Nick Gibson flew out to Las Vegas in February with a single mission: win a fortune on the tournament circuit
It was an odd feeling arriving in the country that is to be my ‘new home’ with no concrete plans. Poker players tend to go from place to place with firm schedules; a festival here and a main event there. This time, all I had was the vague plan that for the next six months, Vegas will be my base.
Having a proper home (www.vegashouse.com) and somewhere to relax between games is worth its weight in gold, but the downside quickly became evident: I can’t remember working as hard since quitting the rat race five years ago. Unpaid bills, broken internet, cable TV and leaking sinks were just a few of the problems I had to contend with. Oh, and the swimming pool flooding. Not good!
I woke early on day eight suffering from withdrawal symptoms more commonly associated with Class A narcotics. Needing to play some poker, I headed over to the Bellagio and decided to enter the $240 satellite – which was awarding two $1,000 event seats. I wouldn’t normally play these satellites, but I believe a decent player will win their seat 60% of the time. The room attracts a plethora of visiting amateurs who are content to play there despite ranking as some of the world’s worst poker players.
After my pocket nines beat 9-7 offsuit all-in on the very first hand, I had secured my seat without much difficulty and at that moment was in seventh heaven. How could I fail to win on this trip? I didn’t have long to find out as the poker gods gave me a sharp reminder of the fickle nature of the game. In the $1,000 main event, I called a raise on the button with 8-8 and on a flop of 8-6-6 was musing on the optimum way of extracting chips from my opponent. I cunningly checked until four spades appeared on the board and then raised all-in, receiving an immediate call.
To be fair, my opponent didn’t have much of a decision to make with his quad sixes and it was off to the cash games for me.
Fortunately, this provided me with a freeroll into the following day’s $1,000 event, where I managed to pick up third place.
Early on in that tournament, a large New Yorker got involved in a hand with the table maniac. The river paired the board, also bringing a flush. As the maniac led out, the 17-stone chap began to shake so violently he went to grab his chips twice and missed. On the third swipe he managed to snatch a fistful of ‘big chips’ and hurled them into the pot. The maniac called and the big fella showed the nut full house. This won’t surprise anyone who has read Caro’s Book of Tells. Caro puts the shaking down to a release of tension when you make your hand. Apparently this was not the case here.
A couple of hands later our New York friend announced to the table that he was cold. He put his violent shaking fit down to drinking too much cold water, and ordered a cup of hot green tea to warm him up. We were further warned that should he shake again, we should be aware he might be putting it on. This was too much for me. Now I’m supposed to find some way to check my opponents body temperature before making my read? Mind you, given some of the behaviour I’ve seen over here, a rectal insertion of any device is the least some of them deserve.
California Dreaming
On my last trip to LA, I vowed never to go back. I find the city soulless, dirty, busy and dangerous – combined with some of the most obnoxious card players in the world. It’s not a place where I enjoy playing poker, although the action there is phenomenal.
The Commerce is mainly a card-playing casino. It has two cash rooms housing 100 tables each, plus a tournament room with even more than 100 tables. The astonishing thing is that the cash rooms are full 24/7. There is literally nowhere like it in the world.
I played a one-table satellite for the main event at the LA Poker Classic and won my $10,000 entry. The omens were looking good; I got off to a great start and with just one hour to go was sitting pretty on 84k. But it was at this stage where I lost the plot. A young guy in seat two – who I later found out was Paul Wasicka – had been effectively squeeze playing for the last 12 hours! I chose the wrong time to make a stand and bluffed 50% of my stack off against his top two pair. I’d like to think Paul will repay my generosity in the future as it helped him on his way to fourth place – and half a million in prize money.
My day two table comprised – at various times – of Barry Greenstein, Patrik Antonius, Martin de Knijff, Scott Clements and Crispin Leyser (perhaps utilising some of Jamie Gold’s WSOP winnings). I really enjoy playing with good players and feel I up my game accordingly. I went out in 110th place, but had played some of my best poker for a long time.
Wynn some, lose some
Full of Beans, I returned to Vegas ready for the build-up events for the Wynn Classic and the Venetian’s Deep-Stack Extravaganza. Six days later and without a ‘cash’ in sight, I had dissolved into playing awfully. You simply cannot play these smaller events with the same style as you employ in the latter stages of a main event. I played two pot-limit Omaha, one H.O.S. and several no-limit hold’em events. With the exception of the $1,000 pot-limit Omaha at the Wynn, I deserved to be knocked out of each one.
The next few days saw me trying to minimise my losses by playing in smaller ($300-$500) tournaments and varying my cash games to include the mixed game (Badugi, 2 to 7, Omaha 8, seven-stud hi-lo) at the Bellagio. As they say, a change is as good as a rest. Unlike a lot of players, I never quite feel the compunction to play in the big events, especially when I am playing badly. Yes, the prizes are astronomic, but realistically you have very little chance of winning if you’re out of form. At this stage, playing well for one day was proving too hard, let alone for four days – and that is what the Wynn main event would require. And I’m still up a modest $7,300 at the time of writing
Historically, my better results have coincided with my physical fitness. I’m carrying a bit of excess baggage at the moment, so to help in my fight against the flab, I purchased a road bike and headed off to Red Rock Canyon where there’s a 13-mile one-way loop to cycle. Naturally I felt this wasn’t going to be a true test, and so set off with the goal of cycling the loop twice.
If you feel like doing the same thing, please note the following: don’t attempt this on the hottest day of the year with one bottle of water. If you take this advice, chances are you won’t be picked up at the four-mile mark by two drug-smoking hippies, asking if you need medical attention.
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