain my stack for half an hour or so, which was pretty impressive for me given that I wanted to be anywhere else in the world at that point. Then Annette opened under the gun and I looked down at Q-J of hearts. I knew I had no fold equity, but it was a hand that was going to play fairly well against her opening range, so I shipped it in. She said, “Sorry,” and then called. I already knew what she was going to show me, but I was wrong. It wasn’t A-A, it was worse than that. She had pocket queens.
First off I’d put 400,000 chips in the middle drawing dead on the turn and now I’d gotten my last 70,000 in preflop with just 15 percent equity. Annette must have loved this table assignment. I got a small sweat on the flop when I picked up one heart and paired my jack, but nothing else exciting happened on the turn or river and that was it. I was gone in 31st place. I was $30,000 richer, but I felt physically sick. I always find it far harder to take when I bust out of a tournament because of something I did wrong than a bad beat or a cooler. Whether my turn play actually was ‘wrong’ against Annette’s range is debatable, but I spewed all over the place on the flop and that’s ultimately why I was put to a shove or fold decision on the turn.
I imagine tiredness and jet lag played a part. It’s immensely difficult to stay focused for three days in a poker tournament and people can really underestimate how mentally draining an experience it can be. When the dust settled and I was paid out with a $25,000 plaque and a $5,000 chip - which I initially dropped on the floor - I felt a little happier. It was a terrific achievement for me, but to this day I still wonder what might have happened if I’d taken the ‘Caution is the better part of valour’ approach and folded.
And that’s why I’m now anxious to perform well in the Grading. I feel like I have some unfinished business to attend to in Australia. I'm a much improved player from the one who managed this result two years ago and I have far more experience behind me. I'd like to think that if I can get myself into a similar position in the future, I'll finish the job this time.
I think that’s enough nostalgia for now though, I’d better get back to grinding some $1/2 No Limit Hold’em. Hope you enjoyed the series, thanks for reading.