Black Belt Poker

I've learned my lesson. On one of the first EPTs I covered back in '06, I spent the whole day running back and forth to the toilet whilst trying to blog the Main Event. At one point, someone was explaining their exit to me and I vomited into the palm of my hand. Nothing with substance, mainly stale vodka that had been swirling viciously around my stomach. It was one of the worst experiences of my life and I think I even recall making a pact with God that I would never drink again if he made me feel better. I don't think I'm the only one guilty of that lie.

Last weekend there were two parties, but, unlike others, I just went to one. I knew if I attended both I wouldn't have made it through the week, and come Monday I'd be spewing up my guts like a fellow PokerNews blogger who spent the first couple of levels with his head in a trash can. It sounds like I picked the wrong one as the party at the PokerListings ranch was eventful with three fights (including girl on boy), a random gatecrasher who wouldn't leave, and Todd Brunson continuously running bombing into the pool. Even Doyle popped by to check out the punani!

Instead, I opted to attend the PokerStars dig at Rain at the Palms. It was basically the same as last year, except with Snoop Dog telling me to pimp some hoes and light up a bifta instead of Nelly. I'm down with the Dog and am always hanging with mi bitches. I don't think I could name one song, but I do know he gets arrested every year, so I was thinking of running a book. Then I heard that Stars had incorporated some kind of arrest clause, so I quickly put that idea to rest.

Stars like to give the event a 'celebrity' feel, but when I arrived, Thierry van den Berg was on the white (yep, not red) carpet. Inside, the party was split into various sections of importance with 'VIPs' allowed to go up to the balcony whilst the peasants had two choices: mosh on the dancefloor or crowd into the smoking pen that had decreased in size, most likely due to a handful of people jumping into the pool last year. I don't recall seeing too many big names there, but I did spot Vanessa Selbst grinding up against Maridu on the dance floor. That's an image I won't forget in a while.

Before Snoop came on (which was about 90 minutes later than scheduled), some aerialist bird danced on a rope with a bath beneath her. After a while, they dipped her head into the bath, and when she came back up she flung her wet hair around. At first I thought, 'Hmm, that's different,' but then a couple of drops of water fell into my vodka and coke. Funnily enough, I didn't fancy drinking her dirty bath water.

I spoke to a number of people, and hugged even more. Jesse May is always good for a conversation when it's early and you haven't drunk enough to get past the awkwardness of the small talk with people you know by sight, but have never spoken to. He was telling me how Vegas had changed, and that when he lived here there were hardly any big, fancy hotels. "I remember when they built the MGM," he regaled. "All the hotels were really dirty, but one of the MGM's gimmicks was that it promised that the toilets would be cleaned after every single use. I thought this was so great that I started leaving my apartment to go to the toilet at the MGM!"

Despite hugging 'Iceman' Teddy Monroe (who I've never met) on the way out, my favourite moment actually came the next day when Maria Demetriou told me that she'd avoided the bar the whole night because she was on a strict budget and didn't want to have to pay for the overpriced drinks. "It was a free bar," I told her.

The day before, I played the PokerNews freeroll at the Hard Rock. If I'd attended the PokerListings party I doubt I would have made it. It was a crapshoot, but there were five iPads up for grabs, and I wanted one. I don't know why, I don't see the point in them, they're just iPhones with the phone bit missing. But still, they look pretty, and have an 'i' as the prefix, and I thought it would somehow soften the blow of my Paigow losses. Thankfully, luck was on my side, and the iPad was mine, which was great, because I now had something that Dana didn't have, but wanted. I have no interest in using it, but will be using it whenever she is in the room. Woot woot!

I also entered - with Dana - the PokerNews Fantasy League, whereby we all stumped up a 100 bucks and played for winner takes all in two categories: cashes and winnings. Unless Vitaly Lunkin reaches the last two tables of the Main, Shawn Buchanan has fucked up the winnings for us, but we've been storming the cashes and, if my calculations are correct, should have tied up a grand.

My secret weapon was David Chiu, but I also thought Tony Cousineau was a dark horse. You probably don't know this, but I'm Tony Cousineau's biggest fan and he's the only player who I subscribe to on the Hendon Mob updates. I even railed him for two hours in the $10K Omaha. In that time, he played two hands, one of which was his exit. It was like watching Villa back in the nineties when Savo Milosevic was in the team. You knew you'd only get two shots at goal at most, you just hoped one of them would somehow bobble in and you could steal a 1-0 victory.

Big T is one of few professional min-cashers on the poker scene. There's a real art to min-cashing, it's not as easy as it looks, but Big T makes it look like a summer stroll. He's so under the radar that the radar is just a distant spec. I tracked his progress on PokerNews one day. His stack went from 30,000 to 29,000 to 28,000 and so on. At times, I wondered if he was even at the table but then suddenly he'd jump up to 32,000 and then then the whole cycle would start all over again. Now and then, he'd enjoy a really good start and have an above average stack, but as the money neared, he'd gradually slide down the charts, place by place, until he was in the bottom three. He wouldn't exit though, he'd stay in the bottom three, somehow clinging in, until the last two or three tables, and then exit. Big T is, without doubt, a walking miracle and one of the wonders of poker. Nobody can play a short stack and sneak into the money like this man.

He did have a six figure win one year, but we all have our off days, and within no time at all he was back to his min-cashing ways. I sometimes wonder how he gets by as I've never seen him win a tournament, but I suppose if you cash in everything you can make quite the living. He certainly doesn't travel abroad, and on the rare occasion that he does, it'll be for a quick min-cash in the Bahamas and then back home. Maybe he stays at the Imperial Palace during WSOP and walks to every tournament, but every year, there he is, without fail, seated in the Amazon Room and slowly, but surely, grinding his way into the cash.

I so wanted him to go deep in the Main and take home a big score, so when he got knocked out I was gutted. I felt like hugging him. What was more shocking was that he didn't make the money. I couldn't believe it, and thought something must be wrong, but no, everything was above board and Big T's Series had come to an abrupt end. Still, he's not a quitter, he'll keep battling on, adding to his results database and forcing us to scroll even further, but sooner or later his day will come and he'll leave his min-cashing ways behind him. If there really is a God, then Tony Cousineau will be back next year, holding his bracelet aloft, and I'll be right there in the front row. Then I'll really have an excuse to party.

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