"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the
strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The
credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred
by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short
again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends
himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst
if he fails at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never
be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
— Theodore Roosevelt
Update: Pardon the momentery interruption of this post, but I must interject here how overwhelmingly stunned I am that I made it as far as the final table in the Monty Memorial tourney this evening.
7th out of 77 = $77
I will have more words to say about it in the coming days - it was fun, challenging, and wore me out. Many kudos and thanks to Iggy for his hard work to get this going - and congrats to him for winning it.
Rest in Peace, Monty.
In grade-school (back in the dark ages) I got invited to a "dress-up" birthday party. I was probably around 6 or 7 years old. What was significant about this was the person whose birthday was being celebrated was, I guess you could say, one of the 'popular' kids. This was a big deal for me because I wasn't one of the 'popular' kids. I wasn't unpopular, mind you - just a regular kid who hung with the neighborhood kids mostly, but this invite was definitely a step up in grade-school society, doncha' know.
At the birthday party we played party games, one of which was Bingo. This sticks in my memory because I won the Bingo game and got a pair of kid-sized sparkly plastic 'high heeled" dress up shoes as my prize. That is the first win I can remember and one of a very few in my lifetime. Other memorable wins include being the only person in my class (again, in grade school) to score a perfect 100 on the math quiz that day - truly significant because I am far from being a whiz at math; a second place ribbon in a photo contest; first place in a talent contest; winning a chili cook off (of all things). There are a handful of others, but those are wins which are filed at the front of the memory box. Those wins, save perhaps the Bingo game, came from preparation, effort, diligence and focus (and one great recipe) which made them all the more compelling and were their own reward for a "job well done." There are few highs greater than the high that comes from winning. And there are few lows deeper than the low of being a loser.
Last week I was culling through my e-mail and trashing numerous pieces of online casino solicitations and such, and was just about to hit the "empty trash" button, when the words "free roll" caught my eye. I opened it up and it was an e-mail from Empire inviting me to register for Brad's $5,000 Newcomer Free Roll, or some such, don't remember exactly. I have no idea who Brad is, but it was sure nice of him to send me the invite. I made a note of date and time and deleted the e-mail. Date and time rolled around - I'd fired up the computer earlier in the day to write the previous post then attempted a $5 multi at Empire without success; dropped about $10 at a $25 NL table; and kibitzed over at Pacific for a while, so when tourney time came, I'd been at the computer for a good part of the afternoon and on into the evening.
616 people were entered in the tourney with the prize pool spread among the top 70 finishers. I thought getting into that illustrious group was attainable. I set my note paper in front of me, grabbed my little stack of 'fidget' chips (I can now twirl, as well as shuffle them - isn't that special?), and the party began. I'd decided to play tight and wary in the first few rounds as this strategy seemed to be the best for avoiding the negative effects of Poker-Slot Syndrome. People were limping and raising only the minimum and I thought, since this was a newcomer tourney, that there were probably a lot of real newcomers - first tourney, first foray into poker, etc.
Fifteen hands into the tourney, seasoned veteran that I am, I clue in to the fact it's a Limit tourney. O hell. Well, I needed to shift strategy. However, I thought briefly about pulling out - a Limit Sit-n-Go can drag out interminably and so a multi could be a marathon. I wasn't sure I wanted to grind it out. I decided to stay in, though, and to aim for the money and go from there.
Shifting strategy meant playing more drawing hands and sticking tightly to positional playing. It also meant that, if I was first to enter a pot, I was coming in for a raise or not at all. Position has more strategic value in Limit than it does in No-Limit. In No-Limit you can justify out of position play when you can take advantage of weak play, use your stack to manipulate pot odds and take control of a hand, for instance. Bluffing has less value in Limit because it only costs your opponent one bet to call.
So I got my mind straight on what game I was playing and adjusted the strategic thinking accordingly. A few hands later, I though "O hell" again. There was a fellah at my table, you know the type, who was in practically every hand, playing dogs, and hitting. And hitting. And hitting. At one point I typed into the chat box "Well, I guess we all know where the horseshoe is" and punctuated it with a big smiley. He was that hot stove you put your hands on. I began to avoid getting into a hand with him - but soon stopped that. You can't get to the winner's circle by avoiding the competition. So I engaged him when I had the cards and lost a few hands to suckouts but, also managed to punish him for his poor choice of playable cards a few times, as well. Nevertheless, I was thoroughly relieved when I was transported to another table shortly after the first break.
The new table had 4 phantom players - people who weren't there and were posting and folding - making it short-handed. This increased the range of playable cards, plus at least gave me the big blind each round as the guy on my left was absent. The short-handedness of this table was a critical factor in what happened over the next few rounds. Several factors came together which gave me the ability to dominate the table. First, and foremost, I was getting cards and hitting flops. Secondly, I was able to back down a couple of bluff attempts. One attempt came when a possible flush hit the turn. My opponent check-raised me. Without the possibility of a flush, I had the winning hand. I decided to call him and pay him off, if need be, just to see if he had the goods - a little data mining, if you will. The river came, he checked - big clue - and I bet. He folded.
I also began to snag orphan pots. It was clear that, in this tourney, checking = weak. So, if I was in late position and the check dance started, I'd bet when it got to me and would take the pot. It didn't always work - but more times than not which helped build the stack. I bet for value and would raise to thin out the blinds and get heads up on vulnerable hands, or to coax a free card on the turn, being careful not to engage those maneuvers too often. I didn't want to fall prey to Fancy Play Syndrome. All the while, the cards kept hitting. And hitting. And hitting. So that by the third break, and a few more table transports, I was 2nd in chips. Let me repeat that. By the third break I was SECOND in chips.
I remained in the top five group of chip leaders for the next few rounds. I also began to get lucky - I took down a few pots where I was the underdog, spiking my miracles on the turn or the river or both. Several times I paid to see the turn, holding big over cards when the flopped missed and I had no draw. One hand I was holding J-T in late position and it was limped to me. I called. The flop brought under-cards. Bet. I called - loose call, yes, but affordable. The turn brought a T. Bet. I raised. He re-raised, which gave me pause. He'd limped in, so I hadn't put him on a strong hand. Again, I decided to call - still affordable. The river came with a J. I cracked his A-A with runner runner miracles. Children, slow-playing Aces or big pairs will get you busted more often than not - choose those moments carefully!
Pot odds were advantageous on many hands. One where I was on a straight draw and one where I was on a flush draw, the pot allowed me to make the call and I was rewarded with making my hand. I also had to back down on some draws when opponents, wisely raised it up thus making a call mathematically incorrect. I stuck to my discipline, for the most part, and folded the draws. I did the same - bust pot odds, that is. I only slow-played a hand a couple of times. Each time when I'd made a set and there was no flush or straight draw on the flop. I did not slow play big pairs - at all.
We hit the money somewhere in there. I had a huge stack. That, and being amongst the chip leaders, was a new experience for me. I was mortally afraid I'd blow it - that I'd choke and begin to make costly mistakes. This forced me to slow down and tighten up. Level 11 arrived and I held the chip lead. I held it through that level and the next, landing at break #4 as chip leader with about 10k more in chips than the second place lead.
After the break, in Level 13 (cue ominous music), I lost the lead to a set of Aces. It was a big pot, too. Level 14 - the cards began to dry up. The chip leader was now on my left and was a limper and aggressive. It was hard for me to get a handle on him and gain any control so I backed off and tightened way up. I watched the tourney lobby as slowly the tables dwindled one by one, breaking up and recombining - I walked one pot when I was transported to another table and the previous table didn't disappear but remained on top. By the time I figured that out, closed the front table and found where I was at the new table, it had folded to me and awarded me the blinds.
Then we were down to two tables and hand for hand, still. The pace was now as slow as a salted slug. I bounced up and down within the top five during this period. I was playing extra tight, not wanting to jeopardize my arrival at the final table, but I managed to grab some pots and steal a few blinds along the way. Then, boom, we were there.
Final Table. Now I could taste the win. I wanted to win. Not place. I wanted first. And I wasn't going to be able to fold my way there. But, I had to stay in the moment. It would be a mistake to put myself in first place before getting to first place. I had to play this hand in this moment - focus and tame the beast over-eagerness can become. This was Level 15 and the blinds were at 3k/6k - stakes at 6k/12k. No small change. This round brought me a pack of dogs for cards, so that when break #5 rolled around, I had dropped to 6th in chips. It was now 1:26am CST. The tournament had started at 8:00pm CST - 5½ hours, so far.
After the break, I received a pair of Aces which held up and so I bumped up to third in chips. The chip lead was held fast in the hands of the only other woman (at least in avatar form) at the table - Victoria. She was two to my right and was proving to be a tough nut to crack. She wasn't one to back down, aggressive and hard to read - she would go to the river with high card as well as with the best hand. I folded to her a couple of times, questionably, because I couldn't put her on a hand and gave her the benefit of the doubt.
One time, I folded when my gut was screaming it was a stone cold bluff, but I just couldn't bring myself to call it. It would have been an expensive call, and losing it would have crippled me. I erred on the side of caution, which I am now wondering was the right move or not. What's the axiom? Fold and save a bet, call and win a pot. Something like that. Risk, albeit calculated risk, is what this game is fueled on. Is a gut feeling reliable enough to make that call? I don't know. Only experience will teach me that lesson.
Level 16 - I hit a set of Jacks which I slow played and which got me a big pot. This was followed by suited A-J that hit and got me another big pot. This put me #2 in chips as we rolled into Level 17. From here on, it's fuzzy. Fatigue was setting in and my note taking, well, is nonexistent. I believe we were down to 5 or 6 by this time. In this level, I was bumped to chip leader briefly, and then again when a set of Queens got me a huge pot. I was chip leader with t-215,195 chips.
And then I lost a couple of hands which I didn't note and don't remember what they were. But it was enough to cripple me and so by break #5 at 2:32am CST, I was down to t-45,537 chips and in fourth place of four remaining at the table. Life support - I was going to get blinded out at worst, something I did not want to see happen. If I was going out, I was going out fighting - and I said so in the chat box. Unfortunately, the cards did not cooperate until I was to all-in status with the blinds and on auto pilot. I was down to t-85 or thereabouts. It was comical, I was saying my goodbyes in the chat-box and then I won the hand. Same on the next one. And the next one when I threw the chips in with a pair of KK. I'd somehow gotten to about 8k in chips - but the blinds were at 10k-20k. Someone typed in the chat box something like "Do it again!" I typed back "Breather" and folded my hand. The blinds came around and I was all-in again. This time, I was out for good - in fourth place.
Fourth, not first. But that was OK. It was a wonderful, if not grueling, ride. I'm not going to kid myself into believing that it was brilliant skill that got me there. This was a newcomers tournament populated chiefly with players with little to no tournament experience, let alone poker experience. I was able to capitalize on their mistakes and I had a fair amount of fantastic cards and good luck. However, that said, I came in fourth out of 616 people, a first for me. I'm immensely pleased with my performance, overall. And I won $300 - enough to buy a pair of designer sparkly high-heeled dress-up shoes, if I were into that sort of thing.
