The Big Game

The Big Game in Las Vegas generates a ton of attention – and for good reason. It reigns as the richest, baddest poker battle in the world. You can win or lose a million dollars in one night and will surely come up against some of the greatest card-playing talents on earth.

Regulars include legendary pros such as Doyle Brunson, Chip Reese, Phil Ivey and Gus Hansen. And, in order to keep a specialist from dominating too intensely, they play mixed games (as many as 14) so that anyone who’s particularly bad at one game is likely to get crushed overall. Sitting down with the giants of poker, playing for money that is astronomical by any measure ($4,000/$8,000 limits or, in the little Big Game, $2,000/$4,000), has got to be an intimidating experience. But for those who are serious about high stakes, entering the Big Game is a long-standing rite of passage.

When Walter Clyde ‘Puggy’ Pearson first blew into town in the early 1960s, testing your talent required travelling to the Dunes (where the Bellagio now stands) and squaring off against dapper hotel bosses with bottomless bankrolls. Puggy and a rogues gallery of professional gamblers, happily fleeced big shots like Syd Wyman, Major Riddle and Charlie ‘Kewpie’ Rich (don’t feel bad for those three – they earned loads of dough from all the suckers who came to Vegas and gambled in their pits). Puggy grew to be rich and famous, and he evolved into the first well-known superstar of poker’s modern era.

Several years later, Doyle Brunson – along with his running buddies at the time, Sailor Roberts and Amarillo Slim – showed up at the Dunes casino and took on Pug and the others, only to be busted out of their six-figure bankroll. But, of course, they all bounced back and went on to become big names in the poker world. Brunson was already dominating Vegas when a golden-haired, bookishlooking kid by the name of Chip Reese showed up to play in the Big Game, circa 1973.

By then it had moved to the Flamingo and was held in a poker room run by the legendary Johnny Moss (low stakes tourist games were so crippling that a warning sign read: RAKE: ZERO TO 100 PERCENT). Reese bought in for $15,000 one night at the Flamingo, sat down to play Hi-Lo, and, over the course of a weekend, ran his 15 grand up to $390,000. He embraced the Big Game and went on to become one of its canniest long-term winners.

New kid on the block

These days, with mid-six-figure swings a common occurrence, the new kid at the table is a Finnish poker whizz by the name of Patrik Antonius. What’s amazing about his ascent to Big Game status is that he only began playing seriously less than three years ago. Like a lot of players, he screwed around in low stakes poker from a very young age, but then, in 2003 (following an injury that hobbled his ambitions to make it on the professional tennis circuit), he began playing in Finland’s clubs and online. Very quickly he noticed a point of differentiation between himself and the others: ‘I was beating all the players. I beat everyone online, everyone at the clubs. No one could touch me.’

So, armed with a five-figure bankroll and a World Series seat he won online, Antonius made his way to Las Vegas. He did well enough that remaining in town became a foregone conclusion. Between medium stakes sessions at the Bellagio, he continued to play the highest games online, showed no fear, had no game selection in the virtual poker rooms, and won consistently. He aced the Baden Classic, famously finished second in the Five Diamond World Poker Classic at the Bellagio, and built up a large enough bankroll that he could have bought into the Big Game – at least at the $2,000/$4,000 level – as recently as 2005. ‘But,’ he admits, ‘I had no idea how to play Stud and Triple Draw. I’ve since learned, though. Now I know how to play all 14 of the games.’

Money talks

No doubt, for some players, there is an ego issue that lures them to compete in the Big Game. But for Antonius, who comes from a working class family, the attraction has always been simple and sensible. ‘For me, this seems like the best game to be in,’ he states, warning that you need a deep bankroll and intestinal fortitude to withstand the swings. ‘Sometimes it’s the best game I’ve ever played in. It’s definitely the best game to be in money-wise. People gamble so much. They get stuck for a million dollars and they’ve been at it for 20 hours straight. Then you come in fresh and play your best game. It’s like a dream come true.’

That said, he’s also seen the other side of it. ‘One day I made $900,000, playing $2,000/$4,000 for 30 hours. But I’ve also had big losses. Two weeks ago I lost $1m in a single session.’ All told, he figures, he might be down a few hundred grand. ‘And in that game, $300,000 is nothing.’

More to the point, as Antonius has learned, even sitting down after eight hours of sleep, and playing against a table half-full of bleary-eyed pros, is no guarantee for success. ‘I recently stepped in fresh, got a little unlucky and was quickly down $150,000. Over the next six hours I played perfect poker and went ahead $270,000. Then Gus sat down and in less than an hour I lost $600,000. We put all the money in when I had Aces in Omaha, we ran it [the board] three times, and I didn’t get a piece. Sammy Farha beat me when I had a middle set. Gus beat me with a runner-runner straight. I get beats like that and wonder what I’ve done to deserve such bad luck. Sometimes I manage to lose when the game is the best.’

Highs and lows

Running bad in the Big Game is dangerous for myriad reasons. Most obviously, the losses can quickly pile up into seven-figure sums, which is enough to put even the steeliest pro on tilt. Then it becomes a vicious cycle: the more you lose at that level the more difficult it becomes to settle down and regain your A-game. But spend a couple of days winning (especially if you’ve never experienced the other side of it), and, according to Daniel Negreanu, the feeling is unparalleled. His initial earn in the Big Game – for the sum of $490,000 – came on the very first night he played, during a tournament trip to Tunica. ‘It almost gave me a false sense of confidence,’ he admits. ‘I figured I could make half-a-million a day. But the major reason I won was because I was running good.’

Reality stomped in a day later when he dropped $420,000. But that did nothing to discourage Negreanu. He says he never felt intimidated by the stakes and always approached the Big Game with the realistic attitude that whatever he bought in for could be easily lost.

That said, however, playing $4,000/$8,000 poker, against the game’s toughest competitors, provides Negreanu and the others with something that is very valuable: a degree of discomfort. ‘Feeling a little uncomfortable makes me play better,’ he explains. ‘It makes me rise to the occasion. For me, and for any of the top high stakes pros, playing in a game that is too easy to beat can actually be uncomfortable. It’s fun to know that you can get beaten.’

Indeed, as Sam Farha puts it: ‘There’s not enough action anywhere after the Big Game. I play $100/$200 no-limit Hold’em for an hour, drop a big bundle and have to go to the Big Game to win my money back.’ Especially important for Negreanu – who points out that he meticulously worked his way up to the Big Game and initially got his feet wet by sweating his friend Jennifer Harman – being competitive against top pros for dizzying stakes infuses you with a psychological x-factor.

‘Successfully playing in the Big Game provides you with an air of confidence and a knowledge that no matter what comes your way in life, you will be fine,’ Negreanu says. Emphasising that serious character-building takes place when you bounce and roll through six- and seven-figure swings, he adds, ‘You learn not to worry [when you’re down at the poker table], and, in turn, you learn not to worry about stupid things in the rest of your life.’

But, he adds, it goes beyond blithely ignoring the swings that can destroy you: ‘You develop a radar that’s built around your personal thresholds. You get to know when you’re nearing that threshold and when it will be time to buckle down. You know when to put the brakes on before things get too ugly.’

Nowhere to go

Sometimes, though, it’s impossible to quit, even as the numbers rise to previously unimagined sums. Do that for several nights running, says Jennifer Harman, ‘and you start to think about what else you can pursue in your life’. The problem, though, is that there’s nowhere to go from the Big Game. ‘It’s hard to lose, say, a quarter of a million dollars a day, but the next highest limit game is $200/$400,’ says Harman, one of the few women who consistently ante up at this level. ‘So you just play it out.’

If she’s simply unlucky but is performing well, she sticks around and hopes for her luck to change. If she sees herself making mistakes, Harman acknowledges, it’s time to go cash out (never mind that it’s a difficult thing to do, regardless of the stakes). Either way, she does what she can to avoid being emotional at the table and taking the losses home. Still, Harman acknowledges, ‘Sometimes when I go to sleep, after I’ve been stepped all over, my stomach hurts.’ Counter-intuitively, according to Farha, the Big Game is not always as hotly competitive as people think.

While it’s true that you sometimes butt heads with a bunch of topflight pros, other times you’re going up against big business billionaires or kids flush with internet winnings – both of whom are grateful for an opportunity to play the highest stakes poker against the game’s most famous stars. ‘But,’ Farha warns, regardless of whoever you’re confronting, ‘if you lose, you can lose a lot – even by getting unlucky – and it will hurt you.

The players with good money management skills, though, will lose a little and they leave. They realise it’s not their night and they come back another day.’ Farha laughs and admits that he’s often not one of those levelheaded professionals.

The potential for wild swings is exactly what keeps Dewey Tomko away from Bobby’s Room. Though he’s obviously a gifted player (Tomko made the final table at last year’s prestigious H.O.R.S.E. tournament) and has played lots of high-end poker, he warns that if you don’t need the money (or the thrill) it’s not wise to accept the downside risk. ‘That game could change your lifestyle,’ he says.

‘Play for a year straight and you can lose $20-$30m. On the other hand, though, if I was a professional poker player [making the bulk of his income from poker], I’d be in there whenever I could be.’ Dangerous as the game is, he acknowledges, ‘it’s how you make your money’.

Unlike Tomko (who has a reputation for being a tight poker player) Farha has worked hard to cultivate the image of a wild man. And it comes in handy when he finds himself up against the highly desirable internet players and other assorted maniacs. ‘They’re aggressive and want to put the pressure on,’ says Farha.

After reluctantly admitting to having endured his share of three-day sessions at the Big Game – ‘I’m losing, I want to win my money back, I’m waiting for it to get short-handed, when I’ll have my biggest advantage’ – he adds, ‘I’m aggressive also, but I know how to get away from certain hands, like Aces, and a lot of these other aggressive guys don’t. They’ll put in $50,000 pre-flop and automatically put in another $50,000 based on what’s in the pot. I love playing against those guys – even though I sometimes do the same things that they do – especially when I’m losing.’

Big pair

Of the elite players Patrik Antonius has come up against at the high stakes table, he seems particularly impressed by the skills of two mega-winning poker pros, Chip Reese and Barry Greenstein (who’s so confident that he entered the Big Game because he thought he would be a favourite in it – and he’s proven himself to be right).

‘Chip and Barry play fewer hands than other people,’ says Antonius, ‘and they never steam. Other players gamble more and play longer than they expect to. From playing in the game I’ve gotten a little wiser. I don’t always need to play so aggressively and now I try to go in on fewer hands when I’m running bad. I’m taking it a little easier.’ He’s also enjoying the refuge of online poker, where he continues to be a big favourite.

Psychologically, Antonius explains, it’s a good place to go when he has to lick the wounds that one incurs against the likes of Reese and Greenstein. ‘If I lose two days straight in the Big Game, I’ll try to get at least one winning day online,’ says Antonius. ‘You need the winning day, just so you know that you’re playing your best.’

Because the online games are not big enough to suit his current limits, Antonius expands the smaller stakes contests by multi-tabling. ‘Online I play $1,000/$2,000 limit Omaha Eight-or-Better, no-limit Hold’em heads-up, and $200/$400 pot-limit Omaha. All told, it’s like playing $3,000/$6,000, and those games are fast. I’ve won and lost nearly $200,000 an hour, One day I was losing $400,000, and, after four hours, I was ahead $220,000.’

It’s the kind of turnaround that’s exhilarating online and addictively mind-blowing in the Bellagio poker room. ‘I’ve had 20 days of winning streaks,’ he says. ‘You feel you can do no wrong. You’re playing well, getting super-lucky, and it feels like you can’t help but make money. You’re so strong inside that one or two losing days does nothing to you.’

The feeling is so awesome, in fact, that it can lead to a winning player sticking around for too long and losing his edge. ‘When you see people stuck and gambling, it’s hard to take your chips and go home,’ he admits, pointing out that he works hard to follow his gut instincts and cash out before getting too tired. ‘I realise that the game is not going anywhere and I need to lead a healthy life. I used to be an athlete, I work out all the time and sleep is everything for me – but sometimes the Big Game is too big for me to leave. I want to go home at 1am, but I end up staying till 6am. And after those nights, I hate myself in the morning – even if I’ve won a lot of money.’