Las Vegas Poker Beat: On The Tournament Trail — A Few Chips And A Chair
By Dan Behringer for LVSportsBiz.com
A friend and colleague suggested something a little different over the holiday weekend — how about playing in a poker tournament at the South Point in far south Las Vegas?
Had some doubts. I usually play cash games. Tournaments require you to shift gears. Also, the South Point is maybe 24 miles (or about a gallon of gasoline) from home. You’re practically halfway to Barstow. And you know what gasoline costs these days.
But upon further reflection decided that shifting gears would be a good thing mentally and psychologically.
We both arrive an hour early for registration, pony up three Andrew Jacksons for the prize pool and fees (the house cut is 26.6 percent), and wander off to the coffee shop for breakfast. The coffee shop is huge and sprawls out over what seems like an acre. People are devouring breakfast, and servers are scurrying around trying to accommodate everyone on a long weekend without bumping into each other.
Return to the tournament area, which is separate from the cash games, just as the first hand is about to be dealt. A statuesque young woman who has somehow squeezed herself into a cocktail server’s uniform is working the area and brings me a bottled water. At 10:05 a.m., right on schedule, the first plastic cards sail through the air-conditioned atmosphere.
I pick my way carefully through a few hands and get lucky when my K-J outflops a guy with A-J. Well, nobody said you couldn’t get lucky. Move tables a couple of times as a few players are eliminated and actually win a few pots. Cash game poker is all about trying to bust an opponent and take his stack. Tournament poker is all about surviving, acquiring chips and getting paid.
I’m accumulating chips, which is a good thing, and actually make a few legitimate hands and bust two players with A-A and K-K. Of course, tournament chips themselves are worthless. Unlike a cash game, you can’t get up, walk away and cash them out whenever you wish. Their only purpose is for keeping score. In fact, officially, you can’t even leave until the first break, which is two hours into the tournament.
But anytime you really want or must use the restroom, you can. It just means you are going to miss hands. One guy elicits laughter by announcing he is leaving to go to the bathroom.
My chip stack is in very good shape when I open raise with K-Jo. A guy behind me calls. Then a third guy to my immediate right pushes all-in. He had been showing down different hands, and I suspected him of weakness so I called. The other guy called too, and we flip up our cards as is required in tournament play to prevent collusion or “chip dumping.” Turns out I was wrong. It was my K-Jo, the other guy’s Q-Js and the all-in bettor had A-Ks. The board ran out with a king, and his A-K held up.
My chip stack looked like it had been hit by an F5 tornado. Fortunately, I had the guy with A-K covered. Barely. And what I had left was four tournament chips each worth $1,000. Since we had started with $12,500 in tournament chips, you can see where I stood.
I was looking for a hand to go all-in with and only had one lap. I found Ac-6c. I “raised” my last $4K and only the guy with A-Ks from the last time called. Since the blinds were $4K and $8K with an $8K big blind ante, it wasn’t even a full raise. This time he had 10-6. The board ran out with one 6. Which meant I had won both blinds and the ante with my last four chips.
I was reminded of the maxim from tournament play, born when Jack “Treetop” Strauss appeared to have busted out from the World Series main event in 1982. Then he discovered he had one $500 tournament chip left. He doubled up, doubled up again, went on a run and won the main event. Which led to the expression “A chip and a chair.”
I had enough to survive another lap. The blinds circled around again like vultures over a fresh carcass. I would be in the small blind the next hand when I peeked down at an unsuited Broderick Crawford. I could open raise or wait for random cards in the hand in which most or all of my chips would go in. I elected to open raise. Slowly, one by one, everyone folded. (If you’re wondering what a Broderick Crawford is, the answer is below.)
I survived a few more key battles, and we went to the second break about three hours into the tournament. When we returned, we played several hands, then the floor person announced we were “on the bubble” and wanted an OK to pay the bubble. That meant after the next person or “bubble” busted out, everyone else would be in the money. The bubble could easily be me so I gave a thumbs-up. As did everyone else left. We then started losing players. That of course, is very good, since every elimination means you “ladder up” in the payout structure.
I limped with Q-10o and Mr. A-K from the previous time reraised me all-in. I called in a flash. He had A-K again. The flop was no help, but I turned a straight draw. An 8 on the river completed the straight, and I was still alive. On the very next hand, another short-stacked guy raised all-in. I looked down at 9-9. I had him covered and called. He had 3-3, the nines held up, and I added his chips to my stack. About that time, we were down to 15 players. I told myself, “Get to the final table, get to the final table, get to the final table.”
I found pocket 8s. It’s a decent hand heads-up, and I open raised. A white-haired guy on the button who eyed me warily and pushed all-in. I thought he was on A-K or A-Q, in which case I would be a slight favorite, and I insta-called. I was wrong. He had A-A. But I spiked an 8 on the flop and put the tournament chips back in my stack. What were my chances of catching an 8 on the flop? Roughly about the same as a .250 hitter in Major League Baseball getting a scratch single. It happens. “Get to the final table, get to the final table, get to the final table.”
Very late in the afternoon, a guy next to me turned to look at the other table and announced loudly they were down to four players. We had five at our table, and were going to combine tables. We had started with 227 players and were down to nine for the Final Table. And all you needed to get there was “a chip and a chair.” Plus A-A, K-K, K-J several times, Q-10, 9-9, 8-8, one Broderick Crawford and a few very fortuitous flops and runouts.
Someone at the Final Table immediately piped up: “Who wants to chop?” That is, who wants to split the remaining prize pool? It took about 60 seconds to agree to on an ICM (Independent Chip Model) payout in which the prize pool would be split according to relative chip positions. Even the chip leader agreed.
Late in the afternoon, I was finally home, tired, on a little high, having burned up seven hours of adrenaline, nearly two gallons of gasoline, and having busted several opponents and narrowly avoided going bust myself several times. My bottle of water from earlier was gone, but I snagged a cold one from the same server at the service bar before I left.
Postscript: So you know, a Broderick Crawford is a starting hand consisting of a 10 and a 4 from the actor of the same name in the ‘50s TV show “Highway Patrol.” As you might suspect, it’s not a particularly good hand.
