I have to rank yesterday as my greatest day at poker ever. Anthony and I hit the World Series full on and came out winners. Look at us, in Las Vegas, taking on the big boys and coming out on top. Okay, so admittedly we didn’t play in an actual event, but that wasn’t the plan. Today was satellite day and I’m telling you there is a ten-table patch of the Amazon room that I feel like we now completely own… by midnight even the floor manager was calling me by my first name.
After our rousing battle speeches at the Bellagio last night, it was with determination that we made our way to the Rio this morning, I had the “Rocky” theme going over and over in my head and even found myself contemplating swallowing half a dozen raw eggs in a glass. Anthony registered as a player and then bought us both in to separate 125 single table satellite. (neither of us felt like dealing with each other at the table this early). And then we were off, and before I really knew it I chopped the first, took one pink chip and some cash, Anthony was there to see the deal done having been busted just before he could make a deal at his own table. We did the same again, this time I was chip leader from the beginning – you know you get those mad guys online who move all-in early and you just suspect that they’re drunk, or they wished they hadn’t bought in and want it to be over or are just plain stupid? They don’t exist in real life right? Wrong… I doubled up within two hands to a guy who moved in with J-8!
So we get down to 3 handed and the other two guys want to do a deal and I’m so far ahead I just think that it’s a stupid move on my part and I say no. Well you’d think I’d just cut off their oxygen supply or something, is it really that obligatory to do a deal? I mean what deal did they expect? The ratio of chips was like 10:3:1 in my favour – what should I have offered? This is when I had my first chat with Jack, who was the floor manager for the satellite area, he had been listening to the deal attempt, I had just shrugged my shoulders at the guys and play continued. They wouldn’t let it drop, play almost ground to a halt as they both relentlessly pushed for the chop – I’m not proud to say that they bored me into submission, this was ridiculous, I held my hands up and said what do you want – Jack stepped straight in and suggested that 800, 325, 125 would be fair before the two of them had a chance to say anything, and the deal was done. Thanks Jack, I think you got me the best of it there.
And that’s how the day continued, at dinner we ordered burgers from the Sports Bar, two fat bbq soaked slabs of beef turned up. I spoke to Anthony about stepping up a level, we were up a total of 2 pink chips and about 50 dollars once you’d taken out buy-ins. We agreed we’d play a 325 buy-in each and then Anthony would make a decision as to whether we call it a night or go for one more. We hardly touched our burgers, both of us too wrapped up in the plan to feel that kind of hunger.
Jack welcomed us back to the satellite area and we told him our plan, turns out there was a game with three spots open and that we should take two of them. Anthony hesitated, saying we needed to separate to maximise our potential, but I thought it would be fun to have at least one shot with the two of us. He put his foot down, and I slipped into the nine seat whilst he waited for another game.
And what a game, I was steady the whole time, paced myself, kept it tight, just watching, there were three guys waiting to shove it all in with anything half decent, there were two nervous 30-odd year olds whose dreams outweighed their ability, there was one drunk guy, one guy who should have been in bed, one guy who was having “his night at the world Series” and was being cheered on by about a dozen partied up friends, there was a guy who I had down as a very good player… and there was me.
I managed to ease chips away from the scared 30 somethings, they weren’t risking anything, waited for my moment against the all-in specialists, and with good humour relieved party guy of his chips. Bit by bit, reading them all as best I could, and I think I played them just right, without even really getting much by way of cards, I felt so good about it, like I owned it. We got down to three, me, good player and scared 30’s. We were pretty even and inevitably good player suggested the split, one thousand each and play for the rest. Scared 30’s was all over it, I simply said no and proceeded to take out 30 something in the course of a few hands. Heads up and good player offered again… no, and I went and took him out too… Jack shook my hand, I was in a bit of a daze, he handed me 6 pink chips and some cash, I felt like I’d won a major event – three grand! Three bloody grand! Where’s Anthony? I tipped Jack a drink and said I’d be back later, I’m ready for it, where’s Anthony?
Five minutes later he comes bounding over all pleased with himself, and tosses me two pink chips… nice one, but look at this baby… 6 more, his mouth drops wide open. We’ve got ten chips, 5 grand in buy-ins, let’s go again. Anthony doesn’t seem too keen and calls a halt to the night waving a piece of paper in my face. “What’s that?” “This”, he says, “is the list of events… you and me, big fat drink, we’ve got some decisions to make”… oh boy let’s go, the Flicker brothers are playing the World Series.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
The Plan
We have a plan… a good one, it’s a two-man mission to win it all or go down fighting with our very last cent. Anthony amazed me tonight. We both pretty much avoided telling each other what had been going on – “look, why go over old ground when we’ve got the rest of the trip to plan?” was Anthony’s opening statement (I don’t know exactly what he got up to but it sure opened his eyes to something, he’s a changed man).
We headed to the Bellagio for the buffet, waited 45 minutes in the queue and in that time saw Doyle Brunson and Gus Hansen (not together) brisk through. I hit the shrimp hard, it was on plate 3 that we carried on the meaningful conversation. Two things I did mention In my heavily edited re-telling of the previous 72 hours – 1: my success in the el Cortez game and 2: my great form in the satellite at the Rio. Anthony was genuinely impressed, dare I say pleased for me even. He paused, he was building up to somehting and then he went into this speech which completely flawed me, about how “we have waited our whole lives for this moment”, about how “this is our chance to take them all on”, about how “the money we brought was to play with, not covet like some precious child, this was our shot, and if we went home broke then fine, because the business is doing great and this is our gambling money, we saved for this, played for this, we’re going to form the best plan we can”.
And then he went back to his rib of beef, I think he may have surprised himself, I nearly laughed. I’ve never heard him sound so passionate about things, so, I don’t know, up for it. And of course I loved the sound of every one of his “ours”, not “mine, or me, or I, but our, us, he’s including me too, the Flicker Brothers… The Flying Flicker Brothers”.
Our plan was formed over dinner and then after at the bar near the poker room. Anthony bought drinks, I went for a Long Island Iced Tea (always wondered what that was) Anthony, in a very classy move, went for a White Russian – is this really my brother? So, the plan is this, we’re here for the World Series, so let’s hit the World Series, we’re playing satellites, lots of them and only with enough tournament buy in chips will we enter the WSOP tournaments – no direct buy-ins. Anthony will be in charge of the bankroll and will make all decisions relating to buying-in, however he agrees to listen to me if I have a hunch. (I find myself readily agreeing to these things, it’s just great to have it all a bit more normal). And then he leans over to me – “And you will never play in the El Cortez again” – something about the way he said, I knew it had to do with his previous 72 hours, I said okay and wondered what the hell he knew.
So we sat at the bar and I was feeling great about things, my hang-over all but gone, we saw Greenstein and Seed, Brenes and Boatman wandering through the Bellagio on their way to and from the game and the bar and we both spoke jokingly about how we would destroy them at the WSOP. If they knew what we had planned for them they’d be a little scared right now I’m sure… especially Seed, we decided the only way through him was to repeatedly kick him under the table, I hope he has shin pads.
Anthony went to bed and I’m heading back there now for an early night, it’s been a great night, but try as I might, I still have one nagging hang over – I can’t fill in the gap from being in the Rhino to arriving at the California, maybe I might bump into those guys again and they can put me right.
We headed to the Bellagio for the buffet, waited 45 minutes in the queue and in that time saw Doyle Brunson and Gus Hansen (not together) brisk through. I hit the shrimp hard, it was on plate 3 that we carried on the meaningful conversation. Two things I did mention In my heavily edited re-telling of the previous 72 hours – 1: my success in the el Cortez game and 2: my great form in the satellite at the Rio. Anthony was genuinely impressed, dare I say pleased for me even. He paused, he was building up to somehting and then he went into this speech which completely flawed me, about how “we have waited our whole lives for this moment”, about how “this is our chance to take them all on”, about how “the money we brought was to play with, not covet like some precious child, this was our shot, and if we went home broke then fine, because the business is doing great and this is our gambling money, we saved for this, played for this, we’re going to form the best plan we can”.
And then he went back to his rib of beef, I think he may have surprised himself, I nearly laughed. I’ve never heard him sound so passionate about things, so, I don’t know, up for it. And of course I loved the sound of every one of his “ours”, not “mine, or me, or I, but our, us, he’s including me too, the Flicker Brothers… The Flying Flicker Brothers”.
Our plan was formed over dinner and then after at the bar near the poker room. Anthony bought drinks, I went for a Long Island Iced Tea (always wondered what that was) Anthony, in a very classy move, went for a White Russian – is this really my brother? So, the plan is this, we’re here for the World Series, so let’s hit the World Series, we’re playing satellites, lots of them and only with enough tournament buy in chips will we enter the WSOP tournaments – no direct buy-ins. Anthony will be in charge of the bankroll and will make all decisions relating to buying-in, however he agrees to listen to me if I have a hunch. (I find myself readily agreeing to these things, it’s just great to have it all a bit more normal). And then he leans over to me – “And you will never play in the El Cortez again” – something about the way he said, I knew it had to do with his previous 72 hours, I said okay and wondered what the hell he knew.
So we sat at the bar and I was feeling great about things, my hang-over all but gone, we saw Greenstein and Seed, Brenes and Boatman wandering through the Bellagio on their way to and from the game and the bar and we both spoke jokingly about how we would destroy them at the WSOP. If they knew what we had planned for them they’d be a little scared right now I’m sure… especially Seed, we decided the only way through him was to repeatedly kick him under the table, I hope he has shin pads.
Anthony went to bed and I’m heading back there now for an early night, it’s been a great night, but try as I might, I still have one nagging hang over – I can’t fill in the gap from being in the Rhino to arriving at the California, maybe I might bump into those guys again and they can put me right.
Bellagio
Last night we actually had some fun. I think we were in the mood to do something Vegasy, and neither of us had been up to the Strip yet, so we took a cab up to the Bellagio. Now that’s a casino! I could hardly get out of the lobby, some people might say that the chandelier is gaudy, but I just loved it. It’s about a million pieces of colored glass and it’s a sight. The casino is just so huge, we kept getting lost. Went over to the buffet, and even though we had to wait in line for about thirty minutes it was worth every second. I’ve never seen a spread like that. I went nuts on the food for the first time since we got here. Roast beef, Chinese, shrimp the size of potatoes, we ate for an hour nonstop, and had a good talk as well.
I mean we are brothers. If we’re not in each other’s corner then who will be? This town can be really rough, believe me I saw some crazy shit the other night, and Ronnie and I have to watch each other’s back. Pokerwise, Ronnie has been flying, and this is our chance to make some noise. I said to Ronnie, this money I brought out with me, it’s all profit, and I’m going to feel worse if I go back home and we didn’t take our shots than I will if we go back home with nothing. I mean we got the Chipper and a good family and money coming in, let’s take our shot at the World Series of Poker. Forget this downtown completely. But Ronnie might have a lot of talent, I actually think the kid has got something, but he has no money management at all, and that’s where I’m gonna come in. If he wants me to put him into some of these satellites and tournaments he has to play when and where I say we’ve got a good spot.
We went and had a drink at the bar next to the poker room after dinner and that was a blast. I saw a guy I recognize from WPT season 1 at the bar, a really short guy whose name I can't remember, and I saw Bobby Baldwin walk through the room and he passed not ten feet away from me. Wow, The Owl, Bobby Baldwin. It doesn’t get any bigger than that. He was playing at some table in a closed off room with a bunch that I didn’t recognize except for Sammy Farha. The rumor is that there were millions on the table. Someone next to us said some internet kid from California had all the money. Ronnie knew who he was.
Then Ronnie gets all excited and wants to go sit down, he’d have played anything, and I said no. You’ve had four drinks and a big dinner and you fucked up this morning, we’re gonna go get some sleep and tomorrow we’ll go after getting into that pot limit Hold’em tournament that starts Friday. Everybody says the Europeans have the edge in pot limit.
I mean we are brothers. If we’re not in each other’s corner then who will be? This town can be really rough, believe me I saw some crazy shit the other night, and Ronnie and I have to watch each other’s back. Pokerwise, Ronnie has been flying, and this is our chance to make some noise. I said to Ronnie, this money I brought out with me, it’s all profit, and I’m going to feel worse if I go back home and we didn’t take our shots than I will if we go back home with nothing. I mean we got the Chipper and a good family and money coming in, let’s take our shot at the World Series of Poker. Forget this downtown completely. But Ronnie might have a lot of talent, I actually think the kid has got something, but he has no money management at all, and that’s where I’m gonna come in. If he wants me to put him into some of these satellites and tournaments he has to play when and where I say we’ve got a good spot.
We went and had a drink at the bar next to the poker room after dinner and that was a blast. I saw a guy I recognize from WPT season 1 at the bar, a really short guy whose name I can't remember, and I saw Bobby Baldwin walk through the room and he passed not ten feet away from me. Wow, The Owl, Bobby Baldwin. It doesn’t get any bigger than that. He was playing at some table in a closed off room with a bunch that I didn’t recognize except for Sammy Farha. The rumor is that there were millions on the table. Someone next to us said some internet kid from California had all the money. Ronnie knew who he was.
Then Ronnie gets all excited and wants to go sit down, he’d have played anything, and I said no. You’ve had four drinks and a big dinner and you fucked up this morning, we’re gonna go get some sleep and tomorrow we’ll go after getting into that pot limit Hold’em tournament that starts Friday. Everybody says the Europeans have the edge in pot limit.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Got Drunk
The last two days I’ve been nursing a hangover. It’s been a while since I really tied one on. I guess I had to get it out of my system. It started at the bar of the Four Queens. I had been wandering around downtown. I watched the midnight light show over Fremont Street, (some good Pink Floyd music and definitely worth seeing) and then was walking through the Four Queens when I decided to have a beer. I met this woman named Maryanne and started drinking with her. She lives here in Vegas with a professional poker player. I never heard of him, Jeff something or other. She plays poker as well, and also deals at the El Cortez. I started telling her about Ronnie and it turns out she was dealing to him the other night in the no limit. Actually it took a while to put that all together. Actually, it was Maryanne who put it all together, but I guess it was our accents and the fact that we look a little bit alike. At least she says we do. Small, town, I guess. Everybody knows everybody else’s business. So it was from her that I found out that Ronnie got on a bit of a roll since he got here. Good for him. She said that game at the El Cortez is a game that the tourists don’t usually beat. That’s what she said. I didn’t think anything at the time but I wonder now if she was trying to warn me. I’m gonna tell Ronnie to stay out of there.
We started drinking shots and then it just went from there. I don’t know if I can look at another Jack Daniels yet. It’s a bit fuzzy after that but I know we were at a craps table at some point. I still don’t understand that game. I didn’t have much money with me anyway.
One other interesting thing happened. At some point a guy came over to the bar, and Maryann said don’t you know who that is? He’s been on TV for poker. And I think I recognized him, a fifty-something guy who apparently won a WSOP bracelet in the nineties. Maryann calls him The Gasman. Anyway, he knew Maryanne very well, and they’ve got some sort of past history which I couldn’t figure out. He drank with us for a little while and Maryanne said if you ever want to take a piece of a good player then Gasman is a great investment. Apparently if you put this guy in a satellite for an event and then he wins you get a big piece of his action in the WSOP event. We’ll see.
I got back to the room I don’t know what time and Ronnie was wigged out as well. I don’t where he’d been but it turned out the next morning that he had won his way into the rebuy event through a satellite and then got so drunk that he missed the tournament. This kid’s gonna kill me. Yesterday I laid around most of the day drinking water and staying in bed. Mostly I’ve just eaten Burger King and snack bar stuff since I’ve been here. Downstairs in our hotel they have some kind of Hawaiian menu where everything comes with macaroni salad. I don’t get it. Ronnie and I are going to have to go for a real meal soon. I mean, we are in Las Vegas.
We started drinking shots and then it just went from there. I don’t know if I can look at another Jack Daniels yet. It’s a bit fuzzy after that but I know we were at a craps table at some point. I still don’t understand that game. I didn’t have much money with me anyway.
One other interesting thing happened. At some point a guy came over to the bar, and Maryann said don’t you know who that is? He’s been on TV for poker. And I think I recognized him, a fifty-something guy who apparently won a WSOP bracelet in the nineties. Maryann calls him The Gasman. Anyway, he knew Maryanne very well, and they’ve got some sort of past history which I couldn’t figure out. He drank with us for a little while and Maryanne said if you ever want to take a piece of a good player then Gasman is a great investment. Apparently if you put this guy in a satellite for an event and then he wins you get a big piece of his action in the WSOP event. We’ll see.
I got back to the room I don’t know what time and Ronnie was wigged out as well. I don’t where he’d been but it turned out the next morning that he had won his way into the rebuy event through a satellite and then got so drunk that he missed the tournament. This kid’s gonna kill me. Yesterday I laid around most of the day drinking water and staying in bed. Mostly I’ve just eaten Burger King and snack bar stuff since I’ve been here. Downstairs in our hotel they have some kind of Hawaiian menu where everything comes with macaroni salad. I don’t get it. Ronnie and I are going to have to go for a real meal soon. I mean, we are in Las Vegas.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Time Out, Time OUt
Where to begin. I’ve just worked out that we’ve been in Las Vegas for less than 3 days and I feel like I’ve been here for 3 weeks. When I woke up Anthony was snoring heavily – I’ve never been so pleased to see him. I picked up his copy of Super System and chucked it at him. “You okay?” I asked, and when he eventually came too he offered a pretty humble “yeah”. “You?” he asked, and my “yeah” wasn’t hiding anything either. “We should go and have something to eat and catch up”.
It's 3pm, 3 fucking pm, that's 3 hours too late.
So after this internet stop we’re heading somewhere for something to eat, I don’t know what he has been up to over the past 72 hours or so but I know it’s probably not good. But we need to clear the air. And I’m sure he’s pretty nervous to hear what I’ve been up to aswell… he should be.
24 hours ago, where was I, and was it really only 24 hours? Actually it was more like 36. I met Anthony in Binions, he was acting mad at me but I know a man on tilt when I see him, especially my brother, and Anthony was raging at the game. I tried to get him to quit and come for breakfast, I thought my El Cortez success might change the subject, but he wasn’t for moving and I’ve learnt to just let him go in that situation, however costly it might be. He threw me 50 bucks to get rid of me – jes thanks, what shall I do go get coke and crisps? But I didn’t say anything other than a see you later.
What next… the Rio, it feels like last week. I was over whelmed to be there, I saw Ram Vaswani, Phil Hellmuth (taller than expected) and Daniel Negreanu (shorter than expected), I was a bit star struck to be honest and that isn’t me at all, I blame a lack of sleep. The tournament area is heaving, it’s massive, and it’s all painted in this really ugly beige colour that makes you feel a bit sick. My head was spinning a bit so I headed outside into the corridor and decided to get in line to register. Now the line was long, but at that moment I didn’t really mind because a bit of standing still was going to do me the world of good. I am at the WSOP, I am at the WSOP, Ronnie Flicker is at the WSOP and he has just registered to play… Ronnie has entered the building. Strangely nobody else seems to appreciate the momentous moment – I decide I need to sit down and where better than at one of the 150 dollar single table satellites. These things are starting all the time apparently and my sit ‘n’ go form has been good of late. Ronnie Flicker takes his seat at the WSOP, the crowd are hushed… I told you I was tired.
I only went and won the bloody thing.
Two and a half hours it took, I played really well and only had to luck out twice to make it through. I’ll write a more detailed report of some of the hands later, they handed me 3 x 500 dollar tournament chips, I’m on a roll and I now have enough to enter the $1000 re-buy tomorrow… I have enough to enter a World Series event, I’m pinching myself. Sorry, I wish I could write this with more enthusiasm.
The other most significant thing about the game was meeting Steve “Station 92” I think his surname was Biston or Bishop, a player from California. He was playing in the game, we’re about the same age, 21 and 24, and he’s part of a whole crew of young players who have come out for their first World Series. Anyway he congratulates me on the way I played and we decide to go for a wind down drink, I’m wired. I tell him I want to sign up for the 1000 dollar tournament first and he helps me get my chips in – I’m in, I’m playing a WSOP event tomorrow. Quick drink, back to the California, sleep and then fresh for the tournament.
So I follow Steve and he heads up to the Voodoo bar in the Rio and there is a huge line and Steve just walks straight past it, nods to the doorman in the VIP queue and we’re in, and I’m totally impressed. A waitress (oh my God I’m in love) takes us through the club and into a roped off area and a huge cheer goes up as Steve and I enter – “Stevie boy where you been”. There must be 15/20 guys, I get introduced to them all and they’re all very welcoming and I have a drink in my hand within seconds. Turns out they’re all young poker players who by all accounts are making a fortune online. I tell them that’s what I do to, “how much you up this month buddy?” “oh about 100” I say, “100k not bad, I’m doing about 300 so far so it’s been reasonably quiet” – I didn’t dare tell him I meant 100 dollars straight – and that this is an exceptionally good month for me.
So the drink flows and I’m having a great time. I mean these guys are really doing well online and I feel very tuned in to their game and style and I feel very much at home in their company. Someone suggests we move on to a club and before I know it I’m in the back of this huge hummer stretch limo and we’re heading to a nightclub called rhino, and I didn’t have a clue until we got there. I fell in love 20 times last night – (Rhino is a strip club where the girls do lapdances for you and by all accounts plenty more if… am I the only person in the World who didn’t know this).
It all started to get a little fuzzy, those guys are treated like superstars, I remember brief things, like having a conversation about the re-buy tournament and being asked how many re-buys I expect to take and getting a really good laugh out of everyone when I say none… I go with the joke, it became my thing for a while and they started calling me “re-buy” and bought me another lapdance – “rebuy for rebuy” and another girl would come over – which completely numbed my growing insecurity about the re-buy tournament.
And last of all I remember Steve bundling me into the back of a cab asking where I was staying and looking totally bemused when I said the California – but by now I was just the English guy and nothing surprised them – somehow I made it to my room, and there was Anthony fighting with the door key too. We looked at each other through Vegas glazed eyes and without saying anything agreed to deal with it in the morning.
Which pretty much brings me to my sore head now and the worst part of the whole thing – I’ve missed the re-buy tournament – my chips are being ante’d away as we speak, I woke up 3 hours after the thing had started and I can’t even begin to imagine going down there to protect them… the only question is, how much of this do I tell Anthony?
It's 3pm, 3 fucking pm, that's 3 hours too late.
So after this internet stop we’re heading somewhere for something to eat, I don’t know what he has been up to over the past 72 hours or so but I know it’s probably not good. But we need to clear the air. And I’m sure he’s pretty nervous to hear what I’ve been up to aswell… he should be.
24 hours ago, where was I, and was it really only 24 hours? Actually it was more like 36. I met Anthony in Binions, he was acting mad at me but I know a man on tilt when I see him, especially my brother, and Anthony was raging at the game. I tried to get him to quit and come for breakfast, I thought my El Cortez success might change the subject, but he wasn’t for moving and I’ve learnt to just let him go in that situation, however costly it might be. He threw me 50 bucks to get rid of me – jes thanks, what shall I do go get coke and crisps? But I didn’t say anything other than a see you later.
What next… the Rio, it feels like last week. I was over whelmed to be there, I saw Ram Vaswani, Phil Hellmuth (taller than expected) and Daniel Negreanu (shorter than expected), I was a bit star struck to be honest and that isn’t me at all, I blame a lack of sleep. The tournament area is heaving, it’s massive, and it’s all painted in this really ugly beige colour that makes you feel a bit sick. My head was spinning a bit so I headed outside into the corridor and decided to get in line to register. Now the line was long, but at that moment I didn’t really mind because a bit of standing still was going to do me the world of good. I am at the WSOP, I am at the WSOP, Ronnie Flicker is at the WSOP and he has just registered to play… Ronnie has entered the building. Strangely nobody else seems to appreciate the momentous moment – I decide I need to sit down and where better than at one of the 150 dollar single table satellites. These things are starting all the time apparently and my sit ‘n’ go form has been good of late. Ronnie Flicker takes his seat at the WSOP, the crowd are hushed… I told you I was tired.
I only went and won the bloody thing.
Two and a half hours it took, I played really well and only had to luck out twice to make it through. I’ll write a more detailed report of some of the hands later, they handed me 3 x 500 dollar tournament chips, I’m on a roll and I now have enough to enter the $1000 re-buy tomorrow… I have enough to enter a World Series event, I’m pinching myself. Sorry, I wish I could write this with more enthusiasm.
The other most significant thing about the game was meeting Steve “Station 92” I think his surname was Biston or Bishop, a player from California. He was playing in the game, we’re about the same age, 21 and 24, and he’s part of a whole crew of young players who have come out for their first World Series. Anyway he congratulates me on the way I played and we decide to go for a wind down drink, I’m wired. I tell him I want to sign up for the 1000 dollar tournament first and he helps me get my chips in – I’m in, I’m playing a WSOP event tomorrow. Quick drink, back to the California, sleep and then fresh for the tournament.
So I follow Steve and he heads up to the Voodoo bar in the Rio and there is a huge line and Steve just walks straight past it, nods to the doorman in the VIP queue and we’re in, and I’m totally impressed. A waitress (oh my God I’m in love) takes us through the club and into a roped off area and a huge cheer goes up as Steve and I enter – “Stevie boy where you been”. There must be 15/20 guys, I get introduced to them all and they’re all very welcoming and I have a drink in my hand within seconds. Turns out they’re all young poker players who by all accounts are making a fortune online. I tell them that’s what I do to, “how much you up this month buddy?” “oh about 100” I say, “100k not bad, I’m doing about 300 so far so it’s been reasonably quiet” – I didn’t dare tell him I meant 100 dollars straight – and that this is an exceptionally good month for me.
So the drink flows and I’m having a great time. I mean these guys are really doing well online and I feel very tuned in to their game and style and I feel very much at home in their company. Someone suggests we move on to a club and before I know it I’m in the back of this huge hummer stretch limo and we’re heading to a nightclub called rhino, and I didn’t have a clue until we got there. I fell in love 20 times last night – (Rhino is a strip club where the girls do lapdances for you and by all accounts plenty more if… am I the only person in the World who didn’t know this).
It all started to get a little fuzzy, those guys are treated like superstars, I remember brief things, like having a conversation about the re-buy tournament and being asked how many re-buys I expect to take and getting a really good laugh out of everyone when I say none… I go with the joke, it became my thing for a while and they started calling me “re-buy” and bought me another lapdance – “rebuy for rebuy” and another girl would come over – which completely numbed my growing insecurity about the re-buy tournament.
And last of all I remember Steve bundling me into the back of a cab asking where I was staying and looking totally bemused when I said the California – but by now I was just the English guy and nothing surprised them – somehow I made it to my room, and there was Anthony fighting with the door key too. We looked at each other through Vegas glazed eyes and without saying anything agreed to deal with it in the morning.
Which pretty much brings me to my sore head now and the worst part of the whole thing – I’ve missed the re-buy tournament – my chips are being ante’d away as we speak, I woke up 3 hours after the thing had started and I can’t even begin to imagine going down there to protect them… the only question is, how much of this do I tell Anthony?
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Rough Start
Well, I’ve had a really rough start to this trip. Wouldn’t you figure that the worst run of cards I’ve ever seen in my life had to happen the first night I’m in Las Vegas? What a game I was in. We were standing looking at the wall of Champions in Binions and I turn around and Ronnie is gone. Nowhere to be found. I’m just about to lead him upstairs to the steakhouse and he takes off. Well, he’s a big boy. I walk all around the casino looking for him and then realize that he’s taken off, so I decided I might as well play a little cards while waiting for him. I sat down in a 2-5 No Limit Hold’em game, and just started to play. I took one of the sickest beats I’ve ever seen. I’ve raised with the kings and an older fellow in with a checked shirt and white whiskers reraises me to $60, so I figure I’ll just call and set him up. The flop comes j-8-6, rainbow. He bets $150 and I call. It comes a 4 on the turn and he bets $300 I move all in for like $550 total and he calls and turns over ace-jack. And of course the jack comes on the river. I was so mad, I couldn’t even see straight. I had him set up so perfectly. Then this idiot at the table, this kid with a UNLV hat, he starts laughing at me. That’s what happens when you slowplay, he says. He’s not even in the fucking hand, and he’s gotta open up his mouth when I just lost my stack. I decided I wasn’t quitting this game as long as this guy was there, and it just got worse. I was playing fine, but I’ve never seen cards like that. They were hitting everything on me, everything. These locals can’t play bad. If any of them knew how to play they’d be up at the World Series of Poker. I played until this afternoon and decided forget about Binion’s. I just woke up and I haven’t eaten anything since I got here. I had a ham sandwich about seven am from the snack bar at Binions on the way back from the bathroom. Ronnie showed up about ten am and wanted to know if I wanted to go to the Rio with him. I should have gone, I’m definitely going up there, I’m going to play with some real poker players. I’m starving. It’s about ten o’clock at night right now. I woke up and Ronnie was nowhere to be seen again, I think I might go up to the Rio and find him. I gave him fifty bucks this morning, I wonder if he’s still playing off that. It was really a bad start to the trip last night. I’ve never seen cards like that.
It was just dark when I woke up and left the hotel, but you wouldn’t know about it once you hit Fremont Street. There’s this huge roof covering the whole street and it makes it like it’s just daytime outside. When we were checking in the lady at the front desk said they have a light show there at midnight that we shouldn’t miss, so I might grab something to eat and then go see it. Tomorrow I’m going to go up to the Rio. I’m not going to be here for the World Series of Poker and not go try and play in the World Series of Poker. I’m done with this Binion’s stuff. I want to see some of the real poker players…
It was just dark when I woke up and left the hotel, but you wouldn’t know about it once you hit Fremont Street. There’s this huge roof covering the whole street and it makes it like it’s just daytime outside. When we were checking in the lady at the front desk said they have a light show there at midnight that we shouldn’t miss, so I might grab something to eat and then go see it. Tomorrow I’m going to go up to the Rio. I’m not going to be here for the World Series of Poker and not go try and play in the World Series of Poker. I’m done with this Binion’s stuff. I want to see some of the real poker players…
Sunday, June 3, 2007
I'm all set
I’m buzzing. As soon as I woke I headed straight here, this internet café is already feeling like home. It’s 10:30am, day 2 of the Flicker brothers’ World Series assault. The only trouble is, the Flicker brothers have spent all of about two hours together since arriving, and of those 2 hours we’ve said nothing to each other for approx. 1 hour 58 minutes of them. Our conversation has amounted to Anthony asking me if I wanted the bed next to the window (yes) him asking me if I wanted to unpack now or later (later! What are you nuts? come on let’s go) and him asking me if I wanted a beer in a football or a margarita in a yard glass (I really just wanted the beads from the girl out front of the Mermaid Casino but I took the beer anyway).
That amounts to about 2 minutes right, stone cold silence the rest, I know he’s mad at me, but let it go, see the bigger picture, I nailed that Wednesday night game, he knows that and sure I made a mistake but my game has never been in better shape and I’m feeling so good about this trip. And if Anthony doesn’t stake me now, if he turns me into nothing more than a bankroll-less tourist, well to be honest I’d rather fly back home.
But we’ve been here before, it’s a cycle we often repeat. Very soon we’ll have clear the air talks and it’ll end up with him lending me the cash – but before he hands it over I’ll have to endure the endless re-telling of the “very good reasons why I should just fucking cut you off”. I’d like to think it’s an endearing trait of the Flicker brothers, that we go through this little routine, but last time it happened Anthony described it is a complete pain in the arse, I know he meant it, kind of left me nervous about the next time it was going to happen.
So, in a way, it’s great I have this little insurance policy, which brings me to tonight, because it was so cool I couldn’t have imagined it.
As we turned with our beers and beads away from the Mermaid girls the iconic white neon of Binion’s stopped us in our tracks. Our silence at this stage was perfect, and even though we weren’t talking, I know I’ll look back and be pleased I shared that moment with Anthony. I know what it means to him, it’s his theatre of dreams, me too up to a point, but for Anthony, well let’s just say that the night they announced that the World Series was moving to the Rio I saw a tear running down his face as he read the news online.
We walked by, our eyes fixed in to see if we could catch a glimpse of the poker room or the wall of champions or Johnny Moss or Benny himself (Yes, I know). It was all an exercise in building excitement - Check out our nearest internet connection, get phone cards, work out where we are and then we’ll go in to Binions and not before… that was the plan, and it could only have been a couple of sick poker masochists like us that stuck to it.
So we walked and found this internet café, it’s just passed the El Cortez, which is offering a $1/$2 no limit hold’em game with a bad beat jackpot that currently stands at $12,587. We pick up phone cards (Anthony says they’ll save us a fortune) and as the lady behind the till said “There you go boys you’re all set”. I think I like being here.
We enter Binions, me two steps behind Anthony, this is his moment. He knows exactly where he is going, years of reading about the place I guess, and he has us in the poker area almost immediately (which is probably a good thing because actually it’s a pretty grim place, wouldn’t want any illusions shattered this early). The card room is pretty busy. Anthony has found his home.
I’m not entirely sure what happened next, but it all happened pretty quickly. My brother, to the very best of his wisdom had put a 48 hour ban on poker – partly my fault, partly his concerns over jet lag, partly just plain mad – now if he doesn’t want to dive right in then fair enough, but I tell you it took me about 30 seconds of seeing those old boys playing cards to want to sit right down and start playing. Obviously it isn’t that easy for me… I have no bankroll as such and Anthony is certainly not going to be in any kind of rush to have that chat so that he can forgive me and get me back in the game…. I only have one-out and it involves a- losing Anthony and b - the twenty dollar bill that 3 chin Charlie threw my way as an insult. Anthony is engrossed in the hall of champions… leg it.
30 seconds later I’m outside Binions turning left and my feet are taking me to the El Cortez. They take me right inside and straight to the poker room (have they been here before?) and in less than 10 minutes, I swear that’s all it took, I was sitting down at the 1/2 dollar no limit hold’em game… and shit, I only have 20 dollars of one dollar chips… never mind, not right now, this could last one hand but it’s what I had to do, I could even make it back to Binion’s before Anthony realised I’d gone. And bang there it goes, first hand I get dealt pocket 8’s and I’m under the gun and make a four times raise knowing that this could be it. I get laughed at by the locals, they think I’m taking the piss, this is reminding me of the Wednesday night game, I’m feeling at home already. So I get called, called, re-raised, moved all-in… I decide I will not have a better spot… so I call, as do 2 others, and the whole thing gets checked down to the river (do I smell or something)… K-J, 3-3, 10-9 are my opponents and none of that rubbish can beat me. I scoop the pot and say “Looks like I’m all set”… I was just being cheery, but I quickly remind myself never to say that again.
The game is good… there are some real characters and as long as I keep comparing them to the guys in the Wednesday night game then I don’t stop to think about guns and knives and holes in the desert, I mean I’m winning and someone might get bumped. Nothing quite matched that opening hand for single profit, but when my eyes started to droop at the table and I knew my time was done, my chips counted out to 375 dollars. I stood up and went to cash out but not before one of the guys had said “safe trip home” in a semi-threatening way. It woke me up, probably a good thing and my legs carried me swiftly back towards Binions. Daylight was breaking over Fremont Street, I thought I should go and do something grand like have a big steak to celebrate and it occurred to me right there and then that I was in Las Vegas, and that I was playing poker, and that I had just won against what felt like a thousand years of experience… and that just down the road the greatest poker tournament in the world was taking place and that this year, this year I am going to be part of it.
I got back to the room and collapsed in a wired heap on my bed… it was 5am and there was no way I was going to sleep. I was so thankful Anthony wasn’t there, I didn’t want to have to have that conversation. Next thing I know and it’s 9am and guess what Anthony still isn’t there. I head to the internet café making one stop on the way… and sure enough, sat in Binion’s card room with a decent stack of chips in front of him is Anthony, living his dream. I decide not to bother him, maybe I’ll take him for breakfast when he’s done.
That amounts to about 2 minutes right, stone cold silence the rest, I know he’s mad at me, but let it go, see the bigger picture, I nailed that Wednesday night game, he knows that and sure I made a mistake but my game has never been in better shape and I’m feeling so good about this trip. And if Anthony doesn’t stake me now, if he turns me into nothing more than a bankroll-less tourist, well to be honest I’d rather fly back home.
But we’ve been here before, it’s a cycle we often repeat. Very soon we’ll have clear the air talks and it’ll end up with him lending me the cash – but before he hands it over I’ll have to endure the endless re-telling of the “very good reasons why I should just fucking cut you off”. I’d like to think it’s an endearing trait of the Flicker brothers, that we go through this little routine, but last time it happened Anthony described it is a complete pain in the arse, I know he meant it, kind of left me nervous about the next time it was going to happen.
So, in a way, it’s great I have this little insurance policy, which brings me to tonight, because it was so cool I couldn’t have imagined it.
As we turned with our beers and beads away from the Mermaid girls the iconic white neon of Binion’s stopped us in our tracks. Our silence at this stage was perfect, and even though we weren’t talking, I know I’ll look back and be pleased I shared that moment with Anthony. I know what it means to him, it’s his theatre of dreams, me too up to a point, but for Anthony, well let’s just say that the night they announced that the World Series was moving to the Rio I saw a tear running down his face as he read the news online.
We walked by, our eyes fixed in to see if we could catch a glimpse of the poker room or the wall of champions or Johnny Moss or Benny himself (Yes, I know). It was all an exercise in building excitement - Check out our nearest internet connection, get phone cards, work out where we are and then we’ll go in to Binions and not before… that was the plan, and it could only have been a couple of sick poker masochists like us that stuck to it.
So we walked and found this internet café, it’s just passed the El Cortez, which is offering a $1/$2 no limit hold’em game with a bad beat jackpot that currently stands at $12,587. We pick up phone cards (Anthony says they’ll save us a fortune) and as the lady behind the till said “There you go boys you’re all set”. I think I like being here.
We enter Binions, me two steps behind Anthony, this is his moment. He knows exactly where he is going, years of reading about the place I guess, and he has us in the poker area almost immediately (which is probably a good thing because actually it’s a pretty grim place, wouldn’t want any illusions shattered this early). The card room is pretty busy. Anthony has found his home.
I’m not entirely sure what happened next, but it all happened pretty quickly. My brother, to the very best of his wisdom had put a 48 hour ban on poker – partly my fault, partly his concerns over jet lag, partly just plain mad – now if he doesn’t want to dive right in then fair enough, but I tell you it took me about 30 seconds of seeing those old boys playing cards to want to sit right down and start playing. Obviously it isn’t that easy for me… I have no bankroll as such and Anthony is certainly not going to be in any kind of rush to have that chat so that he can forgive me and get me back in the game…. I only have one-out and it involves a- losing Anthony and b - the twenty dollar bill that 3 chin Charlie threw my way as an insult. Anthony is engrossed in the hall of champions… leg it.
30 seconds later I’m outside Binions turning left and my feet are taking me to the El Cortez. They take me right inside and straight to the poker room (have they been here before?) and in less than 10 minutes, I swear that’s all it took, I was sitting down at the 1/2 dollar no limit hold’em game… and shit, I only have 20 dollars of one dollar chips… never mind, not right now, this could last one hand but it’s what I had to do, I could even make it back to Binion’s before Anthony realised I’d gone. And bang there it goes, first hand I get dealt pocket 8’s and I’m under the gun and make a four times raise knowing that this could be it. I get laughed at by the locals, they think I’m taking the piss, this is reminding me of the Wednesday night game, I’m feeling at home already. So I get called, called, re-raised, moved all-in… I decide I will not have a better spot… so I call, as do 2 others, and the whole thing gets checked down to the river (do I smell or something)… K-J, 3-3, 10-9 are my opponents and none of that rubbish can beat me. I scoop the pot and say “Looks like I’m all set”… I was just being cheery, but I quickly remind myself never to say that again.
The game is good… there are some real characters and as long as I keep comparing them to the guys in the Wednesday night game then I don’t stop to think about guns and knives and holes in the desert, I mean I’m winning and someone might get bumped. Nothing quite matched that opening hand for single profit, but when my eyes started to droop at the table and I knew my time was done, my chips counted out to 375 dollars. I stood up and went to cash out but not before one of the guys had said “safe trip home” in a semi-threatening way. It woke me up, probably a good thing and my legs carried me swiftly back towards Binions. Daylight was breaking over Fremont Street, I thought I should go and do something grand like have a big steak to celebrate and it occurred to me right there and then that I was in Las Vegas, and that I was playing poker, and that I had just won against what felt like a thousand years of experience… and that just down the road the greatest poker tournament in the world was taking place and that this year, this year I am going to be part of it.
I got back to the room and collapsed in a wired heap on my bed… it was 5am and there was no way I was going to sleep. I was so thankful Anthony wasn’t there, I didn’t want to have to have that conversation. Next thing I know and it’s 9am and guess what Anthony still isn’t there. I head to the internet café making one stop on the way… and sure enough, sat in Binion’s card room with a decent stack of chips in front of him is Anthony, living his dream. I decide not to bother him, maybe I’ll take him for breakfast when he’s done.
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