Another Kid, Another Dream

by Matt Moore (a.k.a. MooreMoney19)

Compiled, formatted, and lightly edited by drbeechwood (spinifex67@yahoo.com)
Matt Moore on his way to a 2nd place finish
in the 2013 WSOP Event #30 ($1000 NLHE).
Photo from PokerNews.com
Matt Moore interview from June, 2012, at PokerCircuit.com:
Part 1
Part 2
Original thread on twoplustwo.com
Matt Moore's Blog

Table of Contents
2009............................................................................................ 5
12/16/09:
12/19/09:
12/20/09:
12/21/09:
12/22/09:
12/23/09:
12/23/09:
12/28/09:
12/29/09:
12/30/09:
12/31/09:

(Introduction).......................................................................5
(Delayed).............................................................................7
Day 1...................................................................................7
Day 2...................................................................................9
Day 3.................................................................................11
Day 4.................................................................................13
(Some comments)...............................................................15
Day 6.................................................................................15
Day 7.................................................................................18
Day 8.................................................................................20
Day 9.................................................................................20

2010.......................................................................................... 22
01/02/10:
01/04/10:
01/06/10:
01/07/10:
01/08/10:
01/11/10:
01/11/10:
01/12/10:
01/15/10:
01/18/10:
01/19/10:
01/25/10:
01/27/10:
01/31/10:
02/08/10:
02/14/10:
02/25/10:
03/01/10:

Day 10...............................................................................22
Day 11...............................................................................23
Day 12...............................................................................25
Day 14...............................................................................26
Day 15/16...........................................................................28
Day 17...............................................................................31
Day 18...............................................................................32
Day 19 "The Final Day"........................................................33
post trip.............................................................................36
Back to Miami.....................................................................38
(Comments).......................................................................41
Fake Cops and Fake I.D.s.....................................................41
(Response to RMLewis).......................................................44
Times are changing.............................................................45
Chicken Nuggets and Peyton Manning.................................47
Flipping Coins.....................................................................49
(Lazy)................................................................................51
Hockey as in Hold'em..........................................................52

03/07/10:
03/10/10:
03/12/10:
03/15/10:
03/21/10:
03/28/10:
04/05/10:
04/12/10:
05/12/10:
05/21/10:
06/02/10:
06/03/10:
06/04/10:
06/06/10:
06/07/10:
06/08/10:
06/10/10:
06/12/10:
06/14/10:
06/16/10:
06/17/10:
06/19/10:
06/20/10:
06/25/10:
06/27/10:
06/27/10:
07/03/10:
07/07/10:
07/09/10:
07/11/10:
07/13/10:
07/15/10:
07/22/10:
12/18/10:
12/19/10:
12/20/10:
12/21/10:
12/22/10:
12/23/10:
12/27/10:
12/29/10:
12/29/10:
12/30/10:
12/31/10:

WPT Action.........................................................................53
Home Sweet Home..............................................................55
Sunday...............................................................................57
Day 3.................................................................................58
Day 4: The Venetian............................................................61
Day 5.................................................................................63
Final Day............................................................................65
(Krantz).............................................................................67
Defending My Turf..............................................................68
Insomnia............................................................................70
Vegas [Day 1].....................................................................72
[Day 2]...............................................................................74
Day 3.................................................................................76
Venetian Deep Stack...........................................................77
Day 5.................................................................................81
Short Stackers....................................................................83
Dinner with the stars..........................................................84
Scammers and Heaters?......................................................85
Freerolls.............................................................................87
Tricky Europeans and Clueless Canadians.............................89
The homeless and Caesars.................................................91
How to have your worst day ever.........................................92
Fathers Day with Degenerates.............................................94
Angle Shoots......................................................................96
Event 47 NL Hold'em...........................................................98
Fluf...................................................................................99
WSOP Event 54.................................................................101
Frustration.......................................................................103
Why I love Vegas..............................................................105
An Unbeatable game?.......................................................107
Poker Celebs and Big Blufs...............................................110
Taking My Shot.................................................................111
Final Wrap Up...................................................................114
Feels good to be home......................................................118
Vegas Feels Diferent........................................................119
Conspiracy Theories and Deadbeat Dads............................121
Riding the Roller Coaster...................................................123
Iron Men and Sea Urchins..................................................125
Tony Korfman and refusing to fold.....................................128
The Man in Black...............................................................130
First Day Back..................................................................133
Big Pots and Bad Haircuts.................................................134
The System and Tilt Control...............................................136
Chasing Nelly....................................................................139

2011........................................................................................143
01/02/11:
01/03/11:
01/05/11:
01/07/11:
01/07/11:

New Years Hangover.........................................................143

Big Decisions and Big Pots................................................146
Boston Boys and L.A. Cats.................................................149
Internet Stars and Vegas Mountains..................................151
Hanging With the Gamblers...............................................154

01/13/11:
01/18/11:
01/22/11:
01/26/11:
02/01/11:
02/08/11:
02/15/11:
02/17/11:
02/27/11:
03/08/11:
03/15/11:
03/18/11:
03/23/11:
03/27/11:
04/05/11:
04/12/11:
04/27/11:
05/06/11:
05/25/11:
06/06/11:
06/28/11:
07/04/11:
07/13/11:
09/13/11:
09/22/11:
09/29/11:
10/14/11:
10/18/11:
11/07/11:
12/30/11:

Too Much Money Syndrome...............................................156

Poker as in Life; A Final Wrap Up.......................................159
Living in Vegas; Playing with Maniacs................................162
Running awesome in lifeand horrible at the tables...........165
Table Instincts and Running Bad in Non-Poker Activities.....167
Super Bowl Weekend.........................................................170
My Motivation...................................................................174
(The Respect of My Peers).................................................176
What is normal?................................................................177
The Beauty of the Struggle................................................180
Poker Celebs and Tourney Runs.........................................183
Wynn Tournament Day 2....................................................187
March Madness.................................................................191
Luck vs. Skill....................................................................194
Days 3,4, and 5.................................................................197
My Shot............................................................................200
Black Friday......................................................................204
Finding Truth on Fantasy Island.........................................207
10/20/40...........................................................................210
The Carnival.....................................................................214
(Angry).............................................................................216
The Home Game................................................................221
Main Event.......................................................................224
Back to Vegas...................................................................228
Return to the Felt and New Age Masseuses........................232
50K Day............................................................................234
Learning to say no............................................................238
Ethics...............................................................................241
Ben Lamb runs good.we do not.......................................243
10th Chairs.......................................................................246

2012........................................................................................249
01/02/12:
01/06/12:
01/21/12:
01/28/12:
02/19/12:
03/02/12:
03/12/12:
05/20/12:
06/05/12:
06/06/12:
06/17/12:
06/24/12:
07/09/12:
08/13/12:
08/23/12:
09/02/12:
09/13/12:
10/01/12:
11/05/12:

Tom's Game......................................................................249
ERS (Extreme Range Syndrome)........................................251
Aussie Update and 2011 Review........................................254
Fear and Loathing in Australia...........................................258
Bobby's Room...................................................................261
To Live and Die in LA.........................................................264
Bluffing............................................................................267
The Craziest Hand I've Ever Played....................................270
Sunday Funday.................................................................272
Heads Up at the Wynn.......................................................276
Racquetball as in Poker.....................................................280
Late Nights at the Aria......................................................283
Tdddddddisshhhhhh..........................................................285
The Bellagio Cup...............................................................288
Back2Back........................................................................292
The White Gnoc................................................................295
Back to the Micros............................................................298
Grad School......................................................................300
Back To Vegas...................................................................303

2013........................................................................................306
01/04/13:
01/13/13:
02/22/13:
03/03/13:
03/06/13:
03/16/13:
04/03/13:
05/22/13:
06/19/13:
06/21/13:
09/05/13:
11/21/13:

The $7 Steak....................................................................306
Stranger to the Sun..........................................................309
Mike Phelps Rematch........................................................312
Back 2 Bobbys Room........................................................315
Brad's Game.....................................................................317
Chasing Chris Johnson.......................................................320
Cards With Friends............................................................324
The Bag............................................................................326
Streaking at the WSOP......................................................328
Jason Day and I.................................................................330
Dumb Luck.......................................................................336
Cookies and Chips.............................................................338

2014........................................................................................341

02/20/14: Two Real Life Shorts..........................................................341

10/17/14: When The Music Stops......................................................345

2015........................................................................................347

06/16/15: Tear In My Heart...............................................................347

Notes:
Chapter titles in parentheses were added later; the original post did not include a title. Edits mostly include spelling,
punctuation, and adjusting capitalization. A few of the posted hands were fixed based on reader comments.

2009
12/16/09: (Introduction)
Part 1
In 2004, I was a junior in high school, two-sport varsity athlete, an A student, with a pretty
girlfriend and an aspiration to one day work on Wall St. Then I discovered poker like the rest of
America. I played hours on end (online and live) and was relatively successful.
Flash forward 2 years. The UGIGA, or whatever the hell that worthless group of dream crushers
is called, had to ruin the party and steal all the online fish. Well, once the dead money morons
left the scene, as Darwin predicted, the strong survived. Like many around this time, I came to
the realization that I was not one of them. After a year of break even to slightly losing poker, and
an inability to find meaning in VPIPs and Poker Stove hand ranges, I quit the online world and
started focusing on school.
Im a senior in college now. I passed up a chance to play college golf, I barely hold a C average,
and I lack motivation. Ive got no girlfriend, no prospects, and nothing on the horizon.
Unknowingly, I gave up everything for the stupid poker pipe dream. Every morning I open my
eyes and hear Cosmo Kramer asking me if I have any conceivable reason for waking up in the
morning? I am Costanza.
For the past 3 years of college Ive re-introduced myself to the live poker scene and done fairly
well in the 1/2, and sometimes 2/5nl games, while adding a couple small tournament scores as
well. No longer am I crushing, but Ive made enough coin to never have to worry about beer,
food, or books. Add in the money I made before the online games went dry and my roll is sitting
dangerously close to three stacks of high society. However, sick of the grind and dealing with
live variance Ive decided to take a chance and follow in the footsteps of everyones hero Mike
McD.
Ive booked a room for 3 weeks over my winter break on the Strip and will head down with my
full bank roll, fully prepared to lose it all taking my shot at the 5/10 and 10/20nl games. The
game has stolen the majority of my youth, and left me with nothing but dirty money and a
Christian Bale like anger problem. I look at the self proclaimed regulars (lol) (as if that makes
it okay to be a fat, smelly, worthless *******) who stroll into my local casino daily, unshowered
and unhappy, taking out their anger in the form of snide remarks to the dealers and waitresses,
and wont let that happen to me (hope Im not offending any 2+2ers).
So 5/10 and 10/20 Vegas regulars begin licking your chops. Starting this Friday, Ill be living the
life of a Vegas local, attempting to beat the mid stakes NL, and hopefully meeting some
interesting people and hearing some cool stories (this is Vegas after all). Ill probably post fairly
frequent trip reports. If the idea of this bores you or you become uninterested because I cant
make 80 ****ing K in one day, then go read OoBillyoOs trip reports.

Also if anyone knows any regular BBall games, or plays racquetball, or golf (do people play golf
in December in Vegas?) and wants to get together for some exercise shoot me a PM. A wise man
once told me a fat stomach never breeds fine thoughts.
Part 2
I wish I had done a little bit more of research as it sounds like L.A. and summertime would've
been more appropriate for my shot. However, while yeah I'd like to make 6 figures like
oOBillyOo and find my true calling as a professional gambler, I'm approaching this sabbatical as
somewhat of a last hurrah.
Since I was 16 years old, poker has mentally consumed me and handicapped my ability to thrive
in any other areas. I feel like many of you on this board can relate with my situation. While I've
made decent money, the 45 minute trips to the boat, the winning sessions washed out by running
bad the next day and the self-created "bipolar like" mood swings are catching up to me. The juice
is no longer worth the squeeze, if I may.
With graduation approaching in the spring, and subsequently a job search, it seems like a logical
time to say **** the grind. But simply quitting with my measly 30k profit makes me feel like I'm
cheating myself of the work I've put into the game.
While I agree with others who say my bankroll and experience is better suited for a 2/5 shot, that
contradicts the reason I'm going in the first place. I'm going for the final adrenaline rush, the
reason I got into poker in the first place. The chance to play with, and hopefully prove, that I'm
smart enough to beat some of the best.
As far as L.A. goes, I chose Vegas because of its distinction in the gambling world. Its
prominence. While I may leave broke, I'll have a story, and the peace of mind to know I gave it
one final shot. I leave you with this from T.S. Eliot, "Only those who risk going too far can
possibly find out how far they can go."
Part 3
"After reading your original depressing post and the abyss which you have realized that you are
in - you are lucky to be young enough to make this adjustment to your life that you can do
something that bring a positive aura." Comment from Brudder Andrusha
I hope I'm not giving off the impression that I am depressed and doing this out of desperation
(though I can see where you got that impression). I'm a very happy and positive 21 year old
college senior, whose simply dealing with the cognitive dissonance of beating small stakes poker
vs. the emotional swings and time consumption that comes with the process. The Seinfeld
reference and my feelings towards the game were meant to illuminate the destruction that
breaking even and wasting time in this game can cause (I actually do have a few conceivable
reasons for waking up in the morning).
However, I do believe I've experienced first hand how too much time and devotion to poker (or
any aspect of life for that matter) can have detrimental effects when things don't go perfectly.
Hell, I majored in psychology with a minor in statistics. While I find the field interesting, I have

about as much interest in a psychology career as Tiger Woods has in a monogamous relationship.
I did it to improve my understanding of human nature and consequently my poker game.
Over the last four years I've come to grips with what I'm capable of as a poker player and what
I'm not. I'm taking this shot for the entertainment aspect, and because frankly I don't believe that
live 5/10nl players are all that great. The one thing that always held me back from taking a
proper shot was my fascination with the "grind" and my emotional attachment to the money.
Without these constraints, I personally think I will be a favorite in most mid-stakes lineups. Who
knows, maybe I'm wrong. Either way it should be entertaining.
12/19/09: (Delayed)
Well, I should be sitting at the Bellagio right now with a fat stack of chips in front of me. Instead
I'm sitting in my bed at my parents house in Chicago. **** you, mother nature. My flight was
supposed to leave from Cincinnati to Charlotte and then on to Vegas yesterday at 3, but
apparently the whole state of North Carolina shuts down with the fall of a single snowflake.
After redirecting my flight on another airline to Chicago, I came home for the night and am now
flying out at 3 today (whether permitting). If the baggage services department at U.S. Airways is
run anything like their Gate crew, I'm fairly certain my guitar and suitcase will not be
accompanying me to Vegas.
As far as my game plan for the trip goes, I've modified it slightly after listening to everyone's
advice. During the weekends I will still be playing no lower than 5/10nl and mostly at the
Bellagio. From what I've heard, those games are definitely beatable. During the week, especially
when it's dead and the tables are occupied by regulars, I will probably just search for some deep
2/5 games. Anyone have any suggestions? I plan on checking out the Hard Rock game on
Tuesdays, but other than that I'm fairly clueless.
As to why I don't just take a shot at a tournament, to keep it simple, tournaments bore me. I don't
enjoy the decisions youre forced to make towards the later ends, aka shove or fold. And by don't
enjoy, I mean I'm pretty terrible at them. With that said, I won't hesitate to hop in a medium
priced tournament ($300 to $1500 buy-in) if the structures good and I want a break from cash
play.
What will I do if I happen to score big? Like any poker player, I've dreamed of even having the
opportunity to face that dilemma. The dream usually starts with me in a Lambo accompanied by
Phil Laak's wife (which I drive flawlessly even though I can't drive stick), and ends with me
living in Vegas at the Palms Hardwood Suite, playing poker and golf all day. In reality, I'm not
sure what I would do. The only thing that's certain is regardless of how well or poorly I do this
trip, I'll be going back to Ohio in January for my final semester of school. After that, all bets are
off. Be that as it may, in a perfect world, I would get a job with the flexibility and free time to
allow me to do the things that I aforementioned in my dream.
Off to the airport. Hopefully I land in time to catch some of the drunken weekend warriors at the
tables.

12/20/09: Day 1
OHare is surprisingly empty when I arrive at 1. Even a greater surprise is when my plane
actually takes off on time, amidst all of the delays and cancellations. Somehow in a fairly
crowded plane I was able to land a row with only me and one other guy. I had the window, he
had the middle seat. Naturally, I expected him to move over once he realized no one was sitting
in the aisle. Im actually pretty sure its a man law. But 20 minutes into the flight he was still
snuggled up on my right shoulder. So I tapped him on the arm and politely said, hey dude I dont
think anyones coming for that aisle seat if you wanna move over and stretch out a bit. Nah Im
good man, I actually like the middle seat. Who the **** likes the middle seat. The middle seat
is the middle child, the ugly sister, Khloe Kardashian. No one is ever supposed to like the damn
middle seat. Whatever.
4 hours later we touch down in Vegas and Im off to NOT find my bags. As predicted they are
nowhere to be found. What I didnt expect is that the airline has no idea where they are. Last
time they were scanned was Cincinnati. Great. To make matters worse the only outfit I have is
the one Im wearing, sweatpants and my blue Obama T. If you ever want to feel like a complete
slob I highly recommend walking through the Bellagio on a Saturday night in sweatpants. I can
only imagine what Maurice at the cage thought when a kid in pajamas who doesnt even know
his social security number tried to withdraw thirty thousand dollars.
Eventually I get my money and head over to the poker room. Four games of 5/10 are running and
within 20 minutes Im sitting down. Initially, it was a little intimidating. Most people were sitting
with over $3,000 and everyone knew each others name. It felt like ****ing Cheers. About an
hour later, a few regulars were replaced with tourists, significantly helping my comfort level. For
two hours I played basically zero interesting hands and was up about $200 from C-betting, when
I encountered my first interesting spot.
New (definitely recreational) player limps UTG+1. BTN and SB follow. I make it 60 with red
Aces in BB. UTG and BB call. Flop JdTd4x. I bet 120, UTG calls with about 500 back. Turn Jx.
I check, he bets 150. Too many combinations of draws he could have, as opposed to
combinations of Js. I shove, he thinks, folds. Up about 600 now.
New Internet kid sits down to my right and recognizes the guy to my left. Apparently hes part of
Poker Road and signed to Ultimate Bet (blanking on his name though). Internet kid spends the
next hour or so trying to impress him with his knowledge of the online poker world. Very
uncomfortable. Like Michael Scott photo-shopping himself into a picture of his girlfriend and
her kids uncomfortable.
Anyways a bit later I pick up KK and raise in MP to 30. Euro on the BTN calls and so does BB.
Flop QsTsTx. I bet 60, BB makes it 200, I call. Turn is the Awful 9s, I dont have the Ks. Check,
Check. River is the equally awful 7s. I check, he bets 250 and I fold. Normally, I would spend
the next ten minutes replaying the hand in my mind, thinking of better lines I couldve taken. But
I couldnt concentrate because, I kid you not, the Ghost of Billy Mayes sat down in the 10 seat.
Exact replica of the fallen legend.

Billy turned out to be a pretty big spot at the table, doing a lot of limping and calling out of
position. A couple orbits into his stay he raised to 20 (lol) in MP. 3 people call as do I in BB with
AdTs. Flop Qx9d3d. Checked around. Turn Qd I lead for 80, Billy calls. River 5d and Billy
issues all of the live tells for liking the card (looking at his chips, shaking), so I check it to him.
He bets 120 and I make it 260 more, knowing he wont fold a big flush. He calls with the Kd and
I ship a pretty decent pot.
Up about 800 at this point Im feeling pretty good when I get KK in the SB. Internet player
opens to 50 and I make it 150. We see a flop of 6x8c9c. I bet 200. He calls. Turn is the Qx and I
make a mistake and check. He checks back and the river is the 5s. After another check he bets
330. I dont really see a hand Im beating and lay it down. He later tells me he had 67 suited.
I double up Billys short stack later when my AJ cant hold against his flush draw on a J high
board and realize Im pretty exhausted. I pick up my chips and head back to my room at the
Signature, up a measly $200, before I turn this into a losing session.
Right now I think my main problem is assessing 3-betting and 3-betting calling ranges. In my
normal game a 3-bet is almost always 1 of 3 hands and thats clearly not the case in this game.
Hopefully today goes a bit better
12/21/09: Day 2
On my way to the Bellagio I stopped by the Miracle Mile shops at Planet Hollywood. Very
impressive. From what I saw they have just about every store one could need. My personal
search was for a pair of non-prescription glasses. My eye sight is as 20/20 as Barbara Walters.
But ever since November when the sexiest girl in my Stats class had me try on her glasses and
told me I looked cute, Ive made a note-to-self to get a pair ASAP. My roommates proceeded to
question my sexuality. But as Anmier at Quality Eye Wear explained, the nerd look is in! Plus
Lebron does the same thing. You hear that roommates? LeBron does it. Is he a ***. I didnt
****ing think so.
After finding a perfect pair of half-framed Tag Heuers I was all set to check out, when I realized
I hadnt even looked at the price tag yet. Whatever, cant be anymore then what $200 dollars?
475! I havent even won any money yet Anmeir, Im gonna have to come back at a later date.
With an empty face I head over to the B. Three 5/10 games running, shouldnt be any longer then
10 minutes, the floor manager Pete tells me. To pass the time I stroll over to the sports book to
check out the football games. My Bears were about to start and the B had them as 11 point dogs.
Its been snowing non-stop for 3 days in Baltimore. I dont care whos playing, there might not
even be 11 points scored the whole game. I dont sports bet but I have plenty of friends who do. I
text all of them Bears getting 11 stone-cold lock. As a couple text back confirming the pick my
name is called in the poker room.
Only one familiar face at my table, the Internet kid with the Bryan Devonshire fascination. First
orbit I raise in LP with A9 to 40, he 3-bets me very quickly to 120 on the BTN. Like suspiciously
quickly. Cant be that strong, I pop it up to 320. He mumbles to himself for a few seconds and
folds. Im not going to be run over today.
9

A few hands later I pick up AQ on the BTN. After a few limpers I make it 60 and 3 people call,
including the SB call. Flop J 7 4 rainbow. Sb leads 150, all folds back to me. Good spot to
represent a big pair. I make it 400. He thinks, flashes me a J and says this is no good huh, thinks
some more and shoves all-in. WTF. Who shows cards and THEN shoves. Not that it matters I
only have A high. I Hollywood for my table image for a few seconds and then fold.
At this point it all went downhill. For like 3 hours Im not sure I won any hands, and I was
involved in quite a few. I wish I had hands to describe, but honestly the last thing I wanted to do
after getting crushed hand after hand was jot down how badly I suck. Most, however, went like
this. 2 people limp, I raise marginal hand in later position to 60. I flop mid-pair, checked to me, I
bet, someone raises, I fold.
At this point my confidence was pretty low. Not winning a hand for a few hours, and watching
everyone and their mom check raise you, can really make you question whether you belong in a
certain game. Not to mention I glanced up at the T.V. to see the Ravens putting a whooping on
the Bears. Sorry guys!
In for about 2300 and sitting on a 1200 dollar stack I finally hit a good flop. With K 9
I
opened to 40 in the CO. Only the table fish in the BB called. Hes been doing a lot of limping
and a lot of calling. Your standard fish. Flop comes 9 8 7 . ****ing finally. He check calls
60. Turn is the very pretty 10 . Awesome, hopefully he caught some sort of straight. He checks
and I fire out 110, he thinks, looks like he wants to fold, but puts in 110. River came the 4 .
After another check, I put out a bet of 220. He thinks and just puts the remained of his cash in the
middle, 400 I believe. I call the raise and turn over my King-high flush, only to be trumped by
his A 5 . Great. Just what I needed.
I go for a walk. Im not sure exactly where, but I do a lot of talking to myself and have to appear
semi-crazy to onlookers. Down to about 600 dollars and stuck about 1700, I tell myself Im
going to play short stacked until broke and then call it a day. I see a cute masseuse and tell her I
would like a rub down. Not the best decision financially, but damn it felt good. Mid massage,
Sasauna (the masseuse) asks me if anyone has ever told me I look like Jude Law. Was she just
trying to earn her tips, probably. Do I care, absolutely not. For the rest of the day Im Jude
****ing Law.
With my confidence refurbished and my shoulders loose, I start playing carefree. Just as I had
earlier when I didnt win a hand for 3 hours, but this time my C-Bets work. Chip after chip, pot
after pot, I work my way back up to 1300 when I get a chance at revenge against the Fish. I raise
to 30 UTG w/ Q T
and 6 people call. Flop comes K J 5 . Jackpot. I lead for 120.
Fish calls, so does the SB. Turn is the T . Checked to me I bet 250. Fish calls and the small
blind folds. One time can I please get a god damn club. River is the Jack . Great, just ****ing
great. I check, and fish bets out 300. Weird. Hes not smart enough to value bet a K. So I guess
its either a J or clubs. Would he really call two bullets with just a Jack? I call. Fish quickly
mucks. Phew.
10

2 hands later I pick up AA on the BTN. I make it 60 after a couple limps. The fish and one other
come along for the ride. Flop Q
8
4 . Fish leads 80, I make it 200. He calls quickly, with
his final 350 behind. Turn is the 6
and I shove. He calls and shows QT. The river comes a
Jack and I rake in another decent pot.
Jesus so this is what a rush feels like. While it goes fairly unnoticed to the others who are more
accustomed to the swings of this game, I've just won 1500 dollars in five minutes, and 2200 in a
little more than an hour. You don't see those kind of swings at 1/2.
After another hour or so of folding, I call it a day with a 600 dollar profit. Not quite the level Im
looking for yet, but damn does it feel good after being stuck most of the day.
12/22/09: Day 3
On my way out to Bellagio I made a pit stop at the new City Center. While I had heard mostly
negative reviews, the place was incredible. The mall was the nicest Id ever set foot in, lined with
stores with names in other languages. The true sign that I didnt belong in any of them. In fact
when I approached the Porsche store (didnt know the car company made clothes), I was met by
the glaring eyes of the sharp-dressed worker. We didnt exchange any words, but we both left
with the understanding that Id be better off taking my business elsewhere. First time Ive ever
been intimidated in a mall. The casino however, was quite interesting. There were no lights. It
was awkwardly dark. Im sure theyve done their share of research and have their reasons for the
light level, but at 3 pm I personally dont want to feel like Im walking down Las Vegas Blvd at
Midnight.
But one degenerate can only take so much walking without action, so after an hour of being a
tourist, it was off to Bellagio. There was only one 5/10 game running which concerned me. But
after examining the lineup there was nothing to be scared of. The stacks were shallow and the
action fairly tight. And to my delight, the fish from yesterday was sitting in the 3 seat with a
pretty healthy chip stack.
I sat down in the 8, and like the days previous spent the first hour or so becoming acclimated
with the competition. Down a few hundred dollars I encountered my first interesting spot. 6
limpers to me in the big blind and I check my Q5. Flop comes 557. I lead for 50 and am called
by an older gentleman on the button. Turn is a 2 and I bet out 100, to which I am met with a raise
to 300. Time to give him a range. Im projecting a pretty strong hand, so for him to bluffing a
paired board is just suicidal. I determined that on the BTN he could have A5, 77, 56, or 54. Eh
Im beating half his range, I call. River is a 10 and he bets 400 when checked to. With my hand
pretty much face up; this is where I made my first mistake. Betting 45 and 56 in his position is
soo thin, but I got stubborn and called. A5, obviously. I broke my first rule of live poker, dont go
broke in limped pots.
Down a buy-in I reload back to a 1300 dollar stack. A couple hands in I pick up Q 8
on the
BTN and enter the pot as the 4th person to limp. Blinds call and we see a flop of KT8. Checked
around. Turn is an 8. Checked to me I bet 50. UTG comes back with a raise to 125. Great, this is
11

happening again. I call cause well Im a fish. Being the lucky fish I am, the river puts up a Q.
UTG leads for 150 and I put him in for his final 150. He calls quickly and shows AA. Really? I
guess he wasnt paying attention to my "dont go broke in a limped pot" rant.
Up to roughly 1800 I get involved in a pot with everyones favorite fish. New day, same terrible
player. I raise in MP with 8 9
to 50 and he calls in the BB. Flop comes 4 7 Q
and I
CBet 80. Fish thinks uncharacteristically long, wants to fold and calls. He cannot have a Queen
the way he reacted. Turn is the 2
and I make it 200. Again, the Salamander thinks forever, and
calls. River is the 8 . He checks a final time, and being sure that he doesnt have a Queen I see
a good opportunity for some thin value. 350. He calls before I even get my money in the pot. 6
7 .
I smile in a are you ****ing serious, did I just value-own myself against a fish way. He
responds with Sorry bro, you know Im just a tourist. You know Im making that call. I
immediately regret my condescending smile. Any kind of behavior that makes a fish question the
way hes playing is terrible for the game. I want to tell him that Im pissed at the cards for the
way they fell, and at myself for betting the river, but certainly not him for being a fish. Instead,
nice hand is all that comes out.
Down to about 1000 I pick up K K
in MP and raise one limper up to 60. Old man in the
CO, BB, and limper all call. Flop comes 2
6
8 . I fire out a bet of 180. Folded back to
the original limper he makes an over-bet shove that can seemingly only mean one thing. Flush
draw. Having me covered I have to make a decision, gamble for all my chips or wait for a spot
with the Salamander. Eh I didnt come to Vegas to grind, I came to push edges. I call.
The turn is a T
and my heart sinks. The old man reaches for his cards before the hand is even
over, which can only mean one thing, the nuts. A 4 . Broke and tilted I take off for the day.
2300 dollars poorer. Yesterday I splurged at Wolfgang Puck, today I had a number 1 with fries at
McDs.
After finishing my meal and watching some TV in my room I decide Im clear-headed and
emotionally stable enough to head out for a night session. Sick of Bellagio, I head to Venetian to
work out some kinks in my game at the deep 2/5 game. Buying in for 1000 Im fairly dominant
from the start. After losing 300 in another limped pot with 2 pair to a better 2 pair (I know again),
I play very strong aggressive poker. Im clearly the table captain and reaping the benefits.
My aggressive play had become lost in the midst of my 5/10 sessions. I wasnt applying enough
pressure in close situations, preferring to give up before firing another bullet. A great poker
player can only achieve the same success at higher stakes if he is able to eliminate the value of
the dollar from the game and view the chips as weapons and a means to an end. This is a skill I
must master if I am to return to the 5/10 game and be successful.
My Venetian night ended by seeing a $30 flop with 2 opponents with 88. The flop came the
beautiful K84, and my bet of 40 was check raised to 200 by the original raiser. Perfect. AA or
12

AK. I call. Turn is a blank and he pushes in his final 300. I call and avoid an Ace on the river to
crack his pocket rockets. I end the session a 1250 dollar winner and feeling a lot better about my
game then I had merely hours before.
As of 2 oclock today I have yet to decided if I will return to the B to battle the Salamander or
head to the V where Im way more comfortable with the stakes. Either way, Im confident that
Ill be able to get back on the winning track. Im currently down about 300 dollars for the trip
after yesterdays mess.
12/23/09: Day 4
Its 10 oclock on Tuesday night. The fourth day of my trip. Im back in my room at the
Signature, away from the felt. Away from the clicking sound of the chips as theyre shuffled from
two stacks to one. Away from the Coco Butter smell of the Venetian and the sexy ass girls who
serve drinks and rub shoulders. Yet all those senses have followed me back to my room, I cant
escape them. Poker has become my best friend, my obsession, my religion.
The excitement and animation of the city just make a 21 year old traveling solo feel that much
more alone. However this type of alone is worlds away from sad or depressed. Its quite the
opposite, in fact. Its as if the space and distance from everything and everyone Im accustomed
to has given my attention-riddled mind an opportunity to flourish. Ive never been soo alone,
and Ive Ive never been soo alive. The quote from poet/songwriter Stephan Jenkins has
never rang so true.
Is this healthy? Probably not. As I stated in an earlier post, constant concentration on one area of
life can be detrimental to ones well being if sustained over a long period of time. However, for
the time being, Im enjoying the mental freedom from schoolwork stress, family issues, and
college drama. And Ive certainly enjoyed the opportunity to focus my energy on a game that is
so mentally stimulating.
With that being said, Im looking forward to my 3 days at home starting on Thursday. Seeing my
family and friends and getting the opportunity to take everything in from my first week, should
be constructive towards my success in the final two weeks of the trip. Ill be returning the
morning of the 27th and staying until the 10th. The final two weeks will include visits from 6
guy and girl friends of mine. Instead of strumming the six string or reading about the life of
Andre Agassi in my free time, Ill be going out for drinks and shows, and shooting some dice. I
imagine that some social interaction and the Vegas nightlife will help me relax when away from
the poker table and come back stronger the next day.
Anyways, on to the poker. Went back to the V for another 2/5 deep session. Bought in for a G at
the must move table and proceeded to do what I do best, get stuck early. 5 handed I opened 5 6
on the BTN to 20. SB called and we saw a flop of 3 4 Q . He checked and I bet out
30. He made it 85. On a decently dry flop I imagined a reraise could get him off a good portion
of the medium Qs in his range so I made it 125 on top. He thought for awhile and called. The
turn came the 8
and I shoved for his final 300 when checked too. He thought for an eternity,
wanted to fold, but stuck his cash in with AQ. Cant really blame him. River paired the 4 and I
was quickly stuck around 600.
13

After rebuying and moving to the main table I got involved in another interesting spot. MP
makes it 20, one caller, and I follow on the BTN with 8 T . The big blind hops in too and we
see a flop of A K J . Original raiser bets 25 and I make it 75. He calls. Turn is an off suit
K. Not a very good card. He checks and I decide to check back. Turn comes the 7
and I bet
150 after checked to again. Old man river makes the call and shows me A4. Should've bet the
turn. God I suck.
Stuck 900 I still havent learned my lesson and try one more bluff. With 3 limps to me I limp
with K 8
in the CO. Table fish raises to 20 in BB. Hes been doing this with very random
hands, so I call after the original 3 limpers do as well. Flop comes A Q 8 . Fish leads for
30 (his betting amount has been correlated to the strength of his hands so far), one caller, I make
it 110. Fish thinks and calls. Turn comes the 6 . He checks and refusing to make the same
mistake I made last hand, I fire a bullet of 180. Here's where things get interesting. He thinks
forever, says your beating me now but I can catch up, flips over Q 9
and calls. WTF? You
do know we both have about 700 dollars behind us right? He doesnt seem to realize his mistake.
River comes the 5
and Im in a strange spot. Hes beating me but has already told me he
knows hes beat. I bet 220 and he quickly mucks. Phew. Up to about 1100 and only stuck 400.
An hour or so later I pick up KK and make it 25 in MP. SB calls me and covers. Flop comes 10
4 2 . He leads for 50. I smooth call. Turn is the 8 . He leads for 100 this time. I go to
my stack and make it 300. He calls. River 7
he checks and I check back. My KK is good.
About even I head to dinner. Cathy at the check in desk is nice enough to give me a 20 dollar
comp to Grand Lux even though the system was down and she has no idea how long Ive been
playing. Ive noticed that the staff is particularly friendly at the Venetian.
After dinner I pick up 10 10 in the SB. 4 limpers I make it 30. Tight weak Asian kid calls and so
does an older fat guy. Flop comes A 7 4
I lead for 40. Asian calls, and fat man
immediately shoves all-in for 220. Not the kind of thought out is this the best move shove the
kind where theres no other option. Obviously, Im not beating both of them, but Im 100 percent
certain the scared money Asian will quickly fold his Ace if I call. I call expecting to see clubs the
majority of the time. Asian folds and the fat guy shows me A K . WTF. Doesnt matter, turn
is the 10 . I quince. I never like to suck out, but hey I went with my read.
Up a few hundred bucks I pick up another big pair when I get K K
UTG. I raise to 25 and 4
players call. Flop comes 9 5 4
I bet 75 and a middle-aged white guy shoves in for 225. I
call. He shows A T . Turn comes the A
and the river blanks. Karma I suppose for my
suck out?

14

A bit later I pick up 9 10

on the BTN. Aggressive, young player opens for 25 and 3 people
call. A good time to squeeze I make it 125. Kid calls and everyone else folds. Flop comes 10
8
7 . He check calls 175. Turn brings the 5
and this time he check calls 280. I guess I need
to hit my straight. River is the A
and we go check check. He shows his AJ off suit and rakes
in the pot. That one hurt.
Down about 500 I burn through roughly 200 dollars calling with speculative hands in position
against the two fish at the table, but cant seem to hit anything. Feeling frustrated again, I rack up
and accept my 700 dollar whooping like a man.
After two losing days and being stuck a little over 1000 for the trip, it would be easy to become
discouraged. But I still havent run into a player at the 2/5 game who scares me. Im only down a
days worth of good play and hopefully can get back on the right track before I head home for
the holidays.
12/23/09: (Some comments)
I'm not going to post TR of my day today because I have an early flight tomorrow and then
family time. However I will say a few things:
1. While I appreciate the advice to "degen" it up with both hookers and blackjack, I am not going
to be doing either of those things. I don't judge those who choose to (In face I have several
friends who participate in both) but I'm here to play poker and hookers go against my morals (I
know morals lol).
2. In response to DGIHarris, you are absolutely not misinterpreting my posts. My biggest flaw
right now is my early game aggression. I have the strategy all backwards. I'm giving off a
lose/bluffing image and trying to play off that, instead of establishing a solid image and using it
to bluff. I have been coming out with both arms swinging and trying to bluff any and everyone.
This most certainly will be adjusted, as poker is not as fun when spending all day trying to get
unstuck.
Another day of climbing back to even really has me stressed. I'm leaving for Chicago down
1200, and if I plan on turning it around, I most definitely need to adjust my strategy and goals.
12/28/09: Day 6
My flight touched down in Chicago about an hour before our families' annual Christmas Eve
party. Cousins, Aunts, Uncles. Usually about 40 Moores in one place at the same time. For about
30 of them, this is the only time I will see them all year. Out of those 30 I usually forget about 7
names, which leads to some awkward conversations. They usually go something like this. Hey
Matt. Jeez youre getting so old! I remember when you were like this big. Heyyou. Yeah I
guess I am getting old. One year older then last time you saw me. I try to then slowly walk off,
hoping to avoid the other handful of people whose names slip my mind.
This year the small talk was a little different. Word had spread that I was spending the month in
Vegas playing poker, leading to the typical questions from clueless relatives. Youre spending
15

the whole month gambling! How much do you bet? Have you seen any famous people out
there? I want to tell them how poker isnt really gambling, its actually quite similar to what my
dad does (Hes a stock broker). But I dont. I dont wanna exert the mental energy. Instead I tell
them about the time I saw Kim Kardashian at the Bellagio, and how Ive played with Don
Cheadle. That usually satisfies their curiosity.
2 days later and its time to get ready to head back. My flight requires me to leave for the airport
at 4am on the 27th, 2am Vegas time. I rationalize that it probably wouldnt make any sense to go
to bed since I wouldnt fall asleep until 1 anyways. Instead I go out with some friends from high
school. We shoot the **** in between a case of Coors, and a fifth of JD. I like talking with them
about Vegas. Their questions come in the tone of awe and admiration, instead of condescension.
Pretty sauced up, we get the cards out for some blackjack. Im the designated dealer because,
well, Im the only one who can afford it. First hand Im showing an 8. Jack and Stew stay on 14
and 15. They dont get it. **** Vegas, I should just stay home and deal blackjack all break.
2 hours later and 40 dollars richer I check the clock and realize its 5:00. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My
sober friend trades me a ride to the airport for my BJ winnings. I get to the gate just in time for
the lady to tell me that shes in the process of giving my seat away. Alright, well stop giving it
away, Im here. Sorry sir, Ive already began the process. Very, very offensive insults make it to
the tip of my tongue. I hold them back and instead ask the Rosanne look-a-like to find me
another flight.
One connection flight in Phoenix, emergency landing in Denver, and 2 middle seats later, Im in
Vegas. However, Im drunk. Not booze drunk, but the type of drunk you get when you havent
slept in 30 something hours and the 5 hour energy shots are running on their final minutes.
I check into my new room at the Signatures. Peter at Blue Chip Management told me I couldnt
have a strip view for this portion of my stay because those were guaranteed to others for New
Years, but that instead I could move up a couple floors. Whatever. I get on the elevator and go to
press the 14 button. 11, 12, 14. Mother ****er. There is no 13th floor. IM ON the 13th floor.
Just because they changed the goddamn number on the stupid elevator DOES NOT mean my
floor isnt thirteenth from the bottom. Thanks Peter, you traded me a strip view for two weeks of
bad luck. I consider going back down and asking for a room switch, but that contradicts my one
poker superstition. No matter how bad Im running in one seat or how cold my cards are, I
NEVER, ask for a seat change. Never. Consider yourself lucky Peter.
I go lie down in my room and just want to watch some TV and take a nap. Unfortunately I cant
find the remote. I check under the bed. Is that the remote? No, thats a used condom. Youve got
to be kidding me. I think about my superstition. **** that. The 13th floor was one thing. If there
was a used condom sitting on the 3 seat, you best believe I wouldnt sit back down until I had the
8. I plan on calling down later to request a room switch.
Anyways I cant sleep. Maybe its the certain kind of restlessness one gets from endless hours
awake. Or maybe its the image in my head I have because of the present Peter left me under the
bed. Either way I head out to the Venetian for some 2/5.

16

After re-evaluating my game, Im eager to get back in action. Theres 2 seats open, Cathy tells
me. One in the 3 seat next to a 300 pound man, getting a massage with half his Ass crack
showing, and another in the 9 next to the most beautiful, big breasted, blonde woman that I have
ever seen in a poker room. Ill take the 9.
One limper and Butt-crack Bob opens to 25 in MP, I pop it up to 75 with A K . Gets back to
him and he shoves for 220 all day. I call and am virtually drawing dead when he flops his 3rd
Queen. Not the best start.
A bit later I get a small rush that sees me raising from UTG and the BB on back to back hands,
then taking down both pots amongst multi-way action with a simple C-Bet. Very next hand Im
in the SB with K Q
and 3 limpers to me. I make it 25 to build a pot. Everyone calls and the
flop comes J 8 4 . I whiff the check raise. Turn comes the 5 . This time I lead for 55.
Butt crack Bob min-raises to 110. It gets back to me and I shove him in for his final 300. He
says, Ill gamble and puts the money in with the naked Ace of spades. River bricks and Im now
up 250.
All the while Ive been talking to the beautiful woman in the 8 seat. I find out her name is Carrie
and shes originally from Montreal. She lived in Los Angeles for 10 years but work has
brought her to Vegas. OMG shes a porn star. Has to be. She probably thinks Im just being nice,
which I am. But Im also figuring out information about her, which Im relaying back home to
my friend Jack, a complete Porn Aficionado. I eyeball her measurements and send him her basic
info, which he tells me he will research when he gets home.
Anyways, after a couple hours of playing real solid, tight, aggressive poker I get involved in a
hand with the most competent player at the table. I open in MP to 20 with 55. He bumps it up to
75 on the button (the 4th time he has 3bet me), and the completely incompetent lady in the BB
calls leaving 40 behind. Now the old Matt would know the BTNs doing this with a wide range,
but counter with a fold or a call because the Old Matt is a biatch. The new Matt makes it 200
thinking the raiser will fold most of his range and I can flip with the old lady with dead money in
the pot. That plan gets derailed when the BTN calls after deliberation and the lady puts her final
40 in the pot. Flop comes AA8. Im still not convinced he has a strong hand, but think he could
easily have 66 through 10 10 that I have to push out. I bet 160 confidently. He thinks forever and
folds 8 9
face up. The turn and river come 2 blanks and the lady flips up KJ. The table is
quite impressed to see me rake in the pot with 2 5's.
Up about 700 I get involved in one final pot. I limp UTG with A 8 . Guy from previous
hand makes it 20 in MP. 7 callers total and we see a flop of A 9 3 . Checked around. Turn
brings the 7 . I lead for 80. One caller and a local raises to 270 on the BTN. My hand really
isnt all that strong, but the locals line isnt very believable. Could easily be a squeeze. I call,
thinking Im already winning a good percentage of the time. Other player calls as well. River
brings 7
and the local bets 275. I guess I was wrong, plus Im definitely not beating 2 people.
I fold. After watching him play for a bit, the local plays rock tight and wouldnt make that play
with anything but a set, which turns my hand into simply a dry flush draw. Oh well.
17

Turns out the women next to me is not a porn star, or one that Jack can locate at least. Just a
beautiful poker player, and very sweet women as well. Im disappointed, but really enjoyed
talking with her.
I leave for the night up about 450. While the score isnt that large, Im extremely happy with the
way I played. A lot tighter and thought provoked. There were two other hands where I laid down
a set and an over-pair to tighter players and was right. Making big folds is the first sign to being
close to the top of my game. Its tough to do, however, when stuck. So here's to getting off to a
good start today...
12/29/09: Day 7
Its 9 oclock at night. The last legs of tonights session. With 1300 in front of me I open to 20
UTG with A Q . 4 calls and we see a flop of Q 2 2 . I lead for 50. One call and it
gets back to newest player at the table. A middle age Asian man. Hes 800 deep, though you
wouldnt know it without asking. He doesnt even have his chips yet. He makes it 200 just like
that. All he had to do was say the number. Do I really want to risk todays profit with just a lousy
queen on a paired board? Lord knows hes going to fire the turn and river. Hes young and Asian
after all. The old Matt mightve folded, saved his final 700 dollars of profit and called it a night. I
really couldve folded. I call. Two players to the turn as the 10
peels off. I check fairly
quickly. 400, he says, about as confident as it was quick. Still no chips. It reminds me of my
internet days. How easy it was to make hero calls and massive bluffs, when all you had to do was
click a button. No chips, no hundred dollar bills, just a simple left click. Why so much? Wouldnt
he want me in if he had a 2? Or maybe he thinks Im chasing hearts. I stop thinking. As I often
do in big spots. Thinking makes me consider silly irrelevant variables when all thats really
taking place is a simple chess match. I dont believe him. I shove in. Snap call.
Woke up yesterday and decided I was going to play the 2/5 at the Venetian and Hard Rock this
week, while getting ready for the 5/10 game and New Years Eve travelers this weekend. I think
Im going to keep the rest of my play for the trip at the Venetian. The whole experience is just
worlds ahead of the Bellagio. The staff, the chairs, the smell, the game structure. All of the
extra elements certainly make up for whatever EV is sacrificed by passing on the softer games
at the B.
I headed over to the poker room at about 2 oclock and got on the table right away even though I
was 6th on the list. Thank you Cathy. The game was real similar to yesterdays. Very tight and
very passive, but very beatable if youre capable of demonstrating patience and not forcing the
issue.
First hand I get involved in is with the table fish. The only player at the table that has exhibited
any kind of gamble. I 3-bet his 20 dollar open to 75 and he shoves for 200. The cards come out 2
5 8 8 10 and somehow he couldnt beat AK.
After a couple more small victories with AK Im up about 400, when a new guy sits down in the
one seat. He takes off his bracelet and uses it as a card protector. Its gold, and says World Series
of Poker on it. How the **** did this guy win a gold bracelet?? Hes old and fat. Only table it

18

looks like hes conquered is the buffet. Then again, I guess thats how most poker players look.
Feeding on chicken fingers and cherry cokes isnt exactly the recipe for a defined figure. Unless
of course youre looking for the defined belly. It makes me think of the aura and prestige that one
of those silly bracelets has. Its the reason 99% of players picked up the game in the first place.
But in this moment, staring across the table at this man, its the last thing in the world I want. Not
if it comes with that body.
Aside from his belly, the first thing I notice is his attitude. Very condescending and entitled, but
hey he won the WORLD SERIES OF POKER, so I guess its alright. Someone makes a
comment about how this isnt Omaha. I take it thats his area of expertise. It doesnt take long
before I get involved in a hand with him. I raise the button to 25 with K 10
and he comes
along for the ride. Flop comes 10 6 4 and he leads for 45. I call. Turn 3 he makes the same bet. I
make it 150, he calls. River 2 and we go check check. His 99 is no good. Score one for the good
guys.
The Bears are about to play and I strike up a conversation with the man across the table. I tell
him the Bears are always due for one surprise each December at home. You wanna bet on it he
says? Say 100 bucks? Absolutely. Gotta love my ego. He tells me the line is 7 and we finalize
the bet for a Benjamin.
I head to the Palazzo sports book for some dinner. Im watching the game when I look up at the
big board to see (+8 ) next to the Bears name. That sneaky ****ing bastard. I guess its my
fault for not checking. My first non-poker bet in Vegas, and my first hustle.
After dinner I head back to the table. I lose some chips when I have to lay down my AA on a Q
7 6 5
board. The turn check raise told me all I needed to know (player showed 89).
After chipping back up for a couple hours, Im ready to leave up 800 bucks, when I remember
my bet on the Bears game. Theres 6:00 minutes left and I need to stay til the end of the game to
square up. I cant see the TV, so I switch seats to the other side of table. Wait a minute, I NEVER
switch seats. Whatever, Ill just fold for 20 minutes and watch the game, I tell myself.
So there it is. The only reason Im involved in this pot in the first place, I got hustled. I went
against my one superstition and switched to a seat that I wasnt supposed to be in, playing cards
that werent supposed to be mine. The 5 seconds between the flipping of the river and the
flipping of our cards felt like the 5 seconds before you die. You know where your life flashes in
front of your eyes and it seems like an eternity. Except it wasnt my life, just my thoughts. You
played so well today, now youre going to give it all back with one ****ing pair. You couldve
left even for the trip? Couldve begun your fresh start with your newfound confidence tomorrow.
But you had to shove it in. River comes the J . He flips up confidently. I see paint. Twice in
fact. The Q registers first. Then the K. I check the board. No king. No flush. No straight. My AQ
is good. I rake in the 1600 dollar pot and rack up my chips soon after, feeling ecstatic.
Up about 1000 for the trip, I dont want to see the red again. Starting today I will make my push,
my run.
Oh yeah, the Bears coveredKarma.
19

12/30/09: Day 8
Not much to report on today. On the way to the Venetian yesterday, I got a call from my buddy
who was heading to the Hoover Dam with his Pops and wondering if I wanted to come along. A
day away from the strip sounded like a pretty good idea, plus I heard Hoover Dam is one of those
places you're supposed to visit before you die.
Place was pretty incredible. Took the tour, watched the 10 minute movie, got the whole shpeal. I
took some pictures too, but I guess you can just search the web if you really wanna know what it
looks like.
Traffic was bad and by the time we got back it was already 6:30. We tried to eat at Lotus of
Siam, as I've heard incredible things, but the wait was an hour and a half. Speaking of, anyone
have any "local" dinner suggestions? Hidden gems?
Two more of my friends got in town at around 9 and we all headed to the MGM for craps and
drinks. I don't understand the "one drink at a time" rule. One would think the MGM would want
their players as drunk as possible. The craps dealers were also quite unfriendly, presumably
because we were kids? ID-ing us at 2 separate occasions. Same guy. Like really dude? Did you
miss something the first time? Just a very unfriendly atmosphere in general, which is not what a
craps table is supposed to be like. I swear sometimes I could run this place better.
On the same note, I heard today that the golf courses at the Wynn and Mandalay Bay are both
500 dollars. 500 ****ing dollars. And they wonder why they don't get any play. Don't you think
business would be better if you charged a reasonable rate? Like even $150 maybe? You could
play Bethpage Black, TPC Sawgrass, AND St. Andrews for that price, and still have money left
over for hot dogs at the turn. Makes no sense to me. However I'm sure there's a method to their
madness.
After craps we ended the night at Studio 54, which was a pretty good time.
Heading back to the Venetian today, maybe I can make enough to play golf on the strip! Not.
12/31/09: Day 9
Just stopping in to wish everyone a happy new years. After talking to some locals (and Vegas
NYE regulars), the consensus is that roaming the strip is a better experience then paying to get
into a club tonight.
Yesterday was a pretty disappointing day at the office. Venetian was packed, there must've been 6
2/5 games running. Everywhere I turned 1,000 dollar pots were being raked in with one pair and
A high. Yet somehow I get stuck at the senior citizen table. I've never seen more pots chopped
between the SB and BB in my life.
I really would love to talk about some hands, but in 7 hours I don't think I played a pot with more
than 300 dollars in it. Come to think of it I don't know if I even witnessed any hands bigger than
that. Grinded up to a high point of 950 (500 buy-in), but slowly and painfully donated 150 back
to the senior citizen fund.

20

Went to the Miracle Mile shops afterwards and did some shopping for New Years Eve. Bob
Sherman might be my new favorite store. I was there so long that the girls in our group were
growing irritated. Afterwards, I stopped in at Guess and bought a $100 dollar watch. Black band,
square face, pretty nice watch. Too bad I never got to wear it. While eating at Earl's Sandwich (I
think that's the name) with my watch bag at my feet, someone walked by and snatched it from
me. Some people are just unreal. I guess I just have to be more careful.
We planned on going to LAVO at the Palazzo later in the night, but the line was an hour and a
half so we walked across the street to JET instead. Speaking of, does anyone know how much it
would take to get to the front of a line like that? One of my buddies, a Vegas regular, suggested
we all try giving the bouncers a 20. I personally thought they would've laughed at us.
Jet was a real good time. After dancing with a girl from Houston for a solid hour she asked me if
I wanted to grab a shot at the bar. Sure, why not. It was considerably hot on the dance floor so I
ordered two waters and two shots. That'll be 53 dollars. Excuse me? Fifteen dollars? No, fiftythree. The bartender shows me with her hands to make sure I'm not confused. It's funny to me the
disparity in this town between drinks for those who are gambling, and those who are not. No
middle ground. You're either drinking Patron and Grey Goose for free, or paying 53 dollars for
well vodka and water.
Anyways back to poker. I'm confidant enough in my game right now to get back in the 5/10. If
there are 3 games running again today, like there were yesterday, I'm going to give it a shot at the
V. Here's to ending the year on a good note...
P.S. anyone else following this Mike Leach saga? What the hell was going through his mind
when he confined a player with a concussion to an electrical dungeon? Someone should lock him
in a closet.

21

2010
01/02/10: Day 10
Its the morning of the 2nd. I roll over and look at the clock. Theres really no purpose in looking
anymore. I know what its going to say. 9:30. I wake up every morning at 9:30 after I drink here.
On New Years Eve, went to bed at 3:00. New Years day went to bed at 8:00. Last night went to
bed at 2:00. All three days Ive woken up at 9:30, feeling progressively shittier. The old man at
the craps table has a theory on this. He says you cant sleep cause they pump oxygen into the
room through the vents. I need to close those damn vents.
The booze filled days and sleepless nights are really catching up to me. I dont want to work out
in the morning, dont want to write in my blog. Consequently, Im sure its hurting my poker
game. I never understood what people meant when they say they cant do Vegas for more than 3
days. Before my friends arrived, Id been here for 10 days and felt like I could do another ten
months. Then I started drinking. Top shelf liquor, shot after shot. I dont really like getting drunk
all that much, but I wanted to make sure my friends were having fun, especially after they spent
all day just waiting for me to finish poker.
Ive got another friend coming in today. Im gonna have to find a way to entertain her without
drinking because my body cant take anymore mornings feeling like this.
New Years Eve I ended up at the Venetian, ready for some 5 10. There were 3 games running and
I got in the must move right away. First real hand I get involved in, I make it 50 after 1 limper in
MP with TT. CO, BTN, and seemingly clueless player in BB call. Flop J J 2 . BB leads
for 80. I call. Turn is the 4 . This time he bets 160 and I peel again. River Q . We go check
check and my TT is good.
The table seems to be pretty solid. Other than 1 fish, the seats are filled with rocks. Ive
definitely noticed the difference between 2/5 and 5/10 games that I didnt believe existed. The
weak 2/5 players are passive and allow their opponents to control the size of the pot. The 5 10
players make way less mistakes. Even those who play exploitable usually play on the overaggressive side, which isnt the easiest to play against, especially when playing 5X over your
normal stakes.
A little bit later I play another hand with TT. 1 limper to the CO and I make it 60. Clueless player
calls. Flop comes 267 and he leads for 70 with 400 back. I make it 200, he calls. Turn 2 and he
check calls all of his chips. The river brings a Q and I flip up my cards. 2 seconds. 5 seconds. 10
SECONDS. Finally he flips up JJ. Are you ****ing kidding me? I want to yell at him for being
SUCH a douche bag, so inconsiderate, but I cant. He didnt mean to slow roll, hes just clueless.
The Asian to my left and internet pro in my right, talk about what a dick move that was, trying to
console me. I shake my head.

22

I get switched from the must move down a couple hundred bucks. Only 1 familiar face across the
table. The big guy with the WSOP bracelet for a card protector. Who does that? I hear coming
from my right, referring to the bracelet. I mean come on, wear it, Ill understand. But why
would you ever put it down on the table? I nod in agreement. I tell him it would be like a golf
pro carrying around his trophy from last weeks tournament every time he hits the links. He starts
laughing. Perfect analogy.
We continue chatting. Guys name is Brad. He tells me he manages money in the Cayman
Islands. I know enough to know I probably shouldnt ask any other questions. Brads up a good
chunk of change and hes awesome to sit next to. Very friendly, very funny. He shares some
stories about Vegas, and I tell him some tales from college. He seems interested; I guess it brings
him back a few years.
Brad losses a medium sized pot to an inferior hand that caught up. Ahhh, good hand sir. Ive
realized that Brad is everything I want to be as a poker player. In a day and age where protecting
egos seems to be more important than making money at the table, Brad is the exception to the
rule. Hes the anti-live pro. He plays well and understands strategy, but he takes it for exactly
what its worth, a game. No need to berate a bad player or lecture a fish. He just enjoys the game
and does what he can to get the money in best.
A couple hours of basically no action on my behalf and finally I pick up a premium hand. Tilting
guy in MP opens for 60. I look down at KK. I havent 3-bet once all day, so re-raising in this
position feels like a pretty transparent strategy. I call as does the BB. Flop comes K75 rainbow.
Bingo. Original raiser bets out pot. It seems unlikely that he has a K so I just call. BB calls too.
Turn brings a Q and tilting regular bets out pot AGAIN. Maybe he has AA. I think for about 5
seconds and put the remainder of my stack across the middle, roughly 1000 all day. He calls off
the remaining couple hundred and shakes his head as I flip up KK. He shows QQ. The ultimate
cooler. A 2600 dollar pot, the largest of my trip. Easy game.
I dont get involved in any more noteworthy pots for the day and leave up 1300 dollars. But
before I could leave for the day I notice my man Brad involved in a huge pot. He has AA. About
4,000 dollars make it into the middle on a J turn. His opponent flips up JJ and rakes in the
monster pot. Brad is livid. He spends the next 20 minutes, telling this player how bad he is from
across the table. Its truly awkward to sit next to him. Guys an *******. An hour ago I was
basically anointing him the American Gandhi. My true poker hero. Its funny how winning and
losing can mask the true character of a poker player. At times, Im sure, Im guilty of the same
crime. Its easy to be friendly and engaging when youve made a couple thousand dollars playing
cards all day. Its those who can hold that demeanor throughout the cold cards and bad beats who
are genuine good people in my book. Im starting to wonder if Ill ever witness that at a poker
table
The post-Christmas win streak is in full effect. No losing sessions yet. Back in the 5 10 and
confidant with my game. Up close to 3,000 for the trip and ending the year on a great note.
Things would change drastically, however, in the next day and a half. Ill elaborate on that later
tonight when I have more time to write. For now Im off to the B for some 5 10.

23

01/04/10: Day 11
After closing out the year on a win, one last night of partying was on the agenda. My roommates
and I got dressed up and met a girlfriend of mine from high school and her college roommates at
ESPN Zone for dinner. I know, not exactly baller. But I made the conscious decision to be very
liberal with my money early in the night. After all, bringing in the new decade in Las Vegas only
happens so many times in a lifetime. I picked up the tab on the food and drinks for most of the
night. Everyone tried to thank me. I told them to thank the poker gods for blessing me with a
beautiful cooler. They dont understand the minor miracle that is set over set.
The night went about as well as I couldve imagined. The strip on New Years Eve really is an
incredible experience that I recommend every youngster checking out at least one time. Set me
back about 5 bills however. Whatever, just a small hit to the big chip stack, as my friend so
nonchalantly put it. Its funny how unattached Ive grown to money. When youre a poker player,
you see it disappear and reappear so frequently that you grow so emotionally distant from the
process. Many people see that personality trait as a fault, Im convinced its a blessing.
As awesome as I felt the night before, thats about equally as miserable as I felt the next day. My
streak of no sleep continued as I woke up at 10 with about 4 hours of unconsciousness behind
me. How did I decide to work off the headache, sore throat, and anxiety that was my hangover?
Oh yeah poker. Awesome idea. Not. But some way, some how, my game actually felt pretty
sharp.
Have you ever felt like you played the absolute perfect poker hand? Where everything pans out
the exact way on the felt as it did in your head? Thats how I felt in the first meaningful hand of
the day at the Venetian.
Tilting Asian raises my 40 dollar CO open to 130 on the BTN. K Q
doesnt exactly stack
up that well in a 3-bet pot out of position, but tilting Asians truly are my weakness. I call and we
see a flop of AQT rainbow. I check and he thinks forever. He wants to bet but he cant pull the
trigger. KK or JJ, obviously. Ive got a K so its got to be JJ. Turn brings the 9. Now usually I
wouldnt go for value with mid pair in a 3-Bet pot, but I was so convinced he had Jacks that it
seemed fairly natural at the time. I lead for 190, completely expecting him to call with his
newfound straight draw. He does. River brings a 7, completing a back door flush draw. Perfect. I
continue my trap with a weak looking check. Player knows he only has one chance to win and
thats to ship his money into the pot. He does, all 540 of it. I call almost before he gets it over the
line. Your good he says flipping up his JJ. Guy almost went through the roof when he saw me
turn over KQ. He did one of those head shaking condescending laughs as I raked in the chips.
Up almost a buy-in, exhaustion set in. I shouldve just racked up and gone to watch the
whopping that Florida was putting on Cincinnati with my friends at the sports book. Instead, I
stayed.
For the past 3 years, when a player has called a raise out of position preflop and led into the
original raiser, its been a sign of weakness. Maybe a decent pair, but not a hand the player wants
to play for a big pot. Apparently that trend is changing. Twice I attacked this type of play, and
twice I suffered the consequences. The final time I had JQ and raised it up to 50 only to find 3

24

callers. SB bets out 130 on a 9T4 flop and I represent my big pair by making it 320. He shoves in
for 400 more. Awesome. Just ****ing awesome. I call and river a Q. Its no good however, as my
opponent has flopped top two pair.
A few rounds later, I isolate 3 limpers with a raise to 70 on the CO with Q 9 . BTN and first
limper make the call. Flop comes the pretty Q 9 6 . I bet 150 and the BTN is the only one
to continue. Praying that I fade his flush draw, the turn brings the 5 . I make a dangerous
decision and plan a check raise. He bets out 250 and I confidently shove in 500 more, my final
750. He snap calls and I know I'm toast. 78. River bricks and all of a sudden Ive gone from
perfect poker to broke. How could you be so careless? He always has 78 there. Hes just not
showing a flush draw often enough to be profitable.
Suddenly I regret my generous New Years Eve. This always happens to me. I call it the curse of
generosity. Ill have a nice session and celebrate with good friends only to see myself lose the
profit back the next day. Boy do I feel stupid. Nothing better than starting the decade in the red!
Still up 2500, and amidst a minor dispute between a friend of mine and the condescending floor
lady at Venetian, I moved my play back to the B for my final week of 5/10 play
01/06/10: Day 12
Never in my life have I had poker player friends. Dont get me wrong; Ive had friends who
play poker. Hell I learned the game with 5 of my best friends. But never have I made friends who
thought about the game analytically. That all changed about a week ago. Playing in the 2/5 at
Venetian I met a Dutch fellow named Kai. He introduced me to his travelling partner Otto and
together we met two German students Lukas and Sebastian. We started playing in the same
games, sharing meals together, and going out for drinks at night. It was refreshing to meet 4
other University students who were also balancing their studies with their poker games. We had
Sebastian and Casey (my friend from home) playing 1/2, Otto and Lukas playing 2/5, and Kai
and myself venturing into the 5/10. We were like a clan of poker players, always surveying the
room to check on each others chip stack, and finding someone to replay virtually every
interesting spot with.
I can honestly attribute a good portion of my post-Christmas success to these guys. Their
presence forced pressure upon myself to play as close to perfect poker as I could. They werent
concerned with how many chips I had, they were interested in how I obtained those chips. Heres
a perfect example.
On day 12 I was sitting in the 5/10 at Bellagio with Lukas and Otto. I was around even when I
raised 1 limper in the CO to 50 with 6 3 . The BTN called and everyone else folded. Flop
came 2 5 Q . I led for 100 and got called. Turn came the 10
and this time the guy
check called 220. We check checked a J river and he scooped in the pot with QK. I made sure to
show my bluff face up.
An hour later I opened in MP with AQ and was met with a raise to 120 by the same player. I
decided to call, hoping my reputation would get me paid off if I hit the flop hard. Flop came
Q 6 6 . We checked the flop. Turn came the 7
and I bet 200. Player took little time in
25

calling me. I was fairly certain he had two Jacks. River brought the 2
and I led for 370. Hes
thinking. Im screaming. CALL ME. PLEASE ****ING CALL ME. In my head of course.
Eventually, he gives the Okay Ill pay you speech and calls. My AQ is good.
I was proud of the way I used my reputation to get me paid. Otto and Lukas were not convinced.
On the way to In n Out we spent the whole time discussing whether the play was profitable or
not pre-flop. They agreed that he was going to probably pay me off on dream flops, but
convinced me that his range absolutely crushes mine and out of position its a losing strategy.
Any other friends of mine wouldve been impressed with the huge pot I won; these guys were
disappointed. Ive learned that being critical, even in winning situations, is a huge key to
improving my game.
Up a few hundred, I returned from dinner to find an interesting spot with 10 10. It seems like
every interesting hand I have had this trip has been with 10 10 or AQ. Weird. Anyways, I opened
UTG to 40 and a small stack raised to 160 with about 160 back. Crazy loose Asian in BB cold
calls 160. Were about 1000 deep. I call and see a flop of 89J. Asian leads for 240. I shove in for
my final 850 on a semi-bluff. Original raiser calls and the Asian thinks and folds KJ face up.
Turn A and the original raiser flips up AK. Come onnnnnnn. Luckily the river brought the 10 and
I scooped up a good sized pot.
I ended the session up a buy-in. After subtracting the loss I suffered from taking 50% of Lukass
action in the game, I had a profit of 700 for the day. I'm not concerned with his loss, however, as
I would stake him again in a second. Hes definitely a winning investment at 5/10, he just ran
relatively cold.
After the session we made our way to the Stratosphere. When I was 11 years old I came to Vegas
for the first time. My Uncle took me up to the Stratosphere to go on the Giant Drop rollercoaster.
We waited 2 hours in line. Thats 2 hours to look down on the Vegas skyline. 2 hours to realize
that your 1500 feet above ground. 2 hours to think about all the things that could go wrong with
the ride. I basically spent 2 hours shitting my pants. By the time I made it to the front of the line I
said fuck this and watched as my Uncle went on the ride.
10 years later and finally I have a chance to redeem myself. 8 of us make it to the top of the
building and all of a sudden those old fears come back to me. We get in our seats and Sebastian
can tell Im not doing well. Matt Ive seen you all-in for 2500 dollar pots this trip, why the hell
are you so nervous. I dont reply. I want to get the fuck off this stupid rollercoaster. This is not
how Im supposed to die. Eventually the ride starts and shoots us up into the Vegas sky. Im
alive. A couple more times we go up and down. The rush is incredible. Never again will I be
nervous at a poker table. Not after that ride.
We go on one more ride that hangs off the building, before heading back to our hotel rooms. I
can sleep well tonight. Not because I won a grand at the poker table. Not because Im sober.
Because I conquered the Stratosphere.
I'm now up 3200 for the trip and poised for a big day...

26

01/07/10: Day 14
After a short break even session on day 13, I was well rested for a long successful session the
next day. But first there was an event I needed to check out. The most prestigious of its kind.
Where all the best players in the world gather to determine who holds the most poise under
pressure and the greatest precision and concentration amidst countless distractions. An event
where the further you advance, the more tipsy you become.
Im talking about the World Series of Beer Pong of course. Let me start off by saying Casey and
myself had very low expectations for the WSOBP. We expected to see a bunch of nerds who took
an otherwise socially entertaining game and turned it into a no nonsense chess match. That was
definitely not the case, at least in the preliminary days. Every team showed up in matching
uniforms; whether it was the Asians in their martial arts gear, the girls in their Catholic school
outfits, the older guys with their handlebar mustaches or the younger kids in the got foam?
shirts. The atmosphere was out of this world. 2 deejays spinning fresh music, side competitions
sponsored by Tucker Maxs book, and fans cheering on their favorite teams. I was minding my
own business watching a rather competitive game when one fan turned to me and said These
two in the Red. They got no shot. Theyre stackin their cups. Look at everybody else in this
room, is anyone stacking their cups? I got a good kick out of learning the superstitions involved
in beer pong.
In many ways the game is very similar to poker. It began as a method for social gathering
amongst friends (mostly teenagers) and became competitive when certain players realized there
was an edge to be pushed. Poker, however, does not have anything close to the two Catholic
schoolgirls who were competing in Beer Pong. Imagine Jennifer Tilly pulling her shirt down all
the way to the nipple or Leann Tweeden completely pulling up her skirt, leaving her ass on the
table as Phil Ivey was considering a call. These girls were unreal. If any of you were there, you
have to know who I am referring to, there is no confusing these two. Anyways for those who
werent, they were nice enough to take pictures with us after the game, and I will definitely post
those once they are developed. The atmosphere was so incredible that Casey and I made a pact,
which I hope we keep, to play next year.
After watching for a good 45 minutes we made our ways to the Bellagio for some 5/10. I get
seated in the 1, next to a very friendly man who answered virtually all of my questions about
City Center (he worked there). Im starting to like the 1 and 9 seats. I used to like the 3 and 7, but
I now enjoy the anonymity of sitting next to the dealer. Youre like a hawk. Watching your prey
as they unravel all of their tendencies, but somehow they arent able to see you. Thats probably
complete bull****, but its my impression from my few sessions hidden behind the dealers.
Anyways after C-Betting and winning a couple hundred Im on the BTN with 44. 4 limps to me
and I limp along. My friend in the small blind, whos been experiencing a mild case of tilt,
makes it 40 and everyone calls. Flop comes 234 and he bets 80. No calls back to me, and I pop it
up to 240. He thinks forever. I consider taking off my shirt and using my chest as a distraction; I
opt not to. Finally he makes it 200 more. Im pretty certain hes making a move thinking I was
making a move. Regardless Im never folding top set so I ship it in for 700 more. He calls. Turn
comes a 6 and the river is a 10. I show him my set and he nods his head and mucks. I have no
clue what he couldve had. Im up about 1200.

27

After winning a hand with a bluff and showing in a multi-way pot, I get involved with a very
aggressive Black gentleman in the 9 seat. He makes it 70 preflop, as he always does when he
opens, and I call with AQ. Flop comes Q98 and he checks it. I check back. Turn comes a 2 and I
raise his 100 to 280. He calls and I fire 350 on a 3 river. He calls, presumably with tens or jacks,
and I take another big pot. ****, running good is fun.
Now onto the most interesting spot of the day. I limp UTG with A 4
and so does half the
table. The blinds check and the flop runs out J 9 4 . ABG (aggressive black guy) leads for
40 and I make it 120. Short stack sticks it in for 320. Gets back to the small blind who makes it
600 all day. Now the ABG cold calls 600. The SB and ABG still have 1000 back. What the
****????? Im convinced that neither of them have sets, which probably makes it a shove for
me? But with my aggressive/bluffy reputation my fold equity is minimal. Bewildered, I
eventually just fold. The turn brings a 9 and the SB ships it in. ABG calls and the river brings an
off suit 3. PHEW! ABGs J9 is good. Other gentleman claims to have had 44, but I saw the 10
as he mucked. So even if he had the Q 10
and ABG had J9, Im still not sure what my play
is.
Anyways after a little while longer of getting paid off by the ABG, who NEVER believed me
because I showed one bluff (LOL), I called it a day with a 2200 dollar profit. Not necessarily my
best day playing wise, but by far economically. Im only 2 days behind in my reports now, and at
this point up 5400 dollars. CES is in town. If they are as reckless with their money in poker as
they were playing craps last night, it could be a good couple of days.
PS Im considering going to the porn convention. Anyone ever been? That could be a good trip
report, no?
01/08/10: Day 15/16
Days 15 and 16 were composed of one god awful 2/5 session sandwiched in between two pretty
well played 5/10 sessions. Day 16 was the last for all of my friends. My poker friends and those
from home. We all ventured to the Bellagio for a final session of the trip. Otto and I sat down at a
pretty slow 5/10 game.
After a couple hours of up and down poker, I got some chips into a pot. In the BB with 88, a
scared money Asian limped in the CO, the BTN followed and I made it 50. Asian calls and we
see a flop of J72. I lead for 80 and he calls. I plan on shutting down. Thats until the Ace hits the
turn. I fire 140. He thinks, doesnt want to call, but does. I glance at his stack and see hes got
about 300 remaining. The turn comes another great card, the King. I ask him how much he has,
he tells me 320. I bet 270. I read in a CitzenJames post I believe that this is a very intimidating
strategy. He doesnt want to call; I can see it in his eyes. He hates his hand so much, that instead
of putting the whole 270 into the pot, he sheepish puts 1 10 dollar chip (anyone who plays live
knows this is an indication of a call). I turn over my 88 and he shows J9. Thanks a-****ing-lot
CitizenJames.
A little bit later, Aggressive Black Guy joins the table. Its not long before we get tangled up. Im
in the BB with 77, when UTG opens to 30. ABG calls in MP, as do I. The flop comes 10 4 3 and
28

its checked to ABG who fires 80. Him and I see an 8 turn and it goes check check. I know Im
ahead. River comes the J, but Im not scared, and fire a 200 dollar value bet out. He takes little
time in calling, and chuckles to himself when he cant beat my 77. He spends the next hour
promoting his imaginary book he plans on writing. Its called, Check raising Value Betting
Youngsters, for Value, he tells us repeatedly. All things considered ABG is actually a really nice
guy. He doesnt spend hours after losing significant pots moping and complaining like most
regulars. Hes very friendly and obviously good to have in the game.
Later on Otto gets involved in a spot where he raised a pre flop raiser with 810 on a Q53 flop. On
a 7 turn he shoved in his stack and the aggressive kid folded AQ face up. What the ****??? He
can get an aggressive monkey to fold top pair nut kicker, but I cant get some Asian whose
holding onto their money like its their god damn first born child to lay down 3rd pair ****house kicker?? I must really suck.
Around even, I call the table fishs raise to 30 preflop with K 2
on the btn, as does
seemingly the whole table. Flop comes A 3 J . Fish bets 70 and only I call. Turn comes an
offsuit T and I raise his 80 dollar bet to 250. He calls fairly fast. The 9
hits the river and he
insta-calls my 400 dollar bet. He shows the 8 6
and says I guess its not my day, as he
leaves.
With 8 oclock approaching, Otto, Casey, and I head back to our place to get dinner. After eating
were craving some relaxing poker so we head to Venetian for 2/5. Little did I know that relaxing
for me would mean, play like an absolute moron. After playing fairly decent poker for an hour,
and just losing a bunch of 50/50s, I go into monkey mode. Every hand looks good. Im calling
raises to 25 pre-flop with any decent holding because, hey, thats only half of what Id be calling
at 5/10. Brilliant logic, I know. The last of my money goes in when I call a turn bet with QJ on a
K 10 3 4
board and shove the river on a 7 . He snap calls with 10 10, and Ive
officially managed to donate 1,000 dollars back into the fish pool.
After the session I get very angry with myself. That type of play is not okay. If youre trying to
prove you can make a steady income playing poker, mental lapses are just completely
unacceptable. Theres enough variance as it is, that adding a mood-induced-variance variable is
simply a death wish for a pro poker player.
At night we head out to NY NY because weve heard good things about their piano bar. We were
not disappointed one bit. The two piano players are awesome. Im legitimately surprised at the
number of songs that our foreign friends knew the words to. They claimed afterwards that they
probably knew 85% of the songs. I guess I never realized how strong our pop culture is
worldwide.
The night was going great until Casey decided to run his mouth off to 2 Las Vegas Avenge
players (apparently thats the semi-pro hockey team in town). To Caseys defense he claims it
was the other way around, but either scenario was just bad news. These guys were built, and
looked, like barbarians. Not only did they come over to our group and tell us they were going to
beat us up, they told us how they were going to beat us up. I believe mine was a right hook that
29

would shatter my nose. We tried to calm them down, as we really didnt want a fight. But they
really didnt want to listen. Finally the massive bouncer approaches the crowd and Im relieved.
The man must be 610 300 pounds. Relieved until I realize its not the bouncer, just another one
of their friends. Now Im certain Im going to die. One of the barbarians (who looked identical to
Dirk Nowitski) keeps asking the other two if he should throw a cheap shot. As if he needed their
okay??
Finally the girls they were with approach the group and whisper things into their ears. Im not
sure what they said but it works. They tell us continually how lucky we are and disappear into
the Las Vegas night
The next day I wake up and everyone is taking off. I say goodbye. Those feelings of emptiness in
a crowded room begin to return to me. Vegas is an amazing place, but not exactly ideal for
someone travelling alone (in my opinion). Whatever its only 4 more days. I can focus on poker
and hopefully make a late trip run.
I walk to the B and get placed in just the perfect seat. Directly to the left of an absolute whale.
Not only is he a whale who raises 70% of his hands preflop, but hes got about 6 grand to give
away. I watch in amazement as he calls 400 dollar turn bets with mid-pair, only to trip up. I sit
patiently, waiting for my spot, until I realize we are in a must move and he is next up on the list.
The anxiety overwhelms me. I start playing impatiently. Calling 70 dollars with pretty marginal
holdings (910cc, KJ, A10) because Im dying to get involved with him. Someway, somehow, I
manage to hit absolutely no flops. An hour later they declare our table a main game and I can
relax.
Unfortunately, at this point Ive burnt through 600 dollars trying to catch a flop with the beluga
whale. Down about 700, I rebuy and finally find my hand, AA on the BTN. As the action slowly
makes its way towards the whale, I anticipate the fireworks. I can see the money being shipped
my way in my head. Finally it gets to the whale and OF COURSE he folds. Mother ****er. I do
get action however as I raise to 50 and get a call out of the BB and 1st limper. Flop comes
A63hh. Checked to me I check it back. Turn brings the off suit 8 and the BB leads for 100.
Limper calls and I make it 300. Back to the BB, his hands are shaking and I know hes got a big
hand. He ships it in for 500 more and shows me 6 8. Strong, yes; any outs, no.
A bit later I see a regular ream out a dealer for counting out a bet without the request of the
player. Now usually this would go unnoticed, but its maybe the 10th time this trip Ive noticed
this regular go off for the same reason. Anal retentive much? Its strange because hes actually a
really nice guy. Came to Vegas for vacation 30 years ago and just decided to never go home.
Owns a jewelry welding business I believe and does fairly well for himself. But for some reason
he cannot get over this miniscule rule. Things get worse when he tries to explain himself. What
if a player wants to call until he realizes that hes actually faced with a bigger bet than he
believed? Does he realize he just outed himself as an angle shooter, I wonder to myself. Or
worse, maybe this type of business is standard in the live Vegas games?

30

Anyways, I spend a few more rounds in the game and actually do get involved with the whale.
Unfortunately he seems to slow down every time Im in the pot. He looks tired and uninterested,
so I decide to rack up, 500 dollars richer than when I sat down.
The win makes up for my mental lapse in the 2/5 game, but unfortunately that episode cost me 2
days of break even poker, when I shouldve been up a buy-in.
01/11/10: Day 17
James van der Beek is a dick. Yeah you know, the guy from Dawson's Creek. Johnny Moxon in
Varsity Blues. Okay, fine, maybe he's alright. But some guy whos been frequently playing in the
5/10 game at Bellagio and looks identical to the actor is ruining his reputation. Decent player,
maybe a tad overaggressive. But a total douche bag. Real uptight. I tried to loosen him up by
asking if he and Katie Holmes had any sexual tension off screen and he responded with "Good
one. Never heard that before." You know what Dawson, I thought it was a good one. **** you.
It's on.
I limp K 10
UTG and Dawson raises it up to 50 from mp as he often does. Btn, co, and bb
all call before I announce raise and make it 300 all day. Folds around. I show and give Dawson a
nice little stare as he soaks it all in.
But it's not over yet, about an hour later he opens again to 50 in MP and I'm the only caller in the
sb with KK. Flop comes J 5 2
and I check raise his 80 to 210. The turn is a 3
and I bet
350. He thinks for a bit before shipping in for 400 more. I can't fold. Not after showing him
nothing the other hand. Expecting to be winning about half the time I call and see a safe 10
river. We look at each other for what seems like minutes. Neither of us wanting to flip over our
hands, en epic stare down. After what was probably 6-7 seconds of blank staring I remember that
it was actually me who called him and flip up my KK. He lets out some combination of a whine
and a gasp that lets me know I'm good. He flashes QQ and tosses them straight where they
belong, the muck. Two nothing Matt.
Up about 1200 dollars I prepare to sit back and watch the national championship game, waiting
for premium cards to get involved. I head to the sports book and place two bets, Texas and the
under, a benjamin on both. I feel like a high stakes sports better. That feeling lasts for roughly the
10 seconds it takes for me to walk back to my seat. When I get back the Asian to my right asks
me who I bet. I tell him Texas and he proceeds to tell me that we'll be rooting against each other
because he put 5k on Alabama. The old man to my left then chimes in that hes got 2k on the
over. 2k! 5k! Jesus Christ I can't even root for my own god damn teams out loud now.
The cards turn pretty cold. For a good two hours I see no premium hands and very few I could
even play. With my two bets on the game looking very terrible as usual, I begin to press a
smidge.
I limp in mp with A 5
and call a raise to 40 from a regular in the sb. We see a flop of K
10 4 . Check check. The turn is the Q
and I bet 100 when checked to. He calls. JJ or AQ.
River is the 3
and I bet 190 thinking he will fold JJ always and AQ maybe half of the time. He
calls. KK is good.
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From that point on my night went about as well as Colt McCoys. KQ I limp UTG. Whale from
day 16 makes it 40 from the sb and I call after the tourist from the bb puts his chips in. Flop 368,
whale bets 80, BB calls, and I decide to float. Turn is a 5 and they both check to me. I bet 220.
The whale immediately folds and the tourist starts thinking. Eventually he shoves for like 550
total and I sheepishly toss my hand towards the muck.
By the end of the session I had successfully bluffed 800 of my 1200 dollar profit back to the
table and improved my sports betting record to an impressive 1-5 for the trip.
01/11/10: Day 18
I could never have imagined the action that CES produces without experiencing it for myself.
These guys love to gamble. In any given marginal spot they always click raise or call. Though I
suppose that's the default move for most fish universally.
On another note they are great guys to play with as most of them have a bunch of money and
don't get salty over losing couple hundred dollar pots. I got tangled with one gentleman early on
day 18. This particular fish made himself quite easy to find. He wore his CES badge into the
poker room. Thats like blood in the water for the local sharks. He may as well have been
wearing a Tommy Bahama shirt, drinking a margarita, and trying to discard after the flop.
Anyways early on he called a raise with A6 and raised the pre flop raiser's flop bet on an 356
board, only to lose the pot later on. When analyzing the hand afterwards he believed his mistake
was in not raising enough on the flop, not his pre flop call or post flop continue. Point being the
man overvalues hands like Chumlee overvalues worthless junk. (If you don't get that one, stop
reading right now and go watch Pawn Star on the History Channel).
So a bit later I get dealt A 9
in the bb and call a raise to 40 by utg, after mp and the btn had
already done so. Flop comes 9 3 5
and I lead for 80 trying to figure out where I'm at
while not giving away any free cards. Original raiser wants to shove but can't pull the trigger and
folds. MP does the same and it gets back to the btn, the CES gentleman with the name tag. He
counts out 80 and wants to throw it in when all of a sudden he goes back to his stack as if he's
had an epiphany and raises to 280. Normally I would fold pretty fast, but not during CES week.
Not against this guy. He's got 400 back and I shove. He snap calls. Oh ****. The turn is the 10
and river 4 . Great now I'm beating nothing. One pair he says, and I can't believe it. My A9
trumps his K9 and all of a sudden I'm up a buy-in.
A bit later, after showing off my awesome bluffing skills I get involved in a pot with another
CES player who by no means is going to be bluffed. He's got the tough guy CES look. He's the
king of the nerds.
Some guy raises to 50 in mp, I call on the btn with JJ and nerd king follows suit in the BB. Flop
10 7 5
and the bb leads for 110. MP folds and I pop it up to 300. He not only calls, but
open shoves for 400 on a 3
turn. I make the call and get a J
on the river. I didn't need it. I
had his A10 beat the whole time.

32

A bit later a guy named Tim from Houston sits down at the table. Not a CES guy, he's just here to
play cards. We start chatting it up and he tells me he's a stock trader. I tell him how that's what I
want to do and he asks me what I'm majoring in. I tell him I ****ed up my freshman year and
ended up doing Psychology and Statistics because I liked it. He gives me a "what the **** are
you doing look" and says "yeah well I like whacking off, but it aint gonna make me any money
so I didn't major in it." "Look kid, are you trying to work in a field you like, or are you trying to
find a job that makes you some money?" I didn't know how to answer the question, because I
honestly do not know. It got me thinking about my whole trip, graduation, and what's going to
happen afterwards. Playing cards is a very enjoyable way to make money for 3 weeks. I've done
quite well this trip. Yeah I've probably ran pretty well and haven't really been coolered, but right
now it's conceivable that I could make money doing this full time. How high's the ceiling
though? Unless youre in the top .00001 percent of all players and aren't playing higher than
5/10, your potential earnings are never going to be much higher than 100k a year, and most likely
A LOT lower. Now I don't want to sound arrogant and act like that's not a lot of money, but
knowing that it's the absolute highest I could shoot for the rest of my life is pretty unsatisfying. I
feel like I came on this trip looking for answers, closure. But the only thing I gained were more
questions and curiosity.
Anyways after coolering a short stack's AA with A K
on a
flop I ended the day
up 2k. With one day to go that leaves me with roughly a 7600 dollar profit for the trip, and a 9k
up swing since Christmas.
01/12/10: Day 19 "The Final Day"
As often and hard as I was working out during the first part of my trip, thats as seldom and lazy
as my workouts became towards the latter portion. Vegas will do that to you. Late nights at the
clubs and craps tables turned into late mornings, and an urgency to get started with my day. The
2pm wake ups left me little time to exercise, write, eat, and get to the poker room at a reasonable
time. As some of you probably noticed, sometimes I had to sacrifice the trip reports. Usually,
however, it was the workouts getting set aside.
Any logical person trying to stay healthy would forego cheeseburgers, French fries, and cherry
cokes during this time of limited physical activity. I however, am not a logical person. I took the
liberty to eat at just about every burger joint in the whole town. In N Out, Burger Bar at
Mandalay Bay, Le Burger Brasserie at the Paris. Animal style, the truffle burger, extra grilled
onions at the Paris. I feel like a cheeseburger expert. As a result I also feel like a total fat ass.
Whatever sad resemblance of a six-pack I had to begin the trip now would be more easily
confused with a keg. I swear to god I even jiggle a little bit when I walk. I guess this is the
official initiation to the professional poker world? After all the results dont lie. 9 days of
working out and eating turkey sandwiches on wheat yielded break even poker. 9 days of feeding
on booze and burgers and all of a sudden Im winning 4 figures every day. Hear that kids?
Healthy body, healthy mindbull****. Its all a big ****ing lie. Kidding, of courseI think.
Well maybe it was my figure, or perhaps the regulars just grew accustomed to me, but my
opinion on the Bellagio pros has certainly changed. I used to refer to them as grumpy,
condescending, and pathetic, but nowadays you wont hear a bad word about them coming from
my mouth. I definitely misunderstood them. I think that once they realized I was not a weekend

33

warrior, or an Internet kid coming to spoil the games for a few days, they let down their guard.
Poker players are a weird breed. More often than not they are very intelligent people with
interesting opinions and stories, but restrict themselves to only social interactions with other
poker players. Its as if they dont think the typical man will understand. Understand that while
you may be wasting time until dinner, theyve been here all day grinding back from the 3-outer
that mercifully took away that 4,000 dollar pot the day before. Understand that while variance
may be keeping tourists like you coming back, that same bitch is the reason its been 5 years and
they still cant field a bankroll sufficient for 10/20.
The two who Ive gotten to know over the past couple weeks are Anthony, the short old guy with
the high-pitched voice, and Jim, the jewelry welder. First they began to recognize me, then they
began to respect me, and finally they began to interact with me. They call me Miami Matt, or just
Miami when pressed for time. They talk to me, ask me about Vegas, about my studies, and most
importantly ask me about poker. These guys could talk poker for days on end. Whether its a
hand they witnessed last week or whose been playing in Bobbys Room, these guys really do
have a passion for the game. A passion that Im still trying to figure out whether or not I share.
Anyways as nice as it was to finally become accepted amongst the regulars in the game, it also
had its downsides. It came at a time where I felt I had their games figured out a lot better than
they had down mine, but every pot between us now turned into a friendly check, check, check
unless someone hit it big.
I sat down on my last day in the must move 5/10. Honestly, my goal was to rack up a few more
hours and try not to have a losing session. I was very content with the progress of my trip and
how things were winding down. I was forced to change my strategy when my 100BB stack all of
a sudden turned into 50BB right when I sat down. Automatic straddle okay with you man,
asked a young Internet kid at the table with most the chips. Ehh, why not. We played this way for
about an hour until a few gentlemen sat down who were not completely comfortable with the
structure. I managed to play a couple interesting spots. This one produced the most adrenaline.
3 limps and Im in the BB with K 7 . I complete and the straddle checks. 5 6 8
and I
lead for 80. 2 calls and I lead for roughly pot (300) on a 10
turn. Only the straddle calls and
Im pretty certain by his body language that hes on a pair + draw type hand. The turn is the
Q
and I need to make a decision. Ive already gone against my plan to play tight for the day,
so I can give up and stomach the loss, or go after those chips in the pot. **** checking, Im allin, 580. It takes about 10 seconds for him to fold. Phew.
Without realizing it, I finally accomplished one of my goals on the last day, playing 10/20.
Granted it was only 50BB deep, and unintentional, but still, I sat in a fairly large game, felt
neither uncomfortable or unmatched, and left with a profit.
Moved to the main game, with no straddle, and I go hours fighting off terrible turn cards and
inevitable coolers. One thing Ive learned in my years of poker is no matter how well you think
youre playing, you cant beat coolers and you cant limit the scare cards.

34

My QQ gets cracked on a 3 3 4
flop against a tourist with 5 6 . He tries to
apologize, but its obviously unnecessary. Later on I have to fold my KK in an 800 dollar multi
way pot on a 7
turn card after Id bet pot on a 3 7 8
flop.
Finally, I get a chance to make my money back. K Q
in the sb and I call a raise to 40 from
the CO, as does the BB. We see a pretty safe flop of K65 and I call a continuation bet of 80. K
turn and he bets 100 this time. I think about raising, but it doesnt feel right. A 10 hits the river
and now the guy fires 200. Well I cant fold and I cant raise, so I guess I call. 55. Wow. Its
gonna be one of those days, I think to myself. I rack up my chips, waiting for the BB to come so
I can call it a day, a trip. However with 6 hands to calm down, I decide I'm not going to call it
quits at 7pm on my last night.
I start beating the gentleman who took me down with the 56 of diamonds pretty badly. He plays
too many pots with too many marginal holdings. The final hand happens with his chips racked up
and his wife waiting on the rail. I raise to 50 in MP with AK and he makes it 150. Another caller
in the middle and I join the party. Flop K32 and I lead for 200. The original raiser calls and we
see another K on the turn. This time I check and he fires 300. I call. River 4 and I announce allin. He only has 550 left and confidently shoves them into the pot. Of course that confidence
wouldve scared me coming from a regular, but this guy had no idea what a good hand is on that
board. His QQ is a loser and now Im back up for the day. 800 to be exact.
After that pot, either the table got softer, or I got more confident. I began raising about 1/3 of my
hands and winning pots without much resistance. My final 5/10 pot of the trip came while
getting a massage from the masseuse who jump-started my upswing with the Jude Law look-alike comment. I flopped top-two, boated on the turn and busted a players rivered straight. Up
1600 for the day. **** yes. Thats how a trip should end.
As Im racking up and about to leave the masseuse asks me what Im doing for the night and I
look at her confused. I always wrote off her flirting and compliments as attempts at better tips.
You get very accustomed to that type of treatment after three weeks in this city. She tells me
shes going to a local bar with some friends and wants to know if I want to roll with when she
gets off. I had a little bit of a Kindergarten crush on this girl all trip so I tell her that sounds fun.
Instead of leaving like I planned, I sit in the 2/5 game and start working on my buzz while she
finishes up work. The tables great. Everyones very friendly, but theres still a considerable
amount of action. As each of my vodka red bulls goes bottoms-up, more and more people start
entering my pots.
One hand I raise to 25 with 66 in mp and get 5 callers. 5 6 Q
on the flop. BINGO. I bet
out 65, short stack shoves for 200 and your standard 2/5 donkey over calls. I shove in for like
500 all day and this guy calls again. The turn brings the 7
and the river the 10 . ****, I
knew it was too good to be true. First guy flips over AQ, but Im more interested in the big pot.
Donkey looks at my 66 starts nodding and then begins to flip over his hand. No ****ing way,
you are not going to slow roll me. Not like that. Q .. K . Jesus please dont scare me like
that.
35

I start getting pretty drunk and go find my friend to see when shes getting off. Like 2 she says.
****, I cant wait that late. Ill never make my 9am flight. I tell her thanks, but Im going to have
to pass. We exchange numbers and I tell her Ill call her next time Im in town.
After another 700 dollar session and 2300 dollar day, my final total for the trip is roughly 9700
dollars. The walk from the poker room to the front door at the Bellagio is usually obnoxiously
long. Today it seems far too short. Never in my poker career have I felt this satisfied. Ive won
online tournaments, bluffed Don Cheadle, and cleared out an entire table before. But something
about setting out on a 3 week journey, amongst doubt from some family members, friends, and
2p2ers, only to prove that I can beat mid-stakes NL in Vegas fills my soul with joy.
Tomorrow I plan on writing a final recap of my trip, with my answers to everyones questions,
my future plan/goals, and my opinions on everything that was my trip/Vegas. I want to say
thanks to everyone who followed, as believe it or not having people holding me accountable not
only motivated me to write every day, but also kept me playing my best poker.
Cheers and may all of you run like me one day,
Matt Moore
01/15/10: post trip
Back home in good ole Oxford, Ohio. Slowly adjusting back to the normal life. I got in Sunday
night and had my first class, Psychopathology, the study of abnormal behavior, at 12:30 on
Monday. A bit ironic figuring most people in my life would probably describe my winter
vacation as a little psychopathic. 12:30 is a reasonably late time for a first class. Unless of
course you are used to waking up at 2pm Vegas time, 5pm eastern. Then all of a sudden waking
up at noon feels like the crack of dawn. Slept right through that first class. I forget that the real
world includes actual responsibilities and obligations. You dont truly realize the beauty of a free
schedule until its taken away from you.
As for my trip. Possibly the best experience of my life. Does that make me a degenerate? I
suppose, oh well. I was talking to an Asian fellow at the B one night, who had recently moved
from the East coast. I asked him his thoughts on the city after 6 months. He just shook his head.
I thought it would be the ultimate place to live. The city never sleeps! But you know what, the
glamour and excitement you feel when you visit wears off pretty quickly, he told me. I couldnt
have agreed with him less. Granted I was only a tenant for 3 weeks, but **** I love that place.
That city was made for people like me.
However, there were a couple things I would do differently. If I could do it again, I wouldnt stay
at the Signature. I stayed there in the first place for three reasons. Number one it had a free gym.
Everywhere else I checked charged at least 25 dollars for a day pass. Number two, I wanted
somewhere quiet, where I could go to relax and not be in the middle of the action 24/7. Finally,
they were the only place that could accommodate a long stay with a discounted price. I did not
realize that I would pay back a large portion of that rebate to cab fares. I wasnt all that
comfortable carrying large sums of money down Harmon Ave late at night, which resulted in a
lot of 10 dollar cab rides.

36

I wouldve done all of my gambling at the smaller casinos with the smaller limits. While some
people play craps and blackjack and what not for the rush, I usually just do it for the free drinks
and the us against the casino atmosphere at the table. When youre gambling at the big name
casinos the limits are obviously higher and the money goes a lot faster.
I wouldve hung out downtown. The sidewalk acts, the cheap drinks, and the light show were
some of the coolest things I saw in Vegas. I really believe that Fremont St puts the strip to shame.
Piano Bar at NYNY and Jet were my two favorite night life spots. But then again Im not a big
club guy, so others would probably enjoy the TAO and XS scene a lot more than I did.
Poker rooms. The nicest looking is at the Wynn. The best service/treatment is at the Venetian.
But the most profitable is Bellagio. And lets face it, when it comes down to it, they could treat
me like a Persian Prince at Venetian, but if going to the Bellagio means Im making an extra
couple hundred a day, then you best believe Ill be at the B.
Food. As far as food went, I was the anti-baller. My friends who visited were not interested in
investing the little money they brought in uber-expensive meals (frankly neither was I). And
when I was alone, I usually just picked up something quick. I tried eating at a restaurant alone
once and just felt really awkward. Like everyone in the restaurant was looking at me. Though
from my limited experience, Grand Lux was fantastic and so was the Wolfgang Puck at the
MGM.
Going into my trip, I hadnt imagined an outcome that would lead me to consider playing poker
full-time for money. The idea of spending the majority of my life in a casino was not appealing.
Hell even if I wanted to, I didnt think I was good enough. Post trip, my views have slightly
changed. I dont think Im any better, I just think the games (5/10) are definitely beatable. The
question is how beatable do they need to be to make a decent living.
Lets look at the rake. I played 126 hours of poker. At roughly $12/hour, thats $1512 dollars that
I signed over to the Bellagio before I even sat down at a table. Add in another 500 in tips for the
dealers, and before I knew it I was 2 buy-ins deep and I hadnt even seen a flop. While maybe
that doesnt seem THAT crazy. Lets look at it annually. For mathematical purposes lets say you
want to play 40 hour weeks, 50 weeks a year. At $12/hour thats $560 a week. Add in tipping
money for the dealers and its a bit closer to 7 bills. Repeat that 50 times, and all of a sudden you
owe the Bellagio about 35K. 35 buy-ins. In order to make a salary comparable to the average
American (28k), you now need to make 63 buy-ins. 6 figures you say? One hundred and thirty
five buy-ins. And so on, you all can do math. Add in the fact that real jobs come with benefits to
the tune of dental care, while poker players sometimes get discounts at Snacks and the economic
disparity becomes a little more transparent.
With all of that being said, Im not going to quit poker like I thought I might. I dont know if I
ever honestly believed that I would, but I guess I did write it. I plan on playing the 2/5 NL games
at my local casino while searching for a job that I enjoy, whatever that may be.

37

So after making 10k I must have had to get like a duffel bag for all the money I was bringing
back, right? No. Expenses are a bitch when living on the strip for 3 weeks. Heres the breakdown
of roughly how much I spent.
Expenses
Rake- 126 hours. 12 dollars/hour= $1512
Dealer Tips- 25 dollars/day=$450
Cabs-$300
Massages-$1200
Flights/Airport expenses-$500
Hotel-$2000
Food-$600
Shopping/drinks/shows-$800
Gambling losses-Craps$ 500 + Sports betting $500=$1000
Now rake and dealer tipping were deducted prior to my winnings, the others were not. So even
though I won about 10k, most of it went back to the city of Las Vegas. Flame on about the
massage bill. I openly admit that I am a sucker for those table massages. In fact, there were 3
things that concerned me prior to going to Vegas; my massage bill, my craps losses, and my
cherry coke consumption. Im proud to say that I failed miserably in all three categories.
Some people asked about my writing, if I took any creative writing in college. The answer to that
is no. In High School I was an editor and writer of the school paper. Towards the end of high
School it was the only area that I really gave full effort to. I loved the challenge of turning an
ordinary event into an interesting piece of literature. I loved searching for angles. Somehow
amidst all of the booze drinking and women chasing that is college I lost my desire to keep
writing. I signed up for the school paper, realized that articles were due every Monday and
Thursday and said **** that. As much as I enjoy storytelling, I never realized that people enjoy
reading them as much as I enjoy writing them. I have everybody on here to thank for that.
I think Im going to continue writing stories, if anyone is interested in following the post-Vegas
journey. Every Sunday, and theyll mostly revolve around my trips to the Boat, growing my
bankroll, school, girls, or whatever the **** I feel like writing about. I dont really know where
or how Im going to go about posting them but they will be posted. Maybe right here?
Anyways I just wanted to thank everyone again for reading and motivating me to start writing
again. If theres any other questions about my trip that I left unanswered, let me know and Ill
share the details.
Cheers,
Miami Matt
01/18/10: Back to Miami
Been on quite the bender this past week. But just about the whole campus has been too, so I
guess that makes it okay. We have this promotion at one of our bars called the 14 day club.
Basically the whole senior class goes to this bar everyday for 2 weeks straight and orders at least
3 drinks (which usually ends up being many more). If you can accomplish this, and in doing so,
38

prove how cool of a person you are and how little you care about your body, you earn the
privilege to purchase one of their 20 dollar T-Shirts. I know, a cant miss deal right? Anyways
were on day 8 or 9 or something like that, and Im about ready to throw in the towel. I wont of
course. Because quitters are frowned upon in these parts, especially when it comes to booze.
I continued to sleep through classes during my Vegas adjustment period that was last week. Not
really the best start academically to the semester, but now that the grace period is over, Im
gonna get my **** together. Speaking of getting **** together, my roommate dropped out of
school last night to do just that. Hes a really genuine, interesting, and smart guy; he just got
caught up with some bad stuff (drugs), and made some poor choices. Made me a little bit upset,
but I commend him for taking control of the situation before it got too bad. On the same page, it
made me realize how easily it is to let your vices spin out of control and to lose focus on what it
is Im here to do. Graduate. Now I choose not to participate in the things that he did, but Im still
aware that if I let poker or partying consume too much of my focus and time, it could very well
be me packing up my bags.
On the poker note. I went to the boat for the first time this semester on Saturday. Good old
Hollywood Casino in Lawrenceburg, Indiana. Its actually a very nice casino, with a spectacular
WPT poker room. But coming from playing at the Bellagio, Venetian, and Wynn for three
weeks it feels like the minor leagues. I sit down at my 2/5 table (the biggest stakes in the casino)
and the chip runner, Jared, comes up to me with a smile and says Ahh long time no see Chris. I
smile back and ask him how his holidays were. I dont have the heart to tell him my name is
Matt. You see for the 3 years I was playing at Hollywood before I was 21, I was using a
California I.D. with the name Chris Horn. With another Chris who regularly played in the game,
I became known as California Chris. I think some of them probably knew it was fake, but no one
ever mentioned it to me. Anyways, after turning 21 I mentioned to a few of the regulars that my
name was actually Matt, but after that I didnt really bring it up again. It felt kind of clich, and
Oh look at me Im so cool for playing in a casino before I turned 21, every time I brought it
up.
The game has a pretty unfamiliar lineup, only 2 regulars that I recognize. Theres Gary, the
chronic tilter, and Z, a new Asian regular, whos very aggressive (not that good in my opinion,
but definitely a winner). Im in the 5 seat, my least favorite at the table, and Z Is unfortunately on
my left. That doesnt stop me from raising a good amount of hands pre flop strictly because I was
getting the cards to do so. My game feels great, my reads sharper than ever.
After chipping up to 600, I call 15 in the BB with 9 10
after a very tight player in MP
raised it up and got 4 callers. Flop comes 8 3 3
and the original raiser bets 40. Everyone
folds to me. Now Im absolutely certain hes got a big pair, but I also know he tends to put
people on bigger hands than they have. A couple orbits earlier he asked a gentleman who folded
if he had a straight or set, when it was obvious to anyone who plays the game that he had one
pair at best. So I float the flop planning on leading a
on the turn or check raising a blank.
Turn brings the 5 . I lead for 60. He checks his cards and calls. River comes the Q . This
time I lead for 125. He shows J J
and tosses them into the muck.

39

Up a couple hundred I sit back and watch Ed Reed make two interceptions in 3 plays, yet
holding onto possession in neither instance. Cant do that against Peyton Manning. Finally I pick
up the pocket rockets in MP. I raise it up to 30 and get called by Z, the SB, and the BB goes all in
for 40. We all toss in the remaining two chips and see a J52 rainbow flop. Checked to me I check
for deception. Z bets 100, SB folds and I just call. The turn brings a 10, completing the rainbow.
I lead for 180. He looks confused and calls. The river is a K. An ugly card. However, I still see
value and shove in for 320. He shakes his head over and over as he counts up his chips. I know
Im good. He puts them in and flips over AJ. I can beat that I say and show him the goods. For
what its worth, I check lead, instead of check raise because Z is good enough to fold that hand to
a check raise on the flop.
I rack up and head for the exits up about $850, vowing to stay away from this place for a week.
Of course, that didnt hold true. After day 7 of the drunks club, Im back in action Sunday at
Hollywood.
I make my way down the escalators to the poker room and see a few familiar faces at the table.
One of them, however, sticks out like a sore thumb. Mark. Or as people know him at the boat,
Batman. Mark is everything I admire in a poker player. He is who I was hoping Brad from the
Caymans would turn out to be. Hes 35 years old, holds a good job at a bank in Cincinnati, yet
still finds the time to come down and play cards 3 to 4 times a week. Hes the best player in the
game, not to mention the nicest. Im not just talking about when hes winning, even when the
cards arent falling his way hes very courteous to the other players. Finally he doesn't look like
your typical poker player. He works out if you can believe that. Everyone admires Batman.
Luckily for me hes directly to my right. Unfortunately for me, Kevin, a super agro Asian, is
directly to my left. Mark welcomes me back. We bull**** about the holidays. I tell him about
my trip, he congratulates me and tells me hes heading out to the B to play the 10/20 game next
weekend.
I always hope to play well when Marks in the game. I guess Im striving to be respected by the
best. Unfortunately in this particular game I cant get anything going. For 3-4 hours I play a pot
here and there, but dont win any of them. I literally mean no pots. The first pot of the day
pushed towards me is worth 20 dollars. Kevins girlfriend (a cute Asian whose watching him but
sitting in between us) starts grabbing my arms and cheering in congratulation. Jesus Christ thats
humiliating. Im down 400 dollars; drag in my first pot to the tune of $20 and this girl thinks Im
so bad that she acts like I just cured cancer.
During this dry spell, Batman and Kevin have been quite active against each other. Trading 800
dollar pots like its nothing. When the dust settles, Batmans stack is close to 2500 and Kevin has
just reloaded for another 5 bills. In for 800, with a stack of 450 I pick up 10 10 in the CO.
Random makes it 25, Mark calls, as do I and Kevin makes it 65. This is the 4th time Kevin has 3bet a small amount in position on Mark. One time he showed 89, another time 910. SB cold calls
as do the original raiser and Mark. I obviously have to shove, which I do. Kevin thinks for a
while and calls. Everyone else folds. Flop runs 2 5 J
J
8 . I show and he mucks.
Boom! Back up for the day.

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With a healthy chip stack I limp on a straddle in MP and call a 30 dollar raise from the SB with 7
8 , as do a few others. Flop brings A 5 6 , we all check to the BTN who leads for
40. Original raiser calls in the SB and I make it 220. BTN thinks and calls. If he were super
strong he wouldve pushed with all of the draws out there. Original raiser folds and we see a
8
on the turn. Now Ive broken down his range to either a flush draw or a decent Ace, but not
two pair. I shove in for his final 430. He calls pretty quickly. ****, Im ****ed. The deuce of
spades hits the river and before I can tell him Ive missed, he has tossed his cards into the muck.
I show my 8 out of respect and rake in a monster pot.
Its 11 oclock, a couple players are racking up and I decide to follow suit. At the cage Mark tells
me he was really impressed with the patience I showed in the beginning of the session. I could
tell you couldnt get anything going, he says. I thank him and jokingly ask if hes made more
money this year off Kevin or his job. He laughs and we head our separate ways. Up 1050 for the
session and 1900 for the weekend, I couldnt be more happy about my game right now. With the
WPT coming to Hollywood in March, Ive set a goal of 7k profit this semester, so I can play in
ten events that I think I have a good shot at making some noise in. $1900 down, $5100 to go.
01/19/10: (Comments)
Unfortunately, my aversion to switching seats does apply to gaining position on aggressive
players. I know, definitely -EV. In some respect though, I enjoy the challenge of sitting out of
position against powerful players. It opens up my mind to more possibilities and different lines
with hands that are usually straightforward.
As far as what to call me, be it what you please. Vegas was Miami Matt. At Hollywood it's
California Chris. My roommates like to call me Mooremoney. And at home in Chicago the
dealers call me Matty. So call me whatever the **** you want.
I forgot about those photos. They are on my Facebook, and although they turned out a little
blurry I'll post them later when I figure out how to do so. Can anyone help out?
01/25/10: Fake Cops and Fake I.D.s
I played poker twice last week. On Tuesday I drove down and had to play 1/3 because the 2/5
wasnt running. No 2/5? Ah thats right, this is Lawrenceburg, not Las Vegas. Anyways the game
sucked, basically zero action, and after 4 hours of bleeding off a half buy-in I racked up without
any real hands of note.
Now I must digress for a second before I continue onto my 2nd session. Anyone whos ever
competed can tell you that rivalries are just as prevalent as competition itself. For every elite
competitor, theres a guy thats trying to hold him down. A guy who would do anything to see
that man fail. Magic had Bird. Ali had Frazier. Sampras had Agassi. I have Bob.
Bob has given me fits ever since I moved to Ohio. I cant get a read on this particular guy, no
matter how many times we battle. And theres the way he takes my money, with that deviant
smile, like a child with a secret. I can honestly say I despise this man. He wears the same ugly
blue sweater every fricken day, complimented with those off colored over-sized aviators that he

41

never takes off. Its as if even he hates what he does, and cant stand to look his victims in their
eyes.
But Bob is not a poker player. Hes not a student, hes not a golfer. Hes three times my age and
Ive never spoken one word to him. I only know his name from our non-verbal encounters and
the name tag he wears over his heart (assuming he has one) on that ugly blue sweater.
Bob is the parking cop here at Miami. I put cop in quotations because he doesnt have a badge,
doesnt have a gun, doesnt even have one of those sticks that cops use to beat minorities, right
before they plant drugs on them. All he has is his black electronic box that he carries around to
print out over-priced tickets for broke college students. 65 dollars for parking in a purple zone
when your sticker is blue. Or parking at the gym at 5:30 when the lot is empty, yet restricted
until 6. Its absurd.
Bob got me the other day. Parking across the street from Scott dining hall, it mustve been 6
minutes while I ran in to get some of their campus-famous stir fry. But 6 minutes is an eternity
for Bob. Its like giving Brady 2 minutes and 2 timeouts, while only needing a field goal. Rookie
mistake on my part.
I could see the ticket hanging between the window shield and wiper right as I opened the dining
hall door. Fricken Bob, I mutter to myself. I can picture his ugly old mug in my head, smiling
as he knows hes gotten me again. For this wasnt the first time that Bob and I have tangled. Our
rivalry dates back years.
Lets rewind about 12 months. I was living in my same apartment, about a 15 minute walk from
the Psychology building. Usually this is not a problem, as I enjoy a good walk, but anyone whos
lived in Ohio knows that Januarys can be awfully brutal weather-wise. When its windy,
snowing, and 5 degrees outside, that mile walk feels like a marathon. So often times I would
find myself driving to class and taking my chances with Bob, while I park illegally.
I ran pretty well for about 5 weeks, no tickets in like 20 opportunities. I was beginning to think
that Bobs schedule had him on the other side of campus every day at this particular time. So like
a young internet player who gets a little cocky after bluffing the live nits, I kept bluffing (or
parking). Finally in the beginning of February, Bob got me. 50 dollar ticket. Whatever. I went to
the Campus building to pay the fine, planning on never driving to class again.
As I was walking into the building I saw a sign that read Guests please have I.D. ready in order
to seize payment. Hmmmmmm. Guests dont pay fines? Lets give it a shot. When I got to the
register I explained to the lady that I was visiting my girlfriend and that I did not attend Miami.
I.D. please she said. California. Thats a long ways away Christopher, do you visit
frequently? Whenever I can maam, long distance is hard, I responded with a smile.
Long story short, by the time I left the building not only were my fines voided, but I was given a
red sticker, good enough for parking ANYWHERE on campus at ANY TIME. The super-user of
parking passes, to be used only when I came to visit of course. Well I was visiting fairly
frequently. I started driving to every class, the gym, even letting my roommate take my car when

42

they needed it. I knew that Bob knew I wasnt visiting, but there wasnt a damn thing he could do
about it. Now, every time I saw him roaming campus, I met him with an ear to ear smile, not my
usual get a real job you miserable ******* frown. Life was good.
Then I got careless. I received a ticket in the city of Oxford for not paying the meter. No big deal
I thought. Boy was I wrong. A couple days later Im sitting in class. This particular class had a
window viewing the parking lot I chose to park in. I see Bob approaching my car. I laugh
mischievously. Then Bob pulls out his phone and makes a call. Hes not leaving my car. I tune
out the professor; tune into Bob. All of a sudden a real cop car pulls into the lot. The officer steps
out. As he and Bob start chatting they go back to his car and pull out a big black object. What the
**** is that? They make their way to my front left wheel and strap on the boot. Uh oh.
Theyre gone by the time I make it down to my car, but the damage has been done. $1500 worth
of tickets, $200 to have the boot removed, and a personal note from Bob saying the Dean wanted
to speak to me. The Dean informed me that upon getting my ticket in the city of Oxford, the
registration on the vehicle was traced back to the school, who then concluded the car was not
owned by 24 year old California resident Chris Horn, but Junior student Matt Moore. A
suspension is certainly warranted for this type of behavior, he said. Driving to class warrants a
suspension? I wonder what this guy would think about my underage gambling habit. Im very
sorry sir. I made a stupid immature mistake and am certainly paying for it financially. I just hope
that you keep in mind my behavior wasnt intended to harm anyone. It was out of sheer
laziness, I say instead.
Days later, the Dean tells me through email that hes decided not to punish me as long as I stay
out of trouble. Thank the fricken lord. I dont know if I couldve lived with getting kicked out of
school for a parking scheme. Nonetheless, I still had to pay the fines. On top of other run-ins
with Bob, my running tab is somewhere north of 2k. So while Ive never played a hand of poker
with the man, goddamn Bob, the fake cop and my most bitter rival, has taken more from my
poker bankroll than any opponent at Hollywood.
Anyways, I returned to the boat over the weekend only to find the same nit-tight experience in
the 2/5 game. However I managed to win my first two pots, both against a middle-aged man
decked out in Full Tilt gear. I ask him if his underwear is logoed too. He doesnt laugh.
Up a couple hundred, Im dealt A J
in the BB. Z makes it 20, 3 people behind him call, as
do I. Flop comes 10 J K . Z bets 45, everyone folds to me. I make it 150 expecting him to
fold AK, but not really thinking much beyond that. He calls fairly quickly. Turn comes an 8
and I move in for 360. He shakes his head. Please fold. He shakes harder, more viciously.
Finally, his chips are pushed towards the center. The river pairs the 8 and Z asks if I have a
straight. Nope. He shows KQ. I go to muck. Old man river asks to see that hand before the
cards are shoved into the muck. The dealer flips them over. Im embarrassed. I HATE being
embarrassed at the poker table more than anything else. I turn my music up full blast and stare
straight ahead to remedy the discomforting feeling, vowing revenge.

43

A bit later Im given K 8

in the BB. Z makes it 20, btn calls, I call, as does 1 limper. Flop
10 3 4 , checked to Z he bets 60. I call. The limper joins the party. Turn 10
and I lead
for 125. Z insta-calls. I love players who give off timing tells. He may as well flip his hand face
up. River 6 , I bet 200 and he pays me off with K 10. Its not all my money back, but a decent
chunk of it. I rack up down another half buy-in, bringing my total for the week to -$400.
The WPT fund is now down to $1500. On the bright side Im proud of the way I have limited the
damage. Before Vegas I had a tendency to force the issue when I was down in an attempt to get
unstuck, usually leading to losing more money. But after playing for 3 weeks straight Ive
realized that poker is one long session. Whether I end a trip down $200 or even is completely
irrelevant to my progress as a player.
Z is definitely turning into a regular and one I believe I can exploit. Im excited for our future
battles. I probably wont play until Friday because the 45 minute drive is not worth the actionlacking weekday games. But Im sure Ill still get two sessions in by Sunday, hopefully moving
my bankroll in the proper direction. Til then, may you all run well, at the tables and in life.
Miami Matt
P.S. If you havent tried Rush Poker on Full Tilt, do it. So much fun.
01/27/10: (Response to RMLewis)
RMLewis,
Upon reading your posts I think youve picked up on some important aspects of my story that
many others dismissed. No need to apologize for aggressiveness as I think the thread is more
interesting with views from both sides of the equation. I do not take it personally. After all, while
this may be my story, I think the thread represents a journey or battle (depending how you view
it) that many people involved in this game have experienced. Poker is a great game with loads of
economic potential if played correctly. But is it really worth it?
Lets start with my decision to devote three weeks and my entire bankroll playing a game that
self-admittingly has caused me immense stress and agony. The irony, right? I think this is where
our views on the situation begin to diffuse. The pain the game was causing me was mostly due to
its accessibility. I am not an internet professional. I can no longer open up Full Tilt, load up 4
tables and leave an hour later up $500 virtual dollars. My poker life in Oxford, Ohio consists of
finding stretches of 4 hours that I can spend driving 45 minutes to the boat and hopefully getting
a spot in a weak 2/5 or 1/3 game. Not exactly exciting or glamorous.
Living alone on the Strip allowed me the opportunity to make poker my only priority for the first
time of my life. I was able to think about the game for as long as I chose without the guilty
conscious of sacrificing schoolwork or my social life. No longer did I have to live with a loss
for the subsequent school week. I was given the chance to defeat variance with an extensive
sample size. Now Im not certain if 3 weeks of play was sufficient enough to conclude the latter,
but I definitely left the city confidant in how I stack up in a standard 5/10 NL lineup.

44

Could I have spent my money and time doing something more fulfilling like traveling the world?
Sure. But in order to understand my decision you have to get inside my mind and realize that
poker was my life these past 6 years. Vegas was my world.
Now as far as my post Vegas life goes, I think youre 100% correct. It would be easy to say,
Gee, I made 10k in 3 weeks, imagine what I could do in a year and move out to Vegas after
graduation for another shot. But I think if you reread my final Vegas post you would realize
that is not in my plans. Aside from the difficulty that the rake, tipping, and lifestyle make it to be
successful playing mid-stakes poker for a living, my dreams and ambitions reach further than
spending my youth in a card room.
With that being said, I, as with all people, must be careful with what I do as opposed to what I
say. Talk is cheap. I take this quote from my favorite songwriter Stephan Jenkins, Time it passes
and it tells us what were left with, we become the things we do. A drunk can say he doesnt
have a problem, but if he spends his nights double fisting and closing out the bar, hes a drunk. I
dont want to be a gambler. And in order to fulfill that prophecy, my actions must follow my
words.
I have no problem with people who choose to play poker as a profession. In fact, in many aspects
I admire them. The ability to spend days/weeks/months on end focusing ones attention on a
seemingly neverending puzzle is truly impressive. Its just not for me. Poker is a hobby, and
forever will be.
Miami Matt
01/31/10: Times are changing
Friday is my off day. Its been like that since sophomore year. I like it that way. It allows me at
least one day a week that I can spend at the boat without worrying about school. My Thursday
nights are typically spent with my roommate Dan and our good friend Franzia, watching shows
like The Office, Always Sunny, The League, and Jersey Shore (signed for season 2!).
By 11 the box is empty, the shows are over and the bars are just picking up.
Come Friday morning there are two certainties at our apartment. Number 1, Ill be going to the
boat, and number 2 Dan will be going to the laundromat. Dan has a problem that can only be
described as a bladder malfunction or an R Kelly fascination. Either way many of his weekend
mornings end with soaked sheets.
This Friday was no different. I woke up at 10 and spent the next hour lying in bed wondering
why I still drink boxed wine. Finally at 11, I popped some Advil and emerged out of my room.
Dan and I opened our bedroom doors simultaneously. He with his piss-stained sheets over his
shoulder, me with my Ipod and car keys. Glad to see your night ended well, I said. **** you.
An hour later and Im walking into the poker room hoping to see action in the elevated area
where the high stakes games take place. A few tables are running, a good sign. I head up to Sara
to put my name on the 2/5NL list and she says the games not running. Confused I double check
the high stakes area to make sure Im not going insane. Thats PLO, says Sara. Its really the

45

only game above 1/3 weve been able to get running. Now I am by no means experienced or
good at PLO, but thankfully neither are these guys.
The game is 1/3/5 with a $200-$1000 buy-in, though it plays bigger than most 5/10 games I sat
at in Vegas. Not really the type of variance I was looking for, but hey I guess Ive got no choice. I
sit down in the 2 seat with 500, only to see the two best players in the 3 and the 4. I plan on
playing tight to avoid pots out of position against the two more experienced opponents.
There is one other player at the table worth mentioning, Mike. Now either Mike (name changed
to protect the guilty) makes a hobby out of remembering lines of sporting events and strangers
give him hundred dollar bills for fun, or he is a high stakes bookie. Dresses the part, too.
Watches, necklaces, earrings, rings. Anywhere on his body he can hang gold, he does. The white
Flavor Flav. Im not sure if Flav has been running poorly in sports or poker, but hes on massive
tilt for this particular session.
First hand of note I pick up J 9 8 7
in the BB. MP opens to 25, half the table calls, as
do I. Flop comes J 8 4
and Mike leads for 80. I make it 240. Im not surprised as he
calls. Turn comes another J and the hand ends there as Mike throws his hand into the muck
without a bet.
A bit later I get involved again with Q J
T
9
Mike opens on the BTN to 25 and I call
in the SB. The BB decides to 3Bet to 110. Hes been playing extremely tight and Im pretty
confidant he has AAxx. Mike folds to me and I call. Flop comes K 10 2
and I check to
the BB who bets 200, I shove in for like 7 bills. He thinks, shakes his head and folds.
Up about 600 my favorite dealer makes her way to our table. A young blonde girl with a healthy
chest. Shes cute but its her quick wit that really attracts me. Its strange, for the first time in my
life Ive actually begun to take the personality of the females I meet into consideration. I know
that might sound arrogant and immature, but its the truth. My dating life since high school has
consisted of me falling for the cutest girl that gives me the time of day. Hobbies and interests,
these were just irrelevant details. Sure upon dating a girl I would pretend like her personality and
characteristics were things that intrigued me, but this was just my way of justifying the
relationship.
I realized my shallow ways needed to change after time spent with a girl I was recently seeing.
This girl couldnt count to 4 if you spotted her the 1 and the 2. Very sweet girl, just not all "there"
mentally. We were at a party once when someone asked her how many beers were in a dozen.
She began counting it out on her fingersCue the epiphany! Anyways since then Ive had a
unique attraction to the aspirations and goals of the girls that I meet. I've started caring about
their interests, their ambitions. Things that I wouldve laughed at in high school. I guess Im
finally growing up.
Back to the game, my favorite dealer got me involved in a big one almost immediately. Up about
$500 and sitting on a $1,000 stack, Im dealt A 9 9 2
in the BB. After a bunch of limps
I checked. The flop came J 9 3
and Mike bets out pot (30 I think?). Im next to act and
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make it 120. Mike calls without much hesitation. The turn brings the 5
and after a check by
Mike I bet pot again. 280 I believe. After a little deliberation he calls. The 6
falls on the river
and Mike checks again. This is where the hand got interesting. 78 got there, but the way Mike is
tilting I see him never folding a set, and maybe 2 good pairs as well. I shove. Snap call. $2,000
pot. I know before the cards are turned over. Mike shows KQ78 and all of a sudden Im broke.
**** that game.
After talking about the hand with Kaj and Lukas (Vegas friends) they opened up my mind to a
third option on the river, one I didnt even consider. A small bet, maybe 200; one that could allow
me to fold the hand to a raise. Ive grown so accustomed to the online Omaha games where bet
pot is seemingly the only button, that I hadnt even considered anything outside of check or
shove.
I left the boat disappointed once again. Down to $1000 on the WPT fund and desperately
needing to practice some PLO online. Times are changing and I need to adjust. To quote some
rapper somewhere If youre slippin youre trippin .
Miami Matt
PS turns out I'm returning to the City of Lights in 5 weeks for my spring break. Not my choice,
but I certainly had no complaints. TRs to follow.
02/08/10: Chicken Nuggets and Peyton Manning
I woke up Friday morning feeling unusually refreshed. I cant explain it, but sometimes I manage
the perfect mixture of booze and late night Jimmy Johns to actually cancel out the negative
effects of both. Bewildered as to how to spend this clear-headed Friday morning, I decide to
accompany my roommate Miles to the gym before venturing to Hollywood. Upon hitting the free
weight rack to curl some 25s (dont be jealous, I know Im huge), I flipped on todays Tony
Kornheisers podcast. From the get-go Tony becomes obsessed with the snow storm about to hit
the east coast, warning those who plan on bringing home hook ups on Friday night to be picky,
because they might be snowed in at your place til Tuesday. **** I hope it misses us, I need to
get my gambol on, I think as I look out the window to see the flakes beginning their descent onto
Oxford.
By the time were done lifting the snow has staged a full on attack. I can barely see enough of
the road to make it back to my apartment, yet alone the boat. So instead of playing live PLO
against guys who think they can use all 4 hole cards, Im stuck trying to turn my 200k FTP
points into some sort of real money bankroll.
Anyways, in between folding my way into the money of an 1800 ftp (thats Full Tilt points) sit-ngo, I began chatting online with my fat friend from high school. Well call him Fat Fred to
protect the obese. Anyways Fat Fred tells me how he recently finished a chicken nugget power
hour. Im in awe. My very own Kobyashi. Anyone whos been to college (or visited for that
matter) knows that a power hour is an hour of drinking beer, one shot at a time, usually
accompanied by a music playlist that changes every minute. After the hour it adds up to about 7
beers. Fred simply replaced the shots of beer with chicken nuggets.

47

My roommate Phil, however, is not impressed. In fact he says he could do both power hours
simultaneously. One chicken nugget and one shot of beer a minute. Care to make a bet? By the
end of our negotiations we settle on a $100 bet, 2 to 1 odds, and he must hold it all in for an hour
after the competition. By 9 oclock our apartment is filled with our friends, 200 McNuggets, and
a keg of Keystone light (Phils choice). We even garnered enough interest in the bet to start a
pool, 5 dollars a number, wagering on which minute Phil would bow out (minutes 30-60). I draw
minute 38.
Its clearly a pro-Phil crowd, everybody loves the underdog. Im the villain; the guy betting the
donts at a friendly dice table. Hes cruising early too, feeding off the crowd energy (no pun
intended). By minute 20, he looks as if hes only getting started. That confidence quickly turns to
cockiness, as Phil makes a crucial mistake. He starts dipping the nuggets in bar-b-que. Now Im
no eating expert, but I do know theres a reason that the likes of Kobyashi and Joey Chesnut
dont put ketchup and mustard on their dogs. By minute 35 Phil is visibly struggling. The beer is
going down smoothly, but its leaving little space in the stomach for nuggets. The crowd can tell
too. With every head shake and swallow, the end is becoming more inevitable.
Finally on his 38th minute, my number, Phil heads to the trash can, mouth open, hands on the
sides. No way! Not only am I going to win, but Im gonna hit the number too. Let it all out Phily!
Release the demons! As Phil bends over, out comes the longest, most disgusting burp Ive heard
to date. Game on bitches. Friends, girlfriends, random drunks, everyone erupts. Ive been
slowrolled, and Phils caught his 2nd wind. For the first time in the match, I can envision defeat.
As the nugget box approaches vacancy, and the music becomes more recent (our power hour mix
was made in chronological order starting in the 60s), I become more worried. But as is the case
with most Cinderella stories, the clock strikes midnight, or in this case 9:51. Phil cant get the
51st nugget down his throat. The struggle is over. The patrons golf clap the effort from a Man
who almost accomplished the incredible. But like Tom Watson at last years British Open, This
underdog story ends in defeat. Phil pays up, makes a not-so-quick trip to the bathroom and we all
head to the bar where I gladly buy drinks in celebration.
Come Sunday and its time to pick a team to bet my new found fortune on. The choice is easy,
the Saints. Yeah it has a lot to do with the feel good story of the resurrection of New Orleans,
but mostly it has to do with my animosity towards Peyton Manning. In a day and age where
Tiger Woods has a different mistress for every day of the week, infidelity obviously isnt the
most unusual vice amongst pro athletes. Still something inside me feels immoral rooting for
these cheaters. Peyton Manning is no exception.
Four years ago I was a senior in high school, grinding through the final days of the Party Poker
era, when I came across an Instant Message from my ex-girl friend, who I was still very friendly
with. A college freshman at the time, she had just returned from a spring break trip to the
Bahamas. As a girl who knew little about sports and even less about football, I was surprised to
say the least when she asked me if I had heard of Peyton Manning. Of course, I responded,
Why? She went on to tell the steamy details of an encounter she had with the Colts QB.

48

Apparently after seeing crowds of people surrounding two men at a Bahaman bar, she wondered
out loud who it might me. The guys in her group confirmed that it was no other than Peyton
Manning and his brother Eli. Not knowing or caring who that was, she proceeded with her night.
Two hours later, after Eli had left, Peyton came up and started talking to her. After a little bit of
dancing and drinking he asked her if she wanted to check out his golf cart, which apparently they
travel by in the Bahamas. She innocently obliged and next thing she knew they were kissing in
the woods by the bar. According to her, in the midst of the steamy make out he asked if she
wanted to go back to her room. Not wanting to be a groupie, she declined and after a little
while longer in the woods they headed their separate ways. Peyton married Ashley Manning in
2001. This was 2006.
So take what you want from that 2nd hand story. I personally believe it for a few reasons. The
particular girl knows nothing about sports, so if she were to make up a crazy celebrity story, it
wouldve involved like Dave Matthews or someone like that. Secondly, for a while I was the
only person she told so it wasnt like she did it for the publicity. Finally after reading this story
<Do you really know your sports hero?>
about some bizarre incident with a female trainer, Ive got the idea Peyton isnt exactly the
golden child everyone makes him out to be. But again theres no hard evidence, so I guess you
can be the judge.
Anyways after watching the game it looks like karma prevailed in more ways than one. As 105
million Americans witnessed, Tracy Porter returned Mannings 4th quarter interception for a 74
yard touchdown, sealing the Saints victory. Great to see a victory from a city that desperately
needed it, not to mention a loss from a guy who in my mind deserved it.
Miami Matt
PS just found this Peyton Manning Divorce...certainly doesn't help his case
02/14/10: Flipping Coins
Heads or tails. Its a simple concept; universally accepted as the method for solving miniscule
disputes. Growing up it determined first pick in gym class dodge ball, who got shotgun, and
which guys got dibs on which girls. This weekend, however, the simple flipping of a coin would
determine way more than a high school crush or a schoolyard game.
Back track to Friday morning. I wake up and check my phone to see 6 missed calls from my
buddy Cap. Normally Id be concerned that something was wrong. But Caps the kind of guy
who will call the 4th, 5th, and 6th time expecting a different result from the first 3. At the poker
table, we call his kind a fish. Apparently, the night before, I said I would make the trip to IU with
him for the weekend. Thing is I dont want to go to IU. I want to gamble, damn it. Cap doesnt
understand, citing that I gave him my word. Cap if I lived up to every empty promise I made
when I was drunk, I would be broke and dating quite a few unfortunate looking females.
He keeps bitching and finally challenges me to rock, paper, scissors for the final decision. No.
Caps too experienced at RPS, definitely EV for me. Lets flip a coin. He reluctantly agrees.
Hes got heads, Ive got tails. No catching and flipping, simply the way it falls on to the floor. He

49

flips and the quarter changes sides a few times before reaching its final resting spot. Tails does
not fail. Im going to the boat.
I arrive early to see the PLO game running short handed. The lineups got Batman, 3 other okay
regulars and one new guy we will refer to as Self Made. Self made is a biker looking guy, who
proves to be just as reckless and aggressive with his poker as he is with his body art. Covered in
tattoos, the most recognizable being the S-E-L-F M-A-D-E staring at me from across the table on
the knuckles of his fingers. Anyways hes raising about 75% of his hands from any position at
the table, and in for quite a bit.
Not really wanting to risk 1K in this game versus that type of player I only buy in for 500. After
building my stack up to about 650 its not long before me and Self Made get into a pot. He
straddles to 10 and I raise UTG to 40 with A A 8 6 . Folds to him and he re-Pots it. I
shove and he calls without much hesitation. Hes got 5678 rainbow. Flop brings J103. The turn is
a 4. And of course the river is a deuce. All black. On to my next 500. We get it in again pre flop.
My KKQJ against his 88T5. I lose again, this time to a boat. I cant help but think of what ugly
tattoo my money will be funding.
I turn my music up loud and vow to relax before I enter another big pot. I start chipping up,
playing smart poker. The table begins to fill up, resulting in SMs strategy becoming more
vulnerable. Hes bleeding my chips away, when he gets in a big pot with Batman. They get it all
in on a draw heavy flop and Batmans top 2 holds up in the 2k pot. SM shakes his head and
leaves for the day. God damnit Batman.
Like a bunch of little girls we gossip for a few minutes after he leaves. Apparently hes a self
made businessman from Arizona, here for the WPT. The WPT doesnt start for 3 weeks, and for
those of you whove never been to Lawrenceburg, Indiana, the surrounding 30 miles doesnt
have much outside of discount liquor stores and broke down strip clubs.
For the next few hours I play good solid, well-positioned, aggressive poker as my stack slowly
rises. After free rolling a short stacks flopped straight with my straight and a flush draw Im
back up to 1500. With the table completely full I pick up AAKT in the BB. The whole table calls
to me. I check, fearing a big pot out of position. Flop comes A J 3
and everyone checks
to the BTN who bets 40. Gets back to me and I make it 160. He announces raise immediately
when it reaches him as he sits and thinks about the amount. He decides on pot and Ive got a
decision. With the current nuts, I cant do anything but shove. He calls and weve officially built
a 3k pot. I wait for him to turn his hand over, praying to see JJ. Im dead wrong. K 5 Q T
. Before the dealer can flip over the turn I ask the guy if he wants to run it a few times. The
dealer interrupts me, letting me know thats not allowed.
Its right then that it hits me. Ive gotten into the situation that I vowed I would avoid. Not just
today, not just in poker, but in every facet of my life. Id often gotten defensive when friends
would introduce me as a gambler. The term gambler implies recklessness. Im not a gambler,
Im a risk-taker. A calculated risk-taker. But right now, at this moment, Im everything I claimed

50

I wasnt. Ive voluntarily put 1500 of my own dollars, into a pot to be determined by the simple
flipping of a coin.
Im resigned to my fate before the cards come up. Hoping for an instant death, Im surprised as
the 2
is the first bullet out of the barrel. Trying to remain calm, but staring at the dealer as if
my life is in her hands, I see the burn card as she puts it into the muck. The 9 . Phew. She flips
the river. Its red. 7 . Stacks upon stacks of chips are pushed my way as I stare blankly in awe.
I dont celebrate; I dont even think I moved. I rack up my 3k in chips a few rounds later, heart
still pounding, pledging to avoid those kind of life changing coin flips for a little while.
Yet come Saturday morning I was back. Im relieved to find the 2/5NL game running. I sit down
in the 1 seat next to a very talkative mid-aged gentleman. Without even saying hello, he dives
right into conversation. You know its funny, when youre trying to find one, they want nothing
to do with you, but when you just sit back and say I really dont give a ****, thats when the
women come in flocks. Took me 5 years to realize that after my divorce. Its as if he knows
before even meeting me that the only woman who will be calling me their Valentine this year is
my mom. Am I that easy to read? Hours pass. He does a lot of chatting; I do a lot of nodding.
I cant get anything going. With a $700 stack I get involved with the 10 seat, an aggressive
player with a big stack. He makes it 20 pre flop and I call on the BTN with 8 9 . Flop comes
3 4 8
and he leads for 45. I peel one off. The turn is a K
and again he leads big, this
time for 100. At this point I think hes beating me, but not that confidant in his hand, or else hed
be betting smaller to keep me in. I raise to 270. He thinks and shoves in for my final 400. F***.
He tells me save my money, unless Ive got a straight. I sheepishly fold and he proudly flips over
his 78.
I reload to $1,000 and hours later get involved with an older gentleman who has raised for the
first time in 6 hours. Obviously huge hand. I call 20 bucks in the SB with 6 7 . Flop comes
K 8 9
and I lead for 40 trying to build a pot. He makes in 150. At this point Im
confidant he has AK or AA. Not wanting to hit one of my 5,678,943 outs and not get paid off I
raise to 400 and he immediately shoves. So much for fold equity. I call. Its a $1600 pot. Hes got
88. Turn is the 4 . Whiff number one. The river pairs the 9 and all of a sudden Im on the
losing end of a monster coin flip.
Down 1200 for the day, I stare up at the TV in amazement. NASCARs on. The dumbest sport in
America. A bunch of guys driving around for hours on end, only to finish up exactly where they
started. That sounds all too familiar. My post-Vegas poker game is starting to resemble one big
NASCAR race. Hundreds and hundreds of circles, minimal progress.
The 45 minute drive home from the boat supplies plenty of time for thought and reflection. I like
to play feel good music after a loss. Bob Marley or the Beach Boys. Today its the Zac Brown
Band. With lyrics about the simple things in life like chicken fried, pecan pie, and cold beer, it
helps ease my mind. Poker, as in life, is filled with break-even stretches. Times when it feels
like you cant take a step forward that isnt followed by a step backwards. Im starting to realize
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the importance of enjoying the ride, and refraining from sweating the ups and downs. After all,
sometimes youll end up right where you began with nothing but the journey to look back on.
Miami Matt
02/25/10: (Lazy)
Sorry guys Ive been lazy. Plus two midterms, a paper, and Keeping Up With the Kardashians
marathon, and before you know it there's no more time left in the day. I'll write another entry
probably tommorow. I've got a little bit to say, plus some news before the first WPT a week from
today and my next Vegas trip a week from Saturday.
Speaking of if anyone's gonna be in Vegas from the 6th to the 13th and wants to meet up for a
beer or some poker or other degenerate shenanigans let me know.
PS wanna go see my White Sox do some major damage against the Cubs on March 12th in
Vegas. Does anyone know where this field is compared to the Strip? Also, are the free lawn seats
accessible and easy to see the game? Any info would help.
MM
03/01/10: Hockey as in Hold'em
Hockey at its core is very similar to Texas Holdem. A strategic cousin. The majority of the game
is composed of passive jabbing and feeling out the opponent, setting up the moment for a
knockout punch. Patience and well-timed aggression are rewarded. I believe the great Norman
Chad once called poker a game with moments of terror squeezed into hours of boredom. Hockey
is the same way, on a smaller scale. Imagine the WSOP showing every hand. Every raise, fold,
fold. Every bet, call, check, check. It would be like watching paint dry. Better yet, it would be
like watching regular season NHL hockey.
Olympic hockey is a different animal. The High Stakes Poker of its kind. The rink is bigger; the
stacks are deeper, the best in the world all in the same arena. Less jabbing, more right hooks. The
stage where legends are born. Thankfully the Vancouver games were good enough to justify the
two weeks I spent sitting on my couch contributing nothing to society. The rivalry born between
the US and Canada was like something derived from a Hollywood studio. Drama, star power,
conflict, it had it all. It sucks losing to the Canadians, but hey, while we wouldve liked to be the
gold medal champions, that country needed it.
The week sitting on my ass also gave me an excuse to play some online pokerz. Really wanting
to improve my PLO game I decided to fire up some micro stakes Omaha. And for a week I
proceeded to get crushed at .25/.50 to the tune of about 12 buy-ins. I dont think I played THAT
bad, but even Ray Charles could see that clearly my Omaha game stinks.
If anything, the week helped me realize why I hate playing online so much. In the midst of
getting crushed by the cheeseburger-stake professionals, I began to see my attitude and
temperament transforming in front of my eyes. I became easily irritated, condescending, and just
unpleasant to be around in general. One particular hand sparked up a brawl between me and my
bedroom wall. Im sitting on a $150 stack with AAKQ on the BTN. I raise, the BTN 3-Bets
52

having me covered, and I throw in a 4-Bet. Flop brings the 229 and the BB leads into me for pot.
I re-pot it and we get all the chocolate chippies in the middle. He turns over A987 and Im in
some pretty good shape. That is until the 9 Ball hits the river, resulting in my right hand hitting
the dry wall. One hole in the wall and a presumed broken knuckle later and I decided to shut
down the computer for awhile. Why it is that I can lose 3k pots live and move on without
blinking but lose a 300 dollar pot online and turn into Bobby Brown, I may never know. But one
thing's sure if I cant start controlling my emotions Im not going to keep playing on the
computer. Its not worth the mood swings.
After realizing Im no longer good at clicking buttons, I took my game to the live poker scene.
The 2/5 NL game has actually been quite juicy since they raised the max buy-in to 1k at
Hollywood. Within a round of sitting down at the table I knew I was in for a battle when an
unfamiliar youngster at the table raised 7 of the first 9 hands I witnessed. He had a stack of over
3k and played a very good LAG game. Usually I would respect this type of player, but this guy
was the typical Im better than you online douche bag player. Doing things like lecturing
players, as he was raking in their chips, on how they played their hand so poorly. I cant stand
that ****. Especially when he scares off the fish. Its personal at this point and he doesnt even
know it. I start 3-betting and C-betting him in position with mixed results. He doesnt back down
about half the time and my stack seems stalemated at 1,000. Finally I pick up a real hand on the
button when I 3-bet his $35 open to $110 with A K . Flop come 6 7 8
and I C-bet
$150 and he calls. Turns an off suit 9 and this time he calls $275. I brick again on the river and
check back only to lose to A 5
After reloading I catch fire with pocket 5s. IDB (Internet douche bag) opens to 35 per usual and
5 of us call. Flops QT5 with a flush draw and one of the preflop callers opens for 150. I put him
all-in for 500 total and he doesnt hesitate shipping the rest of his chips in. AQ cant improve and
my stack is up to $1600.
Very next hand I pick up the same pocket pair; as if I forgot to give back my cards. Me and IDB
are alone to the flop, after I call his raise. Its turning into a theme. I can feel the weight of the
table on my shoulders. Its not so much that they want me to succeed; they would just love to see
this guy lose. Its the Americans vs. the Canadians all over again. Flop comes 5 T J .
Bingo. I check raise his $50 cbet to $165. He pretends to count out a raise and only calls. The
turn is 2
and I plan a big check raise that fails miserably. God damnit. The Q
hits the river
leading to an interesting decision. I can check like a wuss or I can try and beat this chump out of
some chips. I lead for 225. Canada postures, looks at the dealer and says raise. 700 all day.
89 really? AK? God I hate this mother ****er, but he sure is putting me in a tough spot. I cant
let him come into my casino and own every single one of the regulars. I call, I say as I flip
over my bottom set. IDB throws his cards face down towards the middle, one of them striking
the dealer in the arm. Guys who I didnt even know knew my name make sure to vocalize nice
hand and nice call Matt, loud enough for the IDB to hear.
IDB racked up shortly after and the table calmed down significantly. Hours of uninteresting
poker later and I racked up 1000 dollars richer then when I sat down. Its always good to win, but
beating guys like that feels much sweeter.

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This Thursday is the first WPT tournament Im playing in at Hollywood. TR to follow. For the
occasion I started a twitter that Ill update throughout the day to keep anyone whos interested
posted. If that includes you, click here: https://twitter.com/MattMoorePoker [updated link]
03/07/10: WPT Action
Unfortunately for me, my first WPT tournament fell on the same day as my schools Green Beer
Day. GBD is a traditional act of defiance from Miami students who purposefully had St.
Patricks Day taken away from them. Back in the olden days, the administration at Miami made a
point to place spring break over St. Pattys day in order to stop the excessive drinking that
historically took place on the Irish holiday. So what did the students do to remedy the problem?
They created their own campus-wide day of drinking. Every Thursday before spring break we
wake up at ridiculous hours of the night and begin 24 hours of liver slamming. As each year has
gone by the starting time has gotten progressively earlier. Freshman year I woke up at 9,
sophomore and junior year at 5. Well, this year we began the escapade at 2am.
After kegs and eggs at a friends house we arrived at the bar for some green beer at 530. An hour
or so later, I realized it was time to head to bed for a nap if I was going to make the noon starting
time of the WPT. I overslept a smidge, but was on my way to the boat at 1215, planning on being
there by the beginning of the third level. The tournament was a deep stacked event so I was
hardly worried about the 2% of my chips I would be missing. Upon arriving I headed to the
tournament podium ready to be the 884th participant in the $300 NL event.
With 3 crispy Benjamins in my hand I politely asked the tournament director Gary for a seat
with some Run Good. He looked at me puzzled and said registration ended a half hour ago
Matt. While Hollywood traditionally gives 3 levels for late registration, the WPT rules
shortened that time span to one level or 30 minutes. Translation, Im **** out of luck.
However all was not lost, as the cash games were looking awfully juicy. I sat down in a PLO
game simultaneously to my aggressive friend from a couple weeks ago Self Made. As the chip
runner approached us I pulled out 7 bills and I see SM open up his man bag to grab cash. Usually
a man bag loses you major street cred. That is unless your man bag is stuffed to the brim with CNotes. I was never very good at those guess how many jelly beans are in the jar games, but if I
had to make a guess, I would say the guy had 80,000 dollars on him. No wonder why hes calling
$500 all-ins with 88T5.
I learned a lot about SM at the table that day. Like most people Ive encountered in poker, hes
actually a tremendously nice guy once you get to know him. With that being said hes an
interesting character. Even though he has a house in L.A., Arizona, and Vegas the guy has been
traveling around to different poker spots for months on end. He flew into Lawrenceburg after a
month long session at the Borgata and went straight to the dealership with his man bag and
bought a BMW in cash. My curiosity about his profession only got stronger upon hearing he has
2 felonies on his resume. But not wanting to be part of his 3rd, I decided not to inquire.
I got into my first big pot of the day against my new friend SM. With A K 5 4
called
his pot sized pre-flop bet and hit a monster A 7 4
flop. He C-Bet 100 into 4 of us and I

54

made it 300. He immediately shoved it in and I called to see 4567. I have no idea what to think,
as I often dont in this game. Instead of sweating every card I try to just stare blankly and hope
the dealer ships me the pot in the end. The drama ended quickly as the dealer paired the 4 on the
turn, leaving SM only 2 river outs. The 7 never came and I was up a quick 700.
After Batman and his (per usual) mountains of chips left the game, I was able to play more
aggressively and take over the table captain role. But as is often the case in Omahahaha I was
taken on quite the rollercoaster ride. Winning and losing several 400 dollar pots had me sitting
on a 1200 dollar stack (500 profit) before I played my last significant hand. SM opened for 25 in
EP and 4 of us called to see a 369 rainbow flop. I was holding 6 6 9 Q . I lead from the
BB for 80. SM makes it 180 and Denny, the table calling station, cold calls. With a 9 in my hand
I wasnt very worried about top set and make it 600. SM folds, what he claims was 33, and the
decision was up to Denny. I know what hes going to do long before he says all-in. Denny never
folds, why would he fold here? Its 200 more to me and I obviously call. The turn is an 8 and the
river a J. Im certain Im beat. You probably got me, I say. To which he replies Ive just got 2
pair. I feel kindve ****ty as I flip over my set and rake in the $2,000 pot. I apologize to Denny
a bit later for the semi-slowroll and end the session a $1500 winner, ready to take on Vegas in
2 days
I got into Vegas at 9am yesterday. Saw some of the usual characters and had quite the interesting
5/10 session. Report to come tomorrow, but for now its back to the B, hopefully to make some
more money. It feels good to be back.
03/10/10: Home Sweet Home
After a night of excessive drinking in Bloomington, Indiana we were on our way to Las Vegas.
Wake up call was at 430 and by 8am local time we had touched down in my favorite town. No
matter how many miserable experiences I have flying hungover; I never seem to learn my lesson.
Add a middle seat into the equation and my morning was about as enjoyable as a trip to the
dentist.
Two of my friends had never been to Vegas before. I sort of wish we had flown in at night for
their sake. The discrepancy between the cities appearance at night and during the day is truly
remarkable. Its like the girl who you meet at the beginning of the night, a 6 at best. Then 3 hours
and 14 beers later and shes a perfect 10. Anyways, after an awkward (yet successful) attempt at
the 20-dollar trick, we were upstairs and upgraded into a way more spacious room at the Planet
Hollywood then we had paid for. The casino is not one of my favorites, but for 4 21-year-old
guys its quite possibly the perfect spot in Vegas.
After a nap and some relaxing we made our way over to the Bellagio. Before I could continue to
the poker room, I had to stop by the cashier to pick up the money I had wired. While standing in
line and minding my own business, I over heard two males arguing over a sports bet that one had
recommended to the other. I knew that voice from somewhere. I turned around and low and
behold it was that of Mr. Phillip Ivey. I couldnt tell what game they were talking about, but Phil
was not happy with the pick so Im assuming they were losing. The line was taking a while, so
once the great one took a break from his conversation, I turned around and scooped in. Not
knowing what on earth to say to the worlds most loved degenerate, I somehow spit out hey Phil

55

you gonna head down to the WPT in Indiana this month. Nah I aint gonna make it, he
responded after a bit of thought. It wasnt much, but certainly an improvement from the sup he
gave me during the one time I played 10 hands against him heads up on Full Tilt. At this rate we
should be talking about politics and women in no time.
Two cashiers opened up next to each other simultaneously. I let the legend have first choice,
obviously. I made sure to be loud and clear when I requested the 20k I had wired. That should
impress him. Didnt even flinch. Just took out his stack of chips, in colors I had never seen
before, and was on his way with the 550k he cashed in.
After the obnoxiously long process of confirming my identity, I was very anxious upon sitting
down at the 5/10 game. It showed as I played poorly early in the session against two particular
players who were showing a decent amount of aggression. One of the players was winning and
competent, opening maybe a quarter of his hands preflop for 70, but overall too loose. Down
about 300, I got into my first big hand of the trip against him. I limped UTG with 9 9
and
so did a few others. To him in the SB and he bumped it up to 70. Just us two to the flop, as we
see the ever so pretty K 9 2 . He leads for 120, I smooth call. Turn brings a 2
and this
time he bets 250. One more call out of me after some deliberation for effect. River 4
and he
shoves in his final 600 without much thought. I beat him into the pot and he mucks upon seeing
my full boat.
Up about 600, I played my next crucial spot against the other aggressive player. This particular
Middle Eastern man was not competent and capable, just stupidly aggressive. I raised to 50 in
mp with TT and he called me on the BTN. We took a flop of 68K and I check called 100. The
call was fairly standard figuring hes betting 100% of his range there when checked to. The 9 on
the turn seemed fairly safe and this time I check called 240. This spot was not as standard, but I
did not believe the gentleman. River A and he bet out 600. An interesting river to say the least.
While hes aggressive hes never making this bet with a K. I call with dreams of the table
congratulating the new player for making such a sick read with just 3rd pair. WRONG. 57 and all
of a sudden Im down about 5 bills.
I can feel myself tilting. I consider going back to the room and not wasting any more money on
the first day. But as a true degenerate I obviously dont. A few rounds later and I pick up KK
UTG. I make it 40 and this time Stupid Aggressive Guy 3-Bets to 150. I can envision the double
up. But before it can get back to me the SB makes it 500 all day. Now normally this is actually a
tough spot as 4-Bets live are about as rare as a clock in a casino. But everybody knew SAG was
reckless, so it was an easy shove. SAG folded and the SB called 500 more, 1,000 all day, while
shaking his head. He flips up QQ and I like it until we see a flop of A 7 4 . Hes got a
,
I do not. Turn is the K
and I dodge a final bullet on a 5
river. The rollercoaster is back on
the upswing.
After a couple more ups and downs I play my final big spot of the session. With QT I raise it up
to 40 in MP and get called by everyone and their mom. This works out perfectly as the flop
comes 8 9 J . I bet 80 and two players call. I accidentally check a 3
turn, but luckily
one of the callers bets out 200. Back to me and I make it 500, he thinks forever. His friend had
56

recently started railing him behind the table, Im not sure if this makes him more prone to call or
fold, but I thought it was important. He eventually calls. The 6
hit the river and I bet out 580.
Again thinking forever, and again the gentleman calls. He shows J9 as he counts out his chips to
pay me with.
My stack is huge as I rack up. 4300 to be exact. Unfortunately I purchased 2500 of them, but still
a very good beginning to the trip. I thought my play was very average and that I made a few
mistakes, but I was proud of the way I kept my composure after losing a few large pots.
The next day contained far and away the most disturbing experience of my life, traumatizing me
until the end of time. It will pain me to write it, but I will, and share it with you tomorrow.
Miami Matt
03/12/10: Sunday
The day my life changed forever. After waking up to find my roommates already gone, I made
the responsible decision to sign up for a week membership at the Planet Hollywood gym. After
negotiating down to a very good price I went in for my first workout. The gym was spacious and
relatively empty. An hour or so later I was feeling great and ready to sweat a little more beer out
of my system in the sauna. It was me and one other overweight gentleman. Due to some
combination of OCD and competitiveness I oftentimes force myself to accomplish ridiculous and
meaningless feats. For example if Im driving on the highway, Ill tell myself I need to pass 3
more cars before I get on the exit ramp, or if Im at a restaurant I need to finish my water before
the waitress comes back to take orders. Utterly ridiculous tasks, but its something I cant
control. Anyways the sauna provides another opportunity for an obscene competition. If someone
is in the sauna before I enter, I must outlast them, no questions asked.
Hows it goin? I ask to my competitor. No response. Alright jackass, so its gonna be like that.
I sit down on the other side of the room and start preparing for battle. 5 minutes go by. Another
guy enters the sauna, an Asian gentleman. He sits down on the enemys side. 5 more minutes go
by, the fat mans not nudging. I lay down to start preserving stamina. This guy is showing no
signs of going anywhere. What the ****? Im bout to lose a lung. I close my eyes for a bit and
tell myself not to lose focus. I opened them and turned to see what kind of shape my competitor
was in. What I saw instead was the most horrific sight of my young life. The Asian was on top of
the fat man, and both guys were aggressively jacking each other off. Im in shock. Amidst all the
disturbing thoughts that are going through my mind, all that comes out is Oh what the ****
guys.
I bolt out of the sauna, shaking. I head straight to the shower to rinse myself of what I just
witnessed. Im talking to myself in the shower, I might be going crazy. All of a sudden my
shower door opens. Im not thinking, but respond Hey someones in here. I turn around to
make sure theyve left. They havent. I see the Asian man standing at the door of my shower with
his thumb in the air like hes trying to grab a damn taxi. I freak out. Get the **** out of here.
He disappears at an Usain Bolt like rate. I quickly dry off. Throw on my clothes and get the ****
out of dodge before anything else can happen.

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Now I am by no means homophobic or racist or anything like that. In fact Im probably one of
the most liberal people I know. But that was just too much. I told the Spa management as I was
leaving and they called security who escorted the guy out. Needless to say I cancelled my week
membership and will sacrifice feeling like **** all week for my own heterosexuality.
To cope with the brutal start to my trip I made my way to the B to play some more 5/10. The list
was long so I sat next to a few cute young girls at the video poker bar across the way. After a
couple Bacardi cokes we were talking about the gay Asian sex I witnessed. Enough time had
passed to where I felt I could finally laugh about it. They loved it. Damn this may have been the
best thing to ever happen to me. A few drinks later and these taken women were asking me to be
their boyfriend for the day. Yes girls, that is something I can do. But for now there is money to be
made.
My name is called for the 5/10 and I sit in feeling a little tipsy. Im gonna feed on this reputation.
Im bluffing small pots and showing. Doing everything I can to play to the table-drunk image.
First hand I enter is with an Asian fellow, so immediately its personal. I raise A J
in mp to
50 and he calls in the SB. Flop 8 9 10
and he leads for 100. I call. Turn K
and he bets
160 to which I meet him with a min raise. He shakes his head a few times, pounds his chips on
the felt and folds. I show an Ace.
A bit later Im up 300 bucks when I get dealt K J
UTG and limp my way in. The BTN
makes it 50 and I call, telling the dealer to please flop me the nuts, for everyone to hear. My wish
is her command. 9 10 Q . I check raise his 60 bet to 180 and he calls with little
deliberation. Turn 8
and this time I lead for 200. Without even thinking he shoves in his chips,
700 more. I call and he says I got the Jack. Well the Jack is no good buddy. A blank on the
river and Im up about 1300 for the session. Karma payback from god himself perhaps?
After a couple more hours Im completely sobered up and just about everyone has caught onto
the fact that I am not just a drunken idiot. I get JJ in against a short stacks AK and hold up to end
the session a 1600 dollar winner. So far my Vegas run good is picking up just where it left off.
Up 3k after 2 short days.
MM
Cliffnotes
--Gay Asian sex takes place at Planet Hollywood Spa
--Poker is easy
03/15/10: Day 3
Its raining outside. Vegas gets maybe 2 inches of rain all year, yet somehow I get to experience
half of it on my spring break. Not that I actually mind. My friends might. But for me its just one
of gods miracles that allows me to stay inside playing poker all day. Being on vacation, I
decided to take the day off of high stakes (for me) and high stress poker and instead play in one
of the small buy-in tournaments with my friends. After examining Caseys low buy-in degenerate
tournament sheet that contains all the tournaments on the strip under $100 and their starting

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times, we decided on the noon tournament at Ballys. On the walk over from P Hollywood,
Casey tells us what to expect from his experience of the Las Vegas tournament circuit.
Apparently last trip, in a tournament at Bills Gambling Hall, Casey learned firsthand about the
dangers of collusion. It wasnt a couple of old scummy Vegas locals, or even a fast talking
tourist, in fact the two guys who colluded their way to victory didnt speak a word all
tournament. Hell they didnt speak a word all trip. These two deaf brothers used sign language
when down to 3 handed to manipulate who would raise and who would fold, to even out the
chips until Casey eventually busted. Casey tried to complain, but the floor guy had no idea what
to do. He told the brothers that discussing cards during a hand was against tournament the rules.
They smiled, shrugged their shoulders, and continued to sign.
We all got a good kick out of the story, even trying to master our own sign language during the 5
minute walk to Ballys in case the situation presented itself. We got to poker room a little past 12
and were all ready to master the 28 person field. The $65 buy-in attracted a scary tough field.
Upon first impressions, three opponents caught my attention. There was the Rod Stewart/Barry
Manilow look a like, the lady who could quite possibly have been coming straight from my
grandmothers knitting crew, and a young aggressive black guy, who for all intensive purposes
was the Phil Ivey of the field. My roommate Maz and I got placed at the same table, clearly the
TV table if the camera ever showed up, and Casey and Cap were separated amongst the other
two tables.
At 50/100 with 2500 chips, I pick up A K
on the BTN. Every single person before me
limps, I almost dont raise. Maybe these tournament grinders know something I do not. I decide
against limping and bump it up to 700. 2 players call and we see a flop of A 7 4 . They
check and I shove for 1800. First guy folds immediately. Second guy takes like two minutes. I
guess hes got a big decision. One of the regulars gets frustrated and calls the clock. My
opponent glares at him and throws his 8 8
away face up, as if to say "LOOK AT THAT
DECISION I HAD!!"
Our plans of taking over the world one 60 dollar tournament at a time hit a major roadblock
when our first team member gets all his chips in the middle. Maz was in MP with AJ at the
100/200 blind level when he bumped up the price of poker to 500 with the simple flip of a chip.
Problem is he didnt say raise. Maz has never heard of the 1 chip rule. Why would he have? It
doesnt come into play in FTP $1.025 sit n goes, and we certainly dont enforce it when we mess
around at school. Instead its a call and he sees a three way flop with both of the blinds. Flop
comes 66J and Maz is able to successfully bet 500 this time. Phil Ivey meets him with a minraise in the SB and Maz sticks the remainder of his stack in, 2k all day. Ivey calls and obviously
has 67 because hey HES PHIL IVEY. AJ doesnt improve and were down to 3 final
crewmembers.
Ballys allows new players to buy into their tournaments if seats open before the end of the 2nd
level. An older gentleman took advantage of this rule and sat next to me in the seat previously
occupied by Maz. Whats the ante? he asks me in a very friendly voice. Theres 2 antes, one
for 100, and one for 200, only paid by the players next to the button, I explain. He looks at me
as if Id just told him baseball was played with two hoops and a soccer ball. Eventually he gets
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the hang of things, kind of. A few hands into his stay and I raise up the blinds to 600 with A 8
. He tosses in two 100 chips and is again confused when the dealer tells him its 600. He looks
at me. I thought you told me the ante was 200. I dont feel like explaining any further so I look
at the dealer who does his best to explain Texas Holdem poker. Eventually he calls, as does the
SB and we see a flop of 9 7 5 . SB checks and I just shove in with 1400 in the middle
expecting both of them to fold like 90% of the time. Ante-man folds, but the SB sticks his 2000
in when it gets back to him. Im actually ahead when he flips up A 2 . The A
on the turn
keeps it that way for one more card and somehow I win the pot when the 3
lands face up on
the river.
A level later and Ive got an 8k stack at 200/400 with the final table bubble vastly approaching.
Cap had lost a level earlier and Casey was on the verge of being the bubble boy when his K9 got
all-in against A10. He hit a 9 on the flop, but his dreams of a Ballys championship were crushed
when the 10d fell on the river. Down to the final table, I was our last hope of making any money.
The first hand I played was J 9 , when I called a raise to 800 by Phil Ivey on the btn. The
flop was A77 and we went check check. The Ah hit the turn and I had all but given up. However,
Phil had no interest in taking the pot. A third Ace hit the river and now I was gonna show these
low stakes tourney regulars how good I was by betting big and winning the whole pot. I bet 1700
and Phil immediately started shaking his head. He started to frown as he fanned his cards high
enough for his neighbor to see. After the end of his Academy Award winning performance he
goes all-in for 7,000. I thank him for free admission into the performance and immediately muck
my hand. He laughs and turns over AQ for the stone cold nuts.
Down to 7 players at 400/800, I shove in for 5500 in the BB with A6 with two limpers behind.
Rod Stewart calls pretty quickly and I barely have him covered. Its off to the races as he shows
KQ. The flop brings a bunch of junk, but Im still certain Im going to lose. KQ ALWAYS wins
in this situation. Im proven wrong by the sexy blonde dealer as she flips up the A
on the turn.
I rake in the 11k pot and almost tip her before I realize what I am doing. Phil is knocked out in
5th and Im relieved to be ridden by the presence of greatness.
Down to 4, its me, the Marge Feduniak look-a-like, an older gentleman, and a mid-aged guy
who actually does understand the value in shoving all in. We play back in forth for a few rounds
and are basically even when Marge open limps, as she often does, even with 4BBs. The old man
in the BB shoves in with AQ, only to be met by the AK of Marge. AK is good and we are down
to 3.
A few hands later and I shove the BTN with A2 only to get called by the aggressive gentleman
with J 10 . Now beating KQ is one thing, but there is NO WAY I am winning this one. The
flop comes 7 9 K
and I sit waiting for it all to be over. Somehow the turn comes a blank
and I am one card from being heads up. The board pairs the 7 on the river and I shake the
gentlemans hand as he heads for the exits.
Before we start heads up I ask if they can put the money on the table. When they laugh, I tell
them thats how they do it on TV. Sir they are playing for 10 million dollars, first place here is
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500. I give in and get back to the game. There isnt much play available as we both have about
6BB. I shove a few times and she folds to give me the advantage. Finally I shove in Q 6
and get a call from Marge with K J . Doh. Lucky for me the flop bails me out, Q72. Im
thinking about all the luxury things Im going to buy with the prize money when the miracle K
hits the turn. Im in shock; my moment has been taken away from me. The other members of the
crew take it even harder. They were hoping for a free dinner tonight. Lucky for them dinner is
still on the table as I hit my two pair (6) on the river. The celebration is about as disappointing as
the lack of money present during heads up. No big breasted blondes, no pro poker players telling
me how great I am, just a pound from James the floorman, who hands me 5 C-Notes.
In all seriousness it was actually fun to win something like that, although I cant help but wonder
if I wouldve gotten some of that run good had I made it to the WPT days earlier. I guess Ill
never know
MM
03/21/10: Day 4: The Venetian
Its 70 degrees out and finally warm enough to feel like a real spring break. To celebrate we all
bought a Fat Tuesday yardstick drink and made our way to the pool for some relaxation. Planet
Hollywood pool sucks. Theres a massive amount of space and opportunity, but management has
done nothing to make the area desirable. It looks like a parking lot with one pool and a hot tub
placed in the middle. We were expecting much better with PHs reputation as a young adult
resort, but I guess thats what we get for not checking.
After chatting up some Snookie look-a-likes and reaching inch 36 of our drinks, we decided to
venture down Las Vegas Blvd with the Palazzo sports book as our final destination. Cap and
Casey are both big sports betters (or as big as two broke college kids can afford to be), so I
recommended we check out the interactive betting system that the Palazzo and Venetian recently
introduced. I, however, was not betting. And as much as I enjoy the first round of the Big East
Tournament (which may be the most boring college basketball of the entire season), I said
sayonara and made my way over to the Venetian poker room.
Cathy was working the front desk, and to my surprise she remembered me immediately.
Impressive in a major way. She must see 5,000 faces a week, yet remembers mine from 10 weeks
ago. Hey Matt, Weve got an open seat in the 5/10, she said. Ahhh thanks Cathy, but I think
Im just going to sit in the 2/5 today. Its not that I didnt feel like playing 5/10, I just dont
believe the Venetian 5/10 game is profitable, especially on a week day. Within 10 minutes I was
sitting in the 5 seat at the table closest to the cage. I hate the 4,5, and 6 seats, but my superstitions
doomed me to the territory for a 6 hour sessions.
I bought in for 800 and a few boring rounds into the session got involved in my first pot.
UTG+2, I opened to 25 with A Q . Older European gentleman in the 7 seat cold called and
everyone else passed. The flop came J 6 3
and I fired a 35 dollar bullet out of the barrel.
A quick call out of the European and I immediately start thinking mid-pair, flush draw, and
medium J type hands. The 9
hit the turn and I thought it was a fairly good opportunity to bet

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out medium pairs, while at the same time charging flush draws a premium price. I bet 90. Little
hesitation from my opponent, and another firm call. At this point its hard to put him on anything
other than a J or hearts. The river was interesting as it brought the Q . Not knowing what to do
I took a good 20 seconds thinking of my move. In the end I decided to try the same bet as the
turn, 90, hoping for a crying call out of the Js in his range. The immediacy of his call was a
cause for concern. JQ. Damn river.
A bit later and my 2nd interesting hand arose against the one thinking player at the table. I didnt
know much about his game but could tell by his large chip stack and the way he took his time in
every decision that he was probably a solid player. He raised UTG+1 and I looked down at K
Q
in MP. I made the call and we saw a flop of Q T 8 . He checked to me and I bet out
35, to which I was met with a check raise to 120 all day. Normally, an annoying, but easy fold.
Against this guy I thought it was a bit closer. I decided to call. Turn brought the J
and this
time he lead out for 180. I dont think he ever has AK here, or that the J is a good card for him.
So I shove in for 520 all day. He thinks forever. The longer he takes, the more I think Im
definitely beat. Another player at the table calls the clock. I raise my eyebrows to fake
annoyance. 15, 30 seconds, hes still thinking. My heart starts racing, and my whole body fills
with a nervous adrenaline. Normally Id be scared ****less, but this time I took the moment to
enjoy the emotional condition that bluffing puts my body into. Its moments like this that I play
the game for. 5,4,3,2,1, Hand is dead, the floor man announces. He shakes his head (and later
tells me he had AQ).
Back to even, I meet my friends for lunch at my favorite spot, the Grand Lux. The chop salad is
BOMB. Upon returning there is a new player to my direct right who is running the table. Its an
Asian women and shes taking aggressive lines in every hand she plays. I spend a few rounds
calling her preflop bets and whiffing the flop until finally I connect. In the SB with A 5
she
opens to 25 the BB and myself both call. Flop A 5 2
and I check with obvious intentions.
The plan fails as it checks through. Turn J
and I lead for 50. BB folds, but the Asian woman
bumps it up to 200. The bets too big, the line is weird, and basically I just dont believe her. I
shove her in for her final 300. She says Ive gotta call and the K
comes belly up on the
river. I tell her two pair and she says straight. Expecting to see 34, Im more disappointed when
she shows Q T .
I shake it off, but have little time to recover as the next hand Im dealt pocket 1s. I make a tilt
looking raise to 30 on the BTN and the European fellow from earlier takes the bait in the BB.
9 7 5
and I continue with a 50 dollar bet. He makes it 125 at a rather quick rate. I
remember him check calling the whole way with top pair in our previous battle so Im not quite
sure what to put him on. But Aces are Aces so I call. Turn 2
and I check to the raiser. He takes
little time in going all-in, effective for my final 450. Its an overbet and a strange one at that. He
plays pretty straight forward preflop so all 2 pairs and straights are seemingly not in his range. I
ask him if he wants me to call with my draw to try and get some info out of him. Hes too wise
for my tricks and just sits there with a blank stare. I want to fold, but I just dont think he knows
how strong I am, so I click the call button. River is a pretty friendly K . However my dreams
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are once again shattered when he shows me 99 for top set. Im out of luck and out of money. I
tell him good hand and head for the cab line. Those 12 dollar cabs feel like a quarter after a
winning session, but after losing a grand it felt like 100. Funny how that works.
Anyways I had a feeling I wasnt just gonna win every session, but that Aces hand would have
me thinking for the rest of the day...Up a little under 2k for the trip, I was ready to return to the
5/10 at the B, where I have not had a losing day in 2010. On day 5, my skills resulted in a
$100,000 win for an acquaintance. More money than I have ever seen in my whole life. Trip
report to come soon.
MM
PS later that night we saw Vinny Favorito at the Flamingo. Ive seen a plethora of comedy shows
in my day, including many that had me laughing the whole way. Vinny is definitely in my top 2.
If you are not easily offended and enjoy crude humor, Vinny is a must see. For those who arent
familiar with him he spends the first half of the show making fun of himself and then spends the
next 45 minutes picking through the audience, making jokes about any and everyone. Very witty
and extremely hilarious. A bargain at 35 bucks.
Here's a clip: Magic Johnson Roast (part2): by Vinnie Favorito
03/28/10: Day 5
After spending a small fortune entertaining said girls from day 2 at some dive bar in between
Harrahs and OSheas, I returned late at night (or early in the morning) to find out my roommate
had utilized the Hooker trading cards for equal the price and half the effort. Bastard! Fast
forward through a handful of hours of restless sleep and I was feeling both exhausted and broke,
the perfect combination for winning poker.
Sick of the Venetian and my inability to EVER win there, I crossed LVBD and went back to the
place where I cant lose, Bellagio. The two 5/10 games were looking pretty good as I sat down in
the 2 seat at the must move. After a not-so-interesting pot where my AJ got two streets of value
over AT I was up about 300 dollars entering my first hand worth note.
In the BB, I called a 40 dollar open from the CO, a competent looking mid-aged man with
sunglasses and an Ipod. I flopped mid set on a K 9 2
board and check raised his 70 dollar
C-Bet to 210. He called after a little thought. The turn was an ugly 8
but I felt like I still had
to bet to both gain value and protect against KxX
type hands so I fired 280. After staring me
down for a good thirty seconds (this guy actually had a very good stare, whatever that means) he
announced raise and made it 680. I sat there, desperately trying to put him on hands I was
beating so I could stick the rest of my money in the middle. Unfortunately I could not. After a
minute or two of thinking and a growing discomfort due to the guys persistent and creepy stare
down I just tossed my cards into the muck. Mumbling to myself, the 1 seat asks me if I folded
AK. No a set I said. He looked at me as if I had just turned down a date with Jessica Biel and
said YOU FOLDED A SET?!?! This would be important later.
For the next hour or so I worked on my folding toss while sparking up a conversation with the 2
seat, a fellow Chicagoan. His name was Mike and he had moved out to Vegas 3 years ago.
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Unlike most of the young people Id encountered with similar stories, Mike seemed real content
with where life had taken him, and painted a picture of the Non-Strip Vegas as a very desirable
place to live. It got me thinking that with my interests (golf/poker/music/exercise), if I could ever
find a way to make money here, maybe Vegas wouldnt be that bad of a place to live.
Anyways in the midst of that fantasy I looked down at J T
in the BB. Folded to the SB I
picked up my cards for the victory toss and asked chop in an assuming manner. He didnt
respond, just raised to 40. I put my cards back down and called, given my position. Flop 9 8
2
and he checked, to where I sent a semi-standard 70 dollar bet out towards the middle.
Raise he said, and made it 270. A very large and awkward raise. I decided to call. When heads
up and my opponent displays a lot of strength, I have found that calling with straight draws on a
flush draw board can actually be an effective strategy because A) they rarely see the straight
coming and B) you can represent a flush if necessary. The turn brought the interesting A . He
looked uncomfortable but after some thought decided to bet 250. With the J
in my hand and
my opponent knowing that I previously folded a set on a flush board, the situation set itself up
perfectly for a semi-bluff. I calmly shipped in my entire 700 dollar stack into the middle. He
immediately pounded the table, while shaking his head. Good, he doesnt have a flush. After
some more head shaking he said nice hand and tossed KK face up into the muck. I showed the
10 .
Feeling like a genius I felt I was ready to take another shot at the man with the good stare. Up
250 I called his 40 dollar open on the BTN with 88. Flop Q Q 3
and this time I called
100. 3
on the turn we took it check check. The river produced a full house for every played at
the table as the Q
peeled off. He checked again and now I knew I was winning. Trying to look
desperate I put out a whole stack of 10s and waited as he went into stare down mode. He may
have been trying to get a read but all I could think about was an old WSOP hand where Ivey read
through the soul of Freddy Deeb and Norman Chad announced that If looks could kill, Wed
have a homicide on our hands. This must be how Freddy felt. Eventually the Assassin called
and mucked after seeing my 88.
Up about 600, I racked up for the day, vowing not to waste this profit on girls, the bar, and
definitely not girls at the bar. Unfortunately, I didnt even make it up to the room before the
money was back in play. On my way through the PH casino I saw my roommate Casey at the
craps table and pulled out a CNote for some good old degenerate fun. For 45 minutes we endured
the typical economic rollercoaster that is craps. I chose to only bet the pass-line, spending my
free time racing through Bacardi Cokes and admiring the two busty cougars across the table in
the low cut dresses.
As were about to call it a session Casey overhears the pit boss getting a call to prepare 50k in
chips. I call bull****, and am taken back when a 40 year old European in designer jeans and an
Ed Hardy T parks his caboose next to mine and is handed my 4 year college tuition in the form
of brightly colored casino chips. Guy places 500 on the pass and what looked like 1400 on the
come bet each and every roll. I tell Casey that we cant leave until we shoot. After all how often
is it that you get to sweat a couple K at a $10 craps table?
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For the first four shooters this Turkish high-roller does what he is supposed to do, as far as the
casino is concerned. Down about 30k he lets out a pretty loud F-bomb that would typically
warrant at least a warning from the pit boss. Of course rules like that tend to go out the window
when you sit down with $50,000. With his stack quickly diminishing and his spirits low the dice
are handed to me. He gives me a look, I look back, its time for business. Right out of the gate I
roll a 4. Not the best number for the point, but with my man betting the come, all I have to do is
not crap out. And not crap out is exactly what I proceed to do. For ten minutes, I hit the 9 about
10 times. Were quite loud at the table and a crowd begins to form. Maybe 30 people, all curious
about the Turkish prince. I pretend like theyre here to see me. Finally, wanting to make
everybody money, I call for the Emmett Smith and proceed to roll a 2 2 for a winning four. My
new Turkish friend gives me a pound, high fives everywhere. I bust out my new dance move, a
combination of the John Wall and Carlton Banks dance. (For reference John Wall Dance
Phenomenon and Tom Jones & Carlton Banks - It's Not Unusual (Fresh Prince) ). Life is good
for everyone.
The next point is the 8. It doesnt take long for me to roll a 5 3 and ship the table some more
cash. 5 more minutes of pounding the 9 and the 10 for 5k a piece and the high roller is now
overflowing into another rack. I refuse to lose focus. Unfortunately focus can only get you so
much when tossing the dice. I hear 7 out and know my run is over. We cash out, as does the
Turkish guy. The crowd is yelling at this guy to give me a tip. Its pretty uncomfortable, as I
definitely dont expect one. Eventually he throws me a green chip ($25) assumingly to quiet the
railbirds. It takes the pit boss forever to count and recount his chips, but at the end of the day we
hear One hundred and seventeen thousand dollars. He started my roll with about 20. We walk
off and watch as he throws the dealers a 500 dollar tip. Bastard.
Poker wise Im back on the winning track. I dont know why I ever choose to leave the
Bellagio
04/05/10: Final Day
Awaking on our final day I was met with an all too familiar feeling of anxiety. At the conclusion
of every trip Ive taken, dating back to family vacations as a kid, Ive experienced some degree
of anxiousness. This is relevant because anxiety and patience arent quite Corona and Lime when
it comes to collaboration. And every poker player knows that unless your name is Tom Dwan
you cannot succeed on the felt without exhibiting patience.
An experienced professional (or anyone who values money for that matter) mightve taken the
afternoon off. With only one day remaining in town, I chose to play. Making my way to Bellagio,
I stopped off at the supposedly world famous Pinks hot dogs. After chowing down their
version of the Chicago dog, I boldly concluded that Pinks was tastier then Portillos (Anyone
from Chicago knows the magnitude of that statement). My fellow Chicagoan roommates
dismissed the notion, blaming my judgment on the booze and lack of sleep.
The 5/10 game was slow when I arrived, but it would soon pick up. I was seated in the 8,
coincidentally next to the same mid 40s European gentleman as the day before. We got to
talking and I asked him how long he was in town for. 6 weeks he said while adding that he

65

makes the trip annually. Just for cards? I ask. Cards and clubbing he responds. I laugh at
what I believe to be a joke. He looks confused, guess it wasnt a joke
My first interesting hand came about when I was dealt A 9
in the CO. UTG opened the
action with a limp and I bumped it up to 50. The BTN called, as did UTG. The flop hit me hard
with the A 9 2 . Checked to me I wanted to bet, but saw the BTN counting out chips. I
elected to check and he made me look brilliant by firing 100. UTG called quickly and I bumped
it up to 300. After countless chip shuffles the kid on the BTN folded, followed immediately by
UTGs all-in for 500 all day. I called while asking the dealer to refrain from turning over
diamonds. Luckily the Ace on the turn made the river diamond irrelevant. My 45 year old club
hopping friend tells me nice hand and that he likes the way I play. I smile and soak in the Ego
boost. Sometime between then and my return from the pisser, the most important player in the
game sat down.
Even though he showed up wearing aviators and an expensive watch, there was no confusing this
guy with a poker player of any real skill or intelligence. In fact, he played each of his first 5
hands to the river, flipping over cards like Q7 and T6. It was like a gift sent from god;
Reimbursement for my Sauna experience.
Sitting on a 1500 dollar stack I looked down at A Q . The fish raised it up to 50 as he had
been doing about 70% of the time. 3 callers later and I opted to raise the action up to 280 in the
SB. As I expected, the fish called. What I didnt expect was the COs all-in bet for 650 all day. I
cant say I was overly confidant I had him beat, but with the money in the pot I had to reshove
and make the fish pay. He chose to fold. The board rolled out 8 4 2
Q
K
and I
flipped up my AQ expecting to be winning a good amount of the time. That is until he trumped
me with his AK.
Frustration mixed with anxiety proved to be a detrimental recipe. Searching my brain for a way I
couldve played the hand differently, I was pleasantly disrupted by another big hand. The very
next hand the same fish raised it up to the same 50 UTG. 3 players AGAIN called, and I saw
another must raise opportunity. With A J
on the BTN I made it 300. The fish called with
300 behind. Q Q 2
flop and BOOM the fish bets it all. I blame it on Pot Odds and stick
in the bet. The final two cards roll out 8
K
and I officially cant beat anything. However,
the fish shakes his head to indicate a raggedy hand. He flips his hand and I see a 4
and then
a 2 . I laugh to cope with the embarrassment. I cant help but wonder what my club-hopping
admirer thinks of my game now.
I rebuy for the 1500 vowing not to get out of line. Rounds go by and I continue to fold as the fish
slowly builds his stack somewhere north of 2500 dollars. My anxiety grows. What if he leaves
and I miss my chance? With my thoughts racing, Im given one more opportunity to win my
chips back

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With T T
in the BB I reraise his MP raise to 200. He calls, to which I assess him a range of
somewhere between 24 and Q7. Flop brings 6 6 5
and even though its my turn to act, he
bets out 300. Its not the first time hes bet out of turn. In fact, Im fairly certain hes under the
impression that post flop its a first come, first served system. I dont mind however and shove
in for 1300 all day, fully expecting him to call with any pair or draw. The enemy points at my
chips, nods his head and says call. The pot is somewhere around 3k. The turn is a safe 3 and
the river a seemingly harmless 2. The enemy starts smirking and Im not sure what to make of it.
That is until he flips up 54 for the runner runner straight.
I dont waste any time in getting as far away from that table as humanly possible. I say good
game, wish everyone luck and bolt to the Venetian to meet up with my roommates. Amidst a
wind storm thats only getting stronger, I dont even flinch. Later in the night we head to the
airport for the red eye flight back to Cincinnati. By the time we make our way to the airport Ive
calmed down, but still feel overwhelmingly dejected. A complete reversal of the pride and
confidence I felt after leaving Vegas in January. Losing is one thing, but losing 2500 to a player
of that caliber was very disheartening.
Although I finished the trip right around even on the poker front, it felt like a big loser with the
great start I got off too. Its tough not winning, especially after the profit I showed last trip. But
for my well being I'll chalk it up to variance, work on my game, and return for my next trip a
stronger player with growing expectations.
Miami Matt
04/12/10: (Krantz)
It's funny you mention Krantz because him and I actually did cross paths at 3/6 and a little bit of
5/10NL years back. At the time I was taking coaching lessons from one of his partners
WiltOnTilt. I liked WoT a lot and felt like I was improving during the 4 or 5 lessons that we
shared. However, at the same time I was beginning to mix it up a lot with this Prynn1ad
character on Full Tilt. I had no idea who he was as I don't think I used 2p2 at the time, but we
weren't afraid to get involved with each other and were starting to develop a bit of a metagame.
Then during one session of light raising and reraising between Krantz and I we got it all in the
middle for like 150BB preflop with his AQ taking down my AK. Fine, whatever, not a big deal.
That is until he spent the next 5 minutes berating me in chat, trying to get under my skin. I didn't
let it affect me; instead I just chalked it up as some immature teenager behavior.
All was good and well until it came time to pay WoT for coaching. He told me I could send the
money to him or to "prynn1ad" on Full Tilt. I sort of chuckled to myself, wondering if it was the
same player I had been battling with. I looked it up and sure enough it was. At the time (and to
some degree now) I was a man of strong principles, pride, and a knack for holding grudges. So
what I did was send WoT the money I owed him, along with a note explaining that I thoroughly
enjoyed our sessions, but that I had too much pride to continue supporting a company that treated
their customers (knowing or unknowingly) with disrespect.

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As it turned out this was the downfall of my online poker career. I was at the point with my
poker education from Wilt that I understood all of the topics he discussed and changes in my
game, but not yet far along to apply them on my own. As a result my 40,000 dollar bankroll
began to dwindle and before long half of it was gone. At the same time Krantz was blowing up
and slowly becoming an online poker legend (I think it's pretty clear who won that battle!).
I never really looked for coaching after that, as 3bet.net was far and away the best coaching site
on the web. I don't have any hard feeling towards Krantz or his company, in fact he sent me an
email explaining how his play at a table doesn't reflect how he does buisness, I just no longer can
afford $200/hr poker lessons.
So anyways I feel like I'm ranting I just thought it was ironic how you mentioned Krantz and
sure enough he was (indirectly) the reason for my online poker downfall. Also if anyone has any
suggestions for cheaper (100/hr max) online poker coaches that they recommend, I would highly
consider using them.
Matt
05/12/10: Defending My Turf
Well its been awhile since I last updated. Ive been doing a lot of studying for finals the past two
weeks, and spending my rare free time enjoying the final days with my college buddies.
I took a couple weeks off of poker after my Spring Break in Vegas for a couple of reasons. First,
I didnt want to feel like I was chasing losses from the 2500 dollar debacle that took place on my
final day at the Bellagio. And secondly, the weather was warming up in Southern Ohio, which
makes it hard to spend 6 hour days inside of a casino with no windows.
With that being said, once I got back into the poker scene, my results were fairly good. Up 1.5k
in 3 sessions of 2/5NL, I partook in one rather interesting session at Hollywood Casino a week
back. I woke up on this particular Friday with an overpowering urge to play poker. While on the
surface a desire to play poker seems like a mental advantage, it can sometimes be the source of
immense disappointment if the session doesnt go as well as planned. I kept this all in mind as I
made the 45 minute trek down to the Tristate area.
Three months back Hollywood made the decision to raise the 2/5 buy-in to $1,000. At the time I
was concerned the limit raise would intimidate a lot of the fishie regulars who were barely rolled
for a $500 dollar buy-in game. Three months later and Im relieved to say that I was wrong. In
fact, the raised buy-in has made the game a whole lot juicier. Not only do the fish with pride
issues now buy-in for $1000, but the Rocks who were basically just taking up seats have now
moved down to the 1-3 game.
Anyways, my first pot on this Friday afternoon was played against one of the prideful fish, who
clearly was inexperienced with the deeper stack. With 800 in front of me I raised to 15 on the
BTN with J 9
only to see the aviator-wearing BB bump it up to 35. I called with position
and saw an A Q 10
flop. He leads into me for 55 and I call planning to represent scare
cards if they hit. And they did, as the 5
peeled off on the turn. After posturing for a few
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seconds the BB lead into me for 125 with almost 800 back. I thought for a few seconds before
making it 310, scared of nothing really other then AxK . Not to worry though, as he tossed in
his hand, flashing me the obvious Ace.
For the next 2 hours I focused my attention on one particular villain. He was a middle-aged white
guy with a coat jacket on and a 1k stack. My interest in his game began in this particular hand. I
raised in MP to 20 with AJ and he was the only caller in the SB. After a flop of K J 2 , he
checked, and I checked back for pot control. Turn brought the 9
and I thought I could
definitely bet for value after his 2nd check. So I fired a $30 barrel. He called in rhythm and we
took a seemingly meaningless 3
on the river. He checked again and this time I bet $55 for
value. Almost immediately he reached for 8 green chips, and made it $200. I replayed the hand in
my head and decided almost immediately that I was calling. I mean how many hands can he
check 3 times and not raise for protection on the turn? So I called and he showed me the K
Q
. Ah yes, that hand.
For the next hour or so I sat there, uninvolved watching this guys tendencies. He had a very
interesting style of play. His style could be seen as tricky on the surface, but once I paid
attention, it became evident that he telegraphed his hands. He played EVERY SINGLE big hand
slow, opting to check-raise, even in bad spots with dangerous boards. So with this in mind I
opted to make a play at him when I saw him do something he hadnt done before, lead into the
pot.
He was the straddle and I made it 30 with Q T
in the CO. He called, as did the BB. Flop
came K22 and after watching the BB check, the villain led into me for 50. I knew at this point I
was going to make a play, but decided I could make more money if I waited until the turn. The
turn brought a 3 and this time he immediately led for 200. With no draws to be scared of, I was
pretty confidant he was bull****ting, but without showdown value, I had to raise. I chose to min
raise. I was right. His cards were in the muck before I got my hands off my chips.
With an $1100 stack I found myself in a pot against an aggressive Asian kid. I actually found out
later he was 28, but Jesus all Asians look soo young. Anyways I limped UTG with 44 and called
his $25 raise from the SB, as did 4 others. I flopped gin with 943 and smooth called his $50 Cbet. The BTN followed suit. On a K turn he fired a $175 bullet after some thought. At this point I
had to make a decision between calling and raising. If I raise I can protect against draws, but my
hand looks very strong and he will likely fold AK AA type hands. Also, if the river bricked I
could make a big bet to look like my 56 missed. I chose to call, the BTN folded. The river
brought the harmless 5c and now the hand gets interesting. Without much thought the Asian
shoved in for 800, roughly double the pot. Now this particular player was aggressive, but in the
few sessions I played with him, I hadnt ever witnessed him getting out of line in a huge pot. He
looked very calm and confident. All signs were pointing towards fold. But seeing the line I had
taken, I felt my hand was drastically underrepresented and that I needed to call. I did. He flipped
67 and just like that I was broke.

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Feeling distraught and with thoughts of my $2500 dollar Bellagio loss running through my head
I considered calling it quits and heading back to campus. But with 3 more hours of Tony
Kornheiser on my IPod and a table filled with fish, I had enough motivation to give it one more
shot. While trying to block out all outside noise by blaring my favorite podcast, I was distracted
by two new, loud, obnoxious players. Hailing from Toledo, Ohio, they entered the game by
mocking the small stakes we are playing. We just shouldve stayed at that 10/20 game in
Detroit, one of them says, loud enough for the whole table to hear. Yeah then we wouldnt both
be stuck to that fish Terry, the other one responded. Terrys one of the best players at this
whole casino, I chime in. They both laugh and respond that if thats the case they should look
into buying some real estate in the area. I decide to tune out these two clowns, secretly hoping
that my next big pot comes against one of them.
During a round with a mandatory straddle, I raised 2 hands up to 50, got a few callers and won
the pot on the flop with a CBet, growing my stack from 800 to 1100. Showing a lot of aggression
I expected to be called down light in the near future. The next pot I opened was with A K
UTG+1. I made it the standard 25 and everyone folded to the small blind, the smaller, and more
obnoxious of the Toledo boys, who called. The beautiful 2 3 4
peeled off and I fired a
$40 CBet. With little thought, he made it $150 all day. With his stack looking like $700 I
determined that the best line would be a small 4-Bet and a shove on any turn. So I made it $150
more, completely confusing this utter moron. But due to his lack of brain power he tossed in the
call after 30 seconds. The turn was a 9
and after his immediate check, I shoved in, effective
for his remaining $550. My opponent stood up, looking real annoyed, contemplating between a
call and fold. Finally after a minute or so he said Im here to play and shoved his chips in the
middle. Praying for one of my many outs, I was relieved to see the 10
on the river. But before
I could politely say nuts, my opponent got back out of his chair, raised his cards into the air
and proudly through them onto the table, yelling flush for the whole poker room to hear. Im
never one to slowroll but god did it feel great to watch his whole production and then quietly turn
over my nut flush. Ive never seem someone so depleted. Still thinking about buying a house
here??? FISH.
Up about 400, I won another 400 more when my 97 flopped the nut straight in a limped pot and
got 3 streets of value against AT.
Soon Tony Kornheiser was mumbling his traditional closing statement If youre out on your
bike tonight, do wear white and I took the sign and racked up my chips, an $800 winner. Ive
had many days coming home with 4 digit winnings, but theres something about the comeback,
and taking down the Toledo boys that made the 800 feel like 8,000.
As far as the WSOP goes, Im currently closing the deal on a place at the Meridian and plan on
being there for 6 weeks. I emailed plenty of poker media sources and none of them responded,
but the Chicago Tribune set me up with a blog on their webpage, and Im currently in discussions
with Krantz on a WSOP coverage project for Deuces Cracked.
Matt

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05/21/10: Insomnia
It's 4am Wednesday night and I'm lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, wide awake. I chalk it
up to my severe head cold. You know, the type that cuts off all access from your nose to outside
oxygen. Or maybe it's the cracked rib I suffered a month ago, on my 22nd birthday, when I built
up the liquid courage to confront one of my longest lasting compulsions and tried to fly down
from the 2nd story of a bar, instead of taking the stairs. Needless to say, my wings failed and I
landed on the stairway railing, leaving me bedridden and vulnerable to sharp pains down my left
side every time I so much as laughed or sneezed.
After all the two obstacles standing between me and my much needed R.E.M. certainly don't go
well together. Solving a cold involves blowing out the congestion that's blocking the airwaves.
And the process of blowing applies indescribable pains to a busted rib. Pain that I wouldn't wish
upon my greatest enemy.
But who am I kidding, I've been sleeping with this rib for 4 weeks. It took some time, but
through trial and error, I've found a few positions that allow me to doze off just fine. And the
head cold? Yea it's obnoxious, but the Sudafed's giving me some nasal leeway. No it's neither of
my current disabilities that are keeping me awake. It's the 1200 dollar 2 hour poker session that I
just arrived home from.
The night started off at one of my happy places, US Cellular Field, home of the Chicago White
Sox. Three of my degenerate friends and I made the trip down through rush hour traffic to see
our beloved White Sox bend over backwards to the LA Angels and ruin yet another fantastic
outing from this years lone bright spot, John Danks. After Alexei Ramirez struck out for the
final out in the ninth, we made a group decision to fix our night by heading to the boat. It seemed
perfectly logical. The Horseshoe in Hammond is an hour and 15 minutes from our northern
Chicago suburb. But from US Cellular the trip is only ten minutes.
I knew right off the bat this particular Wednesday night probably wasn't going to go well. The
first hand of notice saw me calling a 20 dollar raise out of the small blind in a 5 way pot with AJ.
I lead for 50 on a J 7 3
board and got only one caller, an older white guy with a bunch of
chips. The turn brought an offsuit Q and this time I bumped up the price to 125 to protect against
the flush. Sure enough he called and I saw the pretty A
on the river. Figuring I could only get
value from his A/QdXd type hands I gave my opponent a cheap price of 150. He called and I
flipped my hand over, throwing a white chip on top for the dealers tip. But to my surprise the
chips were shipped the other way when the conservative gentleman flipped up 33 for bottom set.
Things got interesting again a couple rounds later when I bumped up by BTN to 30 with AK.
Two callers and we took a flop of J J 7 . They checked to me and I threw out a bet of 55,
which got me one call, the poker challenged, overly aggressive black man to my immediate right.
The turn paired the 7
and I planned on checking it back to allow my opponent to run one of
his nonsense bluffs on the river, but he derailed that plan by open shoving the turn for 300. About
pot and a half. Well he never has a J or a pair of 8s through 10s. He's got a lot of flush draws and
maybe some under pairs in his range. And then maybe some 7s? Anyways I hero called, we
took a blank river and I got owned when he showed me K7 offsuit for bottom boat.

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Dejected I took a walk around the room to see how my degenerate friends were fairing in their
games. Sure enough everyone was winning. These are guys that buy in for 60 at 1 2 and don't
know the difference between check raise and check mate; yet somehow they are all up over 200
dollars. While Me, the friend who puts every ounce of brain power he has left into mastering this
silly game is down about 7 bills. Some ****ing talent I've got.
I returned to my game with a conservative mindset. Fold, fold, fold, fold. Sure it was boring, but
Vegas taught me the dangers of tilting, and if there's one thing I learned it's that being stuck is no
time to loosen up. Finally, I picked up a pair of 6s in mid position and called a raise to 25, along
with half the rest of the table. The flop hit me hard with the 5 6 7 . Checked to my
Donkey neighbor and he led into the pot for 40. I bumped it up to 145. Now surprisingly the guy
to MY left cold called the reraise. My donkey friend folded and we were heads up to the turn. 3
and I bet out for 325. He took little time before making the call. Praying to dodge all the
possible scare cards, I'm hardly surprised when the 9
spikes the river. I check, he puts me in
for my final 250, and sadly I can't find an excuse to call him. Not a hand in the deck that I beat.
I pick up my chips before it gets too ugly and head to the bar while my friends all finish up their
winning sessions. I try not to be jealous of my friends' good fortune, but it's hard to bring them to
my arena and watch as the rookies clean up while the veteran leaves broke.
My friend Chris was the first one to meet me at the bar. He could tell I was pissed and offered me
the usual sometimes the cards don't fall your way speech, in attempt to cheer me up. I didn't
want to hear it. In fact all I wanted to do was sit to myself the whole car ride home, sulking in the
pain. Then Chris said something interesting. I got lucky today. But you know what, I know that
next time it's gonna be me with the terrible cards. That's how it goes. It's a big cycle. One day
you're going to figure that out Matt. I've heard that speech a million times. But for the first time,
on this night, after that loss, I actually believed it. Yeah maybe I am better then 95% of the
people who play the game. But as long as luck is prevalent and coolers customary can I ever
really distance myself that far ahead of the next guy?
These were the thoughts that kept me up til dawn on a Thursday morning. It wasn't my bad back
or my crummy congestion, it was my bruised ego. Thoughts that it's all one big waste of time.
Sure the session was following a 1k winner the day before and I was still up money for the week,
but it's days like this, where my game feels absolutely helpless, that keep me up at night
wondering if the juice is worth the squeeze.
Not exactly the happiest of thoughts with my summer in Vegas looming. But if I'm going to
report on the ecstatic emotions that follow a winning session, it'd be biased of me not to jot down
how ****ty it feels to lose. At the end of the day I know that 'this too shall pass' and I'll be back
that next day fighting to get back on the winning track. Hopefully for bankroll's sake it happens
sooner rather than later.
06/02/10: Vegas [Day 1]
60 miles into Utah and finally I heard the inevitable sound that I had been waiting 15 minutes
for. Plunk. It sounded as if we had hit a pothole. But this was no pothole, yet a more destructable
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obstacle keeping Casey and I from our 6 week summer in Vegas. My foot remained firmly
pressed against the gas, but the speedometer slowly descended from 70 to 0. We had run out of
gas in the middle of the desert, promptly two hours after my dad had warned me through text
message to keep the tank filled up in the mountains.
But, as I tend to do, I drove with the orange light on, certain that a gas station would pop up
somewhere in the next 50 miles. However, Utah is no ordinary state. The first 80 miles on the
Eastern half look deserted. Bare of humanity, civilization, and cell phone service. Where the
**** are all these Mormons I've heard about. Anyways, I stood on the side of US interstate 70
for 30 minutes with my thumb in the air. I may as well have had it jammed up my ass. No one
was stopping. Finally as we were about to give up and resigned to our fate of walking the next 10
miles in the 95 degree heat, a blue minivan came to the rescue. With thoughts of Elizabeth Smart
in my head, I volunteered to stay with the car and let Casey drive off in the potential death trap.
To my surprise he returned 45 minutes later with a gallon of gas and all of his visible limbs.
We were 19 hours into the drive that began in the north suburbs of Chicago and included the
likes of Iowa, Nebraska, and Colorado. The final 6 hours felt like 6 days as the anxiety rose and
our dream summer in Vegas became more real with each passing minute. We arrived at the
Meridian around 9pm, very enthused with the location of the facility. Not necessarily it's
proximity to the Strip, but more so it's adjacency to Ellis Island, home of the $6.99 steak and
beer.
After dinner at the Island and 10 hours of sleep, we were ready for our first WSOP experience
and a trip to the RIO. The place was a madhouse. The action was incredible. After 5 minutes in
the room, I'd seen more "TV Pros" then I had in 3 weeks in December. Barry Greenstein in the
Poker Kitchen, AEJones in the hallway, and that Lex guy from High Stakes Poker in the
bathroom. I don't get "star struck" when I see famous poker players, but it's always cool to see
people from TV in real life.
I felt like a rookie when I walked up to the "Mixed Games" podium and asked for a 2/5 NL seat.
I was directed to the other roped off area where my first session of the summer would take place.
My confidence was pretty low as I hadn't played in a week, and the week prior included two
pretty bad losing sessions. However there I was getting involved in a semi interesting hand less
than 10 minutes into the table.
I raised A K
up to 25 in MP and got called by a guy with Deep Stack University patches
directly to my left and the SB. The flop brought Q J 3
and I bet out 65. Deep Stack U
thought and called as the SB folded. Turn came the A
and I check called 85 from DSU. River
brought a 3 hearts and luckily my opponent check backed his AQ. Down a couple hundred, but it
could've been way worse.
Later I got involved with the same player when I limped the SB in a multi way pot with
3 6 . The flop brought 2 5 J
and I check raised to 75 after DSU bet 15 from the BB
and 4 players called. DPU called my raise, followed by a player in MP shoving in for 230. DSU

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started muttering obscenities so I knew he would muck if I shoved, which is exactly what
happened. The turn came the 4
and the river brought the 9 , keeping my nut hand intact.
For the next hour I had some friendly chatter with DSU where I discovered that not only was he
one of the friendliest guys I had played poker with, but he was also the CEO of Deep Stacks
University. Maybe there's a correlation between the two things? Is it possible that depending on a
game that's filled with so much variance for an income is what makes the typical poker
professional so unfriendly? I think it's very possible which motivates me to keep my life as well
rounded as possible.
Anyways a bit later I got involved in an interesting hand with an old lady at the table who was a
novice player to say the least. I limped UTG with K Q
and saw a 4 way flop after calling a
$25 raise from a player in MP. The flop came T 9 7
and the old lady bet out for $40 from
the BB. I called as did the BTN. The turn came the 9
and again she bet out $40. 100% certain
that she had just a T I bumped it up to 155. Surprisingly she called with 400 back. Luck did me
well as the A
came on the river, giving me the nut flush. She thought and checked, so I fired a
bet of $165 for value. Unfortunately she showed her JT face up and let it go.
A bit later I hero called a $150 dollar pot sized river bet with AQ high on some stupid board only
to get shown AK high. Embarrassed and knowing my game was far from sharp I picked up for
the day a $200 winner. I had a lot of mixed feelings after the session. On the surface I finally had
a winning day to get me off the schneid, but on the other hand I had played pretty terrible and
hadn't felt very comfortable at the table.
I'll be back at the RIO today looking to gain some confidence in the 2/5 before I moved back up
to 5/10NL where I imagine I will spend the majority of my trip. I imagine I'll post anywhere
from 5 to 7 updates a week. It's a good way for me to reflect on my game and do something else
than play poker all day. Also I will be posting these updates a day earlier on a blog site I started
that will also include videos from the trip and video replays of hands I played that day and the
thought process that goes along with them. I will post that link once I find out if I can plug my
own website
Matt
06/03/10: [Day 2]
By day 2 it's become obvious that we're not living amongst vacationers. The majority of the
people staying at the Meridian live here full time. And the majority of those womenare
strippers. Maybe I'm being judgmental, but if I see a handful of girls everyday with fake boobs,
bleached blonde hair, and tramp stamps I'm gonna assume they're dancers. My belief was
reaffirmed when our landlord stopped by today and asked if we had met any of the "working
girls" yet. No we haven't met, but we've spent plenty of time admiring from afar.
Anyways, on to poker. I returned to the Rio yesterday for another 2/5NL session. Seated at table
239, my game felt immensely better right off the bat. I won a few medium sized pots early based
on making good reads and double barreling spots where I would usually slow down. However,

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my aggression put me in a tough spot in my first large pot. With my stack up to $700 I called a
$15 raise with A 5 from an older white man in MP. The flop came K T 4
and I
raised his $20 bet to $65. Action back to the old guy and he repops it up $100 more. I called
hoping to get the $500 he had back if a diamond hit the turn. It didn't. The 4
paired the board
and immediately my opponent shoved for $500. I folded and moved on.
The next hand of significance saw me involved with a loose passive Asian lady who was most
definitely the biggest spot at the table. I raised in MP to 20 with KQ, she called on the BTN and
the blinds also both joined. The flop came JT2 and I bet $65 when checked to. The BTN called
and everyone folded. An 8 came on the turn and I slowed down with a check, knowing she's
never folding to a bet. She fired $95 and I peeled one more. It came a 3 and I check folded to her
$300 shove.
Later with my stack at $600 I called a raise with 8 7
in the SB against a new young player
who was raising about 35% of his preflop hands and generally very loose. 4 of us saw a flop of
10 8 6
and I led for $75. The original raiser thinks forever and calls and an older
gentleman on the BTN called as well. The turn brought the 5
and I shoved into the $350 pot
for $500. The original raiser folded, but the old man called with a $350 stack. The river paired
the 5, but I still expected to be winning a majority of the time, thinking he's calling me with more
combo draws there, then he is with T's . But he flipped over 66 for a boat, surprising me to say
the least.
Down a buy-in I got involved with the most solid player at my table, a British mate, who
happened to be sitting to my direct left. I raised to $20 in the CO with QQ and he popped the
BTN up to $65. I called and we saw a flop of A44. I checked and he bet $100. I peeled one off
and the turn brought another A. We went check check, and I checked again when a 9 peeled off
on the river. Now my thinking opponent fired a bet of $225. I thought for quite a long time and
eventually called for various reasons that I'll discuss in a Vid blog, and he showed 58ss for air
and I raked in a large pot.
A bit later with my stack at almost $800 I played my final big pot of the day. I raised A T
up to $25 and got called in 3 spots. I led a 10 9 5
board for 80 and got called in 2 places.
A pretty 10
peeled the turn and this time I fired $185. The 1st player surrendered and the 2nd
player, a bad lag decided to make the call, leaving him with $300 behind. After an 8
hit the
river I figured my only chance to get him to put the money in would be to allow him to bluff
missed spades so I checked. He IMMEDIATELY put his chips in the middle and I called just as
quickly. Everything went exactly to plan. Everything that is except his hand. He flipped up JQ
for a straight. The voices in my head wanted me to berate him for calling all that money with a
straight draw on a 4 flush paired board. But I knew that would accomplish nothing. I picked up
whatever small amount of red chips I had left and called it a day, down 2 buy-ins.
Poker is a strange game. Today I felt like I played well and had thought out reasons for just about
every play I made and ended up down 2 buy-ins. While yesterday I played like horse**** and
still won a couple hundred bucks. If anyone sees any leaks in my game, feel free to share. Down
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$800 I think I'm going to try my luck at the B today. Maybe a change of scenery could do me
some good.
Matt
06/04/10: Day 3
It was around 1030 last night, at The Joint at the Hard Rock Hotel. The song "Graduate" was
finishing out the band's set. Casey was off in his own world chatting up 16 year old girls; the
leftovers from the "All Time Low" and "Boys like Girls" crowd that had played earlier in the
night at the Bamboozle Road Show. I was minding my own business when I felt a shove in my
back. I turned around to see a 40 year old man and his wife playfully shoving any 14 year old kid
they could get their hands on. In any other environment these two probably would've been
arrested. But here at The Joint they simply began one of the youngest crowd "mosh pits" I've
ever scene or heard of.
By the middle of the song half of the 400 or so remaining had formed a circle and low and
behold Casey was in the middle, fueled by Patron and Bud Light, dancing like a serious white
boy with that same old man. If you've seen the movie Road Trip, visualize the scene where Kyle
breaks it down to "Tricky" at the Black fraternity and add a 40 year old man tripping balls to the
mix. I couldn't help but laugh. It was then that Stephan Jenkins uttered one of my favorite 3EB
lyrics when he rhetorically sung to the crowd "Do you live the days you go through?"
Earlier in the day I decided I had enough of the Rio and that it was time to return to my moneyprinting-plant at the Bellagio. But as was the case the day before, my day got off to quite a
disappointing start. With A K
UTG in a straddled pot I limped in and saw 3 more limp
behind me. When the action got to the BB he bumped it up to 40. The straddle called and I made
my move by raising it to 160. Folded back to the BB and he took his Parkinson-like shaking
hands and immediately shoved in his $700 stack. I reluctantly folded, but felt a bit better when
he flipped up A A .
Once again I was placed to the direct right of the best player at the table, which proved important
in my next big hand. With KT in the SB of a limped pot, I completed and the BB checked. We
took a flop of T84 and I led for $25. The BB called as did a player in MP. The turn paired the 4
and this time I fired a $70 bullet, which was called by both players. After a 5 on the river I tried
one more time for thin value with a bet of $100. Both players called which made me feel a bit
uncertain. Turns out my KT was no good as the over-aggressive BB surprised me deeply when
he turned over a slow-played JJ and once again I was down $400 to start my day.
After indulging in my self-packed PB&J and yogurt lunch at the Sportsbook, I returned to the
table hopeful that my luck would turn around. With 8 8
in MP I raised up two limpers to
30. UTG was the only caller and we saw a flop of 9 8 5 . He checked and I CBet 50,
which he called after some thought. The turn was an A
and after checking he looked like he
wanted to raise my $100 bet, but instead chose another call. The board finished with a J
and
this time I intensified the pressure with a $235 bullet. Distraught he quickly said "Well I guess all
I can do is call" and put his money in with 55. Finally a reasonably sized pot is shipped my way!
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I almost forgot what it was like to stack chips. But I would have to get used to it, as they would
continually be pushed to my stack for the remainder of the session.
With a very aggressive image and an $1100 stack I raised up QQ to $35 and saw 3 players call
me. The flop came J 7 5
and I bet out $85. UTG was my only caller as we took a 2
on
the turn. This time I came with $190. By the speed of his call I was convinced he had a J as
opposed to one of the many draws. The river came the K
and I still saw some value and fired
out $300, praying he didn't have a JK or K X
type hand. He called, nodded, and said "that's
good" when I showed my two Ladies. I continued my roll as table captain and by the end of the
session I was a 2-buy-in $1,000 winner.
Feeling very satisfied and grateful to be on the positive side of variance on this particular day, I
went to pick up Casey at the Flamingo and we made our way to the Hard Rock to grab drinks
before the Third Eye Blind Concert. We sat at the 1/2NL game to pass the time and comp the
drinks. After countess beers and tequila shots, I somehow cashed out with a $450 profit and a
bottle of Jack Daniels, awarded to me for winning a hand with KJ offsuit. (On that note the Hard
Rock gives away their money very liberally through their many promotions. You can win free
rooms, bottles of liquor and hundreds of dollars just for winning pots with certain hands).
But before we could make our way to The Joint for the concert I needed to drain the main vein.
During the 45 seconds or so of pure ecstasy that is an overdue piss, I noticed the bathroom
attendant out of the corner of my eyes. Now I'm fine with a lot of the semi-ridiculous jobs that
require tipping in Las Vegas, but one thing I HATE is paying to take a leak. But, in order to avoid
looking like a douche bag, I grabbed the paper towel that he so graciously took out of the
dispenser and threw him a nice George Washington. On the way out of the bathroom I saw this
guy's cologne collection and thought "hey why not get my moneys worth." Well, while I was
reaching out to grab the Armani, my hand bumped with another mans' who was reaching for the
same bottle. The result was a broken bottle and one pissed off bathroom attendant. As the other
man rushed out of the bathroom, I was stuck with the pity of the attendant who said he paid $30
for that bottle. I felt bad and handed him a $20 bill, apologizing for the broken bottle. Still, even
after I'd felt like I'd been more than gracious I got to hear this Hispanic gentleman tell me "not to
touch his **** if I can't handle it." Got it *******.
But not even a $21 piss could kill my buzz. I was in my favorite city in America, about to listen
to my favorite band, after a solid $1500 day at the poker table.
So there I was in the middle of a junior high mosh pit, started by an old man, watching my
roommate make a fool of himself purely for everyone else's entertainment. And when Stephan
Jenkins asked "Do you live the days you go through" I felt like he was speaking to me. Most of
my friends are at home with a fresh graduate degree, begging for a 9 to 5, begging to become a
prisoner to the dollar. I see no need to speed up the process. I'm 22 years old, seeing the whole
country for the first time, and doing the things I love. So yeah Steve, I'd like to think I'm living
the days I go through.
06/06/10: Venetian Deep Stack
After revisiting the expenses from my first trip, I knew there were a few
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changes that needed to be made if I actually planned on profiting money this time around. First
and foremost, I needed to cut out the table massages. No matter how good I think they are and
how relaxed they make me feel, spending over $400 a week is too great a sum to overcome when
playing mid-stakes NL. So far I've conquered this monster. Six days into the trip and only one
table massage (which wasn't worth it BTW) for a grand total of $45.
Secondly, I needed to cut down on my food budget. This would prove to be both easy and hard.
Easy because all it requires is going to the grocery store and cooking all of my meals/packing
lunches for the casino. Hard because, well I'm much like the stereotypical poker player, and in
my last two years of college I've never cooked so much as a peanut butter and jelly or a frozen
pizza. I'm proud to say that this trend has also been reversed during the first week or so. I've
actually enjoyed the cooking of meals and packing my lunch, it's added to my routine which has
kept me focused and on track throughout the week.
My third concern was alcohol consumption. Not so much the alcohol that goes in my body, but
more so the currency that leaves my pocket. This actually proved to be a smaller problem then I
imagined. Before the trip I made a "no buying drinks at a casino/bar" rule and so far I've stuck
with it. With the lack of open container laws it's made it easy to just bring the beer we bought at
the grocery store to wherever we planned on drinking it. Also the first flask I've ever purchased
has made it easy to sneak hard alcohol into bars, concerts, clubs, etc.
Finally I saw the taxi rides as something I could easily limit this time around. Obviously it's no
longer cold outside which makes walks up and down the strip bearable (I usually just pack an
extra shirt and deodorant in my backpack in case I sweat too much). Also the Meridian is a lot
closer than The Signature to the places I need to be. And in the case of some location being too
far (like the Rio for example) I've got my car.
I realize all of these rules and stipulations I set for myself make me look like a cheap bastard, but
when your bankroll is south of 40k and you're living in one of the most expensive cities in the
US, sometimes being cheap is a method of survival.
Now, onto the poker. Took the day off on Friday, to relax and to make time for watching my
Blackhawks blow a 2-0 series lead over the Flyers. The time off made me both hungry and
energized to play a long session yesterday. So, after arriving at the Venetian around 12:30, I
figured what better time than now to play a multi-table tournament. The $340 Deep Stack
Extravaganza was just getting underway and by the end of registration the field was up to 660,
making first prize $46,000.
At my first table, I was quite intimidated. Not so much because of the player caliber, but more so
because I hadn't played an actual multi-table tournament in quite sometime and wasn't sure if my
cash game mindset would interfere with optimal tournament strategy. Throughout the majority of
the first 3 40 minute levels, my fears were legitimized as I won 0, yes count them ZERO, pots.
With my stack down to 6k from the original 12k I finally win two small ones in a row and
chipped back up to 9k.

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Then with the rest of the players already exiting the table for break, I put my tournament life on
the line for the first time. With the blinds at 100/200 I raised an UTG limped to 600 with 8 8
. The BTN called as did UTG. The flop came T 3 2
and I fired out 1300. The BTN
called and UTG let his hand go. The turn brought the 9
and I checked looking to re-evaluate
after the BTN's play. Well he immediately bet 2500. Something about his lack of thought made
me think he wasn't that strong so I shoved in for my final 7k and he went through a pattern of
cursing and rechecking his cards before pitching them into the dealer. There's a chance I was
actually winning, but my guess is he let go of a hand like TJ or TQ suited.
After break I got involved in a pot with my buddy from Alabama who I'd been chatting with for
the first few hours. He was probably about 40 and making his first, of what he hoped would be
an annual trip, down to the WSOP with his buddies. A recreational player, he too was taken back
by the amount of young kids this year at the Rio playing cash games with over 10k at the table. I
recognize that they've all probably made their money from poker, but something about it still
makes me do a double take every time I pass by. Anyways he raised the BTN at 100/200 25a to
650. The SB called and I threw in a 3Bet (which I had been doing frequently) in the BB with AQ
to 2200. Alabama reshoved for 6800 with K J
and we were off to the races. Unfortunately a
K flopped and the rest of the cards remained under 8. Back down to 9k.
A couple hands later I called an UTG raise to 600 with 88 on the BTN. The SB then repopped it
to 1500 and I was committed after UTG joined the show. The flop didn't let me down as I
flopped top set on a rainbow board. The SB checked, UTG bet out 3200 and I shoved for 7500
all day. He called with JJ and couldn't catch up, building my stack up to 20k.
4 hours into the tournament and finally our table breaks. I say adios to Alabama, who has
nicknamed me the "Multi-tasker" for my simultaneous texting, note taking, reading and IPod
listening, and make my way to the other side of the escalators to my new table. I plan on being
aggressive in the early stages of every new table until the players catch on.
With a 20k stack and the blinds at 150/300 25a UTG, CO, and BTN limp. I think about raising
my K5dd in the BB but decide to just check. The flop comes KJ3 and I check call 900 from the
CO. The turn brings an A and this time I lead out for 2350. He takes little time in calling which
makes me believe he has a hand like KQ or possibly AJ. The river blanks a 4 and I decide I'm
going to pick up those chips in the pot. With about 8k in the pot I shove for 16k. He has me
covered, barely. It's at this moment that I recognize the beauty of tournaments. This guy could be
95% certain that I'm bull****ting, but with only one life and no margin for error, he can't put his
money in. And he didn't. I won the pot and my stack grew to 25k.
Sitting in the 10 seat I got involved in 2 important pots with the 1 seat, an Asian kid. This time, I
raised it up to 750 with 33 in the CO and he made it 1500 all day on the BTN. I called and
flopped a set on a K 8
3 board. After going check check, I led a 7
turn for 2200,
which he called. After a 4
on the river put up 3 to a flush, I bet 6500. My line looks a lot like a
bluff, and when he called I'm fairly certain it was with something like JJ-99.

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With the blinds raising to 200/400 and my stack at 35k EP raised it to 1200 and I made the call
with 9 T
after a bad player had done so on the BTN. The flop came K J 7
and it
checked through. After another K
on the turn I led out for 2400. The BTN called which was
either a J or a flush draw as he bets a K everytime on that flop. Well the river brought another K
and I bet 6500, hoping to get him to fold his flush draws, but resigned to the fact that he
would call with a J. He thought forever and shoved for 6000 more. I folded immediately and
after everyone begged him to show quads, he flipped up QT for a stone cold bluff.
Feeling like a chump I went to check in with Casey at the 1/2 during break. He had one piece of
advice, "Mind-**** them till you have all their chips." It was a line from the Bring Him to the
Greek movie we'd seen the night before, but now it was the motto that would propel me to a
$45,000 pay day.
With 300 players left we returned from break and immediately I pick up my first AA of the
tournament at 300/600 50ante. UTG opens to 1500 and I make it 3900 in UTG+1. Now the hand
gets interesting when my Asian friend in seat 1 cold calls directly to my left. UTG gets out of the
way and we see a flop of 267. Let the mind ****ing begin. I check knowing this guy is looking
for any reason to put me on AK instead of a big pair. He checks back and on a 9 turn I throw in a
small 5400 bet. He shoves after a few seconds and I snap him off. With 50k in the pot he's got 2
outs when he flips up JJ. The rivers a K and all of a sudden I've got the biggest stack at the table.
Onto level 400/800 and I pick up 7 8
in the BB. Folded to the SB who I've seen spew chips
twice in big pots and he limps. I make it 1600 more hoping to play that big pot and he obliges.
The flop comes 6 8 9
and I bet 4200 to which he immediately shoves in for 16,000 more.
Confidant that he was just putting me on big cards I called and got shown TJ. Unfortunately the
turn and river were not kind as first he paired up his J and then he hit the straight with his Q.
Down to 29k I look down at TT in MP. The player from the QT hand bumped it up to 2k in EP
and I made it 7k all day. Back to him and he immediately shoved for 40k. Knowing he would've
had to think about his options with JJ and QQ and is probably making a smaller raise with AA
and KK I call and get shown the obvious AK. Off to the races for all my chips
The flop kept me alive with a Q53. The turn was just as kind as the 5 paired. Down to the last
card. The point in the hand where statistically I'm the biggest favorite, but mentally I'm the most
nervous. The adrenaline is pounding through my veins. I see paint. It's a club. A Queen. Phew.
Back up to 56k and way above average.
In the final hand before dinner break and 6 hours of play I look down at QQ UTG. I make it 2200
and a kid who hasn't played one hand in 2 hours raises it up to 5k with only a 10k stack. All signs
are pointing towards fold, but after all it is QQ. I shove and He calls with J 9 . You waited
two hours for that!! My aggressive image is paying off. The board gives him life with a flopped 9
and turned straight draw, but in the end he couldn't catch up.
After the dinner break we're down to 150 players and my stack is at 80k, roughly 1.5 times the
average stack. While I'm stacking up my chips I hear "hey multi-tasker" from the opposite end of
80

the table. It's my buddy Alabama from the first hour. He's not the greatest player in the world but
a super nice guy so I'm glad to see he's made it this far. On my side of the table, it's me and three
young internet players. One of them is bragging about his trip to the car to "blaze up" to the
whole table. It's awkward. No one thinks it's funny, just weird. This same player is loudly making
fun of Alabama after just about every pot he plays. This pisses me off for a couple reasons.
Number 1 not everyone devotes their whole life to figuring out Texas Hold'em, give him a break.
And secondly why would you want him changing the way he plays???
Anyways, after losing a race to a small stack's all-in I am down to 70k when I pick up QQ once
again at 800/1600 200ante. I raise it up to 4100 and from the other side of the table Alabama
goes all-in for 16k. I call and he shows A9. The flop comes J53 and I'm safe. The turn is a 2 and
the internet players start getting excited, expecting to see another suck out from Alabama. I close
my eyes, knowing their reactions will tell me all I need to know should a 4 or an Ace pop up. The
card flips up. I don't hear anything. It's a 5. I'm good and my stack is up to 90k with the average
at 53k and only 11 tables remaining.
I say goodbye to Alabama and as the chips are pushed my way I realize I have a real chance of
doing some damage in this thing. A bit later I pick up A T
and call a raise to 4200 on the
BTN by a LAG in MP. The BB calls too and we see a flop of A K 4 . MP bet 5200 and I
peel one off as the BB folds. The turn brings a J , a pretty good card for me. This time he bets
10,400. It feels like he's baiting me. In the past I may have called. This time I folded. "Dammit"
he yells when I pitch my cards in. My game is sharp, all around. As sharp as it's ever been
perhaps.
The very next hand I pick up AK in the CO and open to 4200. A very solid player in the SB
makes it 1200 with about 70k back. I know my raise looks weak. The words "All-in" are at the
tip of my tongue when all of a sudden I start using my brain. Why don't I put in a small 4-bet and
give him room to shove with worse? I make it 29k all day. After a bit of thought he shoves. I
snap him off and he knows he's beat. "I thought you were weak," he says as he flips up his AT.
There's 165k in the pot. My chance at a top 5 stack is very real. The flop came a safe 456. But
the turn brought trouble by pairing the 5. Praying for the board not the pair, it doesn't. Worse. It
brings a Ten.
Nobody says anything. Sure it's the biggest pot they've seen all day, but what do they care, their
tournament will go on. Mine will not. I blame myself, even though I know it's irrational. I
should've just shoved. Then he folds AT and I still have a big stack. Three hands later I shove in
for 9k with 44. The same kid calls me with KK and another chimes in that he has folded a 4. My
run is over in around 110th place after 8 great hours of poker.
It's a ****ty feeling, but there is a silver lining. It's the best poker i've played in quite sometime.
That's how this game goes. Sometimes the cards make you feel like a genius, sometimes like a
donkey. And sometimes they make you feel like both in the very same hand.
Matt

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06/07/10: Day 5
"Alfie" I heard, coming from my right as I glanced down at my hole cards. It'd been 6 months
since I heard that nickname, but I still knew it could only be one person. I turned my head to see
the masseuse from my first visit; the one that told me I reminded her of Jude Law from the
movie Alfie. Months back, her compliments propelled a comeback not only for the session, but
for my whole trip. We shared some small talk for a little bit, which eventually turned into a
massage. After all, maybe she could work her magic again and jump start the lack of monetary
progression from the first week of my summer.
Pain shot through my arms as she dug into my neck. It hurt like hell, but I fought through the
misery, in fear that my good luck charm might think less of me as a man if I spoke up. Between
gritting my teeth and folding my cards, She began rambling about how she sensed my presence
the past few days. That my energy was strong and near. "What?" I asked completely
dumbfounded. "Yeah the energy was coming through the walls. I knew you were here, I just
needed to find you," she explained, as if it made perfect sense.
Up until that point my day had been fairly boring. I was 5 hours into my first session at the 5/10
and up a measly 200 bucks. Sitting to the right of three aggressive young internet players, I
almost ended my session minutes after it began. This was one of the most difficult tables I'd ever
sat at and I wasn't sure if my game was ready to handle the aggression. However I sat through it,
treating the session as a learning experience, vowing to stay alert and take in as much
information as I could. So for five hours I removed my IPod and paid attention to the tendencies
of not only the good players, but also the bad ones. Picking up on CBetting tendencies, board
structures, and relative position. For so long I had tried to play the best poker possible with my
skill set. But for once I was the student, trying to expand my knowledge and push my game to
the level of my opponents. Out of all things, I noticed that these guys tried to play perfect poker.
No matter how small the pot or how unimportant the hand, every decision was well thought out
and had a purpose.
My first hand of note during my massage was a raise I made to 40 in LP with J 8 . The SB
called and the flop came Q 4 3 , to which I bet 60. The turn was the T
and this time I
bet 200 after he checked. He called fairly quickly as the 8
peeled off on the river. I checked
and he bet out 380. This may look like a fold, but the line didn't make much sense. I didn't see
him betting any one pair hands for value and it's hard for the 8 to give him 2 pair based on my
bet sizing and their only being two left. So I called and he flipped up 5 6
for a big missed
draw.
I used more aggression in non-showdown hands to build my stack up to $2,000. Then as my
massage was coming to an end I pick up 6 8
in the BB. Limped by 5 players I checked and
we saw a flop of 667. Checked through and I led for 40 when an 8 hit the turn. UTG called and
the SB made it 170. I called as did UTG. A T peeled off on the river and the SB checked. I
decided on betting 450, thinking that one of them would call with a 9. UTG wants to call but
eventually folds JJ and the SB snap calls saying "If you've got the 9 you're good." He showed his
45 for the sucker straight and my full house took the massive pot.

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Maybe there is something to this energy thing, I thought to myself as I tossed the masseuse a 15
dollar tip, more so for the positive vibes then the hammering on my neck. After another hour or
so of value betting, my first session of 5/10 NL ended a $2,400 winner. But more importantly my
game felt better than ever. Up almost $2,900 for the trip my confidence is very high, but I know
if I'm not careful that can all change in one short day.
06/08/10: Short Stackers
Short Stackers are the pest of the poker world. The ants at a picnic. Ridiculed and criticized for
their cowardly buy-ins, they add an element to poker that can really handcuff a great player's
game. However, on a Monday afternoon at the Bellagio, these shortstackers infest the 5/10 game.
No point in complaining though; without them the game wouldn't even get running.
So there I was yesterday at around noon, sitting at a table half filled with poker players and half
filled with shortstackers. Taking it easy for my first hour or so at the table, I passed the time by
catching up on my reading of Stephan Cannell's "The Pallbearers". I had to take a break from the
Shane Scully murder mystery, however, when I looked down at JJ in MP. I raised the tight,
boring table up to 40 and was met with only one call on the BTN. The BTN was an older
gentleman who I'd recognized form the day before. Not because I was in a hand with him, but
because of a scene he'd caused at a 2/5 table. Apparently he'd been pestering a dealer for slow
play, when a years worth of frustration from the disrespect and lack of common courtesy from
this particular player drove the dealer past his boiling point. The shouting match that ensued
could be heard from across the room. Without any other info, I'm compelled to side with the
dealer, as I don't think he would risk his job by causing a scene unless the behavior from the
player was common.
With that incident fresh in my mind, I had a little extra motivation to win this one for the little
man. The flop came 663 and I CBet $65. The old man pushed the action to $160 with just $300
behind. With only one logical move available, I shoved all in. He called and the board finished
off 8 2. I flipped over my Jacks, but they were 2nd best as my opponent had rolled up Aces.
ShortStackers 1 Matt 0.
Later on I got involved with my 2nd shortstack when I limped UTG with K J . Four others
joined and we saw a flop of J T 5 . The SB led out for 40 and I raised to 120 to protect
my hand from all the other players. Back to the SB and he shoves in for 200 more on top of my
bet. I call and he's got T5. Greaaattttt. The turn brings me life with a Q , but it proved to be
only a tease as the river 3
shipped the pot, and doubled up another short stacked player.
Down 800 I called a raise with A 8
to 30 on the BTN. The SB joined and the flop brought
the 4 6 7 . Checked to me and I fired a $60 bullet. The SB thought and made it 190 all
day with only $400 behind. Thinking that all 3 options were pretty bad, I chose the one that at
least allowed me to win the pot, shove. My opponent called and the board finished off 8
10 . He looked distraught, but to the Kid's surprise his 67 was still good. Final score: Short
Stackers 3 Matt -1500.

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Of course all three of the players I donated to left the table within an hour of taking my money. I
mean what would they possibly do if they had to play a hand that involved thinking on all 3
streets?? I fought back hard, but the game had dried up and no one at the table was going to help
me get unstuck. I racked up down 1300 and made for the exits. After a trip to Caesars and an
inexplicable $700 loss trying to force the action playing PLO, my tab for the day reached a grand
total of 2k.
Liitle did I know that my closing line yesterday would ring so true just 24 hours later. Sure I
wrote it, but with my confidence so high, no way did I actually believe I would lose back
basically everything I won the day before. Two days ago I was buying meals for friends, while
yesterday I was cutting costs by eating cereal for dinner. Sure it sucks, but it's the life I've chose.
Today is a new day and a new opportunity to get some sort of win streak started.
Matt
06/10/10: Dinner with the stars.
Sitting at dinner with Deuces Cracked instructor Joe Tall and phenoms Vincent van deer Fluit,
and Christopher George I was in over my head and intimidated by the poker knowledge that
navigated it's way around the table. After all, the past half hour included strategy talk for 7 Card
Stud 8s or better and Deuce to Seven triple draw; games that I barely knew the rules to, yet alone
beginner strategies. CG had just busted the 7 Card Stud 10k main event in 14th place after taking
a couple unsettling beats to Dario Minieri in the final level. Vincent had just cashed in the NL
6max, but was far from enthused after a 10k losing session in the Stars 100/200 Mixed Game the
night before.
Needless to say I was relieved when the conversation shifted towards something I could at least
contribute to. So as soon as Vincent brought up Mario Kart, I proudly chimed in how I won my
fair share of 3am drunken college races throughout the past 4 years. He nodded, telling me that
he too used to spend quite a bit of time on the trails of Bowser's Castle and Rainbow Road. "I
actually still hold the World Record in Donkey Kong's jungle and Baby Park" he said
nonchalantly. I laughed in amazement, surprised at the fact there was a competitive Mario Kart
community. He then returned the laughter on the count that I didn't KNOW there was a
competitive Mario Kart community.
And it was about then that I realized the difference between me and the new breed of online
poker players. Poker was just another video game to Vincent. The chips were just a measuring
stick to mark improvement. Vincent had been playing competitive video games his entire life. As
a brilliant youngster from the Netherlands, he never felt challenged or motivated by the tasks
required of him from his 3rd tier (for those with IQs above 115) high school. Instead channeling
his brain towards strategy games and other self-gratifying tasks like music theory. He selfadmittingly grew obsessive over mastering games like Diablo and Kart.
I too spent my younger school years in a daze, counting down the hours until basketball practice
and tee times. But that's the difference between Vincent and I, between gamers and athletes.
While both activities require a desire to succeed and a knack for improvement they both go about
it in different ways. "Gamers" are rewarded for creating a mental blueprint and working over
time to physically replicate the model they share in their head. Vincent recalled his strategy for
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Donkey Kong's Jungle and it contained well timed turbo's and drifting that if not completed
exactly on time could be the difference between a world record and an average run. It's a
carefully planned and executed strategy. Robotic in many ways. Athletes, on the other hand, are
taught aggression, perseverance and an attitude towards getting the job done by any means
possible. They share more of a feel element, one that thrives under adjustments on the run.
While these two mindsets may not appear to correlate directly to poker, it's my belief that they
absolutely spill over. CG and Vincent, two former gamers, play high stakes limit games that
reward a strategy most identical to the prototype. While former athletes like Patrick Antonius and
Doyle Brunson mastered a No Limit style that has no prototype, instead just pure aggression and
an ability to win ANY pot with ANY two cards. I'm not trying to promote either style; instead I'm
vouching for the old notion that poker is best played by staying true to yourself. By finding your
personality type, your comfort level on the felt, and using it to the best of your ability to win the
most chips possible.
With that being said I was going to review some hands but I'm growing tiresome of continually
pointing out my misfortune, and I don't like coming off as a complainer. My last two full stack
all-ins 99<T9 on a T92hh flop and 88<KcTx on a QJ8ccc flop. On the bright side my ability to
cope and accept the inevitable and uncontrollable is making noticeable improvements. I installed
a mindset that I'm here for 5 more weeks and as long as I continue to strive towards good poker,
not good results, the money will eventually follow. And most importantly I'm not letting the run
bad ruin an otherwise awesome summer.
Even with my unlucky all-ins, I've battled back to scratch the surface of break even the past few
days. So after a little more than a week I'm down about $500, but poised for some success. Casey
and I are going to a beer pong tournament this afternoon and the Deuces Cracked home game
tonight so there should be some interesting TRs to follow.
May you all run better than me!
Matt
Oh and heres a video of the WORLD RECORD HOLDER getting crushed by a 10 year old girl!
Super Mario Kart Leyla Hasso vs Vincent van der Fluit Part 1
06/12/10: Scammers and Heaters?
Browsing twoplustwo last night after watching Shutter Island, I came across a thread equally as
spooky as the Leo Dicaprio thriller. The topic was a scammer alert for a poster named Senjitsu.
Senjitsu, whose real name is Jason Covener was caught renting out rooms in his WSOP house
while he was in the process of getting evicted from that very property. So far 7 victims paid
Covener $1500 to reserve a room. But there almost was 8...
While looking for a place to stay this summer Covener sent me a message on 2p2 telling me he
kept up with my thread and offering me a spot in his Vegas mansion. The house was beautiful
and $1500 seemed like a reasonable price for 6 weeks in Vegas. After sending me links to deals
he'd done in the marketplace and posters who could vouch for him, I was convinced I could
safely send 3k to this friendly stranger. Luckily, while I was in the process of setting up a

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Paypal account to complete the transaction, my sister talked some sense into me. She broke it
down in logical terms and told me that this is simply not how real estate works in the real world.
So after recontacting Senjitsu and offering 500 up front and the rest when we arrived, he politely
declined and wished me good luck.
The point of the story is that you can never be too careful when dealing with large amounts of
money. In the virtual world of 2p2 where PT graphs and post counts earn credibility and respect,
it can become easy to forget that behind the well-constructed avatar and clever screen name is a
person that you do not actually know. I got caught up in this fantasy world and was ready to send
a complete stranger almost 5% of my poker roll, when a simple Google search would've pulled
up numerous warning signs into this shady characters past. Thankfully someone living beyond
the walls of twoplustwo was able to talk some sense into me before I made a huge mistake.
Apparently Covener was arrested, so hopefully the people he scammed are returned their money
along with this valuable lesson.
Needless to say I headed to the Bellagio the next day aware that my "running bad" could've been
a whole lot worse. Feeling like I was already up 1500 for the day I sat down at a pretty nitty 5/10
NL game. To maximize my profit at this particular table, I opened up my 3Betting range. After
an hour I hadn't played a hand past the flop, yet my aggressiveness helped me grow my stack
from 1k to 1500.
One early hand that helped me establish an aggressive image saw me 3bet an opponent to 120
with TT in the sb. After an AJ4 flop, I checked to him. He was visibly confused and unconfident
as he fired 150 on the flop. I check raised to 400 thinking my line looked pretty strong. He shook
his head and tossed his KK face up into the muck. I showed me TT hoping it would help me get
paid in later spots.
Then in my next big hand I picked up 3 5 . The table limped to me and I joined the party on
the BTN. The flop came Q 2 4
and the SB, an older aggressive Italian man led for 50.
MP called, as did I. The turn brought me the nuts with a 6
and the Italian led again for 110.
This time MP shoved in for 350 and I did my best attempt at posturing to not make my overcall
look like the nuts. The SB bought it and called. After checking to me on an A river, I stacked up
360 and put it in the pot, to which he reluctantly made the call.
Up to 2500 I continued to beat on the Italian to my left, who was a very friendly fellow, but
generally too loose and aggressive in the wrong spots. With A K
I raised a mp open of 50
to 150 on the BTN. My Italian friend cold called in the sb and the original raiser followed suit.
The flop came K K 4
and we checked it through. A Q on the turn and the sb lead into
the pot for 180. I called and an 8
hit the river. He checked and I bet 325, which he called in
stride. My AK was obviously good.
Just when I thought he was being serious by telling me he "wouldn't be playing pots with the
kid" in his heavy Italian accent, we got involved again. I limped in mp with QJ and flopped the
nuts on a 9TK board. I bet 50 and Italy bumped it up to 120. I made it 270 all day knowing he
wouldn't fold. The turn was a 6 and I led for 320. He called and we saw the K hit the river. Here
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is where I made a mistake that would cost me in more ways then one, I checked, with my
opponent only having 400 back. He checked back KJ and I was shipped the pot, but disappointed
in missing the $400 in value.
Only a few hands later and we entered the final battle of our lopsided rivalry. I called a mp raise
to 50 with K Q
on the BTN and so did Italy in the sb. The flop came Q 9 7
and I
bet 120 when the action got to me. My Italian friend called and the turn brought the 5 . He
then checked in a way which made me believe he didn't have a flush and I was put in a tough
spot. With only 340 in effective stacks and the Q
for protection, I decided to shove all in, not
wanting to miss value like I previously had against this opponent. He gave me the "I guess it's
time to go home speech", so I knew I was toast even before he flipped over 6 8 . I couldn't
catch up on the river and lost my first pot of consequence in my last pot of the day.
Still, I filled 4 racks with orange and left the B up 3k. It's great to finally get results, but now the
key is producing a few winning days in a row. I'm excited to play each and every day recently.
As bad as my game felt at the beginning of the trip, that's how great it feels now. My hand
reading and bet sizing has been impressive and I feel like I'm finally learning how to win big
pots at the 5/10.
Matt
06/14/10: Freerolls
In a city built around spontaneity and with minds that crave excitement and disconformity, it's
come as a surprise to me that Casey and I have stuck to a solid routine. We wake up between 9
and 10 everyday. Between then and 2 we workout, eat, sit by the pool, read and write. For the
next 5 to 6 hours we move shop to the Bellagio for our daily poker sessions and for viewing of
whatever sporting event is on for the day. Around 8 o'clock we retire back to our place for one
final meal, before we head out to our newest tradition, 1/2 NL at the Hard Rock.
To Casey, the Hard Rock is another session for the day, a chance to get unstuck or build on
whatever profit he made earlier. To me it's just a chance to splash around a few pots, get tipsy,
and joke round with a far less serious poker crowd then the ones that infest the strip. Not to
mention a chance at winning one of their many generous poker promotions. Be it 96 suited, KJo,
36o, or any full house, the Hard Rock provides plenty of opportunities for their players to win
cash, bottles of liquor, and free hotel rooms.
I usually stay about 2 hours, try to win every single pot I enter, and then stumble down Koval,
back to our apartment. Casey on the other hand, can sometimes play until to middle of the night.
So it came as no surprise when he informed me about a $2700 freeroll they were offering Sunday
morning to all players who played 10 hours that week.
Upon arriving, it became obvious that this was the weekly meet up of a small stakes poker club.
Jokes about check-raising and suited connectors set the mood for what I should've known was a
friendly attempt at splitting the promotional money amongst the regulars. Casey fit right in,
telling stories of his Aces cracked and recalling hands that the drunk guys were playing at 4am
the night before.
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I however, had made the cut by 15 minutes, clearly on the outside of the Hard Rock Poker click.
Out of the 30 or so who entered the tournament I was part of the half that the regulars were
hoping to weed out before chopping the money. Needless to say it didn't help my shot of gaining
membership into the group when I shoved 5 T
for 2k at 200/400 only to crack a regulars
QQ on a K475T board. Or a couple hands later where I was given the QQ and got called allin by
QJ because "I SAW HIM SHOVE 5T, HE CAN"T HAVE QQ?!?!?"
With 14 players left my stack was up to 6500 from the starting 1k. The first place $800 prize was
certainly realistic. So with 3 stacks under 2k and one at 800 with 300/600 blinds I thought it was
ridiculous when one of the bigger stacks suggested a 14 man chop. Speaking from a competitive
and EV point of view, I was the only player to decline the offer. For the next 3 hands I paid the
price in the form of evil glares and silence. Then when the 800 stack shoved in and the BB
folded AK I realized that I was the one being ridiculous. No one else was trying to win the
tournament, just survive to a chop. Keeping the morality of the group strong was more important
than one player scoring big. So before they decided to burn me at the stake, I changed my stance
and the chop was on. $170 bucks, but more importantly to the group, everyone was a winner.
After the half-field chop I took my profit over to the Bellagio for some 5/10. This game,
however, was a tad different then the nit fest at the Hard Rock. Immediately upon sitting down
another new player joined the table to my direct right. After three 3Bets to start the day it became
apparent that he was here to gamble. After busting a player preflop with AQ to AK, he called a
pot-sized $500 bet on a 4flush board with a set to beat his bluffing opponent. Unfortunately, for
the hour he played, I picked up zero hands to get involved. And after increasing his $1500
starting chips to $3000, his strength eventually became his downfall, as his bluffs and hero calls
torched his big stack.
After he left the table, the cards came my way, and I was able to take over as table captain.
3betting and CBets helped grow my stack to 1400 when I got involved in my first big pot. With
9 J
in the BB I called a 40 open from a weak-tight conservative player UTG, after 3 players
had already done so. The flop came T 9 7
and I began the action with a check. UTG led
for 120 into 200. After two folds the BTN called with what looked like a T or a flush draw. Back
to me and I saw too much money in the middle to fold but not enough hand strength to call. So I
shoved in. They both folded and I was up to almost 1900.
A bit later I got involved with the next best player at the table, who I had been chatty with for the
past hour. He raised to 40 and I called on the BTN with 8 9
The flop came 3 8 9
and he led for 80. I made it 240 and he called after some thought. The turn was a K
and I bet
400 when checked to. He thought awhile and eventually folded what he said was A T .
Cruising along, I was beginning to feel like my game was turning a corner. I was applying a lot
of pressure in both hands where I was strong and hands where I was weak, resulting in a lot of
non-showdown winnings. The next hand put me in an interesting spot when I raised to 45
UTG+1 with 88. The CO, BTN, SB, and BB all called to see a flop of 2 3 5 . Checked to

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me and I led for 170. The BTN, a standard old guy, called while all the others folded. At this
point I put him on a pair 66-JJ or a flush draw. WIth 4 players behind me I was sure he would
have to raise a set on the flop. The turn came the harmless Q
and this time I led for 420,
thinking he would fold all his big pairs and probably his flush draws. 4 seconds later I realized
how wrong I was when he shoved in for 1700. I immediately folded. Regardless, I still like the
way I played the hand and think that he probably flopped a straight with A4.
Soon there after my day ended with only $750 in profit, but once again I was thrilled with the
way I played. It would always be nice to WIN my last hand of the session, but my mindset all
summer has been that the whole trip is "one big session" so it's really not all that important to
me. Up around 3k for the trip now, hopefully the heater has officially replaced the Run-bad as
my allin buddy.
Matt
06/16/10: Tricky Europeans and Clueless Canadians
Standing with the dice in my hand, the board sprinkled in red chips, and a hefty back up bet on
the pass line, I tossed my signature roll at the corner of the mirror, and watched as the dice rode
the outside of the cylinder like two horses at the track. The first die came down five, the second
was still spinning. A 4 would hit the point, pay me 3:2 on my 30 dollar back up bet, and once
again help me walk out the door of Ellis Island a winner. I froze, my eyes glued to the die as it
slowly stopped spinning and fell on its back. "7 out the dealer shouted". Disappointed, I had the
dealer color up my remaining chips, as it was time to call it quits and admit defeat for the first
time of my dice career to the people of Ellis Island. "I swear if it wasn't for bad luck, you
wouldn't have any luck at all," the dealer said to me as he returned my two remaining $25 chips.
Boy he couldn't be more wrong
The past two days I played two 6 hour sessions at the Bellagio. It seems to me like each day I
play is the new toughest table I've sat at. This time of the summer, half the 5/10 seats are filled
with young European pros, a quarter of them Rocks, and maybe if you're lucky one or two fish.
The first of my sessions saw me get stuck half a buy-in pretty early. Things like Cbetting and
3Betting just weren't working against this European lineup. Then with a 1k stack I got involved
in a pot with the woman to my right.
It started when a loose European player raised to 30 UTG. The woman in the CO called and I
(while trying to make it 110) accidentally made it 130 to go with 8 9 . UTG folded and the
woman, dressed in a "Canada Kicks Ass" shirt made the call by placing one bill into the pot. The
flop came 8 7 5
and I bet 160 when checked to. After posturing for a few moments, the
CO made the call. The turn was a 2
and again she checked. Thinking I had some fold equity
against TT JJ type hands and wanting to protect against flush draws, I bet out 520 with 230
behind. She thought forever, counting out her bills over and over before finally sliding them all
into the pot. I obviously called, hoping to avoid a diamond for any chance at the pot.
Unfortunately the 10
popped up on the river and I knew I was toast. I heard her say "Ace" and
checked her hand to confirm the nut flush. But no, all she had was the AK of clubs for no pair, no

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draw. I didn't know how to react as I raked in the 2k pot, so I sat to myself, silently, wondering
what was going through that woman's mind.
Later, in my only other interesting spot I opened QQ to 50 UTG. Back to the SB, a European
who had opened fairly frequently preflop, but not once 3Bet in our 6 hour session, made it 160 to
go. While my Queens appear strong, in this situation they aren't necessarily the best hand. So to
gain more information I made it 280 all day, knowing his stack was around 950. Without a
nervous bone in his body, he paused for a few seconds before announcing all-in. Having gotten
the information I needed, I tossed my hand in face up, which sparked quite the discussion
between me and another solid European player. He was befuddled that I would fold that hand
after putting 280 into the pot, saying that even if I had AQ I would've had to call based on pot
odds. I argued that my opponents range was way tighter then he was giving him credit for.
Eventually we agreed to disagree; but I was reassured of my read when my opponent called me
over as I was leaving and said he had KK.
I returned to the B the next day hoping to build on the current mini-winning streak I had going.
After a brief stint in the must move, I was transferred to the main game and in the middle of a
back and forth battle between two European big stacks. One of them, who had lost a few pots in
a row (and a healthy portion of his stack), was clearly on tilt; doing things like pounding chips on
the felt and shaking his head refusely in an anxious manner. So when I picked up KK in MP and
he raised it up to 55 UTG I knew it was best to play my hand fast. I bumped it up to 170 and he
called without any thought at all. The flop came 9 7 5
and after he checked, I bet out
240. He shoved in rhythm and I called immediately. The turn brought the A
and the river the
K
and I knew I was good as he shook his head. What I didn't know was that the river K bailed
me out against his top set of 9s. My first big suck out of the trip and it came in a 2100 dollar pot.
After a few smaller battles with the tilting giant, I changed tables, not wanting to get involved in
250BB hands with an opponent with such a wide range and a knack for shoving all-in. At my
new table, I was seated next to a player with a creepy resemblance to Steve Carrel (video of the
Michael Scott look-a-like on my website). Anyways hoping that he would be as clueless a card
player as we was a paper salesmen, I got involved in two early pots with him. In the first one I
made it 40 with KK and he raised me up to 140. With both of us 2k deep I made it 320 all day.
He called and we took an action killing flop of A53. I checked and he bet 120. I called and we
saw an 8 turn. Check check to another 8 on the river. Again I checked it down, satisfied with the
size of the pot. He checked and flipped up TT as the chips were pushed my way.
Soon after I picked up AA and raised the action to 40 in early position. Steve called, as did 3
others. The flop came T 4 2
and I bet 130 when checked to. Steve pulled out a stack and
a half and min-raised me to 260. Confused and with very deep stacks I shuffled chips for a
minute, thinking of my best move. Eventually I raised is up 450 more, to which Steve showed a
T and folded his hand. I felt like Dwight. The smarter, better paper salesman, that Michael Scott
always seems to find a way to outshine and outsmart.

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Satisfied with my session I racked up 2k richer, which put my 2-day total somewhere in the
$2800 profit range. For the trip Im up almost 6k and while each day my game feels stronger, I'm
constantly reminded through missed value and bad bluffs that I have much to learn.
For now, I can live with the end of my Ellis Island losing streak. After all, if my bad luck
continues to come in the form of $60 crap outs and my good luck in $2,000 suckouts, it's going
to be a great summer.
Matt
06/17/10: The homeless and Caesars
If you're walking daily from Koval down Flamingo to LVBD odds are you've been acquainted
with quite a few members of the LV homeless community. There's the three who have taken over
the half cylinder behind the bus station on Koval, the sun-beaten guy with the "why lie I need
beer" sign, the Hispanics selling water for a dollar, and the Asian guitar player. I've never really
had a stance on homelessness because frankly I've never witnessed it to anything near this
degree. But one thing I do know is that these people can certainly use any help you're willing to
give them. So most times we leave home we bring a couple extra cans of beer, and either beef
jerky, or a handful of animal crackers to help these guys make it through the day. A survivalists
true essentials.
Well one day when we were heading back from Ellis Island, Guppie decided to treat a man we'd
never seen before, sitting in front of 7/11 to a fresh $5 bill. Whether it was the winning session or
the liquid courtesy, I'm not sure. But I do know that afterwards he felt better then any winning
craps day could make him feel. Well a few days later we were walking past that same 7/11 to the
Hard Rock with a few extra beers when we noticed the same guy. "Im gonna give my man one
of these beers," Guppie tells me as we approach the braided black man. However, the man
doesn't notice Guppie's beer initially as he's preoccupied with a small black device in his lap. It's
the brand new Blackberry, a phone more expensive then Guppie's and mine combined. "Either
that 5 bucks completed his 'Blackberry savings fund' or you've been hustled my friend" I said to
Casey, laughing my way down Koval as he shook his head in defeat carrying the weight of two
extra beers. Now I don't know if that guy is actually homeless or not, but it goes to show that
everybody's hustlin one way or another out here.
Yesterday I had some shopping and cleaning to do that kept me from getting to the Bellagio until
6pm. With the 5/10 wait at 14, I decided to venture over to Caesars for the 7pm tourney. While
I'm about to register I hear the floor man announce that late registration for the 4pm tourney is
about to end. And since I hate the early stages of tournaments anyway, I said what the hell,
signed up for the 4pm and got busy right away with my 25BB stack. After all with a field of 90
and only 60 something remaining it didn't seem like the worst deal in the world.
After folding down to a 20BB stack at 500/1,000 100a I picked up 99 in the BB. Folded to the
BTN and he made a standard open to 3k. I shoved without much thought and was called. He had
TT and I was in bad shape. The flop provided no help with the 4 8 Q , and the turn A
didn't do much either. I was standing up when I noticed three diamonds on the board and one in

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my hand. With a ray of hope I sat back down and gladly accepted the 9
up.

on the river a double

With 50k at 1,000/2,000 200a I opened in the sb to 6k with KJ against a new opponent who
appeared to be a little intoxicated. We took a flop of AAJ and before I could check he said, "well
damn you know I don't have that Ace." Suspicious I checked again when I hit my 3pair (K) on
the turn, and he quickly bet out for 6k. I called and checked again on an 8 river. In rhythm, he
fired out for 14k. I surely wasn't happy about it, but my hand was under-repped so I called and he
mucked pretty quickly.
Down to 35 players, I was all ready for the 15 minute break when on my last hand I picked up AJ
on the BTN. UTG +1 shoved in for 30k at 2,000/4,000 and I was in a tough spot. He had just
switched to our table so I didn't know how he played, but something kept telling me he either
wanted to double up or get out of here before the break so I made the call. He showed AK and
obviously I was in trouble. The door card, however, was the pretty J . He threw a little hissy fit
as the flop finished out J 4 3 . Of course the K
saved him on the turn, the river
blanked, and he was stuck apologizing to me with the "sorry man that's just how it's been going
for me" speech.
After returning to the table I made a couple steals and shoves to grow my stack back up to 75k,
when I encountered another Blind vs Blind situation. With K 9
at 2,500/5,000 500a I
shoved my opponent in for his remaining 20k. He called and I was in good shape against
Q 6 . The flop brought us both a flush draw with the 4 8 J . The turn was the A
and the river a harmless 3 .
So there I was with 100K with 18 remaining, 9 paying and $4,800 going towards the winner's
check. The finish line was within site. Unfortunately the variance portion of tournaments took
over and I saw no hands to even steal with for the next 30 minutes. With my stack down to 45K
and blinds at 4,000/8,000 500a I shoved in 2 4
from the small blind. An older gentleman
who I'm sure would fold too many times, picked up 55 and made the call. "I need some
diamonds" I declared as I flipped over my hand. And diamonds were what I got. I flopped a flush
on a 9 7 3
board, but as I checked my opponents hand I saw that I still had some outs to
dodge as he held the 5 . The turn safely brought the Ks and I closed my eyes, knowing the
sounds of the table would tell me all I needed to know about the river. "oohhh that's sick" is what
I heard next. The T
finished off my tournament, 5 places from the money.
It's tough to be disappointed when you get it in with two unders, but I couldn't help but think on
my walk home what could've been if my flush held up. I haven't cashed in a live tournament in
quite some time, but recently I've been getting close. I have this hunch that when I do it could be
a real big score.
Matt M

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06/19/10: How to have your worst day ever

The screen on my IPod touch is slowly but surely driving me crazy. It started two weeks ago
when the 1 and the Q lost their sensitivity and subsequently their ability to function. Obnoxious,
but certainly bearable. I adjusted by referring to Queen's a 0ueen's and raises to 150 as one50.
The next to go was the artist's button. No longer can I search my music through the group name,
instead I have to go by the track title. So when I'm in the mood for some Billy Joel and throw on
Piano Man, I have to put up with 50 Cent's P.I.M.P as an encore. Not the end of the world, but
certainly grounds for annoyance. Finally, yesterday, the "slide to open bar" stopped sliding.
Obviously this malfunction presents the greatest challenge. The device no longer opens, it just
sits on the poker table and gives me something to yell at when I can't win a pot. Still I keep it
around, like Ken Griffey on the Mariners, hoping that one day it will refind the magic that once
kept me alienated from bad poker jokes and protected from the embarrassing silence after a bluff
gone wrong.
Having just finished my book and without my aforementioned IPod, yesterday's session turned
into a unique battle between me and the poker table. I didn't have my mental cave to retire to inbetween playable hands and as a result I felt myself pressing. Usually I look at my cards and then
assess the best possible option based on the table dynamic. Yesterday, I found myself praying for
playable cards and looking for any excuse to start a pot with them. For example, if there was a
fish in the sb, I would use that as a reason to raise A9o in EP. As you can imagine this got me
into a bit of trouble early.
Early on I raised to 40 in EP with KQ. Back to the sb, an aggressive young player and he
bumped it up to 130. I called and saw a nice Q52 flop. The sb quickly led into me for 300,
roughly a pot sized bet. It seemed like a bet that wanted to portray strength, which I didn't think
he would want with AA or KK so I made the call. The turn was a 9 and after some thought he
checked to where I checked back. After another 9 he thought for a bit and shoved all in for my
final 600. I used the turn check as a reason to put him on TT or JJ, but looking back on it who
actually turns those hands into bluffs?? So I called the all-in and of course he had AA and I was
quickly down a buyin. I think it was Limon who once posted on the importance of preflop
decisions. While it was only a $90 call, my preflop call with KQ turned into an $1100 mistake.
After settling down and building my next buyin up to 1200, I got involved with a new player at
the table. He raised to 40 in the CO and I called on the btn with 6 7 . The flop came
5
8 Q
and after he checked I fired out for 80. He called and the turn paired the queen (Q
) and gave me a flush draw. This time he led out for 100, clearly trying to protect an average
hand. So I used this read and raised to 300, trying to represent the trips. He called after
deliberation and I whiffed completely on an 8
river. He checked again, but instead of giving
up I knew a third barrel should be able to represent a full house. So I bet 700. He thought for a
bit before simply saying "call" without putting any chips in. "You're good" I said as he flipped up
JJ. Now this one really put me on tilt. I rarely, if ever, make big river bluffs, but this one felt so
right. And then to get called by 3 pair, really put a damper in my spirits.
Experiencing my first case of "tilt" of the trip, I really should've gotten up and left. After all I had
met my personally instated 2-buyin rule for the day. But I was mad. Mad at myself for calling

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with 67. Mad at the dealer for not flipping over one of my 10,000 outs. Mad at my opponent for
calling without a boat. And finally, mad at my god damn $300 IPod for breaking after 4 months
and eliminating my anxiety soothing sanctuary. So I went into my pocket and pulled out another
$1,500.
Turns out the player with JJ was quite the fish (surprise, surprise) and had yet been able to find
the fold button. So I made it my new goal to push my edge when I found myself in a pot with
him. And within an hour I was given another opportunity. With TT on the BTN, the most
aggressive player at the table raised to 40 in EP. The fish called in the CO and I saw an
opportunity to isolate. So I raised to 160. Back around to the aggressive Asian and he started
looking around, thinking, and counting out a raise. In my mind he was observing my move and
my motive, to isolate the fish. He then, in my mind, take it, reraised off of my weakness as a
chance to take down the pot. Of course the real reason he reraised was because he had AA and
the raising option was back open to him. So when I shoved in, his eyes lit up as he said call
almost immediately. The board ran out dry, and I was broke. Again.
-3500 for the day. -5000 the past two days. All that profit that I was hoping to parlay into a
monster summer was now gone. I'm back to zero, possibly a little bit in the red. I didn't think it
was possible the way the trip was going, and I certainly didn't think it could happen in two days.
But it has. Had I written this blog last night, it would've been a lot more angry. I was pissed off at
myself for being so stupid, especially days before my girlfriend was to come out to visit. All of
the "expensive" things I wanted to do with her were now going to hurt that much more.
But now, after a night of sleep, I'm in a better place. There's no reason to mope or feel sorry for
myself. I made the mistakes and I have to deal with the consequences. As coach Wooden once
said "Things work out the best for people who make the best of the way things turn out." On that
note I must forget that I once had 6k in profit. I'm back to even and that's the way it's supposed to
be. As some have pointed out, my need to win every pot and outplay people has certainly caught
up to me. I need to tighten up significantly and return to the basics if I want any hope of starting
another winning streak.
Matt
06/20/10: Fathers Day with Degenerates
This morning I came over to the Bellagio to write so I could watch my White Sox complete their
2nd sweep in a row (LOL National League) and to keep up with the final day of the US Open.
Sundays at the majors, especially when Tiger is in the hunt, are my favorite sports viewing days
of the year. I typically spend them with my dad marveling at the shots the top players hit, while
he sits and maintains that he has those same shots in his bag. I'm the 4 handicap and he's the 12,
but you wouldn't know that by watching a round of golf with us.
This is the first Fathers Day that I can remember not spending with my dad; but it really isn't all
that different. We're both watching the Open, only instead of the other side of the couch, he's on
the other side of the country. He still texts me anytime one of his "Stiffs" misses a putt and I still
call him every time Tiger goes insane. Luckily this year we've got a little something extra on the
line. At the start of the week I placed a bet for both of us on Dustin Johnson (Who won earlier
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this year at Pebble Beach) getting 25:1 odds. Johnson's currently got a 3 stroke lead, so hopefully
Tiger doesn't make too much noise and we can enjoy the victory together.
On another note, my girlfriend is coming to stay with me today. It's been a few weeks since I've
seen her and she's never been to Vegas as an adult so I imagine it's going to be a fun few days.
While I've got a few surprises lined up for the week, here's to hoping she doesn't have any
Father's Day surprises for me
Pokerwise, yesterday was supposed to be my day off. But with visitors this week, I needed
another full session to get the awful taste of Friday out of my mouth. Right off the bat I felt the
same pressure from 3Bettors as I had the day before. However, I'd seen what happens when I
lose my discipline, so I never felt tempted to get frisky and challenge the aggressors. Instead, I
sat and waited for the appropriate spots to fire back. Eventually I got my chance.
With 55 I called a raise on the btn to 50 against a powerful presence from the other side of the
table. He was a big-muscular man with a goatee and a shiny Indianapolis Colts Super Bowl ring.
He'd already successfully 3bet me twice today, so I new he was capable of aggression. After the
SB and BB joined we saw a flop of 2 5 6
and everybody checked to me. I bet 140 and
my opponent again tried to get me off my hand by pushing the action to 400. I shoved and he
couldn't call 500 more, letting me know that he was certainly bull***ting.
Later after 1 limper, I raised my btn up to 50 with 5 8 . Colts called in the BB as did the
limper. The flop fell down beautifully with the A 9 3 . Checked to me and I Cbet 90 to
where Colts immediately shoved in for 600. I called and the board brought no real danger with a
4
and a Q . He confidently turned up K K , as I guess he misread the final card for a
heart. As soon as he realized his mistake, he slapped the table and took off into the night.
Later with a big stack, I squeezed on the btn for $120 after a $35 open and one caller. The sb an
aggressive internet player who I'd played with before 4bet me to $440. Now this is a spot where
Friday I would've played back. The 4bet seemed too big and perfectly timed to be a big hand. I
wanted to shove, but I set myself a goal. I was going to stick to ABC poker for today. So I folded
and moved on to the next hand.
One thing that I'm realizing is that sometimes it's okay to get outplayed. Brain Townsend once
had an excellent blog post about what it meant to be a "great player." While the internet forums
and TV poker make stars out of the guys who 5Bet bluff and hero call with k-high, he maintained
that the strongest players were those who could stick to a game plan and make the fewest amount
of mistakes over the longest period of time. These are words that I will use for the remainder of
the summer as a reminder that poker success is not achieved by being daring, but disciplined.
I won one more medium sized pot when a 6 on a 789TK board got me two streets of value
against a set. Sometimes these old guys refuse to fold a big hand, regardless of the board, which
is important to know when planning out value bets. My game certainly didn't feel excellent as I
made a couple double barrels that failed miserably, but overall it was a step in the right direction.

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Leaving the game a $1600 winner, I've completed step 1 of Operation Recovery. Discipline will
be the key to the remainder of the process.
Matt
06/25/10: Angle Shoots
Back in high school and college the idea of making a living playing poker was quite admirable.
Checks for hundreds of dollars a week, sent from Antigua, impressed not only my friends but my
parents too. The idea that I could sit at my computer and print money by solving problems even
caught the interest of my high school professors, who began learning the game with my friends
and I.
Eventually every Wednesday night we would all meet up in our virtual world and play the
freeroll tournament on WSEX Poker, which usually paid out around $300-$500 to the winner.
Well one particular Wednesday, I won the 200 man tournament in front of many of my high
school faculty. From then on I was looked at in a different light and began spending a lot of my
after school time discussing winning strategies with the teachers and trading online for real
money. I never asked for anything in return. In fact being treated and respected based on my
intelligence instead of my age was more gratifying than any amount of monetary compensation.
In many ways that's why I pursued poker so strongly in the first place. The poker table is a place
where nobody judges you based on your sex, skin color, or age; but strictly by your intelligence.
I was 16 years old and my 40 year old teachers looked up to me because I knew how to get
people to fold top pair and call with Ace high.
This feeling of importance lasted about the length of the Moneymaker sensation, but eventually
it ran its course. Nowadays I'm embarrassed to tell those same teachers that I'm still playing
poker, and even my friends think that it's time for me to mature. The "normal", non-gambling
folk, simply don't support the pursuit of something that they see as simply a hobby.
So when I had a chat on Tuesday with a slots player at the Mirage pool I was a little hesitant to
answer when he asked why I was out in Vegas for 6 weeks. Surprisingly he was amazed when I
told him it was to play poker. These gamblers are different from most of the people I need to
justify my vacation to. They spend their time fighting for that big score, but mostly trying to stay
afloat until the money's gone. So to them the idea that I could survive a whole summer out here
doing what THEY love is remarkable. I could've sat with this guy and supplemented his curiosity
all day. Every answer I gave was followed by a smile and an admirable nod. A bit of a relief from
the confusion and concern that I've grown accustomed to from most people in my life.
Poker has taken a bit of a back seat this week as I've spent most of my time at the pools,
restaurants, and clubs, doing more of the tourist thing with my girlfriend and her friends.
However on Sunday before they arrived, I was able to get in one long session.
The first hand of my day saw me playing a 3way pot in position with Q T . After calling a
raise to 40 on the BTN, I called the original raiser's 80 bet on a 3 J Q
board. He checked
a4
on the turn, to which I fired a bet of 175. When he called it was pretty clear that he did not
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believe me. So when another non-spade 4 came on the river I decided a big bet was the best was
to get him to bluff-catch me. I chose 370 and after a few minutes of thought he put his chips in
with AJ.
Up to 1600 I found Aces in the CO. I raised it up to 40 and was met with a raise to 140 by an
internet player on the btn. Now in this particular hand there was a bit of important metagame
going on. He had 3bet me a few times to which I had joked that I wasn't going to take it much
longer. So with the perfect scenario set up I reraised the pot to 320. Almost immediately my
opponent shoved for 1500. I rechecked my cards and slid my chips into the pot. The flop came
QT4 as my eyes rotated between the flop and my opponents facial expressions. A 3 on the turn
and a 5 on the river completed the board to where my opponent slowly shook his head. I knew I
had him as I flipped up, and he just mucked saying "I've been running into that hand quite a lot
lately."
Up to about 3800, I was forced to get involved with my 2 6
from the BB when 5 players
had already entered for 40. Not expecting much, I checked a flop of A 4 5 . Surprisingly
so did the rest of the table. The turn was a great card for me as the 7
completed the rainbow. I
checked again and this time the CO bet 150. The BTN called pretty quickly, which made me
believe he only had one pair. Knowing the CO probably also had one pair I threw in a raise to
560. Both players folded pretty quickly as my aggressive play helped me take down an
uncontested $500 pot.
With a $4700 stack, I got involved in my last pot of the day and possibly the most controversial
of my career. I raised a few limpers to 70 with AK. Now the action was to that same internet
player from the AA hand who 3bet it up to 240 on the BTN. This didn't surprise me at all. He had
been getting crushed, reloading for 1500 about every hand, and was clearly looking to play a
huge pot. So with my opponent showing one stack of $10 chips and some bills, I reraised,
committing myself, by throwing in 900. As the action got back to the internet player I saw him
pick up his bills and begin counting out a call. At this point it became obvious that this player
had about 35 bills in play, even though he hadn't won a pot in hours. I asked him when he got so
deep and he replied with "I rebought the other hand." Completely caught off guard I checked
when the flop came down 943 and eventually folded when my opponent shoved in for his
remaining 2k. Feeling stupid for not asking and cheated by my opponent who had reloaded for
3X the allowed buy-in, I stacked up my remaining chips and ended my session. While it was still
a 2800 winning day, I couldn't help but think all night about that last hand. Was it an angle shoot?
Or my fault by assuming he was playing by the rules?
Anyways that session put me back up about $4200 for the trip. It's very satisfying to know that I
didn't crumble mentally after my terrible two day run, but I need to be very careful and not allow
tilting mistakes to happen again. On Saturday my roommates and I are playing the 1k at the
WSOP. I don't know if this is allowed at 2p2, but I thought it would be fun to sell like 30% of
myself. So if any of you guys want to come along for the ride and purchase anywhere from 2-5%
either write it here or message me and I'll get back to you later tonight with my poker SN and
methods for payment. If this isn't allowed and any moderators want me to take down the offer I
can do that as well.

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Matt
06/27/10: Event 47 NL Hold'em
The WSOP is something I've dreamt about since the first time I saw poker on ESPN. I can still
remember playing games of follow the Queen, Guts, Hollow man, and 7 card hide-no-peakie
with episodes of Moneymaker's historic run faintly running in the background. It was then that
we changed our main game to NL Hold'em, knowing it was our only chance at gaining fame and
one day playing on ESPN.
Things are a bit different nowadays. I'd much rather grind out a 2 buy-in win at the 5/10 then
place a large portion of my bankroll in such a high variance event. Still though with my final two
roommates getting into town and both planning on playing Event 47 on Saturday, I felt like no
time was better for my first World Series Event.
Entering the Rio on Saturday was quite a different experience than my prior visits this trip. Even
though I had been to the WSOP and played the cash games, I still didn't feel like I had actually
been apart of the dream that I'd shared years before. It felt like I'd been to the nice Steak
Restaurant, but only ordered the cheeseburger. This time it was real. I was in the tournament
area, and had a ticket with my name and Yellow 148 to designate my starting table. When a
Nevada Congresswoman got behind the microphone and announced "shuffle up and deal" I had
officially accomplished something, not only for myself, but on behalf of my entire poker circle
back home.
Be it nerves or a competitive atmosphere nobody said a word to each other for the first 30
minutes of play. I found this awfully strange as it was only a 1k event, but nonetheless I wasn't
going to be the one to break the seal. In my first ever WSOP hand I raised the red KK to 75 at
25/25 in MP. The btn and sb called and of course the A
appeared as the door card. We
checked through the flop and I bet out 125 to take it down on a blank turn.
KK would make it's way back to me again when a fish in ep raised to 75 and 4 players called. In
the Bb I raised it back to 325 and surprisingly everybody called. The flop came A
T
4
as I cried a bit inside. Instead of giving up, however, I deducted that AK was highly unlikely and
that if I fired two big bullets in a row, it would put a lot of pressure on a player with a medium
ace early in the tournament. So after some thought I led for 850, leaving me 2400 for a river
shove. Fortunately it wouldn't be necessary as everyone folded in order.
With my stack up to 4500 I played a pot with AK at 25/50. An older guy raised to 125 in EP and
I bumped it up to 300. He called and I Cbet a flop of 532. He called again and after he checked
an A on the turn, I checked back for pot control. The board paired the 5 on the river and he fired
out 650. I wanted to raise, knowing my hand looked like a mid pair, but played it safely and
called. He showed AQ and I raked in another fairly decent pot.
About two hours in my table broke and I was moved to table 116. The table had the same
mixture of solid players to fish (about 6:3) as my previous table. With no reputation whatsoever,
I felt my first hand was a good spot to 4bet. I raised the btn at 50/100 to 250 with A 3
and

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the BB, a player who had announced he made it 6 days in last years main event, bumped it up to
725. With 6500 effective stacks I 4bet to 1750 and he folded after a little bit of thought.
At that point I started daydreaming about a deep run. My cards had been good and my reads spot
on. I had thoughts of playing Durrr heads up and running over him for the 6 figure pay day. Of
course I was nowhere near that point, but boy was it fun to dream.
My next opportunity to better my stack came at the end of 50/100 when a fish min-raised to 200
and I bumped it up to 700 in the co, again with KK. Surprisingly the BTN called and the fish
joined. The flop was a perfect 2 2 3
as the fish quickly checked. I decided that the btn
had a big pair and the best way to get him to put his money in would be a check call and lead on
the turn. So I checked and as expected he bet out for 1k. What I didn't expect was a call from the
fish. So not wanting to give them both a free card I raised it up to 3k with about 2400 back. After
a bit of thought the btn shoved his stack into the center. The fish folded and I made the call,
officially putting me at risk for the first time of my tournament life. As luck would have it my
opponent had AA. The turn came the 6
as I began rising out of my seat. The river finished me
off with the T
and my short run was now over.
It was my first lost pot of the day and subsequently my last. It was hard to be disappointed
getting my money in with that hand, but it did help teach me a lesson about poker goals and
success. In my younger days, before I was aware of variance, I was naive enough to believe that
all I needed was one chance at the 10k event to prove that my skill set was one of the best in the
world. Now as I grow older and wiser I know that the true test to a poker player is longevity. The
better I play, improve, and manage my bankroll, the longer I'll be around and the more chances
I'll have at being that outlier. That Joe Cada, Chris Moneymaker, or Greg Raymer. The player
with the necessary skill-set to take advantage of a run of good fortune. Until then, it's back to the
grind.
Matt
06/27/10: Fluff
Four weeks into the summer and I'm beginning to see a bit of a trend. A lot of ups and a lot of
downs. Sure the end result has me up like $2500, but in the grand scheme of things that allows
me the security of one bad day. The tables are noticeably tougher than non WSOP times and the
aggressive Europeans make the game a lot higher variance. Mental toughness plays a role just as
important as the physical decisions to call, raise, or fold.
I suppose that's why this time around I've spent more time reflecting and writing on the "fluff".
In December, the idea of playing poker everyday was so new to me that I was living and dying
emotionally with every turn of the card. My early downswing felt like it was unrecoverable, and
my late trip comeback had me certain I could make 6 figures playing the game year round. These
were the things I was recording in my blog because these were the feelings going through my
head. This summer, however, being around for 6 and a half weeks, I'd like to think I have a
stronger grip on the reality of the poker dream. Downswings are as inevitable as 100 degree
days, and "figuring out" NL Texas Hold'em as unlikely as rain. So with the very real possibility
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that I could be leaving here in 3 weeks without any tangible results, it's become more and more
important to me to take in the sights and sounds of a culture that is completely new to a
Midwesterner, as opposed to the "standard" ups and downs of an everyday grinder.
With that being said, I ran into an old friend of mine at the Rio the other day. Waiting for the 1k
event to begin, I spotted Brad, a guy my age who grew up in the same Chicago suburban area.
Since we were 16 years old, Brad and I competed in the 1/2 and 2/5 games at a local traveling
casino. A few years back, when Brad had just turned 21, he took his first trip to Las Vegas, one
that would change his life forever. After entering and winning a $500 satellite to the WPT 5k
event, he extended his trip to play the event the next day. 24 hours later and Brad was the last
player standing, with a check for something in the range of 480k to his name. Upon returning
home, Brad received the celebrity treatment. With stories of dinner with Dan Harrington and
cash games with Phil Laak, it was hard not to be jealous of someone who had previously been a
very strong rival of mine.
Brad began playing the 10/20 NL, bought a 50k car, dropped out of school, and had a child with
his girlfriend. After all, diapers can't be more than like what? 1BB? I hadn't seen him in about a
year, so when he approached me in the Rio Convention center, I prepared myself for tales of
Vegas strip clubs with Gavin Smith and golf with Phil Ivey. But Brad had been running cold.
What I heard was a depressing story about too much success, too fast. He was broke, had sold his
car for 1/3 the value he bought it for and was looking for a stake in the 1/2 game.
It's a sad story that I'm sure everybody has heard before, but it feels much more real when it
happens to someone you know. It's easy to blame Brad for his problems, but whos to say that I
wouldn't have made the same mistakes in a similar scenario? I'd like to think I'm lucky for the
way things turned out. I suppose that grinding the 2/5 and 5/10 with a mixture of success and
disappointment has helped build character and taught me lessons not only in poker, but also in
balancing life and managing money.
With that fresh in my mind, I played a rather long session at the Bellagio yesterday. In my first
interesting hand I 3Bet 7 9
in the BB to 110 after a 30 open from the btn and call from the
SB. The flop came Axx no hearts and I bet 125 to which my opponent called. The turn was a K
and I asked how much my opponent was playing before checking. He put out a small bet of 150,
which I believed served as protection for his hand and a chance to see where I was at. I raised it
up to 430 and my opponent nodded and folded saying "nice AK".
After moving tables I raised up a couple limpers on the btn to 60 with K T . The first limper
called and the flop brought the K T 9 . He check called 80 and the turn came a 9 . This
time he check called 150, so I put him on hands liked KQ or KJ that still had a chance of
improving the river. Luckily the river was a 5 and my small bet of 210 got another call, good for
3 streets of value.
Up about a buyin I got involved with this mean looking French lady who has grown to hate me
over the past few days. She plays a very face up style (checking when she misses and raising
when she's got it) but still gets visibly upset at me, and every other aggressive player, when they

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choose to take advantage of it. So after raising with 7 7

in mp to 50 and getting a call to my
direct left, I was in a tough spot when she shoved in her $470 stack. Her range was something
like 66-JJ AJ+ and with $110 of dead money in the pot it was really close to a fold or call.
Eventually my despise for this women gave me the power to push the call into the middle and
take a shot at busting her. Unfortunately she flipped up 8 8
and I was in terrible shape. I
kept my hand face down and she just about threw a tantrum when the flop came A K Q . I
told her she was good, even when the T
hit the turn. Then as I was coming to terms with the
lost pot, the miracle 7
fell on the river. She just about lost it, leaving her seat never to return.
With about 1600 in profit, my session was winding down when I got involved with the most
interesting pot of the summer. With A 6 on the btn I called a raise in EP from a player who
looked a bit tilty. The blinds joined and we saw a flop of Q 7 4 . Tilty bet 130 and I
thought about raising but wanted any worse draws to join the pot, so I just called. The blinds
both folded and we saw an interesting turn with the 3 . This time my opponent bet 350 with
620 back. The decision to raise or call here depends on fold equity. I had a tough time
determining if my opponent would ever fold his 1pair hands to a raise so again I just called. I
stared at my opponents eyes as the river hit the board. He immediately said all-in so I assumed it
must've bricked. As I glanced down at the board I noticed it was an A , missing my flush but
giving me top pair. As I sat out and examined the situation for a minute, my opponent called the
clock on me. Still not knowing what to make of that tell I put together the chips for a call and
thought about pushing them in. With 10 seconds left I laid my hands on my chips, to where my
opponent pretended like he was willing and ready to show his hand. As the floor counted down
to 3,2,1 I just couldn't pull the trigger, and folded. My opponent proudly flipped up J 5
and
racked his chips up immediately while berating my play.
Not wanting to tilt I racked up soon after with a nice profit, but with thoughts of the call that
could've been
Matt
On a side note is anyone going to the 2p2 party this weekend, or has anyone been in the past? Is
it worth going?
07/03/10: WSOP Event 54
Awaking at 430am on the 1st of July, I couldn't fall back asleep amidst the combination of my
roommate's snoring and lines from "The Hangover" seeping through our walls from the
neighbor's tv. Having gone to bed just 3 hours prior, I knew I was in for a long day if something
didn't change quickly. So I lied restlessly, tossing and turning myself into inevitable
consciousness, trying to recall the events from the night before. Between the blurry recollections
and pounding headache I came to two conclusions: (1) crown and coke makes the stomach
uneasy and (2) trying to outdrink strippers is a bad idea.
After an hour of hopeless attempts, I decided to remedy my hangover with food instead of sleep.
I had a craving for something disgustingly greasy, as I headed west towards the beams of the
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rising sun. My destination was the Imperial Palace, but after three steps towards Koval I didn't
know if I would make it the necessary two blocks to experience the famous Hash House.
Eventually, however, I made it to the Palace and slowly strolled towards the upstairs restaurant.
The "closed" sign was visible from a hundred yards away, but with my head stooped low and
eyes barely open, I didn't notice until I stumbled right into it.
"****" I mumbled in a tone filled with surrender and regret. I thought everything in this damn
town was open 24 hours. Knowing my head couldn't handle any more sun, I took the escalator
back down the stairs and sat in the 1/2 NL game at the front of the casino. I only had $200
dollars on me, so one bad play would mean it was time to go home. Still I sat down at what was a
pretty deep table filled with local grinders and drunks still up from the night before. The action
was fast as most hands played with a $5 straddle on the btn.
The straddle was on as I picked up my first hand in the Sb. It was 88 and it took my damaged
brain a bit of time to realize that the action was first on me. Confused I only called the $5 and
waited as the rest of the table did the same. We saw a flop of 237, so I led into 6 players for $20.
Everyone folded to the btn who raised it up to $50. I called and hit the nuts on the turn as my
third 8 made it's way out of the deck. I checked to the raiser and he put me all in for $150. I
called immediately telling him I had top set, and he responded that he was drawing dead as he
flipped up 23 for bottom two pair.
Up to $400 I pulled a crafty river bluff on a 66T7A board with K8 to grow my stack to $500. My
bluffing strategy was forced to change however as a new player in an ugly blue Cubs hat sat
down at the table with $400 and played like it was stolen money. I got involved with him when
he raised my btn straddle to 18 from UTG and I was the only player to call with Q 5 . The
flop came 2 4 Q
and he led out for 30 and then called my raise to 90. He chuckled as
another deuce rolled off the turn and led into the pot for $100. I didn't put much thought into the
tell, knowing that I'd never fold top pair to a player with these kind of bluffing tendencies. So I
called and we saw a J
on the river. "All in" my opponent said, leaving me with a $170
decision. Not wanting another nightmare of folding the best hand in a large pot, I called my
opponent, hoping, but not exactly expecting to be good. He sheepishly turned over 33 and I
dragged in another monster 1/2 pot.
Two hours, four Tylenol, and five waters later, I left the IP $800 richer and starting to feel a little
bit better. However that little bit would quickly need to turn into A LOT, as my 2nd WSOP
tournament was only 4 hours away. I got home just in time for the end of the Netherlands/Brazil
game and berated my Dutch roommate for sleeping through the upset. I guess he did need his
rest though. After all, he was about to endure hours of embarrassment and attention as he planned
on playing the 1k event in a gorilla costume we found at the MGM. Gorilla in Our Midst (click
on day 1b)
Knowing I'd be worthless in only a matter of hours, I popped an Adderall and stocked up on Red
Bulls as we made our way to the Rio. Maybe it was the $800 win earlier in the day, or perhaps
the confidence that comes with concentration pills, but I was poised and almost expecting a deep
run in this, the final 1k event of the 2010 World Series. I got to table 69 seat 8 at about 12:15 and
noticed an obnoxious similarity to my first WSOP event. Nobody was talking! The World Series
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is supposed to be about having fun and playing a game. Why these nits feel the need to ignore
their playing companions whom they will most likely be spending a few hours sitting next to I
don't know? To lighten the mood I asked the guy to my left if the crumbled ones he had tucked
behind his stack played if All In. "No" he said, without cracking a smile, or even so much as
turning his head.
So I sat there, in the most awkward round-table meet up since the last supper, and folded my way
through the misery of the first 90 minutes. About half way into round two at 25/50 I found a spot
to attack when a fish on the btn (who had been blind raising utg) raised two limpers up to 350,
with 1500 behind. I looked down at AQ in the sb and raised him up to 925. He thought and
shoved his stack in with KJ. I quickly called and almost more quickly found myself in a deep
hole when the flop rolled off 26J. The 8 on the turn and K river finished me off and sent half my
stack to the fish next door.
After a 20 minute break we came back to 50/100 blinds. With a stack of 1800 I 3bet shoved AJ in
the CO after an active player in EP opened to 250 and the fish to my right called. The active
player quickly folded and the fish showed me his AQ before letting it go. What goes through that
guys mind, I have no idea. So up to 2500 I was the 3rd limper in the pot with A 7
on the
btn. The flop came A 7 6
and I bet 425 into 500 when checked to. Once again, only the
fish on my right called, and we took a non-heart 8
in on the turn. This time HE led into me for
550; but with only 2k left, I had to shove all in to protect and to also get value from 2 pair. He
called in stride and didn't surprise me one bit when he flipped over 45 for the straight. A Q
on
the river ended my day as abruptly as it had begun, as I was busto before dinner break again, in
my 2nd ever shot at a bracelet.
The moral of the story is that tournaments, while addicting and prestigious, suck. Especially
WSOPs. The mood, the structure, the variance. Everything usually just ends in disappointment.
Of course as I say this I do have 10% of my 3rd roommate who has 20k in chips going into day
two today. So hopefully Lukas Horn can run hot and ship it tonight. Not because I like seeing
him succeed, but because it would earn me $70k
Matt
07/07/10: Frustration
Poker is such a frustrating game. We play because there are edges to be pushed. Small ones
perhaps. But edges nonetheless. The same edges that exist in the stock market or any other type
of competitive business. Edges can be found in all regions of the game. Whether it's tightening
up your preflop range, raising your Cbetting % or perfecting the art of bet sizing. But no matter
how good the player and how large their edge is, no one is immune to the coolers and bad beats
that come with the game.
The crazy part is that while these edges can gain you say 5 to 10BB's an hour, the luck portion of
the game can cause 300BB fluctuations in certain spots. This has made it super difficult to stay
sane and logical this summer when analyzing my sessions and justifying my play. I have
certainly been a victim of judging my poker worth and esteem based on the results instead of the
way my hands were played. It's an evil trick that the poker gods play on their puppets, but the
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best players are able to see through it and actually be disappointed with a winning session and
excited over a loss if the circumstance calls for it.
After my short stint in Event 54 at the WSOP, I was still hungry for more tournament action. So
the next day I signed up for the $330 Deep Stack at the Venetian. After a lot of lost medium sized
pots, I was relieved when my first table broke and I still had 7k from my 13k starting stack. In
my first hand of the next table, I looked down at 89 in the BB. An older gentleman in the SB
opened to 600 and I called hoping to outplay him in position. The flop came A83 and he
immediately bet 1k. I thought I picked up on a timing tell so I called the bet. The turn paired the
A giving me more confidence in my hand as we checked and saw 1 more card. A 3rd Ace on the
river caused a small laugh out of my opponent as he checked for the final time. I bet out 2200
and he called without any logical thought. I showed my 8 and he mumbled something under his
breath about the preflop call before showing me a K like I should feel bad or something.
With a few more chips, I was able to open up my game in position and gain some extra life with
marginal holdings. With 17k I opened a limper in MP at 150/300 a25 with AT to 925. He called
and we saw an A 9 3
flop. I checked it back to under rep my hand and he shoved a J
on the turn for 4300. The bet was too large and the board was too dry. I knew this particular
player would have opened with a raise with big Aces and thrown out a smaller bet with a set, so I
called and dodged 5 outs on the river against his QJ.
Later at 200/400 we saw a 4 way flop of 6 5 5
after a 1200 raise preflop by UTG. I was
on the BTN with 66 and bet out 2300 with my flopped full house. The original raiser called and
we took a T
on the turn. This time he check called a bet of 5800. His line looked strange and I
didn't really have a range for him, but I hoped to god he had AK when a K
fell on the river.
He got all nervous and confused and shoved for his final 9k. I called and scooped the pot as he
turned over A K
for a big draw, but a hand drawing dead on the flop.
I rode my big stack up to 45k as we approached the dinner break. The average was 21K and I
was feeling great about my table and the way I was playing. Then right before dinner I picked up
AA UTG at 300/600 50a. I made it 1650. It folded to the btn, the tightest player at the table, and
he immediately made it 6k with a 35k stack. With an aggressive image and a player who has a
big pair 100% of the time, I knew we were getting it in. The situation couldn't be any better. So I
looked all serious and concerned and made a small 4bet to 13k. He shoved without any thought
and I had to avoid the two black Queens to obtain a monster chip stack before dinner. But, semiexpectingly, the Q
popped up in the door. The other 5 cards gave me not even a sweat, and I
saw the 70k pot pushed towards my opponent. Disappointed but not surprised I returned from
dinner break with an 8k stack, determined to rebuild my castle. But it wasn't meant to be. With
11BB's at 500/1k I shipped in 89ss on the BTN and got called by JJ.
I have a strange mindset towards tournaments at the moment. I love playing them. I love the idea
that people cannot rebuy, and no matter how aggressive they know you are, they still must
respect your bluffs. Also I've noticed that they generate more recreational players then the cash
games. However, I've run relatively bad in them and a whole day wasted usually just leaves me

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regretting the time I could've spent grinding the 5/10. But, still, like most, I have dreams of a big
score and suppose that's what keeps me coming back.
The next day I returned to my bread and butter game at the Bellagio. I played pretty well for a
couple hours, but it's all lost inside my head, as this is the only hand I can remember. With a
$1400 stack and 55 on the btn I called a raise to 40 after two players had already done so. The
SB, a solid young player, squeezed to 160 and the BB called. With the perfect opportunity to bust
an overpair laid out, I called the raise and we saw a T
5
2
flop. Surprisingly they both
checked to me, so I bet out 300. The SB called and checked to me again on a 7
turn. Doing
my best to represent a flush draw I shoved in my final 850. As soon as I said the words "All in" I
saw my opponents face light up. I could finish the story before he even turned over his cards. I
was drawing to 1 out. A 7 came on the river and his Tens full crushed my 2nd best boat.
I showed my opponent my set and tried to offer up good sportsmanship, but he was busy fist
pounding his buddies and congratulating himself on his awesome play. Does he not notice that he
set over set me? And that a check call on the
flop was actually bad. These were my
thoughts as I walked back to the Meridian. I still have a profit for the trip, but with only a week
left I'm not very satisfied with what I've accomplished.
With only Otto and I remaining in the apartment, our plan is to put in a lot of poker hours this
week and really concentrate on playing our best. Recently we've been doing too much drinking
and leisure and not enough productive activity. For the first time in 6 weeks I've missed home.
Every distraction imaginable is easily accessible in the city. I'm finding out that if you don't stay
focused and determined they can eat you alive. It's depressing to me to wake up at 3, eat like
****, and do nothing but sit at a poker table and drink all day. Not to mention the psychological
effects of a few losing days. With only a week left I'm challenging myself to get back on track
and concentrate on what I set out to do, improve my game and raise my bankroll. So expect an
update everyday this week, as my goals are back towards the poker side of things.
Matt
07/09/10: Why I love Vegas
Over the past couple weeks I've made good friends with one of our stripper neighbors, her
roommates and her 4 year old boy. It's been interesting to get to know a girl who is our age and at
the same place in time, but who took a completely different path on her journey. Growing up I'd
always been more intrigued in people who were different from me, so I really wasn't surprised
when I took an interest to Katie and her story.
Many people would judge a 23 year old single mother with a dancing job and a drinking
problem, but I like to think it's more important to understand the circumstances that led her to
that point. Otherwise, it would be like blaming someone for ending up all in on the river with
Queen high without looking at what took place earlier in the hand. Katie grew up trading time
between a mother who was abusing drugs and a father who was busy working on a multi million
dollar con that would later land him an indictment from the Federal government. With her only
older sisters abusing Roxys, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that Katie had a strange
conception of right and wrong.
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If anything, meeting her helped raise my gratitude for how lucky I was growing up. It's easy to
take good friends and family for granted when youre surrounded by others who had the same
good fortune. But once you encounter people who grew up under more distressed circumstances,
it helps put things in perspective. I feel like I've done a lot of that this trip. It's funny because
Vegas is like a microscopic version of America. With so many different walks of life coming
together for so many different circumstances, you hear a lot of different stories and meet a bunch
of unique people. Outside of poker, I think that's why I've enjoyed my time so much in this city. I
went to college in a non-diverse community with an environment that embraced us "fitting the
mold" instead of being different. As a result living here has certainly been a breath of fresh air
from my past 4 years.
Anyways, on to the poker. Yesterday I returned to the Bellagio for 5/10 NL after a week of
miserable experiments into the tournament scene. In the first hand I played, I limped in mp with
J 9
and saw the BB, a tight Asian lady, raise it up to 70. An early limper called and I did as
well, knowing I had a hand that could break a big pair. The flop came down A84 and after a bit
of thought the BB uncomfortably bet 130 into 225. The early limper folded and I called planning
on winning the pot later. The turn was a 7 and she checked the action over to me. I slowly and
confidently bet 240. She shook her head and flashed me the KK before throwing them towards
the dealer.
Up a couple hundred I was the 4th limper in the CO with K 6 . The btn made it 40 and I
obliged after three others joined the party. 5 way we saw a flop of 2 3 5
that checked all
the way through. On a J
turn the first limper led out for 110. I considered raising, but didn't
want to see him shove, so I just called. Then the hand got interesting when the btn got out his
bills for a raise. He made it 350. The 1st bettor folded and I called, getting the proper odds to
outdraw his made hand. The river was an 8
and I shoved my opponent all in for 550. He
thought for awhile and eventually called with what I presume can only be AJ.
With a 2300 stack I may have been a bit overconfident when I played my next big pot with a
marginal hand. In a 5 way limped pot I was in MP with A 3 . The flop came 2 3 7
and the limper to my right bet 40. I called, as did the btn, and the bb. The turn was a 4
and
this time it was checked to me. With 200 in the pot I bet 220, expecting all 7's to fold, and
knowing that I had the lead against flush draws. The btn was the only caller, and we saw a safe
J
on the river. I checked to allow her to bet her missed spades and she obliged with a $440
bet. I called and she showed me 34 for a bad two pair. I was surprised by the way the hand turned
out, but overall I unnecessarily put myself in a tough spot.
An hour or so later a large blonde guy sat down two to my right. Looking more like he belonged
in a UFC ring than a poker table, he gained quite a lot of attention from the onlookers. While I
would definitely run if I saw him in an alley, I hoped to attack him on the felt. I got the chance
when he limped in EP and I raised J Q
from mp. Only he called and we saw a flop of K 7
8 . He checked and I bet 60 hoping to take the pot down there. He called in stride and we

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saw a 2
on the turn, to which he checked again. After posturing for awhile I read him for
weak and fired 180 into the pot. At this point he began a ferocious chip shuffle where he took his
huge man hands and flipped an entire stack of 20 chips over at once. I was impressed to say the
least, but more intrigued by what was going through his mind. It seemed as though he was
thinking out a plan. Eventually he stopped the display and put in the necessary call. The river
was the ugly 3
and before the card even landed on the table he SHOVED his remaining $500
into the pot. Obviously I only had Q high so there shouldn't have been much to think about. But
something about the shove was so strange. So I asked him my new favorite question "Will you
show if I fold?" "Yeah bro, I just got here." he said nervously. The response didn't make sense,
which was strike number two. The problem was I didn't beat much. Only 9T and 56. Finally as I
counted out the necessary chips for a call, he pulled an all too familiar move by almost flipping
his hand over, pretending to be real excited. I had seen it before earlier in the trip when I folded
in a similar spot. So even though I only had QJ high I made the call against the giant.
"You got it bro" he said flipping over 65 and standing up to leave the table. When I flipped up
my Q high, I could see the embarrassment fill up his face. Not exactly what you want to do to a
man of his stature. Then as I was stacking up his chips I felt the biggest, strongest hands grip the
sides of my shoulders. Im going to die, I thought. He's going to strangle me for calling with Q
high. "What gave it away, kid? In all my days I've never seen anybody call with Q high, unless it
was like Tom Dwan," He told me angrily and confused. I thought about my words very carefully,
knowing they could be my last. "Ahhh I don't know, I just didn't think you had it. Just a hunch," I
lied. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, he released the tension, patted me on the back,
and blurted out "some hunch" as he exited the poker room.
Soon after I racked up my chips. Partly because it was approaching midnight, and partly because
I wasn't sure if my buddy was going to return with Kimbo Slice and take me into the Octagon to
show me a little thing about "hunches."
Matt
07/11/10: An Unbeatable game?
"The game's unbeatable," I declared to Otto as I walked through the front door of our apartment
Friday night. Otto had taken the day off to recover mentally from a rough few days at the tables.
Turns out I should've done the same thing. "Tell me about it" He responded while handing me a
beer and dealing out a couple hands of Chinese poker. So we sat there for a half hour or so,
trading $5 bills for each point won, while I went through hand by hand, the demise of the small
profit I had remaining from the trip.
In my first big hand I called a $50 raise in the BB with 5 5 . Four of us saw a flop of 5
9
K
and I led into the field for $130. It folded to the BB, a half stacked black guy who put
out the necessary chips for a call. The turn was a pretty T
and with my opponent only
showing a remaining $420, a shove seemed like the only logical move. As soon as I said all in, I
heard the powerful "call" from my opponent and knew I was in trouble. The river was a 6
and
my hand was no good against T T .

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A bit later I called an open from the fish at the table for $40 on the Btn with Q T . Four us
remained into a flop of 8 9 T
as the raiser led into the pot for $100. One other player
called and I struggled to find value in any of my three options. Still I called and we took an
offsuit 2 on the turn. This time my opponents checked to me and I knew regardless if I was
winning or not, I needed to apply the pressure. So I bet $380 and the fish put in his remaining
$430 after a slight deliberation. He flipped over KJ and I was in pretty good shape to scoop a big
one until the 7
popped up on the river.
And then finally, while in the game for $2300 and with a stack of 1k I raised UTG to $40 with
A K . Two players called in position as we took in a K 2 4
flop. I Cbet for $90 and
one player made the call. I checked to the young aviator-wearing Arab man after an 8
on the
turn, assuming he'd bet all his K's and most of his flush draws. "$260" he said as he placed in 2
bills and 6 orange chips. The stack sizes were perfect for a check raise shove. "All in" I declared
hoping to put my opponent to the test. Unfortunately he didn't have much to think about as he
quickly called with pocket 8's. I was drawing dead for the 2nd time of the day against a turned
set.
"And that's how you lose 2.3k in 2.3 hours" I told Otto. I'm not quite sure if he cared, after all it's
just another bad beat story. But I know he understood. And that's something I desperately needed
at that time. Venting to my girlfriend or my parents about running bad is always deconstructive.
They just don't get it like we do. They don't get how frustrating it can be to have an edge in these
games and come home empty handed against a lineup that my Grandma would be even money
in.
So we sat there and laughed. Laughed at how bad some people play. Laughed at the two outers.
And laughed at what on earth we were doing with ourselves. Two bright kids spending all our
mental energy and brain power trying to figure out a game that might just be unbeatable.
I dreamt that night about my retirement from the poker world. The ceremony was held at the
boys and girls club of Las Vegas, and the whole world watched as Jim Gray asked me the
question that everyone was dying to hear. When I woke up, I was still a poker player. Not a rich
one by any means. But a poker player nonetheless. And with only 5 days left in my poker
odyssey I returned to the Bellagio, praying that this day would be better than the last.
Hoping for a change, I laughed as the floor man directed me to the same exact seat as the night
before. "I'll wait for the next one," I said with a smile, utterly confusing the tall blonde
gentleman. Fifteen minutes later and I was placed in a new seat, at a new table, on the opposite
end of the poker room. I was recognized right away by a player who was sitting in the same
game weeks ago when I won a $1300 pot with KT high against QT. He told the story to the
whole table, which I hoped would help me get paid off later in the day.
After winning a couple early pots to raise my stack to $1400, I played an interesting hand with
8 8 . I raised to 45 from middle position and got called by the btn and the bb. The flop came
K 5 2
and I Cbet 90. The btn called while the bb folded. A 4
on the turn prompted me

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to check, while the btn quickly pushed in a stack of 200 to middle. I wasn't completely convinced
so I called to see one more card. The river was a 6 . While this may look like a scare card, in
fact it makes the hand a lot easier to read. I checked knowing that now there was no way my
opponent would bet the KQ and KJ hands that I had placed in his range. So when he fired 400
into the pot I was pretty certain he either had a 3 or he was bluffing. "Okay will you show if I
fold" I asked in a fake dejected manner. "Ya ya I'll show you" my opponent responded, trying to
sound as natural as possible. 30 seconds later I placed in the call and the btn flipped up A 5
for nothing but a pair of 5s.
Later in the day I was dealt TT in the BB and joined 3 others into a pot for $50 each. I flopped
top set on a 2 9 T
flop, but wasn't all too confident based on the texture of the board. So I
led for 140 and everyone folded to the btn who called. The turn was a K
and I bet out 300.
The btn called once again and we saw a safe A
on the river. At this point it was fairly obvious
that my opponent had hearts, so I checked to him, hoping he had paired his ace, or that he would
bet his air. Unfortunately he checked back, but still I raked in another decent sized pot.
Towards the latter end of the session we gained a new player at the table. He was around 40
years old, white, and most importantly clueless. He started off by telling us how he was the 2nd
player eliminated from the main event when he got a flush all in 300bbs deep on a paired board.
So, needless to say, I was a bit excited when he called my raise to 40 in the bb. I had AT and the
flop came QJ9. With little hesitation he led into me for 80. Sometimes this spot would entail a
raise, but not against this particular opponent. So I called and hit my nut card on the turn. The
K . My opponent sat for a few seconds before leading for 200. His stack was about 1100 deep
and I didn't want to scare him off his hand so I sat there posturing and messing around with my
chips for a bit. Eventually I raised it to 450 all day. Visibly upset, he muttered "just my luck" as
he thought about what to do. In the meantime I did my best to act uncomfortable by putting my
hand over my mouth and constantly adjusting my positioning. For some reason, even after the
speech, he shoved all in for 700 more. I called, praying for a deuce as the dealer unwound for the
final card. Unfortunately the K
paired the board on the river. I let out a sigh of distraught,
expecting his set to scoop the pot. However when it came time to show our hands, his AQ was
still far behind my nut straight.
I left the B a 3.7K winner and with a totally different attitude from the night before. I told myself
on the walk down Flamingo that I must play as many hours as possible in these last few days
with all of the Main Event fish looking for a game; A far cry from my retirement thoughts the
day before. It's funny how cards, players, and situations can turn around my outlook on poker in
one short day. I have no more answers for this crazy game. But yesterday as I returned home to
see Otto on the couch he read my huge grin and asked "The game's beatable isn't it?"
Matt M
PS I'm off to Thomas and Mack to take Otto to his first ever Basketball game and watch John
Wall make his Summer League Debut

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07/13/10: Poker Celebs and Big Bluffs

While finishing up dinner and our bottomless glasses of wine last night at Batistas, Otto and I
decided to venture over to the Venetian, hoping they would spread a game of Chinese poker.
Turns out as we were requesting the game to David at the podium, another young black haired
Norwegian girl was making the same request. Now normally they wouldn't have pulled dealers
on a crowded night for three 22 year old kids to play such a silly game. But the third member of
our group was no ordinary customer. It was Annette Obrestad, known online as Annette_15.
For those unaware, Annette is arguably one of the most talented tournament poker players in the
world. Saying that she's simply the best woman player doesn't do her game justice. At the age of
21 she's already won a WSOPE event and countless online MTT's, including one where she
famously didn't look at her cards until the final table. Luckily for us she didn't run like a WSOP
champ on this particular night; burning through a few $200 buyins. She was however, great
conversation, filling us in on what pros she thought played well, who sucked, and even touching
on her feud with Doyle Brunson. Still, we did our best to act not too impressed; Calling her a fish
when she messed up her hand, slowrolling her, and giving her **** for telling us she had a
"budget" from Full Tilt. In the end I think she enjoyed that we treated her the same as everyone
else. It was probably a nice change of pace from all the disingenuous ass-kissing that she's used
to on a daily basis.
Strangely that wasn't my first encounter of the day with a poker "celebrity". Lets go back to
earlier at the beginning of my 5/10 session at the Bellagio. For a good two hours I saw basically
no playable cards, raising and folding my way to an early $500 hole before I played my first big
pot.
UTG I sighed as Robert accidentally dealt my 2nd card face up. It was a Q and I already had an
Ace underneath. It's just gonna be one of those days I thought to myself as my first playable hand
had been taken away from me. "Let me replace that one with an Ace" Robert announced to the
table. Low and behold he was right. I now had the black Aces and raised to 40 UTG. The blinds
called and we took a flop of Q 5 2 . They checked to me and I bet 100. The SB called as
the turn paired the 5 . He checked to me and I chose to bet large again because with a Q
exposed it was more likely he had hearts then a pair. My opponent called the $250 bet and the
river came the K . He checked again and I had the perfect amount for a river shove, about
$600. He thought for a bit and eventually called with what I assume was K X .
"I cant believe that" Robert chuckled to me as I raked in the huge pot and tossed him a $10 chip
for the nice redraw. A bit later I played my next pot with 8 7
in the BB. UTG, an Italian
youngster opened to 50 and 3 of us called the bet. The flop came A Q 5
and luckily for
me got checked through as the preflop raiser was distracted by a visitor. The visitor was Dario
Minieri and he stuck around to witness the rest of the hand. After a 6
on the turn, I checked
and Dario's buddy bet out 80. The btn called and I decided to raise it up to $330 after A)
determining that nobody's hand looked all that strong and B) wanting to show off a bit to Dario.
Well the plan backfired as both players surprisingly called. The river blanked completely with
the 3
and I had a decision to make. I could give up or continue telling my story. I decided to
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end my tale with a river shove. A $1200 bet into an $1100 pot. UTG took some time before
letting his hand go and the action moved to the btn. "What a tease that river was" said the btn,
showing me the A 3
for a missed flush but still two pair, before tossing it into the muck. I
proudly showed my 78 as Dario mouthed "wow" before walking back to his tournament in the
Fontana lounge.
While that memory will last forever in my mind, the money I won did not. The next hand I raised
a bunch of limpers to 60 on the btn with JQ and 2 players called. The flop came Q 4 3
and after getting check raised allin I called against an opponents obvious flush draw. The turn
was safe but the river came the A . My opponent showed the 5 7
as I shipped over $700
of my chips.
After a couple more hours of grinding I left the table with a $1300 profit, but more importantly
the memory of making a super aggressive professional player go "wow" at the sight of one of my
bluffs. Today I'll be making my way to the Bellagio and playing higher then I've ever played. Up
about 7k for the trip, I've decided to play my last session at the 10/20NL game if the table looks
good. Sure I'll be nervous, but I'm confident that my game will match up well with most lineups
I've seen. Here's to hoping I've saved my best for last!
Matt
07/15/10: Taking My Shot
The idea of a 10/20 shot arose after a recent lunch I had with Matt, a rival on the 5/10 tables, but
a friend off of them. Matt's a 22 year old college graduate, hailing from the northeast, but ready
to start a new life in the southwest. With so many similarities in our past challenges, and future
goals Matt had progressively turned from an acquaintance I acknowledged with a friendly hello,
to a friend that I discussed strategy and lifestyle choices with.
On this particular afternoon in the Bellagio Sportsbook we were on the topic of the main event.
"Did any of your roommates play?" I asked out of curiosity. "Yeah. Actually, I registered and
played myself." he responded, catching me completely off guard. It wasn't that I thought Matt's
game was -EV in the main, but more that his bankroll was similar to mine and his goals of
moving up in mid stakes would certainly be deterred by the 10k hit. "The experience was just
incredible," he continued. "I can't really place a price on something I've dreamt about for 7
years."
As crazy as it sounded, he was right. I'd started my personal journey 6 months ago by swearing
off the grind. I'd come to Vegas searching for opportunity and risk at the expense of my bankroll.
And sure while I'd moved up a level from my normal game, the 5/10 had become my new grind.
I no longer felt the adrenaline that comes with a big risk because frankly, 5/10 wasn't outside my
comfort zone anymore. In the struggle to reach my monetary goals, I'd lost track of the
psychological reasons behind my sabbatical. I'd come out to Vegas because poker had become a
grind. Better yet, my life had become a grind. I was doing things that other people wanted me to
do and not necessarily spending my time and energy exploring my own happiness. And now here

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I was out in a foreign city living out my dream, and the biggest risk I'd taken all summer was
getting grilled onions on my double double. **** that. It was time to take a shot.
So the next day, for the first time ever, I walked to the back podium, where the big shots register,
and put my name on the 10/20 list. I brought 5k in cash and planned on starting my stack at
2500. After a wait of 20 minutes or so they called my name for the must move game. The table
was downstairs with the rest of the mere mortals, but that didn't keep my heart from racing
immediately upon sitting down. Everyone at the table had a bigger stack then me. Even the old
the lady that looked like Rose from Titanic was sitting on 3k. An internet kid with 20k in cash
and headphones worth half my buy-in was to my right so I had to tighten up my opening range if
I planned on playing profitably. I sat snug for the first hour, watching the flow of the table, while
getting acclimated with average opening raises, and Cbet prices.
I played my first hand with A K
in the co. A younger guy in early position raised a limper
up to 100. I called, not wanting to play my hand face up against a good player and knowing I
could 4bet profitably if the internet kid to my right thought about squeezing. It folded around and
the two of us saw a flop of A T 3 . He bet 180 and I called. The turn was a 5
and this
time he raised his bet to 460. I considered raising, but at that point I'd only be getting called by
worse. So I called and the river was a Q . After asking how much I had left my opponent
checked. Satisfied with the size of my first 10/20 pot I checked back and won after he announced
"King high".
Now with 3400 in chips, I felt I could open up my game and raise a higher percentage of my
range. Unfortunately the internet whiz to my left had other plans. Every time I opened he 3bet
me. I'm convinced he wasn't even looking at his cards. I was completely owned for the next 2
hours and I never even saw a turn. After bleeding off all of my original profit, the conservative
side of my brain started taking over. Maybe I should just quit? I'm clearly not ready for these
deep games with consistent 3betting. Think of all the things you can do with $2500. The
thoughts were tempting and the idea of finishing the night at 5/10 was very comforting. But I
made up my mind that this was a risk I wanted to take, going back at this point would be
cowardly.
I was overly ecstatic when my name was finally called for the main game. No spot in the house
could be worse than one I was previously sitting in. My new table was up on the main stage. I'd
spent the last 1/2 year peeking up to the "High Stakes" tables from the 1st step, being careful not
to go any further and disrupt the energy that hovers over that area. The stage is not very spectator
friendly, guarded by walls to protect the anonymity of the big shots and chip stacks large enough
to let outsiders know that it's serious business. My table was no exception. The average chip
stack was somewhere around 8k and the table talk consisted of deep runs in big tournaments.
Even still, the table was loads softer then my previous one, with one particular player especially
catching my eye. He was to my direct left and my first hand at the table I saw him call a 3bet
with 46o and check it through when he missed the board completely.
I played my first pot when a real tight player opened to 100 utg. I called in the sb with 4 4 ,
as did the fish in the bb. I flopped gin on 4 K K
and checked as I thought out the most
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profitable line. UTG bet 300 and I called, hoping the fish would come along. He folded, and we
saw an A
on the turn. This time we went check check and the river brought a 2 . I bet 580
hoping he was checking the turn for pot control with an Ace. I was right as he called with AQ.
Up to $3500 I spent my folded hands chatting with the fish to my left. He told me he doesn't
regularly play poker, gee I would've never guessed, but that he comes to Vegas every year to play
the main event. He told me about his wife and kids back in Florida, and then he told me about the
hooker he had lined up for tonight. Needless to say, I got to know him reaaallll quicckkkk.
But what I really wanted was to play a pot with him. I got my chance when I limped along with
TJ on the btn. Five of us saw a 33T flop and the fish led out 60 into 100. I called and the turn was
another T giving me a full house. He checked and I bet 170. He called pretty quickly, indicating
that he most likely had a 3. So on a 6 river, I bet the whole pot ($460) knowing he'd have trouble
throwing it away. "This is charity" he said before announcing call and showing A3 for the sucker
end of the full house.
Things were going well as I kept my attention focused on more pots with the fish. Towards the
end of the night I opened with Q J
on the btn to 120 and 2 players joined me to a flop of 6
7 8 . I checked back and the turn kept me alive with a 6 . The sb bet 200 and utg
called, giving me the proper odds to do the same. The river was a nice 10
and this time the sb
checked. UTG bet 380 with little hesitation and now I had a choice. I obviously wasn't folding
and raising seemed illogical on this board, so I just called. Reluctantly, the sb did the same. UTG
showed the 3 4
for a smaller flush and the sb mucked, meaning my Q high flush was good
for another huge pot.
Minutes later I got a text from my girlfriend saying that her flight had landed and it was time to
pick her up at McCarran. I traded my chips with the cashier for 53 hundred dollar bills, a $2800
profit. I left Vegas this morning feeling a lot of general mixed emotions. I'm in Colorado for the
night with my girlfriend but will do a huge end of the trip report in the next couple days with
winnings/losses/expenses/5:10 and 10:20 differences, general feelings towards a summer in
Vegas and where I want to go personally from here.
I just wanted to end the summer by thanking everyone again who read; especially those who
provided feedback, both positive and negative. Both have helped me grow as a story teller and
poker player.
Sayonara Vegas!
Matt
07/22/10: Final Wrap Up
Lately Ive been suffering from what I call Post-Vegas Depression, or PVD for short. Waking up
before noon is next to impossible while adjusting to the time change and finding ways to stay
busy aren't so easy without the Strip being a stone's throw away. With my friends occupied at
work and the closest casino a 90 minute drive, I've struggled to realize why I even came home.

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Sure these thoughts will disappear at the end of my readjustment period, but for now things are
strange to say the least.
I obsess over Main Event updates and oftentimes find myself browsing the LVL threads in
attempt to feel like I'm still living the dream. A dream that saw me do so many things outside of
grinding 5/10 NL. It was these extracurricular activities that truly made this summer the best of
my life. Things like Jetskiing in Lake Mead, sitting next to Mark Cuban at John Wall's debut,
beer pong tournaments at O'Sheas, getting a table at the top of the Rio, eating at the "Top of the
World", playing my first WSOP tournament, watching the World Cup finale at bar with BOTH
the Dutch and the Spaniards, playing Chinese with Annette, partying with strippers (for free!),
and most importantly growing three of my newest and closest friendships in a city foreign to all
of us.
A few people complained about the fluff of my TR's, but when it comes down to it, it's the fluff
that I'll remember most from my summer in Vegas. That might be hard to understand for people
that aren't actually out there, but money comes and goes. Good sessions and bad sessions
constantly cycle through the days. With so much back and forth and ups and downs, I doubt I'll
remember the exacts of my poker performance during my time out west, but I can guarantee I'll
remember the city, and the people I explored it with.
On that note, here is my review on Las Vegas in the summer and my final winnings/expenses.
Weather
It's hot. All summer. After our first week everyday was over 100 and most were over 105. The
locals defend this criticism with "it's dry heat." Don't let that fool you. It feels like you're in an
oven. Perhaps the wind helps cool things down? Wrong. It just feels like a life-size blowdryer is
aimed directly at your face. But, at the end of the day, 90% of my time was spent in an air
conditioned poker room, so it was only a minor inconvenience.
Food
Groceries saved me a TON. Eating most breakfast and dinners at the apartment benefited me in
two ways. Obviously it saved me money, but also it kept me away from the casinos, a vastly
underrated privilege. Having an apartment with a pool, gym, and kitchen that I actually utilized
prevented me from "burning out" from the casino scene. A scene that can grow quite
overwhelming if you spend too much time amidst it.
I packed my lunch half of the days and the other half I used my food comps at Snacks and
occasionally Noodles. When we did eat out we kept it simple with non-baller nights at Ellis
Island and In-N-Out. Occasionally after a nice day we would splurge at Wynn Buffet, Lotus of
Siam, or Yellow Tail, but for the most part we saw food as an expense we could easily limit. So
unfortunately I can't be much help with recommendations for fine dining, but I can supply advice
for those who plan on visiting Vegas with a car. When you choose to eat out, eat your meals off
the Strip. It's twice as cheap and just as good.
The Meridian

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Hands down a better value then the Signature. My rent this time around was 1/2 the price for
double the time. With the Signature you pay for the upgraded amenities. Sure it was cool to brag
to my friends how my TV came out of the desk and my bathtub was bigger than my car, but after
the initial excitement those features proved to be unnecessary.
Surprisingly, the atmosphere at the Meridian was an added perk. The isolation was a great way to
escape the madness of the Strip and the apartment complex made it easier to make friends who
lived there as opposed to the acquaintances that were simply visiting a hotel. It's tough to put a
price on human interaction but making friends outside of poker obviously helped balance out my
life for the summer.
The Games
Hearing all the hoopla about the WSOP bringing out the fish for the midstakes cash games had
me excited about a higher win rate for the summer. However, that idea that the games get softer
as the weather gets warmer simply isn't true anymore. Perhaps it was 3-4 years ago before the
European pros began traveling by the thousands to catch the Vegas action. But nowadays, most
mid stakes tables are comprised of 4-5 Europeans, 2-3 Internet kids and 1-2 tourists. Even the old
men regulars who were my most difficult opponents in previous trips had moved down to 2/5 for
the time being.
Still, the Bellagio had the best games in town, followed by the Venetian, with the Rio in a distant
last place. Honestly, I don't see the appeal of the Rio to cash game players. The dynamic was an
exaggeration of the outline I just produced, with the majority of the players being young
Europeans. The rest of the seats were occupied by internet players and occasionally a tournament
donkey who'd just been knocked out of the days event. I learned quickly that if I was going to
make any money for the summer, it wasn't going to happen on that side of town.
The 5/10 vs 10/20
The first difference I noticed during my session of 10/20 was the percentage of 3Bet pots. I didn't
think that my $2500 starting stack was going to feel short, until I discovered that 20-30% of the
pots were reraised before the flop, a large increase from the 5-10% that I'd grown accustomed to
at 5/10. For the time being I just avoided the 3bet pots with the majority of my range because I
knew that my reads were not prepared for those types of spots. If I'm to move up to that level I'm
first going to need to put in volume online to get a better handle for 3bet ranges and more
comfort playing bigger pots with weaker holdings. Still I found the game beatable by picking
spots against the lesser opponents. With a larger bankroll and a bit more practice I can envision
myself playing the game successfully in the future.
The breakdown of expenses
In 45 days in Vegas I played 36 days of cash games, 6 days of tournament play, and took 3 days
off completely. In those 36 days I played 224 hours of poker, the majority of which was 5/10NL.
Fortunately I was able to win roughly $14,000 during my time at 5/10. My one session of 10/20
netted me a $2,800 profit, and finally I also profited $1,200 during the few drunken 1/2 sessions I
played.

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On the flip side I was a $200 loser in 2/5, a $700 loser in my one plo session, and a $400 loser at
the 2p2 4/8 mixed game.
In total that leaves me as a $16,800 winner in cash game poker and a very sexy hourly wage of
$75. But don't get too excited because now it's time to look at expenses. Before I can take that
money home I need to pay the casino for so generously loaning me their fish. The charge? $12 an
hour. So lets take the 224 hours and multiply them by 12. That leaves me with a summer rake of
$2,688. Sure doesn't seem that expensive when you're only paying $6 at a time. Anyways that
number puts the initial dent in my profit, which now stands at $14,112.
Now let us not forget the dealers that toss us the cards. Certainly I have to tip them everytime I
win a pot post flop. Well, when you're an aggressive player like I am, you win quite a few small
pots post flop. Somewhere around 3 an hour. One of those is usually a significant pot to which I
tip $3, so on average I'm tipping $5 an hour. Multiply that by the magical number (224) and we
get $1120 in dealer tips. Add another Cnote to what I tipped the cocktail waitresses and now my
tipping total is $1220. Subtract that from my dwindling profit and I'm now down to $12,892.
Next up are those sexy masseuses that gave me so much trouble last time around. After almost
puking while looking at my total last trip, I made it a goal of mine to self-restrain from the
massages. Still, using up all my will power, I was only able to shave half the price and get to a
total of $600. Quitting is a 12-step process! Profit down to $12,292.
Now everyone of course likes tournaments, especially the WSOP. After all, isn't every poker
player's goal to bink one of these things and strike it big. Unfortunately, for every Joe Cada and
Jamie Gold, there's a Matt Moore, who tries a few times to no avail. After 6 tournaments, no
cashes, and 3k in entrance fees, my summer profit was down to $9,292.
Driving to Vegas was a part of the trip that I would recommend to every poker player looking to
spend a summer in the desert. It eliminated a lot of the unbearable walks that needed to be made
and gave me an opportunity to see parts of the country that I wouldn't have otherwise. With that
being said, gas is not free, or even cheap for that manner. So after 7 weeks and two cross country
trips my gas bill was $650. Profit down to $8,642.
Food was cheap, but it too was not free. Groceries helped save a lot of cash, but we still spent
some time eating out. Overall I spent $500 on food. Down to $8,142.
Rent. Splitting the cost with three others helped lessen the burden of a 7 week rental. Regardless,
it cost me $1100, with the potential of losing $750 more out of the security deposit. Luckily we
were responsible and returned the place in the same shape that we received it. New profit total of
$7,042.
With all of the essentials taken care of, there were still a few personal expenses to be paid. I was
in Vegas after all. While I would've liked to stay away from the pits completely, I enjoyed
playing craps as long as I kept my stop loss at $200 a night. I succeeded, but the losses added up
over time, making it a $500 hobby. Add in $300 from going out, $300 spent towards my
girlfriends entertainment and $100 for random cab fares and my Vegas profit finished up a shade

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under 6k ($5,842). Absolutely nothing to complain about, but a far cry from the 16k that I
rightfully earned playing cash game poker.
Expenses
Rake-$2,688
Tipping-$1,220
Massages-$600
Gas-$650
Rent-$1100
Gambling-$500
Tournaments-$3,000
Food-$500
Cabs-$100
Going out-$300
Girlfriend-$300
Winnings
2p2 4/8 mix game- -$500
2/5 Nl- -$200
5/10 Nl-$14,000 (Pre rake)
10/20 NL-$2,800 (Pre rake)
PLO- -$700
1/2 NL$1,200
On my 2nd to last day in town while watching the boringest All-Star game in MLB history at the
Video Poker Bar at the B, I felt a pair of familiar hands rest on my shoulders. Not quite as strong
as the Giant who almost ended my life after my Q high bluff, but firm and soft in a very
womanly way. It was my Masseuse friend. We hadn't seen much of each other this trip. I suppose
my effort for interaction with her slowly disappeared as my relationship with my girlfriend got
stronger. Still we had a connection and seemed to have interesting conversations, so I wasn't
surprised when she pulled up a chair next to me and ordered a drink. "I can't take this place
anymore," she said in a very anxious and unfamiliar tone. She had always been a very calm
person who seemed to have perfect control over her life, so I was surprised to say the least to
catch her in such a vulnerable state of mind. "Did something happen?" I asked. "No nothing in
particular" she responded while her eyes darted between her blank Iphone and her Vodka
Cranberry. "It's just hard living out here and trying to meet people. Everyone has the same
personality, and if I do happen to meet someone I like, theyre on a plane 2 days later." I could
imagine her dilemma, and it got me thinking about potentially calling Vegas home. Sure it would
fulfill one void in my life, but could it potentially open up more harmful ones. I enjoy poker but
not at the cost of losing family and real friends.
We talked a bit longer and I left with the impression that she would be gone next time I visited
Sin City. Gone to a big city or a small town. Anywhere but here. I gave her one final hug,
wondering for a short second what could've been, and then returned to my 5/10 game; Going
through the motions physically, but mentally thinking about what I'd done this summer and most
importantly, what was next...

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My Plans
Nothing in my near future is set and stone except that I'm returning to Oxford in the fall to finish
some left over credits. I suppose that buys me another few months to realize what I really want to
do with myself. My greatest ambition is to travel the world. I think Jed Cooper posted some great
advice and got me thinking that I could potentially finance a trip throughout Europe (and
possibly around the world) by playing poker on the side. It's ideas like this that keep me excited
and anxious for the next few years of life, instead of the stress and worry that most of my college
graduate friends are feeling right now.
But for now I'm going to keep playing poker and keep jotting down my thoughts. I've got a trip
to Atlantic City planned with a friend for a weekend in early August, as I'm curious to see it's
comparisons (or lack thereof) to the REAL Vegas. Other than that I'll be enjoying my last few
months on a college campus while simultaneously searching for employers that want to hire a
Psychology major with an average GPA and one extracurricular activityPoker.
I hope that everyone enjoyed the reports and if you have any questions about my experience (I
know I wasn't that good in responding mid-summer) or Vegas in general send them on over and
I'll get back with responses as the roll in.
Matt
12/18/10: Feels good to be home
For the past 5 months, my watch has been 3 hours behind Eastern Time. My way of holding onto
a small part of the Vegas dream. Today, finally, that watch is right on time...
A year to the day that I embarked on my first extended stay Vegas Vacation, and here I am back,
making that same flight out to the desert. I cant say I imagined last year's impulsive journey
would've turned into a year where all my conceivable free time was spent Jet-Setting out to the
west coast. But during my time in exile, I fell in love with this city. Strange for someone who
doesn't really gamble, won't do drugs, and doesn't bang hookers, I know. But the routine of
playing poker, working out, and putting my days work onto paper excited me in ways that have
yet to be matched. For a college kid who was used to sleeping until noon, drinking at every
illogical opportunity and marking success by the girls he brought home from the bar, I felt
productive in Vegas. A small sense of purpose. Vegas helped me grow up.
So here I am, for three more weeks. My plan isn't as structured this time around. I've got two
plane tickets, a suitcase of clothes and that's about it. I think I'll probably stay at Planet
Hollywood until Christmas and then re-evaluate from there. Step two will depend on my
performance. If I play like Redskins Donovan McNabb, I might punish myself with a few nights
at the IP; or even worse, the motel 8 at Ellis Island. If I play like Eagles Donovan McNabb,
maybe I try out Encore or Aria for a few nights.
The past 5 months have been pretty mundane, especially pokerwise. Since I returned from Vegas
last summer I've probably only played live 5-7 times, with average to poor results. With school I
wasn't able to give the games my full attention and I think it showed in my play. But now that I'm
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back in Vegas with nothing on my mind but money I'm hoping to return to the winning form that
I'd established at the end of last summer's trip.
On a separate note, I recently read the post on "Changing your life" in the EDP forum. If you
haven't read it yet, go read it. If anything else, it certainly helped ease the anxiety that's become
regular for a 22 year old without a job or any real prospects. But also it's inspired me to go
explore the world myself. So this spring/summer with the company of my Vegas roommate
Lukas I'm planning a poker/backpacking trip through a land that I know absolutely nothing
about. Hopefully this European adventure is only the beginning of my exploring of the world. I
guess time will tell.
But for now my focus is on the present. Making money and enjoying myself out here. The older I
get and the closer I come to giving in to "the man", the more I realize these opportunities may
not be here forever. So let's make the most of it while it lasts.
Landing now and going straight to the B.
MM
PS Shoutout to my roommates for winning the MAC championship. We were hoping for the Las
Vegas Bowl, but the Go Daddy.com will do...
12/19/10: Vegas Feels Different
Met with an unusual overcast sky, Vegas had a strange feel as I made my way from the airport to
Planet Hollywood. A no nonsense feel. The towers at NYNY were bursting through the storm
clouds and the rollercoaster worked its way around the skyscrapers completely unoccupied as we
turned right onto Las Vegas Blvd. A creepy dynamic, like something straight out of a Stephen
King novel.
Yet the storm held off. It always does out here. Lots of bark, no bite. After a quick saunaless,
showerless workout at the Planet Hollywood gym I was ready to start making some money. As I
crossed over to the Bellagio with Mike Posner playing in my ear, I promised myself that unlike
the storm, I would back up my bark.
Three 5/10s were running as I made my way to the front desk at Bellagio. "Welcome back, Matt"
said Dan, the young poker room attendant with short hair and glasses. How he remembers my
name amongst the thousands of players who frequent the world famous room as I disappear for 6
months at a time is really incredible. Anyways to kill time I went and put $100 into the new
"Heads Up Challenge" machines that have generated a lot of discussion on 2p2. Within a half
hour I was broke. That will be the last time I play that game. I'm not convinced they're "rigged"
but I do know my opponent was very tricky and always seemed to make the right decisions.
Down a quick C-Note, my name was called for the 5/10 must move. Be patient and pay attention,
I said to myself in the form of a quick pep talk as I found my seat with a rack of Orange in hand.
And for an hour, that's precisely what I did. I hadn't played a hand when I found myself involved
with the two exploitable players at the table.
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3 limps to me and I raised 66 up to 70 on the btn. UTG and the CO, the two worst players at the
table called. The flop brought the 3 5 7
and I C-Bet 140. The first guy folded after some
deliberation and the 2nd guy called immediately. The turn was a 9
and immediately the first
gentleman starts ranting about how he folded 68. The CO then checks, to which I pot control
with a check back. As the river fell I had my eyes glued to my opponent, who bet 300 before the
7
had even touched the felt. My first interesting spot of the trip. Based on my hand and the
table talk 68 was highly unlikely. There also aren't many 9s in his range and the 2nd 7 made it
unlikely he had a 3rd. So I called the bet. The player to my left predicted that I'd made a good
call. He was wrong. My opponent flipped up Q 7
and just like that I was down a quick
$500.
After reloading to 1500, I picked up Q J
in the CO. An active player opened UTG to 40 and
I called after the bad player to my direct right did so himself. We saw a flop of 4 5 5
and
I floated the openers 100 cbet. The turn was a K
and this time he bet 240. The bet seemed
quick and a little too big for a hand of moderate strength. So I combined my purple chip with a
few oranges and bumped it up to 550. My opponent called after a few moments. The river was a
7
and again I was checked to. With 850 in my stack I had a perfect opportunity to shove. My
line looked so strong, but I couldn't pull the trigger. I'll blame it on rust. He flipped over 66 and
took down a pretty big pot.
Later I won my first hand of the trip when I got 2 streets of value with QQ on a J high flop,
which brought my stack up to 1200. Still down 800 for the day, I played my biggest hand of the
day in my next limped pot. After 3 limps, I limped the btn with J 8 . 6 of us to the flop, we
saw the oh so pretty A T 4 . Checked to me and I bet 40. The sb, a pretty blonde and the
CO, a sexy Asian both called my bet. This is my kinda 3way, I thought to myself, as the 9
peeled off on the turn. This time the Sb lead out for 120. The Asian folded and the action was to
me. Confused by the line, I postured for about a minute before making it 320. She thought for
awhile, asked how much I was playing and called. The turn was the J
and again it was
checked to me. At this point I put her on a range of 2pair hands and medium flushes. So I threw
out a 470 value bet. After what seemed like 5 minutes of thinking, my opponent moved in on my
final 300. Obviously I wasn't happy. Knowing that it's possible she freaked out with a small
flush, I called my final 300 and got shown Q9ss for the 2nd nut flush. UGHHHHH.
I did the awkward table tap, told her nice hand and exited the poker room. The worst start of any
of my poker trips, I thought to myself, as I passed the craps table wondering what I was going to
do with the rest of my night. Maybe I'll throw on a helmet and rob the craps game. Easy 2
million.
I must've been mumbling to myself when I felt a familiar tap on my shoulder. It was my
masseuse from the previous trips. "I thought you told me I'd never see you again" I said to her
surprised to say the least. "I lied" She responded, "Come on lets go grab a beer." So we went
over to Planet Hollywood, grabbed a few beers and talked for like 3 hours about a lot. She's a
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very unique girl with a lot of interesting things to say, but one thing stood out in my mind as we
were discussing past relationships. "There's a reason for everything good and everything bad in
our lives. I don't think of adversity in negative terms anymore. It's just the newest challenge that
we were meant to encounter." Sadly all I could think about was poker. I really need a new hobby.
Down 2 buy-ins, but for a reason.
Back to the felt
MM
12/20/10: Conspiracy Theories and Deadbeat Dads
I was unpleasantly reminded of two Vegas facts yesterday. A) Nobody gives out free internet
and I mean nobody. And B) getting around this town by foot is a pain in the ass. After rejecting
Planet Hollywood's ever so kind offer of 24 hour internet for $14 I spent the next hour and a half
walking around town looking for a WiFi spot. Casey told me of free internet at ESPN Zone in
NYNY. Hmm, looks close enough, or so I thought. After zigzagging my way through the giant
Maze that is City Center's overpass and walking twice the distance that a straight line would've
required, I had a different notion of "close". Top it off with my discovery that ESPN Zone no
longer exists, and I had officially wasted an hour and a half of my time.
Tired and annoyed, I skipped the workout and went straight to the poker. Again there was a little
bit of a wait and again I used the time to challenge the Heads Up Poker machine. For those
unaware, there are 3 characters you can challenge; the girl in the bikini, the big buddha, and the
smoking cigar. I may have gotten smoked by the Smoking Cigar yesterday, but I wasn't changing
characters. It was personal. I put $100 into the machine and geared myself for a blood bath.
After 20 minutes I thought I had him figured out. I stopped viewing him as a person who takes
game flow into consideration and recognized him as the no good, unadjusting, sorry excuse for a
bot that he was. I gave more merit to hands like K5 and less to suited and connected hands. The
results showed. 45 minutes into the battle and I was up $175. With my confidence high I started
boasting to anyone who would listen about how much of a chump this guy was. Then, things
went terribly wrong. It started with a boat over flush cooler, and continued with missed flop after
missed flop. Before I knew it the screen read $0.00 and this chach had defeated me once again. I
left for my 5/10 seat, but not before yelling at the machine, that I'd be back..and next time I'd be
prepared.
The topic of the Motorcycle Drive By [robbery] came up while I was waiting at the table for the
5/10NL must move game to start when a Bellagio employee told me this. "The way I see it, one
of two things occurred. The thief was a moron...which is not inconceivable by any means. Or
someone high up the ladder was involved. Because there is absolutely no way those chips are
getting redeemed unless it's through the higher powers."
Surprisingly the idea of an inside official being involved in the crime is the general consensus in
the Bellagio poker circle. Whether that's due to a fascination with conspiracy theories or based
on substantial evidence is up for debate. But people are certainly skeptical. It's funny how
different the perspective of people who've lived in this town for so long becomes. I wouldn't in a
million years have thought there was any corruption involved with the robbery. But I guess when

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you surround yourself in this type of environment, year after year, you learn not to trust the
unknown.
With that fresh in mind, the cards were finally up in the air. Again my table posed no real threats,
with mostly average to below average players. There was however, one interesting character at
the other end of the table, Sam Grizzle. For those of you who don't know Sam Grizzle, he's
famous for two things. Punching Phil Hellmuth in the face and being voted the 6th biggest
deadbeat dad in the world by the Seattle Weekly.
He didn't say much, other than berate me for placing my empty cherry coke glass on the ground,
to which he kicked over while passing my side of the table. "Does this look like a god damn
table," he asked in his unique high pitched texas accent. "Do you see any alternatives," I asked
him? He responded with a mumble while walking away that sounded something like "Gibble,
Gabble, Gummble". Anyways he picked up his short stack before I could get involved with him
and moved to another table.
I got off to a bad start once again when I called a preflop raise from the BB and 3 bullets on an
ace-high board with AT, losing to my opponents AJ. Down $500 I found a few spots where my
aggression paid off in the form of small pots. With the reputation of the biggest "LAG" at the
table, I found a spot to stray from my typical line. One of the worst players at the table opened to
$40 to my direct right in the HJ. I had the red TT and made it $140. He wasted no time in calling
the bet, indicating to me that I was certainly ahead. The flop came 2 3 7
and my
opponent open shoved his $600 stack into the middle after little thought. I asked for a count and
all that good stuff, but I knew right away I was calling. The turn brought a K
and the River an
A
and my opponent started shaking his head. ****in right. Of course he then turned over the
AJss, as he successfully tricked me into thinking I'd won my biggest pot of the trip. I shook my
head to which he responded, "I been losin' on that river all day son."
Down a buy-in I remained calm, reminding myself that every decision was just as important as
the last. That being stuck was no excuse to play poorly. I got a chance at redemption when I
limped the A 3
in the SB after multiple limpers. The flop came 4 4 9
and I checked
with the intention of raising. However it checked through and we saw the 2
on the turn. This
time I lead for 40 and the action folded to my enemy to the right. He took out another $100 and
raised it to 140. Being against the type of player that ONLY pays attention to his own cards, I
thought it was safe to 4bet and made it 350. He called and we saw an A
on the river. I bet 300
to which he called, tabling K 6 .
I continued my calculated aggression until I encountered my next big hand. With JJ I raised my
4th pot in a row to 40 from MP. The SB fish called, and the BB a pretty tight regular made it 150
with 400 back. There are times when I'd expect to rarely be good here, but this was not one of
them with my current reputation. So I shoved and he called after the SB folded. The flop rang out
239 and I checked his face for any indication of my status. Nothing. The turn and river were both
4s and he called out "AK". I flipped over my pair and raked in another decent sized pot.

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Soon after my day would end as I had plans for dinner at Yellowtail with my friend and his wife.
A $200 winner is nothing exciting, but it sure beats a $2000 loser. I feel I played a lot better and I
was proud of myself for not "pressing" and trying to get unstuck from the day before. I'm
interested to see the state of the games on a Monday afternoon before Christmas. I'm not
expecting much, but I've learned never to be surprised by anything in this town.
MM
12/21/10: Riding the Roller Coaster
I've always preached about separating the value of the dollar from the chip and staying stable
while the poker gods jerk your emotions up and down. But like a bad roller coaster sometimes
it's impossible not to grow sick when you're thrown up and down. So sick you want to puke.
I took my own ride last night at the B, starting with a downslope slipperier than the Vegas
sidewalks after an unsuspecting rain. With a full stack, I spent the first hour picking up very
logical opening hands, but bricking the flops, turns, and rivers. In my first interesting decision,
your typical middle-aged Asian in the HJ opened to 30, which was only important because he
had opened to 40 the previous hand. The CO and BTN called and I made it 160 in the SB with JJ.
My control of the pot lasted for about 3 seconds, before the initial raiser shipped his full buyin
into the middle. An interesting move to say the least. I sat there talking to my opponent for about
45 seconds, trying to gain a perspective for where he was in the hand. My plan was interrupted
by the grumpy European who reeked of BO, when he yelled out "Clock! I didn't come here to
listen to you talk kid." I sat there stunned. A $1000 decision and you want to call the clock after
45 seconds? Alright ******* you wanna play like that. It's on. I folded my hand, all while
staring down the smelly foreigner.
After reloading for another $1,000, I got a shot at revenge. The Smelly European opened to 40
UTG and I called with the red 77. The flop came 4 7 K
and I prayed like never before
that this particular time my opponent picked up a piece. I checked my set and he obliged with an
80 dollar Cbet, to which I reraised to 220. Suddenly his concentration heightened as his eyes
bolted back and forth from the flop to his cards to my stack. When the dust settled, he called the
220 and raised it another 500 bucks on top. 30 seconds of acting and then I shoved my whole
stack into the middle giving him the same stare I had when he called the clock. He called the
final 700 and started talking to his friend on the rail in another language. I heard something that
sounded like "suit" so I presumed I needed to avoid the remaining spades. The turn was the 2 ,
but the river brought the ugly Q . I turned my hand over angrily, mad at God for letting me
down this particular time. But to my delight, I was still good. I threw a rare fist pump into the air
as I stacked the enemys money and sent him home for the night.
A couple hours later my stack had risen up to $3400 and I had officially taken over the reins as
the table captain. However, I crossed over a bit to the sloppy side when I raised up the BTN to 70
with 3 4
after a couple limpers. The BB and UTG called and we saw a flop of 2 3
6
. Checked to me and I bet 120. The BB, a mid aged black guy quickly minraised to 240. Not
the type of minraise that felt like a trap, but the type that screamed, I have a decent hand for this
board, I must raise. So it got back to me and I made it 300 on top. He burrowed his eyebrows

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before putting out the necessary call. The turn was a bad card for me as the 2
fell off. My
opponent check again and this time I bet 450. My opponent was not to be bullied however, as he
once again matched my bet. The river was the A
and once again my opponent gave me a shot
at winning the pot by checking to me. Maybe it was his perfect stack size (900), or maybe it was
Eminem screaming in my ear about one opportunity, but I was not going to pussy out. I
announced all in and the pressure was back on my opponent. I sat there nervous as hell, while my
heart beated through my chest at a million miles an hour. Please fold. Please ****ing fold.
Finally after sighing his shoulders like a fighter knowing he was outmatched, but too prideful to
back down to a challenge, he pushed his stack into the middle. "Good call" I nervously squeaked
out as he turned over 99.
The feeling of failure dwindled inside my heart for the next 2 hours. I couldn't even look my
tablemates in the eyes out of embarrassment for my failed bluff. In fact, before I knew it I was
reloading, for the 3rd time today. But before I returned to the table, I took a break, watching my
Bears pounce on the Vikings while I regained my mental sanity. I returned to the table once calm,
and started playing good poker. My bluffy reputation paid off in a few medium sized pots as the
cards picked a good time to turn around. Before I knew it, I was on the verge of climbing out of
the hole for the day.
With a stack of 2800 I found a great opportunity with K K
in the BB. It was limped around
to the SB, a competent but translucent player, who made it 50 in the SB. I repopped it to 180, to
which a tilting Asian player cold called in the CO. Back to the SB and he made it 400 more.
Wow. 4-bets are extremely rare preflop in these games, especially from "non tricky" players. I
immediately feared Aces. I called, as did the Asian. The flop brought the 8 2 2 : and this
time the SB checked. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to bet small and gain value from his
QQ. However, before I could place out a bet, the Asian went all in for 250 out of turn. With the
action back to the SB, he shoved for 970. This is exactly what I didn't want to see. He can have
two hands here, AA or QQ. "You wouldn't check raise here with QQ, right?" I asked him. "You
would just hammer the dry flop and get it in." No reaction. "Alright I fold," I said, showing him
my Kings. He let out a huge sigh of relief as he flipped over QQ and avoided danger in the final
two cards to rake in a huge pot.
Back down to 2300, but not feeling as stupid as you may imagine. Every part of his line
indicated that he had Aces. He even admitted to me that he had no idea I was so strong or he
wouldn't have played the hand in that manner. I was disappointed in the result, but surprisingly
okay with my thought process.
A few minutes later and I got a chance at redemption with the black Aces UTG. I raised it up to
40. An old guy to my left called, and a kid in MP made it 160. Now here's where it gets
interesting. The BTN, a spazzy, but good player raises it to 400. Was I dreaming? However, I still
needed to concentrate on the best line. It's easy to get lazy and mess up an opportunity like this.
So I chip shuffled for a couple minutes and eventually made it 940 all day. Everyone folded to
the BTN, who shoved in for 900 on top. I called telling him I had Aces and he shook his head in
acceptance. The flop came 66T and I could see the hope dying in his eyes. A 4 hit the turn and it

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was all over. Before we saw the river his cards were in the muck and I had won potentially the
biggest pot of my life.
I was at the top of the ride, and this time I was getting off. I cashed out my $4300 stack. The
$1300 prize exceeded its monetary value with it's emotional reward. It marked determination and
tilt control. I felt like Michael Vick. I had been to the top, threw it all away with one terrible
mistake and then battled my way back to glory. I won't take all the credit for winning with Aces,
but I will say that I think I used my reputation to the best of its ability on this particular day.
MM
12/22/10: Iron Men and Sea Urchins
I've yet to see the sun out here in Vegas. Not that I spend much time outside in this town
anyways, but it's been surprising to see the dark clouds dominate the sky above the casinos.
Coincidentally my poker game has yet to see much of the "sun" either. After a horrible first day
I've spent the last few trying to get back into the black. Two days ago I got the ball rolling with a
1300 dollar win in a ten hour session, and yesterday I looked to continue on the winning pace.
I walked into the Bellagio at about 4pm local time. I got a seat immediately and noticed that
those who were present were familiar faces. Not necessarily locals, but definitely serious players.
There were two players on the other side of the table from my very first trip; the internet nerd
with the Bryan Devonshire fascination and the old guy jewelry salesman. And then next to me, a
rich French restaurant owner and a former Romanian professional soccer player.
Stacks:
UTG 1500
Hero 1000
Once again I dug myself an early hole. A lot of strange spots where I don't think I played poorly,
but where the results were horrid. One example is a spot where I picked up A Q
in the SB.
Utg, a young kid, opened to 50. I was the only caller, as we saw a flop of A 2 5 . I
checked and he bet out 60. I called out of position, planning on leading all turns. The turn was a
4 which seemed like a good card to lead for pot controlling against his range. I bet 110 and he
called in stride. The river was a 7
and again I lead, this time for a small price of 150. Again he
immediately called and I tabled my AQ which was no good against his 3 7 . I was strangely
confused and grateful the pot stayed small at the same time.
Stacks:
SB 1500
Hero 1400
The action was weak for the first 4 hours, yet somehow I was stuck 600 when we saw our first
preflop 3bet of the day. I raised the BTN to 45 after one limper with K K
and the tight
Asian youngster in the SB reraised to 180. Now I had opened a lot of hands, but I was afraid that
a 4bet would look super strong figuring this was our first 3bet of the day. So I called and we took
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a 10 9 2
flop. He bet 250 and I flat called. An 8
on the turn and this time he led for
450. I couldn't find much justification for folding or calling, so I shoved in for 520 more. My
opponent cut his chips, rechecked his cards, but eventually folded showing me QQ.
While waiting out a card dead streak, I got into an interesting conversation with the old man 2
seats to my left. He had on an iron man sweatshirt and even though I have no interest in
competing in one, I'm always looking for tips on getting into better shape. For those unaware, an
iron man consists of a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike ride, and a 26.2 mile marathon. I asked
him about the process that goes into training one's body for such an event, and apparently it's all
about changing the physiology of the body. The body is trained to break down calories as its
source for energy. Obviously over the course of a 15 hour workout, the body runs out of calories.
The trick behind training for such a long event, is tricking the body into turning to fat storage
instead of calories or energy. The process takes up to two years of training, mostly by slowly
pushing ones cardiovascular limits until the body gets comfortable with the process. Anyways, it
wasn't long before our conversation was interrupted by a huge hand.
Stacks:
BB 1000
Hero 2100
BTN 1400
Back to even with a 2k stack, I picked up 5 6
in the HJ. 3 limpers to me and I joined, as did
the btn and the sb. The BB a very tight woman raised it up to 70. The first 3 limpers called as did
I and the btn. The flop couldn't have been better as the 2 4 6
popped out. The lady led for
200 and I made it 450, thinking that was a pretty believable number. The hand got interesting
when Iron Man shoved all in for 800 more on the BTN. Obviously a man who bikes mountains
and swims across oceans wasn't going to be intimidated by a measly bet of 450. The lady
regrettingly folded and the action was back to me. However, before I could auto call my
opponent showed me his 35. What's my play? I like to think I have a basic understanding of the
math behind the game, but is this still a call? I thought for awhile and eventually couldn't fold
with all the money in the pot. The hand got more interesting as the 6
peeled off the turn,
giving me a plethora of more outs. With my heart pounding, the river brought the 3
salvaging
a chop, which I was perfectly fine with seeing that Iron Man was capable of killing me, eating
my remains, and biking down to Mexico before anyone could catch up to him.
With Iron Man a bit annoyed at my call, I refocused my attention on the new player to my left. A
sharply dressed French gentleman, I'd recognized him from the previous days. We got to talking
about what he was doing here and he told me he was trying to open a French restaurant, first here
and then in Las Angeles. This explains his over active playing style. It wasn't long before my
new friend and I were involved in a big pot.
Stacks:
UTG 3,000
Hero 1,600

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He raised to 60 UTG and 4 players called. I joined the party in the BB with Q J
and we saw
a flop of K T 4 . I checked, Frenchie bet 220 and everyone else folded. Back to me I
called and saw the perfect 9
on the turn. I checked again and this time he fired 550. Now this
wasn't the first big hand we had played. Twice before I had called his flop aggression and folded
to a turn bet. So I decided to shove for 850 more, knowing it may look like I was getting fed up
with his aggression. He eventually called me and I assumed there was a good chance he was
drawing dead. The river was the 7
and he mucked when he saw my straight.
Up to 3,400 I started betting flops (red or black for $10) with the ex-Romanian soccer player.
Now a soccer coach for girls in Orange County, you could see the regret in his eyes when he
talked about quitting soccer. He had been kicked out of High School at 16 because he was too
busy with his soccer club to attend. At 17 he got injured and went to visit his mother in the US.
By 18 he was ready to return to playing, but his mother suggested he stay another 6 months in
order to earn his green card. He agreed and stayed. Months later he was in a bad car accident that
broke both of his legs, ending his career. "I couldn't even watch the game on TV for five years"
he told me. Definitely a sad story, one that got me thinking about pursuing the things I love and
people I love being around, knowing that they might not always be there.
Stacks:
BTN 1500
Hero 3400
I got into my last big pot of the night when the BTN, a middle eastern kid, opened to 50 after one
limper. I called in the SB with K Q
as did two others. The flop came K K 4
and it
checked around. The turn was a 5
and again I planned a check raise. This time the BTN bet
out 80, to which I met with a raise to 220. With the action back on him, he spent an awful long
time thinking out his options. Eventually he raised it to 600 all day. Immediately I was confused
by the line, but leaning towards giving him credit because he hadn't played a hand all day.
However, I couldn't justify folding as I placed in the proper amount. The river was an 8
and
after I checked my opponent bet 940 leaving himself with 120 in chips. It was a very interesting
bet and one I read as very strong. As strong as my hand was, it was strictly a bluff catcher. He's
never value betting a worse K or AA. So eventually I gave him credit and tossed my hand in. He
flipped over the 9J offsuit and I AGAIN had made a horrible fold in a big pot.
Tilted and embarrassed, I racked up a few hands later and called it a night. Up 400 for the night,
it felt good to leave with more than I started, but I couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities.
To take a bit of the edge off I went to a bar in the Miracle Mile with a friend who was in town.
We eventually got to chatting with 3 girls from Utah, in for today's big game against Boise St.
Two of them were very attractive, and one of them was a bit unfortunate looking. Either way, we
all moved over to Blondies and continued celebrating the MAACO Bowl. By 5 in the morning
my friend and I had paired up with the two attractive ones and all five of us went back to their
room for some more partying.

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Unfortunately, the less fortunate one was not as happy about the idea as we were. After numerous
ignored attempts of her asking us to leave so she could go to sleep, she got fed up and pulled to
desperate measures. Going to the bathroom, she came back out with a bottle of pepper spray and
her finger on the trigger. Now I have never been pepper sprayed, and had no intentions of trying
it out, but with the opponent blocking the front door it seemed inevitable. With my friend and the
girls already escaped it was just me and the sea urchin, eye to eye. It all plays back so slowly in
my mind. I came at her hard. I juked right. Then left. I placed my left hand on the bottle,
misdirecting the spray as I pulled a Barry Sanders spin move towards the door; escaping the
enemy. With my heart pounding, we couldn't help but laugh as we waited for the elevator. My
poker game may be rusty, but my football game is stronger than ever.
MM
12/23/10: Tony Korfman and refusing to fold
I woke up early yesterday. Before noon at least. I could've sworn I was dreaming as it sounded
like a band was banging on the drums outside my door. So I strapped on my running shoes and
took the elevator down the gym, ready to start my day nice and early. As the elevator approached
the "Meza" floor, the sound of the band grew louder. As I turned the corner, it became apparent
that I was in the middle of the Utah Utes pep rally. I rarely pay attention to the days out here, so
it was hardly surprisingly that I'd forgotten the game was tonight. But the hundreds of folks who
gathered to listen to the band and watch the cheerleaders dance clearly had not. As they played
Journey's Don't Stop Believing, I found myself entranced in Utes fever. I wanted to bet the
game. I wanted to attend the game. Thankfully, I did neither.
I've started the process of adjusting my Vegas clock. No good 5/10 games get started before 5 or
6 o'clock. So it seems that the hours I've been wasting from 2 to 6 would be way better spent
from 10pm to 2am. Yesterday I showed up around 4 promising myself that I wouldn't continue
the trend of getting stuck early. However, sitting down in a 3 handed game to begin the day, I
knew I would need to be aggressive to profit, and aggression is a high variance playing style.
Stacks:
BB 1500
Hero 1100
The first hand I played I raised the BTN to 35 with J T . Both blinds called and we saw a
flop of 7 8 8 . The Sb led for 70 and the Bb called. It seemed like a good spot to put
pressure on lower pairs, so I raised it to 250. The Sb folded, but the Bb, an older, bigger
gentleman, called the bet. The turn was a Q
and we went check check. The river came another
7
and my opponent checked again. Now at this time I assessed him a range of an 8 or a busted
draw. Unfortunately with the Q on board we now chop all busted draws. So I decided to fire a
really small 120 bet, knowing it would give me the full pot against his missed draws and that
obviously I would lose to his full houses. He raised it 500 more and I released my hand
immediately.
After getting into another $600 hole, I spent the next couple hours at the main game getting back
to even. My game was feeling awesome. I'd noticed a leak in my bet sizing by watching the
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successful players at the table. Because I haven't played any live poker recently and when I had it
was tournaments, all my raise sizes were too small. Also, I was floating too much, thinking my
opponents would see my calls as powerful. These were two leaks that I immediately corrected,
and the results showed.
Stacks:
Sb 2100
Hero 1600
I opened the CO to 35 with 2 2 . The BTN, SB, and BB all called. The flop came 2 7
9
and I bet 85 with my set. The BTN and SB folded, but the BB raised it up to 200 even. The
BB was occupied by a very tight female player that I had played with the night before. She does
not play her draws aggressively so this was definitely a big made hand. I raised her 200 more on
top hoping to build the pot. To my surprise she didn't even think before raising ME 400 more. I
couldn't believe this was happening again. Another huge hand, this time against the tightest
player at the table. Could she really have 77 or 99? Hell could she possibly have anything
OTHER than those hands. With 850 behind, I fought inside my head, before realizing that I
could never justify another incorrect fold in a huge pot. So I announced all in and put my head to
the felt. 5 seconds went by and she hadn't called. I blew out a huge sigh of relief. Eventually, she
folded and I was now up around 800 for the day.
Later the big old man from my first table moved to my left. As soon as he sat down everybody
recognized him. One guy said "Hey Tony I've heard I need to buy your book." "Who is this guy."
I asked the dealer. "Tony Korfman" I was told. Immediately I recognized the name from a 2p2
thread. Apparently he smacked some young kid in the middle of a tournament after too much
trash talk. However, he didn't come off as rude in the slightest. In fact he was really funny guy,
who played okay poker and wore an extremely ugly Nascar jacket.
Stacks
CO 2000
BTN 1200
Hero 2400
After two limpers I raised the HJ to 60 with K Q . Tony in the HJ, the BTN and the first
limper called. The flop looked good as the K
popped out in the door, followed by Q T .
With top two I led for 160. Tony called, as did the BTN. I was confident I was ahead as the 6
fell on the turn, so I bet 500 to protect my hand. Tony folded and the action got back to the btn.
He announced all in. Roughly 1300 more. Talk about another tough spot. After a few minutes of
thought I couldn't see him making that bet with a worse hand. My line looks strong, the 6
definitely didn't help him, and a bluff just isn't credible. I gave the dealer my cards and my
opponent proudly flipped over J9 for the flopped straight. Finally a fold that was correct!
Still that pot took away all my profit and left me even on a day that I was positive I'd played my
best poker. Later in the night I started growing anxious. Possibly because I was approaching hour
8 of my session. Either way it affected my play.
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Stacks
UTG+1 2000
Hero 1700
After 3 limps I limped the BTN with 4 6 . The flop came 5 5 9
and I bet 50 when
checked too. The BB and UTG+1 called. The turn was another 5
and I decided to just check
and give up. The river was a K
and after the BB checked, UTG+2 fired out 100. My read on
this particular opponent was that he was a loose limper preflop, but tight in calling larger bets.
Thinking that the majority of his range was a 9, I raised it up to 380, confidant he would fold a
high percentage of the time. After the BB folded and the action was back to him, he sat there
nodding his head. I was hoping that meant he believed my story. But after he finished nodding he
placed the 280 in chips into the pot. I tabled my hand and he took about 30 seconds before
flipping up his winning JJ.
By this time it was midnight and the games were getting pretty good. However, I was off my
game, and couldn't continue to bleed money. So I picked up a 500 loser and headed back to the
hotel. Even with a fatigued last hour, I feel my game is finally coming into shape. However I
need to avoid dumb mistakes. Being undisciplined is not an option.
For the trip I'm down a little more than 1k and with only one day left before I head home for
Christmas. I'll be returning the 27th and staying until the 9th. Hopefully, like last year, this first
week will have served as a "spring training" for my game, getting me prepared for a big 2 weeks
when the New Years tourists come to town.
MM
12/27/10: The Man in Black
I woke up late on the 23rd. Trying to adjust to the prime time hours of the 5/10 games, I walked
out the front door of the Miracle Mile at around 3pm with a new pair of Beats headphones on.
With the Hash House A Go Go as my final destination, I started singing "I Can See Clearly Now"
with my arms stretched out wide, as I caught a glimpse at the sun for the first time all week.
Sure, singing in public may be weird, but when you're passing grown men dressed as Batman,
and women as Gaga, the notion of "weird" doesn't register. At least not for stretching the golden
pipes.
As I approached the marble stairs leading down to LV Blvd, I made a crucial mistake in
assuming the sun had taken care of three days of rain. Quick stepping the stairs like a football
player running ladders, I lost my footing as I approached the ground level. Flying through the air
parallel to the ground, I landed hard on my back, mid note. The whole town started laughing,
even the street performers. **** you tin man, I thought as he mockingly offered me a high face.
At around 6pm, with my peers back home out east winding down their days, I was just beginning
mine. Sitting down at the must move table, I immediately called over a masseuse to work on my
cracked back and bruised ego. "So many knots" the blonde said. ""You must've been playing
sports." "Yep" I lied. With a fairly easy looking table, I singled out one opponent I wanted to get
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involved with: a loose cannon black guy who'd raised 75% of his hands so far and called with the
other 25%. I got that wish with a premium holding.
Stacks:
CO 900
BTN 1300
Hero 1200
The loose cannon raised it to 50 in the CO and was met with a raise to 180 by the BTN, a young
Asian guy in an Ed Hardy hat. I decided to flat with K K
in the SB, thinking the loose
cannon would stack off if he hit any part of the flop and knowing how strong a 4bet would look.
The loose cannon called and the flop came T 9 8 . I knew I couldn't afford for it to check
through, so I led out with 280. After the loose cannon folded, the BTN moved in for my final
750. It's not the greatest flop, but I can't fold Kings on such a board so I called. The turn was a
6
and the river a 4 . I flipped over my hand and my opponent showed a losing TJ.
Up to 2500 I got moved to the main game where I sat next to a young Jewish looking kid who I
had played with for the past few days. We got to talking and it turns out he just moved here from
San Francisco. I've heard quite a few young players tell me that they've "just moved here"
recently. Some of them better players than others. With the variance and all the temptations, it'll
be interesting to see how many end up staying in Las Vegas. So far, there aren't any that I
recognize from the summer.
Stacks:
MP 2000
Hero 2500
The next hand put me in quite the tricky spot. With the red T T
I raised it to 100 after 5
players limped to me in the BB. UTG, a Persian gambler, and MP a standard mid aged white guy
called the bet. The flop came 4 6 7
and I bet out 170. UTG folded and MP called after
some thought. The turn was a J . This is a card where being out of position put me in a tough
situation. I decided to bet 350, because I didn't want my opponent to take control in such a large
pot. Again he called, this time quicker than last. The river was a 5
putting a 4 card straight on
the board. I now, clearly, had to check. My opponent thought, counted his money, and bet 650. I
tried very very hard to find a call. But I just couldn't. I released my hand and was down to 1800.
As the night got later the table got more aggressive. Tony Korfman showed up again. As did
"Feed My Kids" from 2p2 and the Man In Black. I had played with the M.I.B. the day before and
he was one of the most unpleasant people I've been around. Dressed in all black, he always met
you with a frown and never had anything pleasant to say. After showing off his MGM VIP Card,
I kindly and quietly asked him if he'd like to arrange a deal for selling me rooms after Christmas.
To which he called out to the whole table, "You hear this guy? He wants me to sell him rooms.
Kid I wouldn't sell you 3 nights for 100 grand." Yea Right.

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Stacks
BB 1500
Hero 1800
Soon after, I found a nice spot against the table fish, a Persian player with no fold button. I raised
A Q
up in mp to 50 and he was the only caller in the BB. The flop came A 3 5
and
I put out a pot sized bet of 120, knowing he wouldn't read the size for strength. The turn was a
K
and again I bet the pot, about 360. He called in stride and disappointingly the 2
came out
on the river. Instead of betting for value, I planned a check call. The plan was deterred when he
shipped in for 1000. While he was aggressive and liked to semi-bluff he wasn't the type of player
to turn a hand with showdown value into a bluff. So I folded and for the third day straight had
turned a good start on the tables into a deficit.
Stacks:
CO 2000
Hero 1300
In for 1500 I had a 1300 stack when I played my last pot of the night; against the M.I.B. 4
players limped to my BB and I made it 90 with K J . MIB was the only caller in the CO as
we saw a flop of A T 9 . I led for 140 and my opponent immediately asked me how much
I was playing while he called. "A little over a thousand" I responded. I loved the question
because I knew it meant strength. The beautiful Q
came on the turn and I doubled my flop bet
to 280. Instantaneously I was met with an all in. He turned over AQ and I was looking pretty
going into the river. That's when I saw it. The Q came screaming belly up on the river. MIB fist
pumped. I was out of words. Ready to run to the airport. Then as I double checked I noticed it
was the Q , giving me the winning straight flush. The table tried to remain professional, but as
soon as MIB left, everyone commented on how happy it made them to see him lose that way.
So there it was, the prospect of losing 1500, turned into an 1100 winner in the blink of an eye;
based on the silly suit of a card. Needless to say the Christmas flight was a bit more enjoyable
then it could've been. Im back in Vegas. Trying to make it to the Jerry Seinfeld show in a couple
hours, and if that doesn't work out, straight to the B
MM
12/29/10: First Day Back
I made it to the box office at Caesar's with 5 minutes until Seinfeld was scheduled to take the
stage. Half expecting the show to be sold out, I asked the ticket attendant what was left available.
"We've got some tickets in the back balcony for $75 or 7th row center for $175" he told me.
Completely unprepared to make a big decision, I had to take a step back to evaluate the EV of
the situation. Still stuck $400 for the trip, I wasn't exactly in a position to be splurging on luxury;
But it's not every day your favorite comedian is in town. **** it. "I'll take the front and center."

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After the show I walked back through the Bellagio forum shops and over to the poker room.
Sitting down at the 5/10, It was nice to see Jacque, the French restaurant owner, on the other side
of the table. It didn't take long before we tangled.
Stacks:
UTG+1 2500
UTG+2 1000
Hero 11000
After 3 limps I raised up the btn to 80 with 9 9 . UTG , a young middle eastern, called, and
Jacques, to his left, did the same. The flop came A K Q
and I Cbet 150. Both players
called, preparing me to shut down for the hand. That is until the 9
hit the turn. This time
Jacques went all in before the action got to me for 650. I reshoved for 750 total, expecting him to
have some sort of wacky combo draw. Surprisingly, UTG did not immediately release his hand.
Instead he asked for a count and eventually called my shove. UTG showed AK and Jacques
produced the QJ of spades. "Be good to me Darlene" I asked the dealer as she burned and turned.
The 3 . I double checked both hands, then threw a red bird on my cards, realizing that no one
had improved.
Up to 3k, I was called over to the main game. The table was pretty tight, except for a young pro
named Mike. Mike and I had a bit of relevant history. Last week I 3bet him out of the SB with
AK and double barreled a T843 board. We talked about the hand later and I told him what I had.
This sharing of information would change the dynamic of a hand we played yesterday.
Stacks:
MP 1500
HJ 1500
Hero 3400
Mike raised the HJ to 50 after Jacques limped in mp. I called on the btn with K J , as did
Jacques. The flop came Q T 4
and mike Cbet 80. We both called and saw a 9
on the
turn. This time it checked to me on the btn, to which I bet 250. Jacques folded and Mike took his
time before making the call and checking the river in the dark. The final card was an 8
and
with the action on me I had a choice to make. One option was for a small 1/4 pot value bet. This
would've been a good option against a bad player who only considers their own holdings. But
with Mike as my opponent, a large bet was a more profitable choice. "750" I announced. Mike
started playing through his thought process out loud, trying to gather information from me. I just
sat there silently. Eventually he said "Okay you either got it or you don't, I call."
"I got it Mike"
The next couple hours I sat patiently and slowly coasted out one of the biggest heaters of my life.
During this time of perfecting the folding toss, I got to talking with Dan, a young kid from out
east. A recent college grad, he came out to Vegas in July for vacation and never left. We swapped
stories, and I quickly learned that I this guy was glowing with personality. His tales of dating

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strippers, poker lessons from Sam Grizzle, and being roofied and robbed by a prostitute made me
feel like a minor leaguer in comparison.
Eventually we moved over to Aria where we started drinking heavily and playing 2/5 NL. In
between the hilarity of our conversations, I actually played some solid poker. By 7am I had a
1,000 stack, making my total profit 4500 for the day.
Stacks:
BB 1,000
Hero 1,000
But before I could call it quits I got involved in one more spot. In an 8 way limped pot I held
J 8
in the co. The flop came 7 9 3
and the table fish bet out 50 in MP. I called,
moving the action back to the SB, a local player who'd been supplying us endless laughs all
night. With a goofy "bowl cut" and an outdated sweat suit, the guy had all the mannerisms of
Alan from the Hangover, including his voice. Needless to say it was hard to hold a conversation
with him without laughing hysterically. Alan raised it up to 200, forcing out the original
aggressor. I called and stared him down as the turn was flipped over. "All in" he announced
before I could get a glance at the card. ****, must mean I missed. But as I refocused my
attention on the board, I saw the 3
on the turn. "Well I didn't come here to fold flushes" I
announced while placing my stack in the middle. "You're good," he said, turning over 22 for
bottom set. A 2000 pot. All I had to do was avoid the board pairing. The river was a 3 . "You
were good," finished Alan as he pounded his cards in celebration.
On the basis of losing to an Alan look-a-like I decided to call it a night. When the dust settled, I
was a $3500 winner. One card from my biggest day of all time, but a monster session non the
less.
MM
12/29/10: Big Pots and Bad Haircuts
I woke up in mid-afternoon feeling like I'd just been hit by Denzel's train in Unstoppable. With
working out out of the question, I stumbled my way down Tropicana, looking to release some
endorphins in the form non-baller shopping. On my way through the Miracle Mile I stumbled
upon a much needed salon. You see in my attempt to reach my inner west-coast hippie, I'd been
growing out my hair to it's fullest extent. Unfortunately when you're hair grows like mine, the
fullest extent becomes an overgrown Jew-fro, a close resemblance to the mop on Richard
Simmons' head.
So I entered the Salon and had two choices of barbers; the straight guy, or the gay guy. I
confidently told the gay guy that I'd feel more confident in his hair cutting abilities and we got to
work. Things went horribly wrong right off the bat. I almost told him to stop when he came at
my head with his trembling hand, almost. But I didn't, and instead I let this clown butcher my
hair one clip at a time. You'd think one of the requirements to cutting hair would we a steady
hand. Kind've like how a public speaker probably shouldn't have a stutter. But I guess when you

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work at a hotel and know that people won't be coming back for 2nds anyways, it really doesn't
matter if you're good or not. Hell you can have Parkinson's as long as you look presentable.
An hour and a half later I exited the same door I came in, this time looking like an uneven
penisbut one with a stylish wardrobe. I crossed the street over to Bellagio and sat down at the
5/10 must move game. While I sat there feeling out my opponents, 2 guys I played with the night
before came over and warned the table to "watch out for that guy in the nine seat." I humbly
laughed on the outside, while my ego exploded on the inside.
In the past, ego inflating compliments have been the death of me, but this time I remedied that
obstacle by reminding myself of how horribly I'd played a few hands earlier in the trip. With that
in mind, I tightened up my range, making sure not to make any stupid mistakes. I made a couple
nice value bets and was up to 1500 when I played my first big pot. While the cards were getting
dealt Dan stopped over to update me on his stack. On his way back to his seat he advised me that
"The girl to your right is a huge fish...though I'm sure you know that by now." Actually I had no
idea, though this would play relevant as the action folded to her in the SB.
Stacks:
SB 1400
Hero 1500
The mid-aged woman asked me if I chopped, I said no and she limped. With A K
I raised it
up to 40 and she called. The flop came Q T 8
and I checked back, knowing that she
would float me with any pair. The turn brought the perfect J
and this time she led for 100. I
pulled out one stack of 10's and one hundred dollar bill and made it 300. She called immediately.
The river was another J
and this time I bet out for 470. She thought for quite a bit as she
enjoyed her table massage, but eventually she did what fish do and made the call.
Up to 2300 I got involved in a big pot with the tight black player on the other end of the table.
Stacks
UTG 2000
Hero 2300
After 3 limps, I raised the SB to 80 with Q Q . The BB and UTG made the call. The flop
was very friendly to me as it came 2 2 J . I lead out for 160 and UTG quickly called. He
had been playing pretty tight and solid so I put him on a strong range. When the 6
came on
the turn I decided to use my LAG image by check raising. After I checked he led out for 200 and
I reraised it up to 620. He called without wasting a second. The stars were aligning for a huge
pot, and his range was narrowed to a bunch of strong 2nd place hands. Unfortunately my plan to
move all-in on the river was deterred by the final card. A J
put myself in a bad spot out of
position. I decided to check and my opponent wasted little time in going all in. I thought for
about a minute, but never truly considered calling.

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Down to 1400 I started opening like 50% of my hands against the super tight table. No one was
playing back and my stack had grown to 1700 in the process. Then, finally, someone took a
stand.
Stacks
SB 900
Hero 1700
1 limp to me and I raised the CO up to 55 with J 2 . The Sb was the only caller and together
we saw the beautiful Q J 2
flop. Running well is soo much fun. I bet 75 and he
immediately put in 2 bills. With a flush draw on board I decided to play my hand fast in case any
scare cards came. I made it 300 more, and he almost simultaneously went all in. Usually I
wouldn't like my chances of being ahead, but with my image I knew I was crushing his range, so
I called. The turn was a J
and I let him know that I'd hit my boat. He stood up as the 4
hit
the river and threw his hands in the air in amazement when he saw my Jack Deuce.
With my stack unto 2600, I decided it was a good time to quit before the symptoms of a bad head
cold and a worse hangover caused me to do something stupid. I made a celebratory trip through
In N Out on the way home and got some well-needed sleep. With about 4600 in profit for the trip
I've gotten the urge to play a tournament or two. Does anyone know of any good ones running in
town?
MM
12/30/10: The System and Tilt Control
Sitting in suite 1227 at Aria Hotel, I got to thinking how a poker player grinding the daily $100
tournaments could logically afford such a place for 2 weeks. "It's all free" said Matt, a 27 year
old grinder from the Bay Area. "Not only is it free (including NYE and New Years), but they
give me $200 in food credit and $200 in gambling chips as well." No ****ing way. I needed to
figure out how this was happening. I've been wasting thousands of dollars over the past year on
something that was absolutely unnecessary. I felt like Tyson, accept my Lion, was only a hotel
room. So we got to talking about the catch behind "free" and eventually Matt told me about what
he refers to as "The system."
The first step of the system is finding a hotel aimed at gaining "young money." Hotels like Aria
and Cosmopolitan are fine choices, while the Bellagio and the Wynn may not be the best fits for
the situation. Once you've located your prey, according to Matt, the next step is going to the cage
to purchase your chips. Always purchase your chips at the cage. Exposure is everything.
Hand the cage $1,000 with your players card, and strike up a friendly conversation with the
attendant. Make sure the attendant knows that your intention is to play blackjack until all of the
money is gone or until you are rich. Perception is everything.
The next step is to take those ten black chips to the blackjack table. Again, hand the dealer your
card and again involve yourself with the staff, making it blatantly obvious that you are here for a
good time and that money is not an obstacle. Place $100 down and get ready for the first shoe.
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You will play either one shoe or until you are down $400. If you are down $400, let the dealers
know that this table does not feel lucky and that you need a change of scenery.
Once you finish your session, lets say you break even, you take your $1,000 in chips and bring it
to a different cage then the original one. At this cage you cash in your chips, take your $1,000
and return to the first cage. Using the same attendant from the first transaction you explain to her
how unlucky you were in losing your first $1,000, but that you are not a quitter. You hand her the
same $1,000 you bought in with originally and tell her to send you some lucky chips. Once you
get those chips you take them back to your room and cash them out the next day.
Matt says he does this once a trip and every month he's sent offers from Aria to come stay, eat
and gamble for free. He says that even if he loses the $400, which he sets as his limit, he makes
up for it ten fold in comps from the casino. Today will be my first shot at "the system".
I got to the Bellagio yesterday, a bit uneasy about starting my session. While I'm super confident
in my game right now, that's not always a good thing. In the past I've followed up my hot streaks
with a major down day, bringing me back to earth. Whether it's over confidence or over
aggression it's turned into a trend, one that I'd like to bring a stop to. So with everything to lose, I
sat down in the must move and played patient poker until my name was called for the main
game. Hearing my name called for table 34, I racked up and headed over to the corner table.
However, on my way to my new table I noticed my friend Jacques on table 35 and an empty seat
2 to his right. So I quickly sat down hoping nobody would notice. They didn't.
Per usual, Jacques called all of my raises preflop, never believing I could possibly have a strong
hand. Eventually we played a pot of significance.
Stacks
SB 3000
Hero 1100
I raised in EP in 45 with A K . Jacques called in the SB and we took a flop of K 2 3 .
Jacques then check raised my 70 bet to 200. I decided to call, seeing no need to over represent
my hand. The turn was a 7
and Jacques quickly checked. I bet 250 and he eventually called.
On a 2
river, he again checked the action to me. His range here is Kx and midpairs. Knowing
I had a K, I thought I needed to bet small to get a call out of the bottom half of his range. So I bet
280, and Jacques did something very unusual in thinking instead of instacalling. "Okay I think
you got it" he said, folding his hand. Damnit, he's finally adjusting to my game.
Stacks
UTG 1600
Hero 1800
Up to 1800, I played an interesting spot in a limped pot. I limped the CO with 3 5
and 7 of
us saw a T J 3
flop. UTG bet out for 50 and I called, feeling confident that he had a one
pair type hand and not a draw. On a board so draw heavy I felt like I could successfully represent
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a plethora of bad cards that hit the turn and river. Interestingly, though, the turn was a "good"
card. The 5
came on the turn and this time he bet 140. Back to me and I bumped the action to
320 with my bottom two pair. My opponent started counting his chips and then moved in on me
for 1250 more. I think this is a spot where table dynamic plays a huge role. I had been opening a
lot of pots and in general playing very aggressive poker. Most players would put their money in
here against me light. This old guy however, I didn't think to be most players. I hadn't seen him
play aggressively all night and eventually concluded that he would've just called with all one pair
hands. So either I'm drawing dead or I need to avoid a huge combo draw. I folded and while
telling him next time I was calling.
Stacks
BTN 100
BB 520
Hero 1200
A round or two later I played another awkward spot. With AQ I raised in EP to 40 and the BB,
who had just lost a huge pot, put his last 100 in the middle. The action got back to a LAG black
guy in the BB and he cold called with 420 behind. Not knowing what to do, I made the easy
decision and just shipped it in. "I call" I heard confidently and quickly. "You got Aces?" he asked
me. The flop finished out Q high but I knew I was no good. The BB flipped over his KK and I
was now down half a buyin for the day.
Stacks:
BTN 750
Hero 1200
Immediately after I rebought I found the perfect opportunity to play the "tilt card". After a table
of limpers the btn raised to 70. I quickly and carelessly put in two bills and 6 orange chips for a
raise to 260 with Q Q . Shortly there after my opponent moved in for 750 total and I made
the call. The flop came A 7 6 . The turn was another 6
and the river was a 9 . I tried
to table my hand, but my opponent beat me to it with his AK.
Trying to avoid tilt, I took a break for an hour and sat in the sports book reading my kindle. I
made sure to remind myself that every decision was important, and that "getting back to even for
the night" was not my goal. I focused on playing good poker, and when my heart had returned to
a normal beating rate, I moved back into the action.
Stacks:
BB 2400
Hero 1050
With K Q
I raised it to 40 in mp. In the BB, the LAG black guy raised it up to 120. Usually,
even in position, this is a fold against most live players' ranges. But not against this guy. I called
and the flop came K 5 3 . He bet 120 and I called in stride. The turn gave me 2pair with a
Q , but it also brought the flush. My opponent check called 250 in a manner that led me to
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believe I was definitely ahead. The K

came on the river and this time he lead into me for 200.
I assessed the situation and then moved all in for 450 on top. He looked confused, but he wasn't
the type of player to lay down a hand in a big pot. So he called and nodded when I flipped over
the nuts.
Stacks
BTN 300
CO 1200
Hero 2200
Back to even I got involved in one last pot. With K T
I began a table-wide limping UTG. 7
to a flop of K T 3 . I checked and a fishy Asian led for 50. The BTN called and I check
raised to 170. Both players called and the turn was a safe 7 . This time I led for 350. The CO
called again and the BTN put in his remaining 100 chips. I stayed calm on the outside, but on the
inside I was praying for any card accept an A or a 9. The river paired the 7
and internally I let
out a major sigh of relief. "550" I announced after a few moments. My opponent shook his head
and folded his QJ face up saying "The money is yours my friend."
He was right. On a day when it seemed like nothing was going to go my way, I stayed calm and
battled back to a $700 profit. It's exciting to think that I'm slowly turning a corner that affects
even the best players in the game; the battle against tilt. That session put me up a little more than
$5200 for the trip and comes at a good time with New Years only a day away.
MM
12/31/10: Chasing Nelly
Out here I'm rarely aware of the time of the day, or the day of the year. It's really all the same.
But as I walk through the Bellagio lobby and gauge the growing number of people waiting for
check in and congesting the alleys, I can tell that the new year is approaching. And with the
celebration of New Years Eve comes the presence of celebrities, lots of them poker lovers.
Throughout the past few days I've heard stories of ARod playing the no limit game and Cameron
Diaz sitting amongst the pros in Limit Hold'em in Ivey's room. Still, I'd yet to see any of them
for myself.
While waiting for my 5/10 seat at Bellagio, I walked over to the other side of the room to sweat
Dan in the 10/20, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a familiar face. It was hard to tell as
he was covered up in a hoodie, sunglasses, and scarf, but once I saw the red STL hat I knew it
was Nelly. I'd heard stories about the "Country Grammar" star playing the 10/20, most of them
leaving me to believe that I had to get in that game; if not for the story, for the EV. If only I had a
bigger bankroll
Depressed and ashamed, I walked back over to the other side of the room with my tail between
my legs when they finally called me for the 5/10. Sitting in the 1 seat, the poker god's displayed
their empathetic side as they placed me to the right of Poker "D-Lister" Doug Lee. My

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consolation prize. God I bet my friends can't wait to hear that I played with Doug Lee! He's been
on TV! Still a bit salty, I opened a lot of hands preflop, trying to loosen up the table.
Stacks
MP 800
Hero 1100
After CBetting Doug Lee out of one pot, we got involved in a second battle when I opened A
T
to 50 UTG. Doug called in MP and we saw a flop of K 7 4 . I Cbet 80 and Doug
called immediately. The turn was a 3
and after I checked, he quickly checked back. Ready to
surrender for the hand, I caught the beautiful A
on the river. Still it was a very thin spot to
gain value. Against an experienced player like Doug I needed to make it look like I was trying to
buy the pot. So I bet 275. Doug looked confused, giving me his discrete yet devilish smile. The
type a child gives a parent when they've done something wrong and know their bout to get
caught. Eventually he called and mumbled something like "stupid me, should've bet the turn" as
he paid off my pair of Aces.
A few rounds later, I was going through the motions in a rather tight and boring game when Dan
approached and told me there was a good game at the Aria going on. I told him I'd come with
and racked up a $700 winner. However, after taking the tram over to City Center, I couldn't get in
the game. Knowing that there was no time better than now, I thought to myself, why not try out
the system? So with $1,000 I walked up to the cage, started conversation with the young lady
with the clipboard and told her I needed ten black chips for some black jack. She smiled, wrote
something down, and I was on my way to the pit. As I sat down at the $100 minimum table, I
made sure to be as loud, warm, and friendly to the pit boss and the dealers. Betting $100 a hand,
I acted more interested in the drink lady and talking to the Pit Boss about New Years Eve plans
then the gambling itself. Somehow throughout my experiment I went on a bit of a run. Two shoes
after I sat down and I was up $1000. Not wanting to play anymore I pretended like I got a call
from my girlfriend. I left the table warning the employees that I would be back to take the rest of
the casinos money later. But before I could leave, I tipped the drink lady 5 bucks, the dealer 25,
and asked where the best video poker was, all in plain sight of the pit boss. In other words, I
made the system my bitch.
With a whole bunch of found money in my pocket, there was no better time then now for a shot.
With Nelly waiting over at 10/20, I returned to the Bellagio and got seated immediately.
However I wasn't the only one who wanted to play with the rap star. Nelly was already at the
main game, but there were 3 levels of must move to get through first. Time to grind.
My first table was tough, most notably the young kid to my right, who bought in for 12k and
played really solid. We played an interesting hand when I opened my first pot UTG.
Stacks
BB 12,000
Hero 2,600

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I made it 80 with JJ. 5 players called and the action returned to the kid in the BB. He took out a
whole bunch of chips and made it 590 total. It seemed like the perfect spot to squeeze. Especially
for a good player. But he could also have it; and that would mean my dreams of splashing pots
with Nelly would be over. So I folded. Eventually the hand went to the flop and the AJ4 came
out. A few hands later, I told the kid I gave him too much credit and that he should've doubled
me up. He looked me dead in the eyes and said "No I wasn't doubling you up." "It was that
sick?" I asked. "Aces" he responded with a smile.
Feeling good about my fold, I continued to play snug. Unfortunately all that entailed was making
good folds. And while good folds may save you money, they certainly don't make you money.
Down 800 bucks I was transferred to must move table number 2. 1 down, 2 to go. Strangely, all
of my good hands came in the BB, which must've made it look like I was trying to steal the dead
money in all of the limped pots. This certainly added to the dynamic of my next hand.
Stacks
BTN 1300
Hero 1800
I picked up KK in the BB and made it 160 after a table full of limpers. Folded to the BTN, and
he picks up a whole bunch of chips before deciding to make it 400 more. With the action back to
me I shuffled through my chips and examined my opponents movements. It was all an act to get
a lighter call, as I knew I was going all in right when he raised me. "All in" I announced. "Okay I
call. You got those Kings" the BTN asked. Praying for no Qs or Js I faded the flop as the 974 fell.
The turn looked dangerous as I saw paint. It was a J. I checked my opponent. He cringed. What
the **** does that mean. Did you just **** yourself. The river was another 9 and I flipped my
hand over. No flip. No slow roll. I was good.
As I was stacking my chips Nelly walked down to the must move section. "Come on Carmen,
Give me some new blood, it's starting to smell like an old folks home up here." I'll be there soon
Nelly.
An hour later and I got called to the 3rd and final must move with a $3800 stack. An hour or so
of grinding and my stack was up to $4200 and my position for the main had improved to 4th.
The end was in sight. That's when I picked up K Q
Stacks
BTN 3500
Hero 3800
I raised UTG+1 to 100. The btn called and we saw a flop of T J 4 . I cbet 200 and he
called me quicker then I'd ever seen anybody call. The turn was a 3
and as I shuffled my chips
a check raise felt right. My opponent obliged with a 450 bet, opening the action back up to me.
"1400" I announced. It felt so right on paper, but as he started counting his bills for the call, I
wished I could take it back. Eventually, the mid aged man looked back up, sighed, and said "if I
wasn't so snake bitten today, I would've called you with this" as he threw his AJ face up into the
muck.
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"Did you put him on snakebitten?" remarked my new witty friend Joe who had joined the rail for
the hand. Trying not to laugh at the hilarious remark, I heard "seat open" shouted from the main
10/20 game. Yes, almost there. As I peaked up to see who had exited, my dreams were crushed as
I saw Nelly in his 5 foot 6 frame surrounded by his 6'9 body guards taking his chips to the cage.
Mother ****er.
With my goal now officially inconceivable, I saw no reason to continue playing the game. The
table was pretty solid and my profit was up to 2300. After cashing out, I was content on going
home, but Joe and Dan wanted to head over to Aria to play more poker. I agreed, looking to
complete the cycle, by beating the 2/5 5/10 10/20 and blackjack all in one day. Waiting for our
car in the valet hut, my friends had the idea of starting a beatbox/freestyle session. So in front of
all the old-proper conservative Bellagio residents, we started rapping about girls, poker, money,
and drugs. And to top it, off we were a hit.
Laughing all the way to the Aria, Dan asked me if I knew who Joe was. "No clue dude". "He
won the biggest WPT event of all time in 2006. $3.7 Million dollars," he told me. "No ****ing
****". Truth was I wouldn't have had a clue if Dan hadn't told me. Joe doesn't act like he's better
than anybody else and just comes off as a regular, hilarious dude. There's a few stories I'll save
for another day as this entry is getting pretty long. We played 2/5 at Aria for a few hours after Joe
had walked us into Ivey's room and introduced us to Greenstein and Brunson. I won 600 for the
session, mostly due to a hand where I check raised Joe all in on
xx board with only the
A
and he folded. Life is good; I can do no wrong. In poker I made 3600 for the day. My friend
is in town from LA for the night and were heading to a party at Vdara with Joe and Dan.
Peace out 2010! Have a safe and happy New Years everyone
MM

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2011
01/02/11: New Years Hangover
There's no worse city to live in or lifestyle to lead while being sick than playing poker in Las
Vegas. It's nothing major, just a head cold and a sore throat; but it's impossible to get better at a
reasonable rate when I spend 80% of my days with dirty old men, shuffling filthy chips that have
probably been used as hooker currency a few hundred times. Not to mention I packed for Mexico
and somehow got Canada. **** you mother nature.
My sickness escalated the morning of the 1st, as my body did not have the strength to recover
from the 20 something redbull and vodkas I'd consumed the day before. My usual remedies of
sickness, sleep and exercise, were not possible sue to my physical state, so I started off the New
Year with an 8am 2/5 NL session at MGM Grand. Sitting down with the most dedicated of
regulars, I caught 5 mid aged guys at the tail end of their all night New Years Eve session.
GrinderFish as Dan calls them. These are the guys that spend all of their time playing poker, but
don't show any sort of improvement for whatever reason.
Sitting down I caught the action on the turn of a huge pot where a guy called $600 on a board of
AJT4 with QQ while saying "You just don't get pocket Queens all that often." Of course he hit
the K on the river, taking the stack of the other GrinderFish who'd put all his chips in with A7.
Of course I would spend three hours limping lots of pots and trying to get involved as much as
possible before donating $250 to the cesspool and going on my way. On the way back to my
room I saw perhaps the coolest game in the world next to the BJ pit. Its a horse racing game
played with action figure sized horses racing around a track, with each Thoroughbred getting
certain odds to win.
Somehow I resisted to temptation to put the rest of my stack into that game and headed back to
the room where I was finally able to take a short nap. By 4 o'clock I was ready to go, or as ready
as I was going to be, and took off for the Bellagio. The room was packed which was a great sign.
Unfortunately it also meant that the wait would be long. An hour or so after watching the most
horrible New Years bowl games in a decade, I was called for the 5/10. Sitting in the must move I
got involved in a few marginal spots early on.
Stacks
SB 1400
Hero 1000
With 3 limpers to me I raised up the btn to 70 with K J . The SB, who coincidentally was
the guy from the MGM with the A7, and two limpers called. On a J 5 6
flop I bet 160
when it checked to me. The Sb was the only caller and we saw possibly the worst turn in the
deck as the 9
popped its way onto the felt. The Sb then led into me for 200. I feel like this is a
spot where I was getting into trouble earlier in the trip. I probably would've called here and
hoped my opponent checked the river. This time I just folded, knowing it not only saved me 200,
but possibly a big bet on the river if I tried to convince myself he was bluffing.
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For the next few rounds I found a couple more unfortunate spots where I would flop top pair, bet,
and then get raised by nits. The result was a lot of folding, and a slow bleeding of my stack.
Stacks
HJ 600
Hero 1000
On the final hand at the must move, I was dealt A 2
in the CO. The action folded to the HJ
who was a new player and checked the $10 that he was forced to post. I saw a good opportunity
to raise a marginal hand in position and made it 50. The BTN, BB, and HJ all followed me in,
Woops. The flop came down A 7 4
and I was torn between checking and betting.
Eventually I figured there was value to gain against draws so I bet 130. The btn and BB folded
and the action was back to the HJ. After some thinking he chose to move all in. The bet was for
430 more. With 460 in the pot, again I was in an interesting spot. He checked his action so he
can't have a big Ace. He's not just going to shove with a normal Ace, after all it was his first hand
at the table and he had no idea what my image was like. So I called, figuring to be losing to the
occasional two pair, yet crushing all flush draws. Unfortunately he turned over A7 and I was
drawing dead.
Down a full buy in I moved to the main game. With memories of last New Year's session in my
head, I told myself that a hangover was no excuse for bad poker. If I was going to lose, so be it,
but it wasn't going to be because of mental mistakes. For the next 2 hours it seemed like god was
testing my will. I was dealt a bunch of marginal hands, in spots I would usually call when tilting
but trying to catch up. However, I showed an awesome amount of discipline, as I folded with a
smile, knowing that my game was turning a corner. Finally the cards started to pick up.
Stacks
BTN 2500
Hero 1400
With 3 3
I got in involved in mp after limping and calling a raise to 40 by the BTN. 4
others called as well. The BTN was your typical big talker. Calling people's hands out, literally
telling us how good he was, and gloating because he was able to be the "table captain" at the
tightest 5/10 table I played all trip.
One example of how bad he plays is when I 3bet him preflop. The flop came down Q high with a
flush draw and he folded KQ face up after I bet half pot.
Anyways, back to this hand, the flop came out A 3 5
and I chose to lead out for 110 due
to the bad board structure. The self proclaimed pro on the btn called and the turn came up an
8
and this time I checked. He obliged with a bet of 120 and I did my best to act confused
before making it 400. He called with one of those quick "I'm not going anywhere calls" and I
was in business. The turn was a 2 , completing the straight but missing the diamonds. I
thought my only hope of getting called was going all in, so that's what I did. My opponent

144

nodded his head saying "I think you got the 4" before folding. Good to know his horrible logic
got rewarded.
Stacks
BB 1700
Hero 2200
Back to a stack of 2200, I had to put down my Kindle, when I woke up with pocket Aces in the
sb of a straddled pot. Two limps to me and I made it 120. The situation just got better when the
BB a super tight player threw in 4 black chips without thinking. It was the type of non-thought
out "I just want to take down the pot here" raises, so I knew he wasn't bluffing. I toyed with the
idea of calling, but eventually decided on making it 850, trying to give him some fold equity. He
said "Okay I'm all in" and I notified him that I had Aces, not wanting to mess with the guy in a
huge pot. He shook his head and returned the favor by showing me his Kings.
The flop was a great T23, as I was just two cards from another huge day. Sitting in the 9 seat, I
saw a small part of the turn as the dealer took it off the deck. It was paint. OH Christ don't be a
****ing King. K . I let out a sigh and shook my head as the river brought a 9, and I'd received
potentially my biggest suckout of the trip.
Surprisingly I didn't feel any sort of tilt whatsoever as I paid the man his money. When the dust
finally settled, my stack was down to 450. With no more money on me, I decided to play the
short stack until I was done. With some unsuspecting patience and a few well timed shoves, I'd
moved my stack up to 800.
Stacks
UTG 500
Hero 800
With 3 limps in a straddled pot I raised the K 4
on the btn to 130. The tight player in the SB
called me, which was a bit of a concern, as did the first limper. The flop was decent for me with
the 2 4 6 . UTG looked at the flop for a bit, began stacking and unstacking his chips,
before going all in for 370. Usually this is a fold, but this type of player isn't open shoving with
any hand, except a draw. However, I knew I also had to get the SB to fold. So when the action
got to me I took no time in shoving my 700 into the pot as well. The tight player did a few chips
tricks before folding what I assume was a mid pair. The Sb showed K T
and I was in a lot
better shape then I could've even imagined. The turn was a 7 . Closing my eyes for the river I
heard a smack on the table. The 8
of course. "God" I yelled out losing my cool. "I had you in
such bad shape."
The truth is I did, but I was lucky to have him in bad shape. I was mad about losing the pot.
About finally running bad for the first time since I got back. So as I got up from my seat with my
200 in chips, I apologized to the guy, told him he played it best he could and wished everybody a
Happy New Year.

145

While I lost 2500 for the day, I strangely feel better about my poker game then I had the day
before. As soon as that K hit the turn I thought about something I'd heard earlier in the trip. It
was a pot I played against Mike the pro from Florida. After I beat his set with my straight he
frustratingly said "It's been like that for the past few days. I just can't win." It took me witnessing
a player I respected losing to realize that losing days are part of the game. In the past whenever I
was stuck, I used to start playing more aggressively thinking that the losing day had to be a result
of my play.
But the truth is, we play a game of chance. As much as the individuals affect the outcome of the
game, so do the cards. If I want to survive in this game, I need not to only master the strategical
aspect, but I must also become a pro in accepting variance. If you asked me why most players
who come to live here are gone before they can leave a mark it's because they can't handle
losing. They play so many hands online that they can always grind back a winning session after a
bad beat. Live poker is a different animal. You do not see enough hands to always get unstuck.
Therefore, the biggest winners, will be the best losers. Still up 7k for the trip, I'll be back at it
today.
MM
Just wanted to say Happy New Years to everyone. Take this time to show appreciation for the
people and things in your life that often go unrecognized. I know I will. Sometimes it takes a
snake to illuminate the beauty of the garden.
01/03/11: Big Decisions and Big Pots
Waking up on Sunday to some meaningless NFL games, there was little excuse to stay in bed
until 4. Still, I did. I laid around with my attention drifting between the football and Microsoft
Word. I had a lot on my mind, but none of it materialized onto paper. I like to write things down
when I'm experiencing emotionally stimulating situations. Usually just to look back later and
recollect on the incredible depths of the human mind. But yesterday it didn't work out. Instead I
stared blankly at the screen, wondering where my life was headed next.
While I'm finished with my Major, I'm still 5 credits from a college degree. Miami (OH) has
given me permission to finish the credits at any University and still receive my degree through
them. So I applied to DePaul at home in Chicago and out here at UNLV. I got into both, but I've
spent the last 3 weeks delaying the decision, rather than acting on it. As logical as I am at the
poker table, none of that common sense spills over to my real life. I'm a serial procrastinator and
rarely take initiative unless absolutely necessary. In this particular case it's caused me quite a bit
of anxiety.
As the sun began to descend behind the huge casinos and my room slowly turned to dark, I knew
I had to rise before major depression set in. I strapped on my PF Flyers and made the trek down
the street to the Bellagio. I've been taking a lot of cabs lately, using the cold as an excuse. But
yesterday I told myself to stop being such a pussy. I'm 22 years old and from the Windy City. If I
can't walk a mile in the 40 degree weather then I don't deserve to play poker at all.
I made it to the Casino in time to catch the warmups of the Seahawks v Rams game on ESPN.
The cameras were showing Hasselbeck warming up and the board told me they were getting 3.5
146

points, at home. That didn't make sense to me, so I threw a C Note on the game and went back to
my table. Prepared to nit it up for a bit and enjoy the game. However, the table conditions would
not allow that. The combination of the weak passive players and my above average preflop hands
resulted in me raising like 50% of my hands for 2 hours while growing my stack from 1k to 2k.
Eventually I was forced to show my cards.
Stacks
MP 850
Hero 2000
UTG opened to 40 and I quickly and efficiently raised it to 120 with A K
directly to his
left. Now a tight kid cold-called me in mp and the UTG raiser completed the call. The flop came
A T 4
and I bet 120, not concerned that either opponent would catch on to the strength of
the small bet. MP called and a K
hit the turn. Certain that he had an Ace, I bet 235. Again he
called with about 400 behind as the river paired the 4 . I shuffled through my chips for a bit
before betting 390 and essentially putting him all in. "Call" I heard in his Belgian accent as he
nodded his head in defeat at the sight of my cards. His girlfriend and their friends came over to
the table right as he was pushing me the chips. Not that I ever feel bad for people at the poker
table, but it's an embarrassing feeling to be pushing $1,000 to another player in front of your
close friends and I definitely felt for him.
Up to 3,000 I looked up to the TV to check out my sports bet. Seattle had the ball, but
Hasselbeck clearly wasn't behind center. Instead it was some Caveman looking chach who had
yet to make a start in his NFL career. I really must be the worst sports better of all time.
Stacks
SB 1300
BB 2300
UTG+1 300
About an hour later I got into a pot with 9 9 . I raised UTG to 50 completely expecting to
miss the flop. UTG+1, the SB, and the BB all called. I've had loads of pairs the last few sessions,
but only one set. It got to the point where I felt like I was owed a set, which was bad karma, so
now I just wait completely unbiased and react to the board that I'm given. Lucky for me, I was
given a great board. The flop came J 9 7
and the action began before I could even Cbet.
The Sb led for 100 and the Bb raised to 200. I decided to make my move on the turn without the
worry of either of them having a draw, and just called. The hand got interesting when UTG+1
moved in for 250. The betting then opened again to the SB who appeared distraught but
eventually moved all in for 1100. The Bb then wasted no time in making the call. What the hell is
going on I thought to myself.
The Bb and I had a little history from earlier when I raised preflop, reraised his flop bet on an
Ace high board, and then bet the turn on a card completing a flush. He folded and I showed KQ
high, visibly making him angry. While he was a fish, he'd been playing passively all day and
hadn't made a raise in a significant pot so I didn't know what to make of his range.
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Eventually, like a possessed spirit, the words all in came out of my mouth. I don't remember
speaking them, but subconsciously I knew I couldn't fold mid set. The BB called for his last 1200
and all of a sudden we had a gigantic 6k pot. Not knowing if I wanted to hit the board or not I sat
emotionless at the A
fell on the turn. The river was an 8
and I looked around to see who
was happy. I flipped up my 99 and the Sb couldn't beat it. The Bb took his time, before flipping
his cards up. **** I thought. But his J7 was no good. The big pot was mine! UTG+1 eventually
showed QT for the winning straight, but his side pot was only 1,300. I raked in 5,000, building
my empire up to 5,800.
I celebrated with an hour long massage. The back rubs were slowly turning into an expensive
addiction, but that worry could wait for another day.
A bit later Joe showed up, waking up for the day at midnight, and we had some dinner/breakfast
ordered from Noodles. While eating, Sam Grizzle showed up and started talking to Joe. I
introduced myself, told him I was friends with Dan and how we had the idea of putting some of
his crazy stories to paper. He was overly receptive of the idea, talking my ear off for a good hour,
each story more incredible and hilarious then the last.
Eventually I escaped from Sam's grip and rejoined the table where I was met with a couple hours
of cold cards. As the wee hours of the night began to pass I finally picked up a playable hand. I
raised J J
to 50 UTG and got called by the btn. I had played with the btn in previous trips
and the only things I remembered about him were that A) he was a pilot and B) he doesn't like to
fold.
Stacks
BTN 1100
Hero 6200
The flop came 2 3 6
and I bet out 70. He quickly called, while enjoying a massage, so I
knew he wasn't messing around. The turn was a T
and this time I bet 150. A few more
moments passed and again he called. The river was a K , not the best card, but potentially a
card that he may think I would bluff. So I bet 340 after some thought. He made his masseuse stop
so he could focus and began counting out his chips like he was going to raise. But the longer he
thought, the more I knew he wasn't that strong. 30 seconds later he ditched the idea of the raise
as he held the necessary chips for the call in his right hand. In what seemed like an impulsive
move, he splashed them into the middle, hoping I was bluffing. I showed the JJ and took down
another large pot.
A bit later Joe asked me to join him and two girls at Bank so I racked up for the night, very
satisfied with my near 6k day. Not only did I make up for the previous days misfortune, but I
brought my bankroll up to heights that it has never seen. I'm up 13k for the trip. 13k for the
week. With one week left my goal has been extended to a 20k trip. With the CES guys in town I
think the goal is conceivable, but if the cards don't go my way I understand that I'll need to reevaluate and adjust.
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MM
01/05/11: Boston Boys and L.A. Cats
Even though I'd been winning at a pretty incredible rate, I decided to take the day off on Monday.
It may just seem like a funny play on words, but I really had become burnt out from such a hot
streak. The biggest reason being my notion of what winning poker had become. Towards the tail
end of my $5700 win on Sunday my game plan had changed for the worse. When you have that
many chips in front of you, your desire for small wins deteriorates, while your ambition to play
big pots grows. On the surface this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but once it starts affecting hand
ranges and betting decisions, it becomes a burden towards winning poker.
So with my Monday free, I did some shopping on the strip, and then walked to UNLV to talk to
an admissions counselor. The idea of burning out has caused me to rethink whether or not I could
spend a whole semester in the gambling capital of the world. But compared to the alternatives I
think it's the best choice. Plus If I were actually living out here, I would join clubs, play
intramural sports, and probably play a minimal amount of poker.
Anyways, after a successful day off, I came back to the Bellagio with a rekindled motivation to
crush the 5/10. Sitting between two aggressive internet players, I was forced to tighten up my
opening range in order to stay profitable.
Stacks
BTN 2,000
Hero 1,200
I picked up K K
in the Sb, but worried it would go for not as the action folded to the btn.
Luckily the internet kid from Boston, raised up the action to 40. I frustratingly reraised the pot to
140, to which he called without much thought. The flop came Q J 4
and I pushed
forward one stack of 200. Without any thought at all, my opponent called. This timing tell would
prove to be a huge mistake in a big pot. Knowing he had a solid one pair hand and not a draw
would allow me to value bet even if a scare card came on the board. The turn was a 2
and this
time I bet 375. Again, he called quickly. The river brought the 7 , but like I said before, all of
his drawing hands would've at least considered raising the flop. So I comfortably bet my final
520. Unfortunately while the river card didn't help him, it may have scared him as he tossed his
hand into the muck after some thought.
Up to 2,000 I spent the next bit of time reading Bill Simmons's book on my kindle. I was
interrupted by the Boston kid wondering what I was doing in his very aggressive east coast tone.
"What, what, what is that thing. Is that for books? What are you reading?" he asked me so
quickly I had to take a few seconds to decode. "Yeah man, you can download any book you
want, it's really convenient" I responded. "Ah gotcha. Wouldn't do me much good, I'm illiterate,"
he concluded. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, whether he was serious or kidding. Being
from Boston and all, anything's possible.
Stacks
149

Straddle 3k
BB 1100
Hero 2000
After a straddle from the aggressive internet kid, a few of the recreational players limped in mid
position. With the action to me, I took a strange line and just called out of the Sb with A K .
The Bb completed and the Straddle raised it to 120, as I believed he would. My plan was to
throw in a big reraise if the players in MP called, but none of them did. So not wanting to play a
huge preflop pot out of position, I called. The Bb called as well and the flop came K 7 4 .
We checked to the straddle who obliged with a 220 bet. I confidently and quickly took out 5 bills
and raised the action. Now the hand got interesting as the Bb appeared to be interested in the pot.
After minutes of looking at both of our stacks and his cards, he shoved all in for 1200 total. The
straddle folded while telling the Sb "If you didn't do it I was going to". That's how you
manipulate two good players in a big pot. The turn was a 4
and the river fell a 9 . My AK
had trumped the KT of the BB to win a huge pot.
Up to 3400 I began joking with the "L.A." player across the table. His stories of 50k blackjack
losses and 100k craps streaks not only made me want to hear more, but these also made me want
to play some pots with him. I asked him what kind of work he was in and he just smiled and
blinked, leaving me to believe it was something awesomely illegal. After bluffing him off a
couple hands and showing, I promised him we would go roll dice after the session and I would
win him some cash back. But before that could happen there was poker to be played.
Stacks
MP 2100
BTN 1100
Hero 3300
With 8 9
I limped in EP. With good players to my left this is probably a leak, but like I said
when you're up a lot of money it's hard to turn away cards that can make big hands. The internet
player made it 60 in MP and my L.A. boy called on the BTN. I called as the flop brought the
beautiful 8 9 2 . I checked to MP who bet 120. Now L.A. boy raised to 300, with the
efficiency of a player who wasn't going anywhere. While calling is usually a horrible option on
such a wet board, I decided to do just that with a creative thinking player to my left. He then
went into the tank, looking at our stacks and counting his bills. Eventually he made it 900, and
the BTN almost beat him into the pot with his 1100 all in. When the action returned to me, I
quietly and calmly announced that I too was all in; putting MP through a rage. He started asking
me all sorts of questions, while telling me he made the bet so he could fold to my all in. After too
much thinking though, he had talked himself into a bad call while saying "I have an over pair."
The turn was the A
and the river was the K . It all happened soo quickly that I didn't have
anytime to think about which cards I wanted to see and which that I didn't. The btn showed first.
9 T . MP and I locked eyes. We both knew we could beat that. He had claimed an over pair.
2 overs hit. "2 pair" I told him. Immediately his solid posture turned to mush on the felt; his
bodys way of showing defeat. The 6300 pot was pushed my way.

150

Stacks
BTN 2000
Hero 7000
I was up 5100; my second consecutive monster day. But I was greedy, I wanted more. With K
J
I raised the action to 50 UTG. Four players called as the flop brought me an inside straight
draw with the A T 9 . Still, we all checked to the btn. He bet 100. My hand was marginal,
but we were deep. I called, as did a player in MP. The turn was an 8
giving me an open ended
straight draw. I knew that if I bet, I could A) freeze him and B) set up for a large river bluff that
would put him to the test. MP folded and the btn called. The river was a 3 , missing
everything. Still the btn's hand looked marginal, and I was representing a straight. "One thousand
I announced" pushing about 1400 in chips across the line in order to look more intimidating. My
opponent appeared defeated. He stretched his neck and stared at the board, two premature signs
of a fold. Thinking I was in the clear I relaxed in my seat and put my headphones back on. With
my noise canceling Dre's placed on my ear I saw my opponent throw his right hand in the air and
open his mouth. I removed my headphones. "Did he say call" I asked the dealer. He nodded yes.
****. He turned over AT for top two pair. I guess he wasn't folding that. My 2nd huge river bluff
of the trip and my 2nd huge loss. I'm noticing a trend.
Even with that miniature Matt Moore blow up, I cashed out for 5500; a 3500 winning day. The
session puts me at a shade over $17,000 for the trip. With 4 days left my goal of 20k is more than
conceivable. In fact, since I'm running so well and the CES guys are getting into town today, I'm
going to set my new goal for 20k after expenses. Sure I may be setting myself up to be doom
switched, but things are going so well right now that I'm gonna keep my dreams high.
MM
01/07/11: Internet Stars and Vegas Mountains
I woke up this morning to the clicking of the room key entering my door. My dreams had been
strange; as they often are when I fall asleep intoxicated. "Is it early or late" I grumpily asked Dan
as he walked in and headed straight to the couch. "That depends on your concept of time," Dan
responded like a smart ass. "Well I went to bed at 7am" I told him. "**** son" he laughed "You
better get back to sleep. I checked my phone. 9:45. One text message; it was from Chris"Ran
AK into JJ and bricked the whole board. I'm busted." I sighed and rolled back over.
Yesterday started off uniquely enough with a trip up to the mountains. Mt. Charleston, while only
40 minutes from Vegas, was 25 degrees colder and covered in snow. In fact last week, they had
avalanche warnings in this small mountain town. Everyday, it seems, I find out something knew
about the diversity of Las Vegas, a city I once believed to be only good for poker and partying.
By the time I returned to the strip it was 7pm and time to begin my poker session. The Bellagio
was crowded. Possibly due to the geeks in town for the CES convention, possibly due to creeps
in town for the porno awards. Either way, the 5/10 was looking like a wait of up to an hour. So
with money to burn and no time to waste I took a seat in the empty 10/20 NL must move game.

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Sitting two to my right I recognized a player from sweating Joe in the 25/50NL the night before.
He was a young, Jamaican-looking kid, Ozzy, they called him. Assuming it was Ozzy87 I
prepared to battle the internet legend. It wasn't long before we got involved.
Stacks
HJ 10,000
BTN 2,000
Ozzy raised the Hijack up to 80 and I called on the btn with A T . After a flop of J 7 4
he checked to me. I assumed he had a hand with value but not much strength so I fired 120,
expecting to need 1 or 2 more bullets to take down the pot. Ozzy called and the A
popped out
on the turn. He checked again and this seemed like a perfect time to bet big to get a good player
to believe I was bluffing. I bet 340 and again Ozzy called without wasting too much time. On a 4
river, I was checked to for a third time. So to continue my story I placed out a bet of 700.
Almost immediately Ozzy grabbed a 1k chip and placed it in his right hand. For 30 seconds he
faked between placing it in the pot and pulling it back, trying to gauge my reaction. Then for the
next 30 seconds he picked up his cards and pulled the same "fake out" maneuver. I tried to act
nervous, which I often due by rubbing my face right around the mouth/chin area. However, right
after I began it, I knew it was a mistake. While this move may work on a lot of the inexperienced
5/10 players, a high stakes veteran like Ozzy would see right through this forced discomfort. And
he did. A few seconds later his cards were in the muck, and I was shipped the pot, $700 light of
it's full potential.
Stacks
MP 1500
Hero 3000
With my stack growing to 3k I got tangled up with a new Asian woman who was raising way too
much preflop and playing way too poorly postflop. So when she raised to 80 in mp I pushed the
action to 250 w/ K 6
on the btn with a tight image. She called and the flop came 6 T
J
. Not necessarily the best board structure to bluff vs a short stack, I checked back when the
action got to me. The turn was an A
and this time she led for 300. Her bet seemed very weak
and not well thought out, so after two seconds of chip counting I announced all in for her final
900 in chips. She quickly mucked her hand and I was now up to the mid 3k range.
Stacks
UTG 900
Hero 3800
Luckily, I got a chance to finish off that same fish a few hands later. Again she raised to 80 in
early position, and again I repopped it to 250, this time in the SB with A A . The board
brought two 2's a Q and a club flush draw. I checked by slapping my hand on the table and my
opponent moved her stack of 650 into the middle. "I call" I announced. The turn was a 6 ,
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adding to my hands strength by giving me the nut flush draw. The river was a 7
over my hand expecting to scoop vs her super wide range. However, the 5 8
enough to take down my Aces.

and I turned
was good

A few more frustrating rounds later and my stack seemed to be remaining idle at round 2800.
Around that time I got a text from Joe asking if I wanted to go with him to Surrender at the Wynn
where his good buddy Joe Cassidy had bottle service and a table. **** yes I'd like that.
So I racked up and headed to the cage where I noticed one of Dan's roommates Australian Chris
grabbing a rack of yellows ($20 chips). While I'd talked to Chris on a few occasions about poker,
my last encounter with him was a bizarre one, taking place on New Years Eve. We met Chris
and Dan at Aria, where we were planning on going to the club. Little did we know they had done
some "partying" before we showed up. As we walked in Chris was sitting on the bench with
Dan's head on his shoulder while he stroked his hair like a barbie doll. Now I've never done
ecstasy but apparently it strengthens the sense of touch because he would not remove his hand
from the hair. Imagine the blind kid from Dumb and Dumber petting his dead bird; now replace
the bird with another heterosexual male. Only in Vegas.
"You playing the 10/20 Chris?" I asked him curiously. "Yeah how's the game," he responded.
"Good. I wish I could stay, but I'm ready to party," I confessed. "Take some of my action then?
20%" he replied. "**** yes." So there I was with 20% of a hair petting Aussie's 10/20 stake.
Even when the game's over, the action never ends.
Joe picked me up, dressed in his typical hippie rockstar outfit and we drove over to Encore.
Unfortunately the door man didn't think his style was as fresh he did. Sneakers and tee shirts
were not acceptable attire for Surrender, even if your best friend was spending 5k on bottle
service. We were shut down at the door, cutting me short of my first bottle service experience at
a top club.
Dejected we resorted to the 20/40 mixed games in the Wynn Poker room while enjoying Patron
and Red Bulls on the suggestion of the Arab player across the table, who goes by "The Show".
While I needed explanations for 5 of the games, I somehow drank myself stupid (or smart)
enough to win $600 by 6am. Tired we called it a night and retired to our respective homes as the
sun was coming up. Another $1400 winner, minus the $500 Chris lost with his JJ, puts me a
shade over 18k for the trip. Still with 3 solid sessions left I have goals for 20K trip after
expenses
MM
01/07/11: Hanging With the Gamblers
Last year around this time I met my first poker-playing friends. Guys who thought about the
game analytically, managed their bankrolls conservatively, and made money by grinding out a
consistent hourly rate. This year I've encountered my first "gambling" friends. These guys also
think about the game on deep levels, but their goals economically are drastically different. Guys

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like Joe, Dan, and Sam Grizzle aren't afraid to go broke. They've been broke. They've been rich.
To them poker wins are just a bridge to the next level; an invitation to the higher limits.
I've watched Joe shove in 5k on an inside straight draw at 25/50 NL with a bankroll barely
sufficient for 5/10. I've heard Sam Grizzle tell me stories about turning a $500 loan to 150K
before he even went to sleep. All these guys need are a place to sleep, food to eat, and a seat in
the game. I personally don't have that type of personality. Even when I'm winning I'm concerned
about moving up and losing a weeks worth of profit in one or two sessions. These are thoughts
that have kept me from reaching my full poker potential, but have also kept me comfortable with
the money in my pocket.
This trip I've begun to branch out a bit. I've taken a few shots at 10/20 but more importantly I've
grown more comfortable playing deep 5/10 NL. Before, I used to wish for a table of short stacks
because I knew that I couldn't lose too much. Now I get a boner at the site of an average player
with a big stack because I know that I can win it all. It wasn't easy to get to this point mentally. It
took a couple losses in huge pots, a growing confidence in my game, and stories of friends who
took shots to train my brain to play best with deep stacks and to crave big pots.
It came as either a huge coincidence or a sign from god, but right when I'd been getting settled
with my gambling crew, I had an encounter with the biggest gambler of them all. While
examining the lineup of the 10/20NL yesterday at the Bellagio, I thought I recognized a familiar
figure. I couldn't be sure because he was missing his traditional unlit cigarette and tailored suit,
but the guy in the 8 seat, hiding behind a pair of aviators and a white sweat suit had a strong
resemblance to Sammy Farha. Farha, who finished 2nd in the 2003 Main Event, infamously told
the cameras during the broadcast that it would take a 3rd place finish just to get him unstuck for
the summer.
Without much consideration I told the dealer that I'd be taking the 9 seat, directly to Sammy's
left. The opportunity was great, not just because it gave me a chance to play with one of the most
recognizable faces in poker, but also because I was sitting to the left of an over aggressive player
playing stakes way lower than they were used to.
I sat down with 2k and decided to sit out until the Bb reach my seat. With one hand to go the
dealer tapped me on the shoulder and told me it was time to post. "No I've got one more hand" I
told her. "No sir, this is a 10/20/40 game. 3 blinds. You are big," she corrected me. I thought
about leaving. After all 10/20 was out of my league. 10/20/40 was out of my universe. But I was
already here, with a perfect seat next to a guy I grew up watching on TV. I wasn't going
anywhere.
The game stayed short handed for the duration of the session, and I spent the first hour playing
very tight. I raised up 3 hands and won all of the pots on the flop. People were giving me a lot of
respect. Too much respect.
Stacks
Sb 5000
Hero 2100

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I made my loosest raise of the day in the CO with 7 8 . I made it 140 and the Sb, Mb
(middle blind), and Sammy in the Bb called. The flop came A J 4
and the Mb bet out
180 after the Sb checked. Sammy folded and the action was to me. Clearly this was usually a
fold, but my reputation was so perfect, that I raised it up to 700. Initially when the action got
back to the Asian gentleman in the Mb it appeared that he wanted to call. But as it usually goes
in these situations, the longer he took, the closer he got to folding. Eventually he puckered his
lips, shook his head, and tossed his cards into the muck. I turned over the 78; It was time to get
some action.
I went back to folding a lot for the next hour, searching for a chance to use that shown bluff to
my advantage. In the meantime I looked for opportunities to make small talk with Farha. I asked
him things like how his New Years went and why he couldn't find a bigger game. Each time he
shrugged me off with no more than two or three words. I couldn't really believe his attitude. He
seemed so friendly and talkative on TV. But that's all it was, an act on TV. In real life, when the
funds were low, and he wasn't sitting behind the glass doors of Bobby's room, Sammy Farha
wasn't approachable or gregarious at all.
Stacks
CO 8k
Hero 2800
Eventually I found an opportunity to get involved with the world famous gambler himself.
Sammy raised the CO (which was also UTG) to 120 and I was the only caller on the btn with
K 7 . Sammy had been opening about 60% of his hands so this spot seemed profitable.
However, in this particular hand he did something that he had yet to do. He blind bet 300 on the
flop. I took note and waited as the dealer flipped over the A 7 5 , a monster board for me.
Still, it's a very interesting decision on the proper way to play it. His range was stronger than
usual, and weighted more towards medium to high pairs as opposed to Ax type hands because of
the blind bet. So I decided I would raise. The next decision was whether to make a big raise or a
small raise. In a game this small, I'm never going to be able to intimidate a guy like Farha with a
big raise so shoving was out of the question. Instead I needed to tell a story that would get him to
release his mid pair type of hands. "1000" I announced. Farha quickly began shuffling his chips.
"Ok I guess I'm all in then," he said. I wasn't happy about the situation, as it meant he had an
Ace, but I was still 50/50 for a gigantic pot. I called almost immediately, asking Sammy if he
wanted to run it once or twice. He raised one finger. The turn was a J . What have I done I
thought. That's it. My shot at the king is over. Back to the 5/10 tables. The river was flipped over
extremely fast. I initially caught some paint. It was a Queen. A black Queen. The Queen of
Clubs. "Two pair" Sammy said flipping over AQ. "I got the nuts Sammy." He nodded
confidently; like a man with too much pride too admit that it stung a bit. "Every time I need the
flush I miss it and every time they need the flush it comes" he said to no one in particular while
counting out the 2700 that he owed me. When I'd finally stacked the chips and counted the bills,
my stack totaled up to 5600.

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I played a few more hands, but none could compare to the feeling of beating Sammy. About an
hour after the Qc hit the river, Sammy was called to the main game, leaving us with 4 players. I
quit about a round later up $3700 for the day and almost $22,000 for the trip, lying that I had to
go. The stakes were too high and the purpose was gone. As Mike McD once said "I sat with the
best. And I won."
Dan picked me up from the Bellagio and I told him the story while we rented "The Last
Exorcism" and prepared for tomorrow's big move into the Meridian. "Dude you just won rent for
the semester. Sammy Farha just paid your rent."
Yes, he did.
MM
01/13/11: Too Much Money Syndrome
The final two days of my trip were like the last few weeks of the old PGA Tour season.
Remember after the PGA Championship, where they used to play the Disney Classic, the Las
Vegas Open, and other bottom feeder tournaments. Tournaments without the excitement and the
allure of the rest of the season, but put into place to ease the transition into the 2 month off
season. Well last Friday and Saturday were my October on the PGA Tour. Sammy Farha was my
PGA Championship. After beating him out of a 5700 dollar pot, Id lost my motivation to keep
grinding the 5/10. Not to mention I was burnt out from the countless 10-12 hour sessions Id
played in the past 3weeks.
It was time to go home. But still I had 48 hours until my flight. Joe told me to take the days off;
worried I was vulnerable to too much money syndrome. Too much money syndrome is a
common epidemic in the poker world, caught by the players who run too well over a period of
time and still remain at the same stakes. Many of you have probably felt it before. You become
over-rolled for the game and the medium sized wins arent appreciated like they used to be.
Instead, you challenge every player at the table to play huge pots, so you can show them how big
your balls are. More often than not it results in stacking off to an inferior player and burning
currency that you wont regret until weeks later when the heater has ended and you finally
realize how ****ing stupid you were being.
Well, I took Joes words of wisdom and considered them a challenge. In order to prove to myself
that I could consistently make money out here, I needed to show that I was different from the
other talented poker players; that I was mentally tough enough to win under any conditions. So
I returned to the Bellagio and the 5/10 game, and vowed to finish off my goal of winning
$20,000 after expenses.
Stacks
BTN 1400
Hero 1000
My first pot of the day was against a player that I had some history with. Daniel, a young Asian
kid, plays a bit on the tighter side. I exploited this in a few previous sessions by 3-betting him
and generally opening up my range when he was in the pot. However, in this session he had
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position on me. So when I opened the CO to 40 with Q T

I saw it as revenge when he
popped it up to 130. Usually this is a fold; it shouldve been a fold. But against him I saw an
opportunity to call. The flop came A J 9
and we went check check. I figured he would
bet all his super strong hands and all of his bluffs on this flop, so I now pinpointed him on a
medium strength hand that wanted to get to showdown cheaply. On a 3
turn I checked again.
This time he bet out 160. I raise I announced after a few seconds. 500 total. The raise caught
him for a surprise, as I expected it too. He shuffled through his chips before asking Will you
show if I fold. Thats my question! I didnt respond, just kept chip shuffling with a serious look
on my face. Alright Im all in he finally announced. Bastard. It was only 360 more so
obviously I called with my 8 outs. But it wasnt to be. The river was a 5
and Daniel showed
A4 off suit, completely owning me with his top pair ****house kicker.
Too much money syndrome I heard from over my shoulder. It was Joe; I didnt even know he
was behind me. Sadly, I wanted to agree with him, but I also wanted to punch him in the kidneys.
I compromised by shaking my head until he left the rail.
I continued to bleed my 2nd buy-in and eventually was down to 1100 and in for 2500.
Stacks
BB 1800
Hero 1100
With J J
in mp I raised one limper up to 50. The Bb, Iron Man (see previous session), made
it 170 total and I called to reevaluate the flop. My decision became easier as the J
popped out
in the door. The flop finished out J Q 4
and he bet into me for 250. I smooth called and
we saw the K
on the turn. Thoughtlessly, Iron man moved in for his entire stack. I called
quickly, telling him I had a set. The river was a Q
and he turned over AK. My boat was good
and I raked in the $2200pot.
I called it a night, down $300, and retreated to the Signature for my last night of sleep. Dan and I
woke up at 2; predictably sleeping through our appointment with the realtor and royally pissing
off the Signature cleaning crew who expected us to be checked out by 11am. We threw them a
$20, asked for another hour and everyone was all smiles as we jumped in the shower and
finished up some last minute packing. Luckily the realtor understood as well. Not my first run
in with poker players she told us while cracking a mom-like smile.
With our living situation finally handled I had 6 hours until my flight; enough time for one last
chance at reaching my goal for the trip.
Stacks
MP 2,000
Hero 1,000

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In the BB I picked up 8 T . An older Asian gentleman raised it to 40 in MP. The co, btn, and
sb called, so I took my pot odds and placed in 3 more orange chips. The flop brought me a
straight draw with the 9 7 2
and I faced a decision after the preflop raiser bet 160. I opted
for a call. The turn was a 4
and the Asian gentleman asked me how much I had left after I
checked. Go ahead, shove it all in. To my surprise he gave me a free card. Big mistake. The J
on the river gave me the nuts. I bet 600, a little more than the full pot. Luckily, It worked. I was
called and shipped the $900 pot.
With two hours until my midnight flight the sun was setting on my Vegas dream. I was still short
of my goal by about $1000, but completely content with the final results. To celebrate, I ordered
a steak from Cut, vowing to play until it arrived and then take off to McCarran. But before I
could leave, I got involved one last time.
Stacks
BTN 900
Hero 1900
Half the table limped to me in the BB, and I chose to take the passive route and check my 8
8
while I enjoyed my table massage. The flop came 6 7 2
and with 60 in the pot I lead
for 50. The btn an unknown player raised it up to 150. All options seemed pretty bad, so I chose
the middle of the 3 and called. The turn dragged me out of any upcoming dilemma as the 8
gave me the essential nuts. I checked again and my opponent bet out 200. I settled on the raise
that seemed most bluffy and put him all in for his final 600 or so. He called and I hoped to
avoid a club. Well, the club came. The 8 . Quads I said flipping over my runner-runner.
I tipped the dealer a ten spot, extended my massage ten more minutes and closed my eyes,
folding my cards without even looking. When my steak arrived, I wished everybody good luck
and cashed out for the trips final time. A trip that began with a straight flush, had ended with
Quads. I had made $23,000 in 3 weeks; $20k after expenses.
Im at home right now, relaxing and catching up with friends and family. Tomorrow Ill do my
final breakdown of the trip, with all expenses, profit, reflections, and plans for the future. Once
again thanks to everyone who followed along and everyone who stopped to say hi in Vegas. All
of the compliments and criticisms were motivating in ways that you probably dont even realize.
MM
01/18/11: Poker as in Life; A Final Wrap Up
I apologize for the delay in my response. Who knew that laziness could be so time consuming.
I've spent so much time watching How I Met Your Mother and bubbling $11 Rush Poker
tournaments that I haven't found a free second for anything productive. With that being said I'm
as ready as ever to get out of Chicago and go back to Vegas. My flight was supposed to be
Monday (today) at 2pmor so I thought. Turns out I'd made it for Sunday at 2pm and didn't

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realize it until late last night. Not that it would've mattered anyways. There's no way I was gonna
miss the 2nd half of my Bears demolition of the Seahawks. It's not like New England here in the
Midwest. Opportunities to make the Super Bowl don't just fall into our laps every January. It's
these very opportunities that have sparked my largest life decision to date...
Financially, this was the biggest 3 weeks of my life. $23,100 in nineteen days. The problem lies
within what I'll do with those winnings. Currently all of my money is sitting in a player box at
the Bellagio, just filling up space. While it makes for convenience, I'm not allowing my money
to work for me, as the professionals say. So in an attempt to be fiscally more responsible, I've
come up a plan to deposit 15% of all of my money from the trip (and from future winning
sessions) into an investment fund. This will help me on two accounts. A) it will provide me with
a layer of insurance in case I start running miserably, and B) it will aid in my fight against "too
much money syndrome." Let me explain. Now, in order for me to feel like my "poker bankroll"
is growing, my wins will have to outperform my losses by at least 15%. This should force me to
maintain motivation after a winning days and help me gain a stronger grasp on the value of the
dollar.
Unfortunately as is always the case with Vegas, not all of that $23k made it's way into my box.
There were expenses, lots of them. Let's start by looking at the transportation. First and
Foremost, the flight. $400 to fly American across the country. Not too bad of a rate, even with
the added $50 bad charge at the airport.
I've learned to master the cab system a bit. I'm aware of hotels that are worth walking to and
times of day that I should be walking. During the first week when I was staying at Planet
Hollywood I didn't take one cab. But on my post-Christmas return I walked to the Bellagio in the
morning and took cabs back at night. 13 trips at $10 a ride comes to $130 on cabs.
Lodging, as always, was extremely expensive during the time of year that I chose to go. Prices
for New Years and the Porn/Nerd Conventions are unreasonably high. The last 13 days cost me
$1700 to stay at the MGM signature. Planet Hollywood on the other hand was only $300 for my
first week of stay. As I've stated before, The MGM Signature is nice, but not necessarily worth
their expensive prices. My other option for the final two weeks was working with KingBBV and
receiving good rates but having to change hotels on 3 separate occasions. The comfort and
convenience of the Signature was worth the extra few hundred dollars to me.
Food. My food expense was usually a once a day charge. Typically I ate my 1st meal while I
wrote my blog in the morning (or afternoon depending on your concept of time) and ate my 2nd
meal at the Bellagio, using the comps I earned from playing poker. With the occasional nice
dinner after a big win my food bill was around $400. One of those dinner splurges was Fix at
Bellagio. My favorite expensive restaurant by far.
Rake. The rake at the Bellagio works on a time system. What that means is that every 30 minutes
(when the dealer changes) each player owes $6 ($7 at the 10/20). Well I played 153 hours of
poker. 20 hours at 10/20 and the rest at either 5/10, 2/5, 1/2, or 20/40 mixed game. For the sake
of calculation I'm going to assume that all of the latter games had a rake similar to the 5/10. After
all the calculations the rake comes to a total of $1,876; Nearly two whole buy ins. Figuring that

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we average sometimes only 24 hands an hour, each player must make $1 every two hands, or a
small blind every time around the table just to be a break even player.
Tipping. If there was one thing I learned most about the poker business on this trip, it was how to
effectively tip. Thanks to a long conversation with Joe late one night at the Bellagio, I learned a
whole new dimension to the theory of tipping. Lets start off with the basics. There are two main
reasons for tipping; A) to help out someone who works hard but is generally unappreciated, and
B) when the person you are tipping has the power to better your life.
Looking at the first group, I realized there were lots of people who deserve to be tipped that I had
previously ignored. But once I experimented and saw how far a few dollars could go towards the
happiness of the cashiers, the girl picking up empty drinks, and employees delivering food, I
tried to make it a habit. You realize that more than the value of the tip, these people appreciate it
when their work is recognized.
The second group of people can be more expensive, but also more beneficial to your experience
in the poker room, if you execute it effectively. The key here lies in two types of people, the
floorman, and the guy who deals with comps. It's important to tip the floorman because they can
help you get into games sooner when the room is busy and it's also good to have them on your
side in case you're involved in a pot where their judgment is called upon. Tipping the guy who
deals with comps can completely change your dining experience. While playing 5/10 NL may
only earn you $1.5 an hour, if you begin tipping the comp guy this system proves to be bendable.
The friendlier you are with the staff, the more they allow you to go into "debt" and order meals
way more expensive than your allowed balance.
With that in mind, I began tipping a ton more this trip. In total, I imagine I tipped on average
$40/day. Now this does include the $25 or so that I will inevitably tip for all of my winning pots,
but it also includes $10-$15/day towards all the other people I started helping out. In total tipping
caused me approximately $800.
Gambling. My gambling actually went pretty well this trip, especially for how poorly it started.
During my 4 sessions with the Heads Up Texas Hold'em machine outside the Bellagio Poker
room I lost $600 before quitting him forever. My two roulette sessions resulted in a $200 deficit
and my one drunken night at the Passion Pit spinning wheel cost me $200. Asides from that I
was a winner in every game. Betting sports I was a $400 winner (Highlighted by a $250 bet on
Miami Universities GoDaddy.com Bowl win), Craps was a roller coaster but ended $100 in the
black, and Blackjack profited me $900, most of which came during my attempt at mastering "the
system". Subtract the one time I took action in a friend at the 10/20 and lost $500 and my
gambling profits turned up at $100.
Now to my biggest leak; table massages. If you thought I had a problem before, you may want to
skip this section. I spent a total of $2100 on table massages over the course of 19 days, which
averages out to about a 45 minute massage EVERY session. It's definitely a major problem and
one that can be avoided, but I struggle deciding whether or not I would've been able to play such
long sessions without the help of the masseuses.

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Poker. I played 6 different types of games throughout my trip. We'll start with the lowest and
work my way up. In one drunken 1/2 NL session on New Years Eve I lost $300. I played three
2/5 NL sessions; profiting $300 in total. I played one 2/5PLO session at the Aria with the boys
and ended up a $400 winner. The 20/40 Limit mixed game was also a one time thing, which also
saw me score a small profit of $600. In my 3 sessions at 10/20NL I won every time, netting me a
total of $6,600. Coincidentally, that makes me 4 for 4 in successful 10/20 NL sessions in my
career. Which leaves me with my main game, 5/10 NL. In roughly 110 hours at the 5/10 NL I
profited $15,500, while playing an estimated 3,000 hands. That's over $5 a hand, a super egoboosting number. However, it's also unsustainable and a humbling number in how it reminds me
of my good fortune in big pots throughout the month.
Expenses
Travel $450
Cabs $200
Lodging $2,000
Food $400
Rake $1,876
Tipping $800
Massages $2100
Profits
Gambling $100
Poker $23,100
Now payments for the massages, tipping, and rake were already taken out of my poker profits
because I paid for them with my stacks during the game. So in order to find out my total net
profit I need to subtract food, lodging, cabs, and travel from $23,200. It leaves me with $20,150;
$150 over my 3rd and final goal of the trip. Something I'm really proud of. If not for the financial
score, for my determination in accomplishing and surpassing a personal mark.
On the topic of rare opportunities, you may have already figured out that I'll be attending
UNLV this semester. There were a lot of factors, including a few relationships and job
opportunities that made it a difficult decision, but at the end of the day living my own life
trumped them all. I've spent the past two years watching my friends sacrifice their creative
freedoms for the security of low paying jobs and 50 hour weeks. Surrendering their souls out of
fear that they'd fall behind societies standards. I'm not quite ready to succumb to those pressures.
There are still a lot places in the world I'd like to see, types of people I'd like to meet, and
different service projects that I'm eager to work on.
However the determining factor for my move was not about money or weather or school. It came
down to happiness. So many people spend all of their time trying to make the most money and
trying to salvage imperfect relationships that they lose sight of why they were chasing these
things in the first place. I've seen it in kids my age and in grown men. Most importantly I've seen
it in myself. Since I've been coming out to Vegas, I've noticed a rise in my spirits every time I
touch down at McCarran. Still when I return home I face the inevitable questions from friends
and family. "Sure you do well in poker but you're not making much money" and "Yeah people

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like your stories but how do you plan on getting paid for the time your sacrificing." For a year
I've been struggling with these moral dilemmas. Searching for answers. Am I really making good
use of my time? Is it time to grow up?
Well I had somewhat of an epiphany about ten days back. It happened on the drive back to
Chicago from Oxford. A drive with not much to look at and a nonexistent radio signal. A drive
where I typically do my best thinking. Sparked through a simple text message, it became clear
that I had the whole system backwards. I've been longing for a job, for money, for security, for
love, because of the way those things make me feel. But during the process of obtaining them I
hadn't found much enjoyment at all. In fact my happiest days had been in Las Vegas where I
escaped those anxieties, if only for a few days, or a few weeks. Now I had the opportunity to
return to that place; both physically and mentally. An opportunity I wasn't going to pass up.
So I pulled out my phone and re-sent that text message to a few close friends hoping they too
could make use of it. And now I'll share it with all of you. It's a quote, originating from a
musician. One widely regarded as the brightest in his field, a man ahead of his time.
"When I was 5 years old I went to school and they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew
up. I wrote down 'happy'. They told me I misunderstood the meaning of the assignment. I told
them they misunderstood the meaning of life."
John Lennon
Thanks again for reading everybody. I will remain in touch through written stories; anytime I
encounter an experience interesting or intriguing--in poker or in life.
Matt Moore
01/22/11: Living in Vegas; Playing with Maniacs
I came back to Vegas on a Tuesday night. To my surprise Dan was packing up his things,
preparing for a two week LA vacation; The roommate experience would have to wait. Upon
entering the poker room at the Bellagio It became apparent that he wasn't the only one leaving
Vegas for LA. Half the tables were vacant. In fact, only one 5/10 game was running. I've NEVER
seen less than two in all my experience and speculation was that it could be like this until the end
of February when the LAPC (Las Angeles Poker Classic) wraps up.
Cold sweats began formulating on my forehead, making my mental state obvious to anyone who
cared to look. How could I not have checked this? I got lazy when it counted the most and now
the biggest decision of my life could turn out to be the wrong one. Two hours into town and I
already wanted to catch the next flight back to Chicago.
"Serenity Now" I told myself, taking a page out of Cosmo Kramer's book of mental stability. Life
is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it. I could sit around feeling sorry for
myself, or I could make the best of the situation. Even if it meant living alone in an actionlacking town.
Feeling a bit lonely on the walk home down Flamingo, John Mayer's Why Georgia came on my
ipod. It couldn't have been better timed. "Everybody is just a stranger, but that's the danger, in
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going my own wayit's the price I have to pay." Nobody said that being "different" was going to
be easy. I left my comfort zone to live my own life. If I'm going relish in the positives, I've got to
also accept the negatives.
I lost $500 that night, half a buy in. But it's just money. The wisdom I gained and the lesson I
learned was invaluable. Things aren't always gonna go your way, even when you feel like you've
got your whole life planned out. Roommates are going to leave, and poker games are going to
dry out; these are things that are out of our control. But like a good poker player, you must
adjust. To survive, if nothing else.
And things would get better. By Wednesday night there were two games running. Thursday saw
3 5/10s. And by Friday night the room was packed, including 4 5/10 NLs.
During the week I played with 3 different types of maniacs. A couple of them were drunk, a
couple were clueless, but most importantly, they all had too much money for their own good.
My first maniac experience came late Wednesday night. At around 2am a young, fast talking,
greased hair, drunk as all hell New Yorker sat down to my left. Coincidentally, just as he sat
down, I'd hit a nice run of preflop cards. I raised 4 out of 10 hands, before I picked up J J
in
MP.
Stacks
Hero 1700
Villain 1500
I raised the action to 40 and our villain reraised me up to 150 directly to my left. I called and the
flop came down K 4 3 . I checked and he put $280 in one over-sized stack into the pot. I
called and the turn came a Q . I checked knowing if he fired I would have trouble continuing
in the hand with two overs on board. Thankfully, he checked back. The river paired the 4
and
again I checked. Instantly, the villain placed 7 bills into the pot. It didn't make sense. AK and KQ
would've bet the turn. Sure he could have a 4, but I was willing to take that chance. I call. "Ace
high" he said.
The next night I was playing in a pretty tight/boring game when a new comer sat down across the
table and started raising more hands then variance could account for. He was a dark skinned
gentleman from Madagascar. Eventually people caught on and he started turning over hands.
From what I witnessed it was apparent that he did not know much about Texas Hold'em and that
he had A LOT of money to burn.
Stacks
Hero 1800
CO 1900
Our Madagascar friend limped the CO , as did I in the SB with Q J . The flop came down K
T 9
and I bet 20. BB folded and Madagascar called. The turn was a 4
and this time I
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bet 40. Again, I was called. The river was an A , putting 5 clubs on the board. Usually I would
value bet 100 here with the nuts. But against this opponent I had a unique opportunity. He's the
type of player who might think that a flush on the board meant we chopped. So I shoved all in
for 1700. 8 and a half times the pot. Madagascar began trading off between thinking and smiling
at me while laughing about the hand. Clearly the money was not an issue. Eventually, he asked
the dealer if he would still have money left if he called. Not having to go back to his room was
the most important factor in the decision. Once the dealer notified him that he would still have
money he told me "I pay, I pay" as he got eager to flip over his hand.
"I've got the nuts" I told him. He nodded his head and congratulated me as the dealer began
shoving me all of his chips except the 7 $10 chips he had remaining. "Wait a minute" he said in
his broken English. "You told me I would still have these chips" referring to two stacks ($400) in
total. "No sir I told you, you would have chips remaining, and you do." Madagascar felt cheated.
I honestly believe he would've folded if he knew he wouldn't have any more chips. The situation
lingered for about 30 more seconds before I came to my senses and told the man "You're an
honest guy, I believe you when you say you thought you would still have chips." "Let him keep
the $400" I notified the dealer. But just then Madagascar reached across the table, shook my
hand, told me he appreciated me honesty, but that he lost them fair and square and that they now
belonged to me.
My last maniac experience came yesterday evening. While sitting at the 5/10, I began
exchanging some friendly banter with a player at next tables limit game. He was funny and
clearly intoxicated. Eventually, I challenged him to come over to our table and he insta-accepted.
Bringing over his Coors Light, he immediately ordered two shots of Patron for him and I. And
then he started raising. A lot. Every hand in fact, he raised it up to 60 preflop. This happened for
3 hours straight. Probably 100 hands in a row. "I'm hungry Matt," my new friend Mark told me.
"I'm on it," I told him, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. He ordered two meals at in
room dining which I paid for with my comps, and a sizable tip to Carmen at the front desk. He
appreciated the gesture and gave me his card, telling me that if I ever wanted to come out to San
Diego he would take me to the nicest golf courses and the best poker games. I looked at the card
"Mark Bradley President and CEO of MSB Financial Group." It all makes sense.
Stacks
Hero 3300
SB 1600
Even though we were friendly, Mark and I were more than willing to gamble with each other.
Eventually we played a huge pot. With A 8
I raised to 40 on the btn and he made it 150 in
the SB. I called and the flop came A K K . He bet 300 while saying "You don't have the
AK do you?" I called and the turn brought a J . "I'm all in" Mark said in stride. The count
turned out to be 1200. Later in the night this would've been an immediate call, but this was early
in Mark's raising rampage. I didn't have a good gauge of how ****ing crazy he was yet. So to
gain a little more information I used my favorite amateur question and said "Will you show me If
I fold Mark?" "Of course Matt, we boys. Yea, Yea Ill show you" he told me confidently. Now
while we were certainly friends, he still wanted to take all my money. If he had a strong hand he

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wouldn't want to give me any reason to fold. So I called, and we both watched as the 10
hit
the river. "You just doubled me up my friend" he said while flipping over QJ for the rivered
straight. A $3300 pot wiped away by a 6 outer with one to go. I told him good hand and we went
on with our shared dinner. I've come to terms with bad beats, and felt no reason to ruin our
friendship.
Mark kept playing. Winning a ton with terrible hands, but eventually losing at all and much
more. Before he could go broke, however, he had to deal with the berating of fellow 5/10
regulars. One player specifically told him "You're terrible. You should stick to limit" after a bad
beat. This boggled my mind. Some people just don't get it. As much as poker is about the cards at
the table, it's more so about the experience of the tourists. Catering to their needs, making them
feel comfortable, is just as important as correctly calling their bluffs and value betting them light.
Poker is a people game. I'm catching on to this quick. They say Chip Reese was the best at
understanding this concept. It should come as a surprise to no one, that he too, was one of the
most successful players of all time.
All in all this first week has been great. In total I'm up 5k, the weather is great, and school is
more interesting then it's ever been. Til next time
MM
01/26/11: Running awesome in lifeand horrible at the tables
"God Shall giveeth, and god shall taketh away." No good blog has ever begun with a Mike
Matusow quote, but right now The Mouth is a better reference for advice then Ghandi ever could
be. After all, I don't think Ghandi ever seesawed between broke and millionaire, yet alone
hundreds of times in his life. Not that my seesaw is quite reaching the depths of Matusow Valley
but my current "run bad" is definitely the worst that I've ever experienced in Vegas.
But before we get into Hold'em lets discuss how it all began. My neighbor, Mr. Sam Grizzle, has
been coming over recently and coaching me through the low stakes mixed games online. The
games are a barrel of fun and typically contain a super weak player field. "These donkeys don't
even know what town they're in" Sam constantly reminds me. And he's right. The mixed games
are an untapped resource. Just like PLO a few years back, most good players haven't picked them
up yet, and those who have still make a ton of mistakes.
So after a few winning sessions online, I felt I was ready for the big show. I called up my buddy
Dustin, a mixed game regular, and asked him where the game was at. "20/40 at the Wynn" he
responded. Ten minutes later, I was there, 2k at the table. Ready to learn, ready to win.
Wellthings didn't exactly go as I had hoped. Four hours later, I was stuck 1k and realizing that
I was by far the worst player at the table. It's a very humbling experience, knowing that you're
making all these mistakes and the pros are just dying to get into a pot with you. I'd finally gained
the perspective of the fish in the NL games. I now knew what they were feeling.

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But before I could go, I got involved in one more 2-7 triple draw pot. The stakes had been raised
to 30/60 by this point, and the drunk Asian youngster, Kevin, had the straddle on. UTG, probably
the 2nd worst player (to me), raised the straddle and I 4-bet in MP with 2357X. Both players
called and they both drew two cards as I took one. I got my 6; giving me the 3rd nuts. We bet and
raised throughout this draw and the next one. By the 3rd draw I was standing pat and they were
both still drawing one card. After the final round of betting, the pot was somewhere north of 700.
Kevin flipped up his hand. 8 high. I flipped over mine, expecting to rake in the pot. But little did
I know that the fish UTG hit a 3 on the river giving him 23467the 2nd nuts.
As I was ready to leave Dustin explained to me that he didn't think I played very poorly at all,
but that the lineup was super tough. "For example" he said "The 1 seat, best Omaha 8 player in
the world. The 2 seat, one of the best limit Hold'em players in the world, and the 4,5 and 9 have
all made WSOP final tables."
Jesus bro where was this advice two thousand dollars ago, I thought to myself. Either way, I
asked for the game, and I got it. I took the loss as a very expensive lesson. Don't jump into games
you're not ready for. Good poker may make you, but bad game selection will break you.
After the mixed game debacle I got a call from Joe asking me if I wanted to go out with him and
his new friend. He met me at the poker room and took me back to the "Villa Suites" entrance at
the Wynn; Explaining to me along the way how he knew this guy.
A few days back Joe got in a 10/25 NL game at the Wynn with a super rich owner of one of the
most famous car companies overseas. Joe took the man for 50K, but did it with grace.
Apparently, the guy liked him so much that he invited him out the next weekend. Well the next
weekend was now and I officially had mingled my way into an amazing night. The Villa
overlooked the Wynn golf course and had a waterfall pool on the back porch. 8 of us, mostly
poker players, including Ozzy87, pre gamed there before our limo was ready to take us to
Marque at the Cosmo. As we approached the hundreds of people waiting in line, we walked right
past them to the front, where the VIPs get treated. Our personal host escorted us to our table,
right in front of the dance floor, where our night was about to begin.
The club rang with house music as the DJ's lead fist pumping shoulder swaging dances. Our
friend ordered 8 bottles of grey goose and crystal, leaving me clueless as to how much he had
spent. An hour into the night all of the cutest girls in the club were escorted to our table to party
with us. And for those who couldn't make use of themthe high end escorts showed up later.
When I say high end, I'm talking these girls would've been some of the sexiest porn stars had
they chosen that route of business...
They don't lie when they say you get what you pay for. I have never partied like that, and I may
never again. But that night will remain imbedded in my memory until Alzheimer's or excessive
drinking wipes it away.
Yesterday I returned to the B, hoping to win back my losses in my bread and butter game. And at
first, things were going great. Up about $1,000 I found A A
on the BTN. UTG raised to 40,
two players called and I made it 150. All of the players called and all of a sudden we had a $600

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pot. The flop came 8 8 9

and it was checked to me. Instead of making a standard Cbet, I
opted for a small one, thinking this would give the amateur players an opportunity to make a
mistake. I bet 200. Everyone folded to the fish directly to my right and he began thinking hard.
Legitimate thinking, no Hollywood. Eventually he went all in for 800. I called as it seemed my
"betting to induce" worked out perfectly unless he stumbled into an 8. The turn was a 7
and
the river was a K . I flipped over my hand as did he. 77 for a turned boat.
It stung more than usual coming after a losing day, but I think I handled the tilt pretty well. A few
hours later, I found myself in an opportunity to get that money back. A new player in a Cutco
sweatshirt had sat down to my right and immediately began playing super aggressively. After one
of his open raises in MP I 3bet to 120 with A Q , telling him this was only because he was
crazy. "I'll show you crazy" he said and made it 340 total. The spot turned from super +EV to
fairly marginal. Still, being in position and having $1,000 behind us, I felt I had to call. The flop
came Q 5 2
and Cutco placed out a $400 bet. I postured for a few moments, deciding
whether to call or go all in, before placing all of my chips in the middle. He thought forever and I
now knew I was good. Still he was in deep and decided to call off his final $550 of his hard
earned Knife selling monies. The turn brought a 5
and the river brought a J . "AQ" I
announced. My opponent wasn't budging. So after a few seconds I turned my hand over. It was
then that he turned over JJ for a rivered full house. Another huge blow to the bankroll, and worst
of all it happened in the form of a slow roll.
For those keeping track at home, my last 3 pots between 2k-3k have all seen me as at least 88%
favorites. I've lost all three. I was beginning to think I was above variance, and then the deck
smacked me back to reality. This is the nature of the game we choose to play. The deck can make
you look brilliant, but it can also make you look broke. Today it's my worst enemy. But I won't
swear off my old friend. Instead, I'll come back fighting, putting my faith in those same odds that
have brought me such agony this week.
MM
02/01/11: Table Instincts and Running Bad in Non-Poker Activities
"I wish we could just run even all the time," I complained to Deep and Joe as we walked past the
main Bellagio cage and into the parking garage. I was still steaming from my most recent beat;
Aces against Fours, all in on a J99 flop for 2500. They were barely listening. After all, why
would they? They hate hearing bad beat stories just as much as I hate telling them. But
sometimes if you don't release the negative energy, the bare thought of an unlucky hand will
gnaw away at your insides until you go insane.
"At least if we ran even, I wouldn't have to be concerned about running well," I said. "From now
on, with each large pot that I win, the anxiety is just going to build and build, knowing the poker
gods are quietly preparing my doom." They laughed at that one. Two of my best friends in Vegas.
They won't give me the time of day when I cry about my bad luck, but they'll break into hysteria
like two pot heads at a Chris Rock show at the prospect of my downfall. Bastards.

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Anyways we were on our way to the Cosmopolitan, where we had bottle service planned at the
Marquee. I was already regretting my commitment; But my ex gf and her "newly single"
girlfriends were in town and I had promised that I would show them a good time. Plus I needed a
drink, or 7.
We got into the 2nd level and compliments of Joe's friend, Joe Cassidy, had top notch service
getting us into our table in no time. The night was a blast. The girl's seemed to be having a great
time and I was having fun with a sexy Asian girl who I'd met at the 5/10 game a few nights
earlier. Splitting my attention between her and my ex, I caught the eye of a gorgeous brunette at
the table next to ours with the prettiest blue eyes in the club. We started talking and it became
apparent that she was into me. I guess it's true what they say about girls wanting what other girls
have. After some sensual dancing we left the club together and went back to her hotel for some
gambling. She told me her friend was sleeping in her room and I asked her if she wanted to go
back to my place. She smiled and nodded. Deal closed.or so I thought.
We took a cab back to the Meridian and got dropped off at security. Holding hands with my left,
I reached my right into my pocket to grab my keys. It was then that my heart sunk. There were
no keys. Anywhere. I called my roommate; once, twice, fourteen times. He was passed out
drunkin LA. My next idea was to bribe security. After all, it works for all other lines of service
in Vegas. They apologized and told me it wasn't worth losing their job. All the while, I'm trying
to keep this girl calm, tipsy, and horny; before she sobers up and freaks out for being off the
strip, with a local who can't even get into his own god damn building.
20 minutes later and the inevitable conversation finally transpired. "Okay I thiiiinkkk I'm going
to take a taxi back to MGM. Why don't you call me tomorrow when you get everything figured
out" she told me. I wanted to argue, but I had no basis. Not to mention I was sober now and
worried about the whereabouts of my key set. They not only held my apartment key, but also my
car keys, and a key to my box, which contains 40 something thousand dollars.
Eventually, I called Sam knowing that 4am was like noon to him. "Hey there partner" he said
with some pep in his voice. He was up, eating lunch, watching Poker after dark. I strolled into his
apartment but was in no mood to talk. I went straight to the living room and crashed, alone, on
Sam Grizzle's couch. Even the unluckiest of poker players can sympathize with that bad beat.
As morning came I walked over to Cosmopolitan, hoping to find my keys. I didn't. I shoved both
hands into my pants in a last ditch effort, hoping to find them hiding in the pocket lint. I didn't.
But I did find something of importance. A Bellagio valet ticket. YOU MORON I thought to
myself. My carand keys were at valet the whole time.
I took Sunday off and went to a local Barnes and Noble to buy some books and catch up on my
reading. By Monday I was refreshed and prepared to put a stop to my 7k losing streak. The
Bellagio was surprisingly packed. Four 5/10 games were running, more then your average
Saturday. My table was good too. Two players were particularly aggressive. They were definitely
winning players, but players I knew I could exploit better than your average regular.

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My first effort to exploit came with Q Q

in mp. An aggressive player opened to 40 and I
3bet to 130. He called and the flop came J 8 3 . He check called 170. On a 6
turn I
fired a second barrel of 360. He called again and a 9
came on the river. I took one more shot
at thin value and bet 440 after he checked. I expected a fold most of the time, but it was
important to not have to show my hand against this particular opponent for metagame purposes.
He looked me up and my QQ was good.
Moments later, I saw everyone at table 12 standing up, looking concerned. Spooky Deja-Vu, as
that was the same reaction from the same table that was robbed 2 weeks ago by a guy who lit a
fire in the sports book and grabbed all the black chips. Today it was the dealer, Andy. He had
fallen forward in his chair and was foaming out of the mouth. His skin was turning blue as he
had suffered from an apparent seizure. I've never seen anyone die in front of me, and I was
legitimately worried this would be the first time. Luckily, he was breathing and talking by the
end of the night; but that doesn't take away from the curse developing at table 12. The table of
doom.
It took the room a while to regroup but eventually more poker was played. And I got involved
with the same loose cannon from the first hand. He raised UTG to 40, which didn't show much
strength, as he was raising about 33% of his preflop hands. I had 7 9
in MP and considered
raising for 15 seconds, knowing he would make mistakes in big pots. I ended up calling, as did
the BTN, SB, and BB. The flop came 3 7 T
and it checked to me. I bet 170 and
everybody folded to the aggressive preflop raiser. He thought for a bit and raised it to 470.
Usually this is a fold, but I know this player would lead out in a multi-way pot with any big
hand. So I called. The turn was a 2 . My opponent took four stacks of chips and bet out 750.
Again something seemed off about his line. My instincts were telling me I was good. But so
much more goes into a poker hand then just basic instincts. I was down 7k the last 9 days. I was
sliding down a slippery slope, on the verge of falling off the ****ing cliff. Not to mention what
this streak was doing to me mentally. I wasn't sleeping well at night. The last bad call I'd made
had haunted my dreams, leaving me second guessing myself for 2 days. And what about the
money I'd spent going out last weekend. Why the **** did I spend soo much money last
weekend. I finally had a winning session. Even if I folded, I'd be up 800 for the day. He had 1100
behind. If I called this bet, I'd have to call a shove on the river. What have I gotten myself into?
Stop thinking that way; focus on the problem at hand. His line DOESN'T make sense. You've got
a read. If you can't trust your read, then what CAN you trust?
I placed 7 black chips and 5 orange into the middle and stared my opponent down as the river
fell. He was in deep thought, he didn't know what to do. I checked the board, it was the 6 . 30
seconds later my opponent checked. I tapped the table right back. He flipped up 6 8 . I knew
the board was small. Please god tell me I'm good. No straight, no flush. Just a 6. I flipped over
my 79 and reeled in the biggest pot of the night with 2nd pair.
With my heart still beating through my shirt, I took a walk around the casino for a few minutes.
This was the type of hand that ends down swings. I went with my read and my read was right.
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I ended my night with a $700 bluff on a river that completed a flush, again confirming that my
instincts were spot on. I racked up a $3500 winner and with a refurbished confidence. A
confidence that had been broken to pieces in one short week. While the money is satisfying, it's
simply a side note compared to my decision making in big pots. Tonight I'm out to prove that it
wasn't a flukethat I'm back.
MM
02/08/11: Super Bowl Weekend
Super Bowl Sunday represents a victory for the boys in every committed male's battle between
"bros" and "hoes". A chance to start off the year by showing your buddies that she doesn't call the
shots. That you can and will go drink beers and eat wings whenever you damn feel like it. Sure,
by Monday morning you'll be back in captivity, asking permission over so much as taking a
dump; but for those three hours on Sunday night, the phone's on vibrate and the TV's on football.
Luckily for us in Vegas, Super Bowl Sunday is extended to Super Bowl weekend. "The biggest
gambling weekend of the whole year" Sam told me. "It's like New Years, except everyone
leaves their broads at home. No dinners or ******** shows. Strictly gambling," he added.
So like a kid on Christmas I waited anxiously for the weekend. You see, while normal Americans
are out celebrating on holidays, poker professionals know it's time to work. One of the nuances
of the lifestyle I've chosen. The timing couldn't have been better. I'd just fully recovered from my
7k downswing and was ready to start booking some profits for the month of February.
Friday morning I woke up and passed the time with a few friends at Rhodes Ranch golf course.
My game was sub-par, but my mind was elsewhere. Dustin, Joe, Deep and I talked strategy and
fantasized about the weekend's potential while we hacked our way around the back nine. "I think
10k is a conceivable goal," Deep said. "I heard last year they had 5 10/20's going."
Driving back home down I-215 I caught myself entranced in the lights of the strip hotels,
dreaming about a 5 figure weekend. Soon I would realize that it's not always that simple...
I got to the Bellagio around 7pm and for the first time in my experience every table was
occupied. Five 5/10's were running and the list to join the game was 20 players deep. An hour or
so of waiting and I was finally in the game. Excited to be surrounded my so many unfamiliar
faces, I made the rookie mistake of getting in as many pots as possible. At first it was working
and my $1500 starting stack was up to $1900, but eventually it would catch up to me.
Stacks
UTG 4k
Hero 1900
The biggest spot at the table opened UTG to 40. The sb called and I joined in the BB with J
T
. The flop came 7 4 3
and I decided to bet 90, knowing it mostly missed UTG's range
and thinking I could outplay the Sb in position later in the hand. The fish called UTG, leaving us

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head up to the turn. The turn was a 9 , completing the flush, and presenting a pretty good
opportunity to double barrel him off his medium strength hands. I bet 260 and again was called.
My read told me I needed to get my opponent off an over pair as the 3
fell face up on the
river. Sure the player was a fish, but now I could conceivably represent a full house or a flush
with a big bet. "750" I announced. My opponent clearly wasn't happy with the spot. He shook his
head and told the table that he could only beat a bluff. Just as I thought he was about to fold he
picked up his lone 1k chip and tossed it in the middle. I flipped over my hand and he showed the
J 6 . A bit unlucky to run into the top of his range, but generally a really poor timed bluff,
that I'll blame on an anxiousness to get involved.
A few hands later, I picked up JJ UTG. I hadn't yet had a chance to reload as my stack sat at 900.
I raised to 40 and there was one fold to the btn. He shoved his final 150 into the middle, which
concerned me very little as he was both tilting and a fish. However, the hand got interesting
when the kid in the BB began picking up chips for a raise. He made it 340 total, putting me in a
tough spot. My hand is usually not good in this spot, but I must've looked like I was steaming
and I'm sure he didn't give me an ample amount of credit. So I shoved in for 900 total and he
called telling me he had AQ suited. The flop came 3 7 T . The turn was a 6
and the
river an 8 . I was good, unless he had hearts...He did.
After a few more hours of play I was in for 4k and sitting on a 1700 stack when I found a great
opportunity to win some chips back. MP raised the action to 40 and 3 players called to me in the
BB. I called with 3 5
and saw the sexy 4 6 8
flop. We checked to the original raiser
who bet out 110. The Sb called and I decided to raise to 380, knowing I was completely
comfortable getting it in here with my equity. Surprisingly both players called. The turn was an
offsuit Ace leaving me with a choice. Shove in for 1300 or check and hope to catch up. There
was too much money in the pot. "I'm all in" I announced. My chance of winning the pot
uncontested lasted about 20 seconds before MP chose to put all his chips in the middle. To my
amazement the Sb came in right behind him. The pot was now $4800. As long as no one else had
clubs I could win with any
, 2, or 7. Sitting in the 9 seat I caught a glimpse of the card as the
dealer ripped it off the deck. It was small and it was black. My eyes were glued to the felt, right
next to the turn, where the dealer would place it moments later. 5 . I was in shock. How the
**** did I miss that draw? MP flipped over KK and the Sb raked in the monster pot with A8.
It was barely past 11 on the biggest gambling night of the year and I had to quit the game. I had
checked, called, and raised my way out of the door before the party even began. The gambler in
me wanted to stay, but the realists knew that mentally I'd passed the point of winning poker. I
needed to leave immediately before I ran through my whole bankroll.
That night I laid in bed restless. My body was exhausted, but my mind was jolting between the
three big hands I'd played, keeping me from reaching unconsciousness. By 4am I was forced to
bargain with my brain just to achieve any peace of mind. Starting tomorrow afternoon I would
return to Bellagio and grind until the last tourists left town on Monday, only taking breaks to eat
and sleep. My focus would be on playing the best poker possible, not getting unstuck.

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And so upon waking up that Saturday afternoon, I returned to the battlefield, humbled, and
hoping to regain my touch. However, things wouldn't come easy. Immediately my patience was
tested. Twice in the first two hours I was forced to lay down big pairs on low card flops. Twice I
was right.
By 2am I'd grinded myself a $1,000 profit through controlled aggression and picking on the
players who played too many pots. With my reputation very LAGGY I opened AK UTG to 40. 4
players called and I hit the bingo flop of A A 7 . There are situations where a check is the
best play here, but with my reputation I was confidant I could get 3 streets of value from any
Ace. So after the Sb checked I bet 100. The first three players folded and the action got back to
the Sb who raised me another 100. I chose to just call and play the rest of the hand in position.
The turn was an 8
and this time my opponent checked to me. It seemed like his attempt to
control the size of the pot after inexcusably ballooning it out of position. So I made him pay with
a $290 bet. He called pretty quickly and checked in the dark on a 6
river. He had about $760
remaining and with my reputation the situation was perfect for a bluffy looking shove. As I
announced "all in" his posture sunk and his face cringed up like a 40 year old dropping drawers
for his first colonoscopy. He tried to talk to me about how obvious it was that he had an Ace. I
just stared ahead with my headphones on trying to throw in subtle clues that I was
uncomfortable. Another player called the clock and as the count approached ten he still hadn't
made up his mind. Finally with seconds to spare he slid his chips in the middle. My hand was
good as my Saturday night concluded with a $2500 profit.
Sunday I returned, bright and early, eager to exploit the tourists before they ventured off to their
various sports book or Super Bowl parties. Again my game felt as confident as ever. I was 3betting lightly in all the right spots and folding big hands against all the right players. Without
winning any big hands of note I had booked another $1000 profit by the time the game started. I
was dangerously close to climbing out of the hole I'd dug myself, and thought I'd earned the right
to take 3 hours off and watch the game peacefully.
By the time Aaron Rogers took the final knee and the Green Bay Packers were crowned
Champions of the World, I was more than eager to escape the moron cheesehead fans and return
to the poker room. Knowing the pain they must've been feeling back home, I vowed revenge on
any Packers fan who sat down at my table.
It took a while, but around 9pm the tourists began drunkenly stumbling back into the poker
room. One particular Packers fan sat down in the 1/2 while wearing a signed Clay Matthews
helmet. I considered sitting in the game, but it proved unnecessary as I was handed my very own
Cheese brain in the 5/10 game. He sat down with a blinking GB hat on and $1500 for the taking.
With my own stack up to $2,000 I found a spot to get involved with 8 9 . UTG, a tight
regular, raised to 40 and I called in MP. The Packers fan called on the btn and 3 of us took a flop
of J T 7 . The nuts. UTG bet out 100 putting me in an interesting spot. UTG and I had
enough history where I knew she would fold all one pair hands to a raise, so even though the flop
was wet, the best play was a call to get the fish involved. When action reached the fish he looked
like he was counting out chips to raise but eventually called. Praying for a safe card, the 5
fell
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on the turn. This time UTG checked and I made another unique decision and decided to check to
the fish, confidant he would now bet his hand. He did. $250. UTG looked confused but still put
in the chips for the call. Now the action was back to me and I had to protect my hand. I chose to
make it $740. Obviously the cheesehead did not have the brain capacity to wrap his mind around
what was going on in the hand, and quickly called the bet with $800 behind. UTG got the hint
and surrendered her hand. Even though the pot was huge, I still put the fish on a range of mostly
just JX hands based on his line. The river was safe in that it missed the flush, but dangerous in
that it paired the T . I sat for a minute thinking about the shove. I knew I was going to do it,
but I needed to sell indecision to my opponent. Finally I announced "all in" and the action was
back to the fish. I stared him down as his green hat periodically blinked yellow, not too be
confused with any lightbulbs going off in his brain. Eventually, he nodded his head and said "I
call". He turned over AJ for a one pair hand in a $3500 pot.
I racked up at 2 in the morning as the drunks had mostly resorted back to their pads and the
tables tightened up. Not only had I erased my Freaky Friday deficit, but I now had a $2200 profit
for the weekend. I wanted to celebrate, but I was exhausted. I needed to sleep and clean up the
mess from the few true super bowl fans (or maybe just degenerates) who extended their trips
through Monday.
Monday was much of the same story. I folded Aces on an ugly flop and was rewarded by the
poker gods with two sets later in the night. With another winning session in the books I played
one more big pot on the final day of my first super bowl weekend. After shoving a New York
tourist off of KK and refusing to show my cards, it took him all of one hand to get involved in
revenge poker. With J 8
I raised the CO and he called in the Sb. The flop was Q J
2
and I checked back the flop after he checked to me. The turn was the beautiful 8
and the
Sb lead into me for 70. I made it 230, hoping that his pride would get in the way of his poker
game. It did. He shoved all in for 700 more. It's a pretty "iffy" spot in most situations but not
against a tilting fish. I called and the K
hit the river. My two pair was good against his Q9.
Add another $2,000 to my profit and I finished the weekend with $4,200 more than I began it
with. While it wasn't quite the 5 figure weekend that I'd hoped for, I think I passed a major test
on my first Vegas Super Bowl. I'd been kicked in the groin by the visiting fish, I received pity
from the worst players at the table and was forced to make the walk of shame before midnight on
a jam packed Friday. I could've quit; gone and played golf, drank away my troubles, or sat at the
pool all weekend. But I got right back in the ring and challenged myself to play my A game. The
discipline paid off and as a result I've never been more confident.
MM
PS going to Commerce sometime in the next week to check out LA. If anyone lives out there and
wants to get together let me know.
02/15/11: My Motivation
It was 6am on Saturday morning; though for Brittany and I it was still Friday night. We were half
naked, keeping warm by means of the Meridian Jacuzzi and cranberry vodkas as the sun began
peeking its way around the Platinum Hotel and through the leaves of the palm trees. The
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aftermath of my little cousin's 21st Bday and 3 bottles of Grey Goose at Marquee Nightclub. She
was from Seattle..or San Diego..or something that started with an S. Not that it mattered,
tomorrow she'd be gone and a new batch of 20-something bachlorettes would be only a few
sessions away.
At that moment I may have been too inebriated to know my own name, but I was well aware that
my life had become a fantasy turned reality. I'm 22 years old, single, and living in the best city in
the world for those two circumstances. Whenever the cards betray me and the pressure to play
bad builds inside my veins, it's these moments that keep me motivated. Motivated to play well;
motivated to not go broke.
Recently I've needed every ounce of incentive to refrain from spazzing off my entire bankroll.
After a few more winning sessions post Super Bowl, my progress was halted, turned around, and
kicked back the opposite direction. Losing can do crazy things to the brain. I feel anxious at the
table. My patience remains intact, but it hasn't been easy. It's as if there's voices in my head
begging me to get involved in marginal spots.
Down $4500 for the week, I visited the Bellagio for a day session, hoping a change of routine
could help spark a comeback. Sitting at an empty table while I waited for an open seat, I felt a
tap on my shoulder.
It was a Finnish kid who'd been regularly playing in the 5/10 game for a few weeks now. He's a
good player, but a few days back he had been losing pretty badly. After one particular pot that I
beat him in, I noticed the look of disdain in his face as the chips were pushed my way. I'm used
to witnessing disappointment in my opponents eyes, it's part of the business. But this was
different. This was days, possibly weeks, of frustration built up in his head. So when we had a
free moment, I called him aside and I gave him a pep talk. I told him that he could have all the
talent in the world, but that if he didn't handle losing well, the downswings would be too steep to
recover from. I told him to view losing streaks like a test to his toughness. A challenge to play his
A game amidst the most difficult of mental circumstances.
He was coming to tell me thank you. That hearing a player he respected tell him those things was
exactly the motivation he needed to "man up". It was time for me to listen to my own advice.
I sat down at the must move game and before I could even unrack my chips I was involved in a
big pot. With Q T
in the bb I called a raise to 30 from a young kid on the btn. The flop
came K J 4
and I check called his $50 cbet. The turn was a beauty as the 9
peeled off
the deck. I set my trap and checked to my opponent. This time he bet $100 leaving me confident
that on this type of board he had a strong hand. So I raised to $300 hoping to build the pot for a
river shove. Instead of calling, my opponent pushed his remaining chips into the middle.
Expecting to be chopping a fair amount of time I called as we witnessed the 9
on the river.
My straight was no good. Quads on the river.
As brutal as it was, I saw a chance at redemption a few hours later. With the straddle on, UTG
limped in and I bumped it up to 80 with A J . A thinking player on the BTN called as did

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UTG. The flop came J 7 2

and UTG decided to lead into me for 150. The board wasn't
wet enough to where I thought he would lead a set, but a raise seemed too strong, so I flat called.
The btn folded and the 5
came up on the turn. This time the btn confidently bet 300 with 600
behind. My read told me that his range was weighted towards AJ and KJ type hands. So with the
nut flush draw to go along with my top pair I shipped in for his entire stack. He instantly called
me and all of a sudden I wasn't so confident in my read. Before I could really examine what type
of cards I did and didn't want on the river, the dealer had burned and turned. The K
fell on it's
back and my opponent flipped over A K
for the rivered winner.
With nowhere to go on a Sunday evening, I forced myself to remain calm and at least try to
regain some of the days lost funds. Within a half hour, I had mentally recovered from the losing
and was in a good mindset to return to the table. Upon my arrival, I recognized a new player in
the 6 seat. He was a familiar face and one that I despised. He's never been rude or obnoxious, but
there's something about this 45 year old semi-regular that rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it's the
way he tucks in his affliction T-Shirts, illuminating the roundness of belly. Or maybe it's the way
he plays on his IPad all session, barely paying attention to the game. There's something about his
demeanor, his arrogance, that makes me want to beat him more then anybody at the table.
After winning a couple small hands off of Affliction, we finally played a big pot. He opened to
30 UTG and I quickly 3bet to 100 in MP with Q Q . Typically he likes to see flops so I was
expecting a call. However, when the action retuned to him, he didn't insta-call in his normal
fashion. Instead he counted out bills and raised it to 430. We were about 1600 deep so it put me
in an interesting spot. I decided on utilizing my position and called to see a flop. I stared down
his eyes as the dealer turned over the first 3 cards. Before I could see the flop my opponent had
quickly bet 700. I turned my attention to the table, praying to see a Queen. It was A T 2 .
I had around 1100 total remaining. The hand he was trying to represent was AK. But the big,
non-thought out bet made little sense for that hand.
Maybe he got creative with AX suited? Maybe he actually has AK and wants to win the pot now.
Best case scenario I'm up against a flush draw? His 4bet preflop was so large. Why was it so
large? How much am I stuck for the day? For the week? Can I afford to be putting 1500 in the
middle with 2nd pair right now. Every time I got into my money box it gets more and more
depressing to look at. I can find better spots.
So I folded. He flipped over his hand and I knew before I saw it that I'd been bluffed. 3 4: .
It didn't take long for me to rack up after that hand. My game was off and I wasn't trusting my
instincts. Money had officially taken a precedent in my mind over strategy.
I had gone from being in an awesome mood to wanting to blow up the Bellagio in 7 hours. As
hard as I try to remain at a constant temperament throughout the winning and losing sessions, it
sure seems next to impossible. Poker is about respect to me. I want to be the big stack that people
eye down when they walk past the table. I want to be the guy that made the incredible call with
4th pair or fold with bottom set. I want to be the kid that tourists rave about when they leave the
game and head to dinner. But this week, I've just been the loser whose stuck, day after day. It's

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humbling and it's frustrating. I feel like I'm the best player in the 5/10; But as I'm learning the
best player doesn't always win. I'm discovering the evils of variance in the most difficult of ways.
I can only hope it'll make me stronger down the road.
MM
02/17/11: (The Respect of My Peers)
I don't usually get involved in these types of discussions, but this one seemed like it could benefit
from my point of view, so here we go.
About a week ago, at the tail end of my Super Bowl winning streak, I played a rather mundane
Tuesday night session. Up about $500, the game lacked excitement as it was mostly just regulars
passing the time; with the exception of one amateur who happened to be sitting to the right of
me. After I'd 3-bet him for the 3rd or 4th time, the recreational player told me in a friendly tone
that he would love to see what cards I'd been raising with. "How much would I have to pay to see
every one of your hole cards for a whole hour," he asked me in a semi-joking, semi-serious
manner?" "About $100," I responded hypothetically. "That's a great deal" chimed in a regular at
the other end of the table, "He's probably the best player that plays this game."
Later that session, on my last deal of the night, I lost a hand against a European regular with the
help of some unfortunate luck. I guess I took the beat well because after telling him nice hand
and wishing everyone a good night, he turned to the dealer and said, "there's a lot of rude,
obnoxious kids who play here, but that youngster's an exception. Very respectful."
I don't know if words can do justice to the way I felt that night. Even though I'd left Bellagio
with a measly $100 in profit, the respect of my peers carried me to a cloud higher then any 3-4k
session ever had. To be recognized for my poker talent and my kindness, two areas of life that I
pride myself on, was truly exhilarating. So while a few of you have posted how "respect" is not
an ingredient to winning poker, you're right. But it is part of the recipe to a happy life.
Remember, I'm human; I'm not just a poker playing machine. I have the same desires,
insecurities, and goals as many of you on this board. So, yeah, while it's important to not let
these factors affect the way I play my cards, I don't think there's anything wrong with a desire to
be respected.
As far as the notion that I'm egotistical or narcissistic, I'm not here to tell any of you what to
think of me. I began this blog as a way to hold on to the memories of what originally was a 3
week journey. Slowly it's turned into a story and an inside look at the life of a 22 year old, trying
to live off a talent for a silly game, and searching for meaning in the path that his life has taken
him on. I try to be as brutally honest as possible for the benefit of you, the readers. Censoring my
emotions and my feelings would only jeopardize the authenticity of the material. So if the price I
pay for keeping the story genuine is sometimes coming off negatively, so be it.
Lastly, there's no need for anyone to apologize for being critical of my play. If anything it lets me
know that there's a level of investment in my story. That my audience wants to see me succeed. I
take it as a compliment. I'm grateful to have a passionate group of strangers to hold me
accountable when I start sliding off track. After all, in a town like Las Vegas, accountability can
be the difference between surviving and falling off the deep end.
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I realize my game isn't sharp right now and I agree that I've let variance get the best of me. Still, I
promise I'm working hard internally and externally to fix my leaks and start playing good poker
again. I sure as hell don't want to have to leave this paradise.
MM
02/27/11: What is normal?
Is it a lifestyle? A mindset? Or maybe it's how we're expected to act and think in relation to our
environment. But who determines that environment? While we're typically classified by our
physical standing on earth, I'm learning, that sometimes, the roots of our character are located in
mental realms far away and intangible from the very people sitting right next to us.
I used to have a good grasp on normal. Growing up I could classify people by the clothes they
wore or the music on their IPod. It was the Midwest after all. More specifically the northern
Chicago suburbs. Kids were products of their parents. And parents were middle class, hard
working people, with very similar ideals and expectations for their children.
So when I moved out west and met people who looked like me and talked like me, I expected
them to be, welllike me. And for awhile that expectation went fairly uninterrupted. After all,
when the boundaries of your communication lie within the felt of the poker table it's difficult to
delve into the areas of our personalities that truly make us unique. Eventually, however, as my
friendships have grown and our conversations gone deeper, I've realized that we are far from the
same; And that my perception of "normal" was polluted years ago by a sheltered upbringing.
I was hit with this truth two nights ago over a 4 way game of Blockus at my apartment on Koval.
Blockus is a strategy game, where the goal is for each player to place their Tetris shaped pieces
onto the board while abiding by the rules of the game and the pieces of others. It's a game of
aggression and protection; but mostly it's a game of imagination. So what better place for four
young poker players to truly get to know each other then over a joint and a game of Blockus.
It was 3am and we had just finished a long session at the Bellagio. Friends Justin and Etu had
accompanied Dan and I back to our apartment. While the real world may have been resting, our
poker playing schedule left us wide awake. Anyways as the games progressed and the
conversations expanded, I finally got to know my new friends.
First, there's Etu. He's the Finnish kid that I'd mentioned in my previous blog. While his passport
claims he's 25 you wouldn't know it by his facial appearance. Known at the B as the Baby Face
Killer, he looks like he'd get ID'ed at a Justin Bieber show. But while his face lacks the
weathering of a seasoned veteran, don't let it fool you into thinking he has a lack of experience.
Since his 21st birthday and his coincided dropout from university, he's been coming to Vegas for
3 months at a time, staying until the Visa, or the money, runs out. Watching him play poker,
you'd never imagine that the money could run out. But Etu revealed a secret over that game of
Blockus. One that I could never have imagined.
"Sense John unary, I'm down nine tee tousand in roulette" he tells us in his solid, but accented
English. Our jaws dropped to the floor as he just laughed his way through the tale. He would
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continue backwards with his story, giving us an insight into the roots of his degeneracy. Last year
he bet $30,000 on the All Star game without ever having watched an NBA game on TV before.
Also on his last trip he reluctantly swapped 5% of his main event winnings with Rob Pisano. He
didn't care to check in on his investment until months later when he saw Rob on TV when the
tournament was down to 3 tables. Sick thing is Rob wanted to swap more.
Etu developed a love for poker during his first years of college. Immediately he realized that he
had all the skills to crush the games. All of them except bankroll management. "I would play de
250/500 NL wif one buy-in in my account. Sometimes I would ween and cosh out. And udder
times I would lose and go back to grinding," he said again laughing towards the latter and more
misfortunate portion of the story. I've noticed that Etu finds humor in the misery of his
degeneracy. It's possibly a defense mechanism; Or maybe he just understands the ups and downs
of gambling, the ups and downs of life. The same ups and downs that make me cringe and drive
me insane, he just laughs his way through.
Next there's Dan. Figuratively (and I guess according to the lease) he's been my roommate for
two months. But literally, he just returned from a 6 week trip to LA, so I'm still just getting to
know him. Dan is what I would call a conspiracy theorist; Though he hates the term, saying it
diminishes the strength of his beliefs. He places no faith in the government, the media, or any
other people of power; instead placing all of his trust into personal beliefs that he's picked up on
through a lifetime of asking questions and accepting no concrete truths. Though as Etu says
"your theories have no facts", the strength of Dan's faith in these commonly discounted theories
reflects in his confidence and his strong-willed approach to life.
"What would you guys say if I told you that Extra-Terrestrials have been in power in
governments all around the world for the past 70 years" Dan asked us in between hits of the
weed. The question seemed ridiculous and we treated it as such, with laughter, as Dan continued
with his theory. "What if I told you that after we dropped the atom bomb, the force of the energy
attracted the aliens to Earth. That E.T.s were responsible for the Nazi Regime, the war on
terrorism, and every other significant event leading up to 2012." He knows were not going to
agree with him, but Dan is persistent and unafraid to express his beliefs even if theyre farfetched and unpopular.
While he may not agree, I give credit for his creativity at the poker table and in life, to his
upbringing. Growing up in a self described "rough area" of New Jersey, Dan never had much
money. He had to be creative; he had to hustle to get what he wanted. He once told me a story
about a Gameboy he got for christmas. A Gameboy that wouldn't work without batteries;
batteries that weren't part of the gift. So instead of pestering his mom who had done enough by
getting him the present, he went down to the gas station and secretly stole some batteries. Well
soon he realized that batteries run out of power and that a lot of kids at his school needed
batteries. So everyday before school he would go to that same gas station, hijack some batteries
and sell them to the kids at recess. Before he knew it, he was an 11 year old kid worth hundreds
of dollars; but more importantly with a taste of how to use his creativity as a means to an end.
While I may not agree with a lot of his viewpoints, I certainly respect and admire the way he
goes about obtaining them.

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The final member of the Blockus game that night, may very well be the most interesting. I
started talking to Justin Lall, during a 5/10 game about a month back. He was aggressive,
fearless, and clearly a thinking player. The more familiar we got with each other, the friendlier
we became. I knew he was a professional bridge player and a recreational drug user, but the
extent of either wasn't clear until that very night.
"So Matt tells me you're a good bridge player" Dan asked curiously to Justin. "Yeah I'm a top 3
junior in the world" he responded matter of factly (though future research shows that he's clearly
number 1). I didn't have to ask Justin what school he went to, to figure out that he's smart; it's
illuminated in the way he thinks and the way he articulates his thoughts. Still, I was curious and
wanted to know which prestigious university he attended. "College" he laughed. " The last grade
I technically graduated was 6th. They let me keep going forward towards high school because I
was smart enough, but I shouldn't have made it to junior high." He made it until he was 15,
before eventually pursuing cards professionally, traveling the world, and experimenting with
every drug imaginable. But not before he could take the SAT and score a 1490 (out of 1600).
This was all new to me. Where I'm from smart people don't do drugs; Smart people finish high
school. But the human brain is a lot more complex then I gave it credit for. The idea of school
wasn't satisfying for Justin. The idea that results will be obtained "down the road" didn't do it for
his attention riddled mind. So he spent all of his time mastering bridge (eventually poker) and
using what was left of the day to reach new mental dimensions through the world of psychedelic
drugs. That night he told us about week long benders where he'd switch off between ecstasy and
cocaine, doing whatever he could to avoid the depression that comes with coming off the drug. 6
or 7 days later when it was time to recover and finally rest, he would take handfuls of Ambien to
sleep through the depressive stages. Two days later he would wake up, and go on with his life.
Justin recognizes that it's not a healthy way to live, but that it was the way he dealt with bi-polar
disorder, after personally choosing to stop taking his prescription medications at 18. Eventually,
it all became too much and two years ago he found a new, more permanent way to deal with the
pain. He documented what went on that February day here: Ask me anything about jumping off a
bridge in one of the most fascinating pieces of internet literature that I've ever read.
I think Justin struggles with a concept that a lot of brilliant people have trouble dealing with;
Over thinking and a lack of satisfaction. Combined with mental illness, it can be a deadly
combination. Still I don't view Justin's suicide attempt as a personal weakness, but I take it as
more of an example of what it takes to achieve true happiness. The idea of reaching total
happiness is directly correlated with expectations. Some of the smartest, wealthiest people in the
world can't reach this state because of their internal drive to continue accomplishing more then
they are capable of. It's a difficult lesson to learn when you've been taught that "success" comes
with never being satisfied. Though if we're never satisfied, how can we be truly happy?
The night of Blockus ended with my perception of "normal", my perception of reality, in
shambles. Poker players, collectively, and particularly those three, are some of the most
intelligent people that I've come across. Though if I called home and said that my friends were
degenerate pit game playing, drug bender, Alien Believers, they would laugh in my face.

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And I kind of like it that way

MM
03/08/11: The Beauty of the Struggle
Background Music Red Hot Chili Peppers - Soul To Squeeze (If you can hear what I listen to
while I write, then you're one step closer to understanding my state of mind throughout this
journey).
The past year has taught me a lot about poker. Lessons that life had tried teaching me years ago.
Lessons I was too naive to believe could be applied to my profession. Variance is everywhere in
life. We see it in the weather, our relationships, and our everyday moods. We take drugs, move
across the country, and date through the internet in our personal attempts to control the
uncontrollable. It's the reason why the employment system is structured with salaried jobs. As a
society we crave stability. Why then, as poker players, do we choose to get on this ride that jerks
our heads from side to side, blindfolded. Without a clue what's next to come.
It was 3am, about two weeks back, when I got a text from Sam. He was deep in the Venetian
HORSE tournament and wondering if I'd stop by for some moral support. So with my session
coming to an end anyways, I drove down the Strip just in time to see him finish off the final table
and take home the nine thousand and change cash prize.
I've seen the man grind the lowest of games, hours on end, just to pay the rent. So to see the
smile on his face as the final chips were pushed his way and his bankroll gained some much
deserved breathing room brought me a lot of personal joy. "Been a millionaire and then broke 13
times Matt. Still, I betcha tomorrow this victory is gonna be all over the Twitters, and the
Spitters, and the Critters," He told me over his celebratory eggs, grits, and toast at a downtown
diner. "Cheers to the Spitters and the Critters" I said, raising my orange juice, as we laughed
away the night and enjoyed a moment where justice seemed to finally make sense.
I couldn't help but think what a 5 figure score like that would do for me; more so mentally then
financially. I'd just gone through a month long stretch of breakeven poker and was in search of
something, anything, to show for the time I'd been putting into the game.
I spent the next week focusing on the games of other successful players and tightening up a few
leaks in my game that I recognized through their play. Still, at first, I couldn't get off the roller
coaster. Day after day, session after session I found myself winning and then losing back that
very profit the next day. My game felt solid, but I was prone to at least one big mistake each
session. With each mistake I made, I learned something new. Whether it was spots I shouldn't be
bluffing or spots where they are never bluffing, I paid a price for information that would help me
in the future.
Then after watching Joey Bartholdi breeze through the Venetian Deepstack Main Event, finishing
2nd for $93,000 9 days ago, I told myself it was time to start putting that knowledge to practice. I
was tired of watching friends of mine doing big things while I jogged in place. It was time to
hold myself accountable for my progress.

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I took that newfound motivation to the tables, ready for some triumph of my own. I played loads
of hands the past 9 days. Many of them winners, and some of them losers. These are the three
that I found most interesting.
The first spot was that Sunday night against an overaggressive, yet winning player, in the 5/10
game. With one limper he raised in MP to 50. I called on the btn, with A 2 , as did the
limper. The flop came down K T 5
and both players checked to me on the btn. I bet out
100 and the limper quickly folded. Now the action returned to the pre flop raiser who made it
300 total. I couldn't think of many hands he would check raise on this board, but I knew I
couldn't represent much by raising, so I called, planning on using my position later in the hand.
The turn was a J
and now my opponent checked to me. On this type of turn card, all of his
strong hands would have to continue with a bet, but so would his bluffs. His likely holdings were
now one pair hands with a small amount of showdown value. I wasn't going to let him get to
showdown that cheaply. "I'm all in" I announced, effective for my opponents final 950 or so. He
thought for quite some time, clearly irritated and eventually folded. While the pot may not have
been huge, it gave me confidence to go with my reads and put pressure on my opponents.
Later that week I got involved with Rob Pisano, poker famous from his TV time at this year's
main event. In our very first session together I decided to use my unknown reputation by playing
back at him lightly. He opened to 50 in the CO and the btn called. I made it 200 from the BB
with K 9
expecting him to give me a ton of credit. He called as the btn folded, and we took
aK J T
flop. While this is a great flop, my hand isn't that good against his range. Not yet,
at least. I considered check raising the flop all in, but I knew a good player would check back all
of his medium strength hands. So instead I bet out 240. Big enough to build the pot, but small
enough where he may get curious with medium strength hands. The plan was to shove about any
turn if he called; but we never got that chance. Rob counted his chips and announced all in.
While this doesn't bode well for my hand, for only 800 more I had too much potential to fold. I
called as we saw the turn pair the T . A horrible card for me. I prayed for a spade, but it was
not to be as the A
hit the river. "I missed" I said shaking my head. "So did I" responded Rob,
while he flipped over his A 6
for a missed flush, but a rivered higher pair. My heart sunk as
I realized how close I was to holding for a $2600 pot. Still the way I strategically thought out the
hand and got the money in good against a solid player showed that my game was making strides
in the right direction.
The final hand took place during a shot I took at the 10/20 NL game. No, Joe Hachem and Phil
Laak were not in the game. By the time the waiting list emptied out, they were both long gone
for the night. But the lineup looked weak, and my game felt strong. Up a $1,000, I played this
hand with pocket 9's in MP. It folded to me and I opened the action to 80. The co, btn, and both
blinds called, making it difficult for a middle pair to hold up. The flop came K 8 2
rainbow and I chose to check and basically give up when the action got to me. Surprisingly both
players checked behind me as we took a 5
on the turn. This time when it was checked to me I
bet out 260, thinking there was a strong chance my hand was still good. Almost immediately, the
CO tried to convince me otherwise. He threw 9 bills in the middle for a substantial raise. The rest

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of the players folded and the action was back to me. My hand clearly wasn't all that strong, but
what was my opponent representing. Why not bet the flop with a K or a set? There aren't any
reasonable two pair combos out there. The one value hand I could put him on was 55. Too many
combinations of air and draws. So I stuck with my read and shoved him all in for his final 600.
He called and we took a 4
on the river. My 99 was good.
I smiled inside as the dealer shipped me that pot. It was to be my last session before a weekend
trip to LA, and finally I was seeing things clearly at the poker table. Since I last wrote about
poker I'm up roughly 10k, which puts me a tad north of 31k profit since my move in December.
It was nice to take a vacation after a winning streak. There weren't any hands running through
my mind and for the first time I could just relax and check out a new city. On our final night in
LA we were invited to a party in West Hollywood. The area was seedy and the house was
probably the cheapest on the block. But inside there was more energy then any nightclub I've
attended this year. The hosts were aspiring actors and struggling musicians who were celebrating
the completion of their most recent Web Series. For everyone not familiar, a Web Series is an
unpaid production, put onto the internet strictly for exposure. There were no financial gains, and
the actors were still undiscovered; yet you wouldn't have known it based on the celebration.
Stories of auditions for Entourage and opening for Jason Mraz lit up the faces of the storytellers,
just as pots played with Sammy Farha and Don Cheadle did for me.
While they may have been waiting tables while they awaited their big break, there was no
evidence of a struggle in these people. In fact the mood of the night was epitomized when this
song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdlTt3E7w4Y [note: dead link] came on the speakers
and everyone scrambled for a tambourine to bang to the beat while they screamed the lyrics as if
they had written them themselves. The scene brought chills to my bones. I saw beauty in their
struggle; Notably in the character it built and the companionships it helped form. I thought about
my own circle of friends in Vegas and the way we're chasing a very similar dream in a very
similar manner. The tough times build character and bring us closer to the people who are
fighting for the same cause; And even a bad month at the tables or a stretch of rejected auditions
beat a lifetime of regret. Regret for not following a dream or having the courage to take a risk.
I thank god for giving me the courage to take this risk. Because without it I'd be lost and bored,
dreaming of the turbulence.
MM
03/15/11: Poker Celebs and Tourney Runs
I was on a boat, in choppy water; without any sight of land. It's been my worst nightmare since I
was 13, when "Open Water" the movie came out. You know the one where the couple gets left
behind by their cruise ship and eventually needs to make the conscious decision as to whether
they'd rather drowned to death or be eaten by sharks. How the hell did I get here? Where are all
my friends? And why the **** is this boat so unstable? And then it happened. The power of the
waves became too strong for the paper thin sailboat to withstand. I went flying through the air as
the boat turned upside down, crashing into the open water

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I woke up in a cold sweat, to my roommate, accompanied by an unfamiliar face shaking me like

a mad man. "Jesus man, what the **** are you doing," I said to him, with my heart still racing
from the inevitable drowning. I checked my watch. It was 4. 4am. Where am I? What happened
after those shots of Jameson? Why on earth am I ass-naked?.And is that Jungleman?
I was too drunk to articulate any of those thoughts into words, so instead I just "mooooooooed"
until Dan got the point that whatever he wanted, I wanted nothing to do with.
Eight hours later, I woke up, not sure if what had happened during the middle of the night was a
dream. But just in case I walked over to Dan's room and repaid the favor by turning his lights on.
This time it was him who sounded like an injured cow. "Dude why did you wake me up in the
middle of the night?" I asked him confused. "Jungleman. Came over. Heads up. Sweated me.
Thought you'd wanna watch." he said quickly and concisely, implying that the story of the best
Heads up NL player in the world being in our apartment could wait until he woke up.
This is what our lives have come to. The circle of young mid-high stakes poker players is
actually quite small, and very accessible as long as your social skills are stronger then that of a 4
year old. Last week Deep, Joe, Dan, and I woke up bright and early (before noon) and drove out
to the Las Vegas Speedway to watch Dan Blizerian race his '68 cobra and against Tom the
Lawyer's (Tom Goldstein) brand new Ferrari in a quarter mile race for 400k. The crowd for the
race was a mixture of about 60 beautifully plastic women and young poker players. The likes of
Andrew Robl, Durrr, Kingofcards, Peachykeen, and many of the Bellagio high stakes regulars
joined us on the rail as we all traded bets and useless knowledge on why we thought each racer
had the edge. Guys I've been watching on TV for years were now colleagues, acquaintances.
Later that week, my "celebrity" encounters continued as we celebrated Joe's bday at his
Turnberry apartment. I talked to Huck Seed about a strange connection we shared with one of his
college bball teammates and joined in as Jeff Madsen challenged any and everybody to a rap
battle.
Fast forward to late Saturday night and Grizzle and I are drinking whiskey and playing Chinese
poker at the Bellagio. "And then Jeff Madsen started busting out raps about any subject we
suggested. It was crazy." I told him, finishing the story of Joe's birthday. Sam was barely paying
attention. He didn't give a rats ass about whos been on ESPN or in Cardplayer Magazine. "Ain't
dat duh guy who won all dose tournaments a few years back. Boy I'd like to have him all alone at
a head up table. See what he raps about after I take all his money." I gave up and returned my
focus to my 13 card hand. There's no impressing a guy whos seen it all. "Alright Matt I'ma head
home. I'm tryna make it up for that tournament over at the Wynn tomorrow," he finally told me.
"Tournament?" "Yeah it's their final $500 buy-in for the Wynn Classic at noon." Maybe I'll play
too, I thought, before checking my watch and realizing it was already 4:30am. **** you daylight
savings.
I went to bed with no intentions of waking up for the tournament, but a sore and immobile neck
kept me from getting any real sleep. Finally, at 1130 after hours of tossing and turning, I gave up
and zombied my way into the shower. I tossed on some shorts, my black UNLV jersey and
jumped in Dan's car as he too was up early and willing to give me a ride to the Wynn. "These are

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those rocks with the energy you're always talking about," I asked him while I fiddled around with
a black one he had sitting in his cup holder, "Care if I take one. It would make a great card
protector." He agreed and just like that, the first of my new tournament superstitions was
inherited.
I sat down at my table and recognized no one as I looked around at all the old men; Guys who
were in town just as much for the booze and the hookers as they were the poker tournaments. I'd
chop off my left thumb to have this lineup at one of my cash game tables, I thought to myself, as
the cards were tossed. Still, with my tournament game, I fully expected to be bounced and back
at the pool by 2 sharp.
With my starting stack up to 12k from the original 10, I played my first interesting spot at 50/100
when a guy who'd just lost a big pot last hand raised in EP to 300. I looked down at two black
Queens while I nodded my head to the Kid Cudi beat playing in my ear. I chose to reraise the
action up to 800 on the btn. The rest of the table folded and my opponent took the opportunity to
4-bet me to 2200. Some people may bluff here, but this guy ALWAYS has a value hand. The
problem was he may be on tilt, so his range is deeper then it's usual AA or KK. Plus I don't like
to fold. Why the **** am I still thinking? I called. The flop came 862 and in stride the old man
stuck the rest of his stack in the middle. A 6,000 chip bet for me to call. Oh well, I thought, as I
tossed in the call, preparing myself not to be surprised either way. Luckily it was JJ. The turn was
an A and the river a T. I was the early chip leader at the table, and ready to take on the role of
table captain.
But first let me digress and talk about my 2nd tournament superstition. Every time I win my first
big pot I keep whatever song was playing on repeat until I run into bad luck. Yes it becomes
repetitive, but that's the world of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Plus the song I was stuck with
Kid Cudi - Up Up and Away for the rest of the day was at least motivating and uplifting. Once I
had to listen to Sara Berellis "Love Song" for 94 straight times during a deep Full Tilt run. Now
that was the worst.
Later an old man with a big stack and a Titleist hat got moved 2 to my right. He did not take a
liking to my constant raising and it showed in these two hands we played together.
With the blinds at 200/400 A25 it was folded to me in the btn and I made it 1075 with J 4 .
Titleist called in the BB and then checked to me on a 9 6 5
flop. I cbet 1200 and he
called almost immediately. As he called I double checked my cards, strictly a habitual thing.
Turns out I actually had 34. Now the flops not so bad. The turn was a 3
and I decided to check
back after his check, thinking he's not folding any hands better than mine. The river was a Q ,
completing a backdoor flush draw, but missing my straight. This time my opponent led into me
for 2900. A very big bet for any one pair hands. Wouldn't he just bet small with a 9 and check a 5
or a 6? So I called. "You're good" I heard as he flipped over 8 4
for just an 8 high. I flipped
over my pair of 3s and you could see in this guy's eyes that it made him sick. It was personal
now.

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One round later I raised the CO to 1125 with K 4

and Titleist again cold-called me out of
position, this time in the SB. The flop came J 5 6
and I Cbet 1600, knowing we were
deep and that I had a couple backdoor draws. Well, calling didn't work for Titleist last time, so
this time he tried raising. He made it 4200, 2600 more for me to call. I didn't see him raising me
with a J, so I called Bull**** and decided to float the flop, knowing I could raise him on a lot of
turns. The turn was a K . And this time he bet really small into me, 3200. I called without
much thought. The river was an A
and now I expected him to shut down. But to my surprise
he bet out 6800, completely throwing me for a loop. It was a good bet and took me some time to
decipher it's meaning. Could he have run into an Ace? Unlikely as he would've probably just
called the flop with some showdown value. Plus this guy wanted to beat me bad after last hand.
"I call". Again he nodded, this time mucking his hand before I could even turn over a winner. By
the end of his time at our table I'd taken 95% of his 30K stack, busting him, and moving myself
into chip lead territory with 60k in ammo.
With 80 of the original 180 players remaining or table broke and I took my 60k in chips to my
next battleground. My first hand took place with the blinds at 500/1000 a100. I raised 88 in MP
only to see an Asian girl (JJ Lui) raise all in for 19k total on the btn. It was her 3rd all in shove in
2 orbits. Apparently, this is a difficult spot. Being a cash game donk I wouldn't personally know,
but tournament people tell me it's close. So what do gamblers like me do in tough spots. Call,
obviously. After all, you can't win when you fold. She flipped over 99. Just great. The board ran
out KT47A and I was down to about 40k in chips.
It seemed like light years passed before my next playable hand. After all, the experts say you're
supposed to play tight in these tournament things. But finally at 800/1600 a100 I picked up K
K
on the btn. A mid aged guy raised the CO to 3600 and I had a decision with a 30k stack.
Any type of non-shove raise looks really strong and his hand doesn't necessarily have to be
premium, so I saw a good slow playing opportunity. The flop came J J 5
and he checked
to me. I imagined he would've bet all of his bluffs, so I bet 4700, expecting him to call with a
hand that had decent show down value. He did. The turn was a bad card as the A
peeled off,
but again he checked to me. I checked back almost immediately. A 2
came on the river and
again my opponent checked his hand. I saw a chance at some thin value and bet 8400, hoping all
his mid pairs would get greedy and make the call. Well I got one part of the equation correct; he
made the call. But his mid pair was actually A7. I had value owned my self to a short stack.
I counted my measly remaining 13k in chips as Kid Cudi continued to sing the words "Up, Up,
and Away" in my ears, seemingly referencing my disappearing chip stack. **** you Cudi. You've
worn out your welcome. Next song up: Mumford and Sons - Little Lion Man
I tightened up as we proceeded, only playing to shove the btn or co as a means to survival. With
14K I found another standard shoving position with one limper to me in the HJ. I pushed all the
money in the middle with A Q . Unfortunately the Btn woke up with a real hand. The
heavily accented Spaniard counted all of his chips and announced all in himself. He had JJ and
we were off to the races for my tournament life. The flop came K T 6
giving me a little

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bit of life. The turn was the interesting J , filling up my straight, but leaving him outs to a full
boat. Brick, brick, brick, I prayed as the river unfolded. It was a 9 . I was still in business. I
had made it to dinner break. Unfamiliar territory to say the least.
I wandered down to the pool, as I did during every break, returned to the bathroom as they were
returning to play, and relieved myself in the same urinal I had the previous 2 times, 3 spots from
the wall. We were down to 5 tables and I was 20 players from my first cash since before I was
legally old enough to play tournaments.
While my stack was a little rejuvenated, I still needed to make moves. And with 26K at 1k/2k
200a I did just that. The only player in the field who was still limping, limped in MP. Another
bad player limped to my direct right. I looked down at A 8
in the CO and saw a bunch of
chips in the middle that I needed to make mine. I went all in, dropping to my new signature all in
pos. My elbows rested on the table and formed a triangle with my hands. My head rested on my
hands and my spiritual rock was moved from my chips to my cards. The action got to JJ Lui in
the SB. She thought forever. Oh dear god she's going to call me. I panicked on the inside, while
remaining calm on the outside. But the longer she took, the more likely I knew she was to fold. A
minute went by before she tossed her hand in the muck. Then the first limper mucked while
mumbling something I couldn't comprehend with my headphones in. The final action was on he
2nd limper, the player I thought least likely at the whole table to call my bet. He was short
stacked too. It appeared he was one "oh screw it" thought from shoving in. But eventually he
turned over his 88, a hand that had me murdered and folded face up. To make the survival more
unlikely, JJ commented how she folded AJ.
Now I'm getting the hang of these things I thought, with a smile on my face, as I relaxed a little
bit, singing along to Mumford and Sons. Up to 33k, my stack was far from comfortable at
1200/2400. But I found another good opportunity to better my situation when the action folded to
me on the btn with 22. I announced all in and assumed the position as the blinds checked their
cards. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as the SB counted his chips and eyed the stack of
the BB's instead of worrying about mine. Uh oh. I really ****ed it up this time, didn't I my dear.
He announced all in and flipped over pocket 1s. I had him dominated in UNO, but in Texas
Hold'em I was on life support. "Good hand" I commented as the dealer burned and turned. But
before he could even respond the tides had changed. Deuce in the door. My opponent smacked
the table, just about knocking off my whole stack. There was no more help for the Aces and now
I was in business. I kinda stared at the rock for a few seconds as the dealer pushed me the pot as
if to say "you really did that didn't you." The energy, the Karma. I was a believer.
With 3 tables left I was moved to a new location and chose to take advantage of my unknown
reputation by stealing the now important blinds a few times before anyone caught on. Then with
19 players left, one from the money, I got into an interesting spot with a tight player at the table.
He was in the Sb and raised to 5600. I looked down at my cards in the Bb and saw A T . He
had 34K remaining. Of all my 3 options I had no clue which was best. God, I suck at
tournaments. I had only seen this guy show one hand and it was Aces. I decided to call, thinking
with the money bubble upon us, he would give up a lot on bad flops. The flop came T 7
3 . Perfect. But now my opponent confidently moved in for 34k. I shuffled the chips and
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weighed my risk and reward. I had no idea what I wanted to do. As I was thinking, the payout
structure caught my eye. I saw 770 for 18th and 25k for 1st. That was all I needed to see to
remind me that I entered to win, not to place. I call. He reached for his cards confidently. Too
confidently. T 9 . I was goodfor the moment. The turn was a Q. No redraws, he was down
to 3 outs. The river had no paint. It looked medium. I stood up tall from the 1 seat to get a quick
glance, it was a 7.
"And we're in the money" the tournament director announced. The low stacks congratulated each
other and the big stacks walked around eyeing the competition. I was somewhere in the middle.
6th out of 18. I was ecstatic to have finally accomplished something, but joy is a weak emotion. I
showed no signs of content as I eyed the big stacks letting them know I was there to win.
We bagged up our chips, we were done playing for the night. I went home with a stack of 105K,
but I knew I still was short of the ultimate goal. Thoughts of 25k consumed my thoughts as I laid
awake in bed staring at the ceiling, dreaming of the stars...
03/18/11: Wynn Tournament Day 2
I woke up for day two at 7:45. Not because of nerves or adrenaline; I had none of those. After all
I'd made the money in a tournament for the first time since Obama took office. The rest was
gravy.
I woke up to my alarm. We had a tee time at Rio Seco for 9am and it would've been criminal to
pass up on the free $100 Joe and I were about to win. Especially the way we'd been hitting the
ball lately.
So I drove out to Henderson and spent the morning in the mountains, playing the nicest course
we'd played to date (a smidge better then Paiute). Although I hadn't planned it that way, golf
proved to be the perfect remedy to the hopeful thinking and wild daydreaming that comes
whenever a potential big score is on the horizon. To give the day a somewhat normal feel.
Somewhat.
No thanks to me, we gave our opponents the ample whooping they deserved, finishing out the
match with 5 holes to play. I spent most of the day searching the desert for my erratic tee shots,
though I finished the match with a 20 foot birdie putt on the 14th, boosting my mental
confidence in ways that would hopefully pay off later.
After a drawn out lunch and some afternoon traffic, I exited the I-15 at 4:10, a bit late for the 4
o'clock starting time. Still, play was slow and by the time I'd reached my seat I'd only gone
through the blinds once, leaving me right around 100k in chips.
The table was solid, but tentative. I used that description to gain chips early without any real
hands. I opened twice in the first couple rounds, both times from UTG. Tuna, my golfing
buddy/opponent had opened my eyes to a strategy he'd been using in tournaments recently;
stealing from UTG against solid opponents. People give too much respect, he told us. I liked the
theory behind it and both times I attempted it, it worked to the tune of folds around the table.

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With my stack up to 115k and with 14 players left, I was in the Sb when UTG, a solid internet
player, raised the action to 9800 at 2k/4k 500a. This was the 2nd time he'd raised UTG. Perhaps
he was a friend of Tuna's as well. Regardless, I knew he respected my game and I assumed he'd
give me credit for a 3-bet in this spot. So I raised him to 23.5k with 9 3
He thought for a bit
as I crouched into my newfound "poker position" and eventually folded while telling me "I was
this close to pulling the trigger". He would pull the trigger plenty of times later, busting a few of
the remaining players while taking the chip lead into the final table.
We drew cards and moved up to the elevated stage when we reached 10 players. My stack was
around 130K, somewhere in the middle, and I was awarded the 10 seat, my favorite position. I
analyzed the remaining opponents and determined that I was probably the 4th best tournament
player remaining (ZOMG threads a joke, Matt just said he's 4th best!); With all three superior
players to my immediate right. It seemed as though the stars were aligning perfectly in my favor.
I had little time to relish in my fortune however, as I was involved in an unfamiliar spot in the
very first hand. The tournament short stack shipped all in for 26k in MP at 3k/6k/ 500a and I had
the Bb with Q 5 . Getting exactly 2:1 on my money I wouldn't have thought twice about
calling in a cash game. But this was a tournament and I was clueless as to the value of those 20k
in chips to my stack, vs the reward of knocking out an opponent. In fact, I still have no idea. But
at the time I called because, well, calling is more fun then folding. He had A 8
and we were
off to the races. The tournament director called out the hands and was greeted with "ooooooos"
and "aaaaaaaas" as the flop brought out 2 2 4 . Though I didn't know what they were
getting so excited about. I knew that flushes never come when you flop the world. They only
sneak up on you when you least expect it. The turn was a 7 , making me more suspicious, and
the river a J , confirming my belief that I was drawing dead as soon as I picked up 15 outs on
the flop.
****. Time for a new song. The Ipod was on shuffle and the next song not only relaxed me, but
got me in the singing mood. Rock me Gently. Don't get me wrong, I'm no Whitney Houston, but
boy do I love to sing, especially when I'm nervous. It sure beat my old nervous habit. Growing
up I used to chew my shirts and put holes in the neck, until my mom threatened to dress me in
my sister's clothes if I didn't stop ruining all of my shirts. So, I moved on to singing.
"Rock me gently, rock me slowly" kept me sane for the next 2 hours as the short stacks won
every race and we couldn't get down past 8 players. The old guy to my left was getting a kick out
of it. Old guys always get a good tickle when us youngsters do something out of the ordinary.
Anyways my patience paid off as I was hit with a small rush of cards with the blinds at 4k/8k 1k.
I shoved my stack of 100k into the middle twice in a row from MP with the respectable hands 55
and A J . Both times it folded around and "voila" just like that I was back up to 140k.
Looking down at my next hand I saw a pair of Queens in very early position. My default play
was to just shove in again as I still only had like 17bb. Though before I could pull the trigger, I
had a moment of clarity. I had been super active 3 hands in a row. My opponents don't know that

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I had legitimate hands. In their eyes it looks like I've been overactive. If I just make a small bet
here, maybe one of the more active players will try and take advantage of my aggressiveness. So
I made it 19k to go. With my headphones on and my eyes aimed at the floor, I received a nudge
from the dealer. The action was back on me and the overaggressive player on the btn had shoved
his entire 130k stack into the middle. "I call" I announced confidently as I flipped over my hand.
He sheepishly countered with K8o. Oh my god, my plan had worked. My plans never work. Still,
the hand was far from over. After all, one little King ball and I'm out the door with nothing to
show for my performance except a lousy $1,000 prize. I took a deep breath in between singing as
I prepared myself for the potential end. The flop kept me safe as the J
4
and 6
popped
their way out. The turn brought paint. Male paint. J
paired the board. "Phew" I said as my
heart did its best attempt at breaking through my rib cage. The river was the prettiest card in the
deck, the Ace of Spades. We were down to 7 players and my stack was now one of the tops in the
game.
I stayed out of trouble for the next little while, as the shorter stacks fought for survival. Barely
paying attention I heard the words I'd been singing all afternoon coming from the other side of
the dealer. I turned and looked, it was the old man and he was all in. He gave me a wink and I
smiled back as we awaited the Bb's decision. His pocket 8s got called by AJ and he was all in for
his tournament life. Logically, I was rooting for the big stack to win, but that old man gained
some of my respect as he rocked out to Andy Kim. However, it wasn't meant to be as a J on the
turn proved to be the old man's swan song
After another knock out we were down to 5 players, with all of our stacks fairly even, around
300k. The blinds were up to 8k/16k a1k as each decision was gaining more importance. I found
myself in a pickle when the most solid player remaining raised his btn to 48k. The sb folded and
it was up to me. I had A4o. This player was solid, so it was tough to know if I was good. But he
did something different this time. His raises earlier in the table had typically been 2-2.5x the bb.
It was as if he was trying to tell me through his bet sizing that he had a strong hand. But strong
meant weak to me. With 5th place "only getting" 4k, it was easier to strategize in my head then to
actually go forward with the plan. But the final straw came when I asked him how much he had
remaining. Instead of telling me how much he had left he told me how much he began the hand
with, 290k. It sounds stronger, are we catching on yet? Before I could properly think out my
decision, the words "all in" came flying out of my mouth. It was instinctual; it didn't come from
my brain. Please don't **** me instincts. Don't do me like that. The adrenaline rush was shortlived as my opponent tossed his hand into the muck and my stack took a huge boost.
A few hands later that same opponent ran AQ into AK and we were down to 4 players. One solid
player to my right and two old men, clearly recreational players. Unfortunately they had most of
the chips. So we proposed a deal and eventually agreed on 3rd and 4th place making 10k, 2nd
getting 16k, and 1st getting 20k and the trophy. Just like that I was guaranteed my biggest
tournament score of all time. The nerves were officially gone. Sure the goal was to still win, but
knowing I was guaranteed 10k, meant I wouldn't leave disappointed. We ordered Patron shots for
the table and cheers'd to the good fortune that landed us with such a great opportunity.
It didn't take long for 4th to be decided as the last solid player got his A8 in against QJ, but
couldn't hold up. We were 3 handed with the stacks looking like: 1 seat 500k, 5 seat 600k, me
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400k. The blinds were up to 10k/20k leaving variance as the ultimate decider as to who took
home the trophy, but still I couldn't help but think about how much better I was then the
competition. The 5 seat had turned his game up a notch and began raising erratically. He raised
out of the Sb to 55k, and before I could look at my cards I told him "I hope I have a good hand
because I would love to go all in right now." The first card was an A . The 2nd a K . I put on
the Hollywood for half a minute before announcing "All in". Immediately I was greeted with a
call. "Oh no" he said in his Asian accented english as he showed K Q . "I would love an
Ace" I told the dealer as he prepared to bring us the flop. J
6
2 . I nodded my head in
agreement, but stopped as the T
brought my opponent new life. Please god, don't **** me.
Not now, not while I'm this close. Burn. Turn. Ace of spades; the ugliest card in the deck.
A Walk On The Wild Side. This Lou Reed beat played in my head, as I weighed the frustration of
the finish vs. the ecstasy of the whole 2 days.
I shook my head, and then the hands of the remaining players. I congratulated them and made
my way to the podium to fill out the necessary forms. Before I could even sign on the dotted line,
the match had ended. The 5 seat took my chips and used them to take down the 1 seat the very
next hand.
I was disappointed, but I refused to let it alter my perception of the experience. After all, I gained
quite a bit of luck in the form of 22 vs AA and just the absolute nut table draw to begin the final
table. A victory would've been satisfying, but 10k certainly helped ice the pain.
We celebrated at Naked Fish with enough sushi to fill Lake Mead and enough Sake to block out
all of our individual worriesat least for the moment. The 10k put my Vegas profit north of 40k,
and my main focus now is to avoid "Too much money syndrome" and instead continue growing
my bankroll closer to 100k.
When Justin gets back from his bridge tournament we have a 2 week "who can profit more at the
5/10NL" prop bet beginning. He's definitely a favorite, but hopefully the competition can
motivate me to keep striving towards the levels I know my game can reach.
But for now I'm enjoying the moment. My life upswing.
Matt
03/23/11: March Madness
After a few days of relaxing and enjoying my tournament success, the turnover was quick with
March Madness beginning that Thursday. The first two days of the big dance may be an annual
hooky day for many of America's youth and elders; A day to sit on the couch and watch
basketball for twelve straight hours. But around here it's one of the largest tourist weekends of
the year. High School get togethers and Fraternity reunions fly in by the thousands to get wasted
bright and early, betting on teams with players they've never heard of, based on the logic of
"Dude it's Moorehead St." and "I once nailed this slut who dropped out of VCU. She was so
dumb. They must be good at basketball". Yes, I heard both of these statements last weekend.

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With the weekend overlapping with St. Patrick's Day this year, the scene was something like
straight out of Boon Dock Saints. The streets were more crowded then any day of the year
(besides New Years) with the majority of the people dressed in Green and draped in beads,
listening to the free concert taking place in the alley outside of O'Sheas. Those who were inside
filled the Sportsbooks to the brim as they shifted their attention from TV to TV, from ticket to
ticket. As if the booze and the gambling weren't enough, two gorgeous girls (in a Pamela
Anderson and Tila Tequila kind of way), wearing basically nothing, were walking through the
Bellagio crowd, passing out their own personalized hooker cards. When times are tough you
gotta eliminate the middle man.
As the law of averages would have it, I too had a few friends in town for the festivities. Friends
who played a direct role in getting me into poker, friends I needed to show a good time. Slowly I
gave my best effort to donate my tournament score back to where it came from. I spent the week
at the Wynn rotating between whiskey and espresso, between craps and blackjack. The gambling
really wasn't too much of a problem as I kept my investments minimal, but the late nights and
excessive partying was killing my energy and motivation the next day.
In fact, on Saturday I arrived at the Bellagio around 9 pm and witnessed the juiciest 10/20 NL
game I'd ever seen assembled. I walked up to the podium, registered for the list and ordered a
double shot of espresso to make sure my awareness and alertness were prepared for the
opportunity. Still, 45 minutes later, by the time my name was called, I could barely keep my eyes
open. All the caffeine in the world couldn't account for the lack of sleep and nutrition that I'd put
myself through the previous 2 nights. I was forced to walk home before 10pm and call it an early
night. My seat, and the potential of a small fortune, was taken by another regular. A regular with
their priorities intact, who understood the opportunity cost of lacking maturity on a big tourist
weekend.
It's a difficult dilemma to balance, especially for someone my age. Vegas is the Mecca for young
adult weekend getaways. I've had countless amount of friends come to town since December.
Some who I talk to on a daily basis, others who I haven't seen since junior high. Still the pressure
is large to play host and show everyone a good time. After all, I'm the Vegas local. I'm supposed
to know the tourist hot spots and the local gems. And if you've ever gone out with tourists in
town for the weekend, they party like the world's about to end. Sometimes it gets difficult to
maintain a "real world lifestyle" when the rest of the town is living in a fantasyland.
Finally on Sunday I was mentally rejuvenated and eager to play a long session for the first time
all week. I got to Bellagio and there was still a relatively packed room with plenty of leftover
gamblers from the weekend. I sat down in a 5 handed must move game with a couple regulars
and two Russians. Right away, one of the particular Russians set the tone for an aggressive game
when he 3-bet the first two pots without any resistance. Then in the 3rd hand I picked up K
Q
and raised one limper to 50 in the CO. The btn called and AGAIN the same Russian
squeezed to 220. Folding a hand with this kind of strength wasn't much of an option in position,
so I called and the btn followed suit. The flop came K 8 7
and the Russian led into us for
320. With a 1300 stack I had an interesting decision. A shove over reps my hand, but a lot of turn
cards can kill my action if I choose to just call. In the end I decided on going all in, as the money
in the pot was large enough to justify the move. The btn quickly folded and the Russian went into
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the tank. "Okay I call" he said after a few moments as we watched the board run out 4
9 .
"One pair" I said as he responded with a shoulder shrug as if to say "okay which one". I flipped
up my KQ and knew I was in trouble as he reached quickly for his cards. His AK had me out
kicked as somehow I'd ran into the top of this Lagtard's range.
After reloading, I established a wild image pretty quickly. I 3bet in a few spots showing a 5 or a
7 when my opponent folded in order to get paid off down the road. Down the road turned out to
be 5 minutes later when I picked up a real hand when the action folded to me. With A K
I
opened the CO to 40. The btn and sb called as the action reached the same aggressive Russian
opponent. He 3bet the action up to 210 and it was back to me. Quickly and efficiently I made it
560 in order to appear like I was playing off his aggression. The spectators folded and my
Russsian opponent went into the tank. When he emerged he announced all in, to which I almost
beat him into the pot. Surely this time I had to be good. He showed a K, then another K. This
can't be real, I thought to myself. I shook my head as the flop brought me no help with the 9
6 5 . The shakes reached violent levels as the turn paired the 9 . I was in disbelief. The
2
on the river finished me off as I'd officially shipped the KGB 3k in a matter of 14 minutes.
Broke, I walked back to my box, in search of more currency. "I decided to play in a bigger game"
I lied to the sexy Phillipino who works at the cage, embarrassed by the real reason I was back in
so little time. She nodded with a "I know why youre here" smirk as she handed me my box. "Oh
this time don't forget your magic rock," she told me while placing my forgotten piece of karma
into my hand. "Thanks" I laughed, too tilted to decipher her level of sarcasm.
I returned to the table, this time with the rock, joking to the foreigners that it may take at least an
hour to win this 3k.
In my first chance to get involved, I looked down at the dreaded AK again, this time in the Sb. A
girl, who I hadn't yet seen play a hand, raised it up to 40 in the CO. I made it 150 and she quickly
called me. The flop came Q J 2
and I checked my cards and then checked the action
upon discovering that I didn't have a diamond. She checked back and we saw an A
on the
turn. While this appears to be a great card, most of her range should be AQ, AJ, and AT in this
spot. So I checked again and she fired 240 this time. I called, not liking my hand very much, but
definitely too stuck to fold. The river brought a Q
and again I checked to her. She didn't
hesitate before betting $400 of her remaining $700 in chips. The spot seemed very strange. She
never has a non-A high flush here, and now AQ has become a lot less likely. Still it seems like a
horrible spot to bluff. But sometimes recreational players do stupid things I reminded myself as I
announced "call". "Pair of two's" she announced as I checked the board assuming she meant 2's
full. But all she had was the 24o for one lonely pair.
Up to $2500 I made most of my profit by isolating the new table fish with extremely large raises.
The table didn't adjust to my strategy and virtually allowed me to single handily abuse the fish.
Then just like that, they fought back.

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The fish limped utg and a bad regular limped behind him. I raised to 90 in the HJ with K 8 .
The btn cold called, the fish called, and the regular joined in as well. The flop came K T 4
and I pot controlled with a check. The btn checked behind and we took a 7
on the turn.
The fish checked but this time the bad regular bet 200. I called and the other two players folded.
The river was an 8
and this time my opponent lead into me for 600. My 2 pair was strong but
all of his value hands were crushing mine. However, something smelled fishy, so I called, and
wasn't surprised to hear him say "I missed".
The battle to even was completed when I coolered a non-believing regular with 99 against his AJ
on a 4J9 6 4 board. After collecting my chips, I counted them up to see that I was in fact an $80
winner for the night. Still, I was ecstatic. Sometimes the relief of getting unstuck is more
powerful then the elation after a huge score.
I woke up the next morning to a call from Deep. It was early and I could tell something unusual
was happening as he asked me for my landlord's number. "Is your lease up or something" I asked
him curiously. "No dude, I got robbed this morning, and I am getting the **** out of this place".
I could feel the anger in his voice. Turns out after he left his West side apartment complex at 4am
for a late night Bellagio session, someone climbed up through his balcony, entered his bedroom
and stole both of his computers. Lucky for him the moron's didn't search long enough to find the
camera or the 50k in cash he had stashed in his desk.
Still, the situation could've been easily avoidable. Deep chose to save a little money by living in
a low security apartment complex. He chose not to get a box at a casino because no one ever
thinks they're a candidate to get robbed until it happens to them. It made me think of what it
takes to be a great poker player. It's more then picking good spots and exploiting fish. It's about
being safe and responsible. It's about being prepared and taking advantage of opportunities when
they smack you in the face. Being a poker professional is a 24 hour job. For the better and for the
worse. There are always decisions we can make and drinks we can pass up that can greater our
EV. And there are always backdoor flushes and balcony robberies that can bust our bankrolls if
we're not careful enough.
MM
03/27/11: Luck vs. Skill
Friday marked the first day of my 2 week prop bet with Justin Lall. The rules entail that each
player can play as many hours as they desire during the 14 day window as long as they take
place at the Bellagio 5/10 game. Table selecting is allowed and encouraged, but if we are ever at
the same table, switching seats to gain position is prohibited.
The player who shows the least profit, or the most losses, is stuck with the bill at the restaurant
of the winner's choice. I've been researching the Michelin Star restaurants in the Las Vegas area,
as I plan on making it sting when I come out ahead.
Justin's game is best described as calculated craziness. Sometimes playing up to 85% VPIP ($
Voluntarily Put in Pot) and constantly over betting the pot. He's built a reckless reputation, but
gets paid because intermediate players struggle in deciphering good versus bad bluffing spots. As
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a result of his constant involvement, a lot of half-brained regulars have pegged him as lucky.
Hence the name for the challengeLuck versus Skill; Coke vs. Cherry Coke.
Day 1
I assumed I was getting an early start to my day when I'd finished working out and was just a
shower away from heading to the Bellagio at 5:45 pm. But just as I was turning the shower knob
to the right I got this text from Justin, "Just doubled up verse the Euro Girl. Had either 4,7, or 8
outs. Probably 4. Luck verse Skill baby." Bastard.
If I was going to lose due to playing bad or running bad, I could accept it. But I did not enter the
challenge to get outworked. To get outgrinded. No matter how many cherry cokes it took me, I
was going to stay awake and alert the necessary hours. I simply couldn't afford not to.
I hustled to the Bellagio, getting in around 6:15, and was seated immediately in one of the 5 open
games. As luck would have it, I was given a seat at Justin's table, two seats to his left. Sitting in
one of Justin's games is a predetermined advantage to any young player who looks capable of
aggression in the slightest way. See once the older folk get used to paying off Justin super light,
they typically start paying us all off light, either subconsciously or just retardedly.
After value-betting my way to a $2200 stack I got involved in a pot with 8 7
I raised in the
co to 40. The btn, an unfamiliar old man, and the bb, a bad regular made the call. Flop came
Q T 8 , giving me bottom pair and a backdoor flush draw and I decided to Cbet 90,
knowing I'd have to fire a few barrels. Both players called the bet, but I got lucky with the 8
on the turn. The bb checked and this time I bet 270. Now the Btn looks at his bills picks up 4 of
them and places them in the pot. The dealer asks him if he meant to raise and he says "yes". But
because he didn't put at least half of the raise into the pot it's ruled a call. This has me very
concerned. The bb folds and the river comes a 2 . Of course I check, and the Btn shoves in for
690. I can't think of many hands I'm beating, but something in my head tells me to pay attention
to the "random spazz aggression" factor that shows up in so many bad players. Especially since I
only need to be right 1 out of 3 times for the call to be right. On that note I called and got shown
the nut straight.
Disappointed in my decision making, I didn't have any room to tilt as Justin was chugging along
on the other side of the table with a big stack of chips. So I went back to the grind, bringing my
stack back up to the $2,000 territory. With Justin returning from one of his cig breaks, he posted
in mp and checked. The action folded to me in the sb and I raised K T
to 50, knowing
Justin would've raised his good hands from his position. The Bb folded, but Justin called while
reminding me that every pot we played together was technically worth double. I led for 70 on a
9 5 2
board and Justin reacted by placing 2 $100 bills into the pot. My hand isn't very
strong here, but his range is weak 9's and a lot of air, so I called planning on putting pressure on
him in later streets. The turn came a Q
and we went check check. At this point I knew he had
showdown value and prepared myself for a big bet on the river. As luck would have it I spiked a
J
for the nuts. I lead for 440 and Justin went into the tank. I stared blankly at the board, but
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inside I was screaming for him to play back at me. My wish was granted when Justin looked at
the dealer and announced "all in". I called immediately and scooped the first big pot of the
match.
Up about 1500, I returned from dinner to find a familiar face to my left. Typically one of my
enemies, she spends much her time at the table berating me for aggressive play, always daring
me to try it one more time. Spooky thing is she looks identical to the girl in the 5th row, 2nd
column Poker Bank Avatars. Anyways, today the Full Tilt Granny is in a peculiarly happy mood.
Talking my ear off with her big chip stack and inviting me over to dinner. Things she would
never be doing if she was stuck like usual.
But I wasn't interested in her special recipe pork chops, I was looking to take a bite out of her
stack. And the perfect opportunity arose when I picked up K K
in the sb. With two limpers
to me, I raised it up to 70. FTG looks at me and real quickly says, "You raise me, I raise you
back. Make it 400" in her Hispanically accented English. I sat for a few moments counting my
chips before pushing them all across the line, knowing she wouldn't fold any of her hands. She
called immediately and we saw the 9 6 2
on the flop. The turn was another 9
and
things were looking good for me. The river, however, brought the A of hearts, which would've
scared me if not for FTG holding her hand face down over the muck, asking me if I have an ace.
"No ace here" I said. All of a sudden she rose out of her seat, adding about 2 inches to her height,
while yelling "good cause I do" and throwing her AK face up onto the felt. I was pissed. Not in a
"I shoulda won that pot" way. But more in a "I want to smack my first old lady" kind of way. I'd
been slowrolled by the Full Tilt Granny.
Things ran pretty dry for the next few hours as I swayed between getting unstuck and falling
back stuck. At around 3:30 Justin left for the night, penciling in a 2800 profit on the first day.
Usually this was around my bedtime, but I wasn't tired, and I sure as hell wasn't ready to concede
that much of a deficit.
So I sat and grinded, waiting for my spot. It came an hour later when I raised the btn to 50 with
KK. The kid in the sb who I would describe as being "aggressive for the sake of being
aggressive" made it 180. I counted out the chips to smooth call, when all of a sudden I saw 4
$100 bills flying into the pot. The Bb, an Asian gentleman, had 4bet the action, with $1200
behind. I thought for awhile about the best way to disguise my strength in this spot. A call
seemed way to obvious, so I chose to go all in. The sb quickly got out of the way, and the Bb
started venting out loud. "You don't look like the type to Hollywood," he said in my direction. He
was right, it was legitimate thinking. "Okay I hope you have Jacks" he said while putting the
remainder of his money into the pot. The board ran out 874 A T. My kings were good, as the long
session was finally starting to pay off.
Up about 1200 at 430am, I planned on calling it a night and booking a winning session, when the
one person in town who could impede that plan walked into the poker room. Nobody knows his
name, but we all just refer to him in overly friendly gestures like "my man" "brother" and
"superstar". He's an Indian fellow who comes into Bellagio once in a blue moon and plays super
loose until he's lost everything in his pocket. To make matters better, tonight he was drunk.
Hammered drunk. I tipped the floor guy a $10 chip as he allowed us to play ten handed and get
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the fish into the game. While most people passively awaited to enter pots with him, I made up
my mind that I was going to take control of the action and make sure he lost his money to me.
The problem was we didn't know how long he was going to last. In between hands he would drift
in and out of consciousness, as he finished the night off with a Jack on the rocks.
Then after 3betting him preflop and betting a dry board with T 7 , I tabled my hand to get
him more interested in the game. He flew up from his chair like a frightened dog and told me
"Okay buddy that one woke me up. Lets play some fawking poker."
A few hands later he limped, so I followed suit and limped the btn with Q7o. Six players to the
flop we saw the 745. Checked to "my man" and he bet 190 into 60. Normally this is a fold, but
this is no normal opponent. "500" I said when the action got to me. Everyone else folded as my
opponent immediately called. The turn paired the 5 and my man postured to try to keep me from
betting. But I saw right through the plan and pushed him all in for his final 650. He called
immediately as a 2 hit the river. "I got a 7" I said. "Me too" my opponent responded while
confidently flipping over his 7 with a 3 kicker. My Q was good as I raked in the monster pot with
one small pair in a limped pot.
Poker is a crazy game sometimes. One of my cardinal rules is not going broke in limped pots.
But if you're not ready to make the proper adjustments, then money-making opportunities are
going to pass right by. If there's one thing this bet is teaching me, it's that you can't leave
opportunities untapped. I can't be satisfied with a winning session at any point because my
opponent is constantly trying to better his status. Justin's going to make a lot of money. If I want
to keep up, I must adjust.
I won 2400 for the night over the course of a 12 hour session.
Day 2 saw me play another long session, this time 8 hours and producing a $1200 profit. Justin's
progress took a step back Saturday as he ran bad and eventually played worse leaving 5k at the
Bellagio. The totals after 2 days are Matt +3650 and Justin -2520.
MM
04/05/11: Days 3,4, and 5
At the conclusion of day 2, the Luck vs. Skill challenge took a turn for the strange. I got a good
night's sleep, preparing myself for more winning; while FeedMyKids took a page out of Charlie
Sheen's book and celebrated the losing like a post-concert rock star. "I'm going on an epic
bender" he texted me on the drive home that Saturday night. I didn't hear from FMK for 4 days,
leaving me amazed, concerned, and amused all at the same time. Though I was never told what
he did during his week off, it's safe to assume it included mounds of blow, bottles of Jack, and
girls named Crystal and Candy. Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, you see how the match earned it's
undertitle; Coke vs. Cherry Coke.
And so the legend of the indescribable curious case of Justin Lall rolled on. He traded in his edge
for a trip to the dark side. Was he the tortoise spotting the hair a head start? Or more like Peter

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Leflore running out of fear from Lazer and Blazer? Either way, the Bellagio lacked his presence
and aggression for the next 3 days. It's a bold strategy Cotton, let's see if it pays off.
Dumbfounded by my competitive opponent's uncharacteristic decision, I figured I'd keep
crushing and quickly put him out of his misery. However, the deck had other ideas that Sunday
night. Six hours of picking up the 2nd best hand left me $1,400 poorer and cursing myself for
actually losing ground to some goon who didn't even show up. The disappointment haunted my
dreams that night. Visions of Justin laughing at me in between blowing lines off a stripper's ass
floated through my cerebellum while I tried to sleep.
Waking up from that nightmare put me in a miserable mood. Justin's absence had me on tilt. So
much that I skipped exercise, food, and sunlight for the day, prompting Joe to challenge the prop
bet's effects on my life. "I'm not a god damn plant," I told him angrily. "I don't need
photosynthesis, I need to ****ing grind."
So grind is what I did. With my first visit to Bellagio day shift in quite some time, the only real
familiar face was my good friend and greater nemesis, Eetu, the ultimate grinder.
With a fish sitting directly to my right and Eetu directly to my left I had to find a balance of
playing a maximum amount of pots when the fish limped in, without becoming exploitable to the
thinking player behind me. My exploitation of the fish had worked moderately for the first hour,
and I had a 2k stack when this hand came up.
Fish limped and I overlimped with T 7 . Eetu raised to 60 and I called after the fish threw in
his $60 donation. The flop came T 8 2
and we both checked to Eetu who bet $110. The
fish folded and I called. The turn brought me the perfect 7
and again I checked to the raiser.
This time he bet $340 which put me in an interesting spot. If he's bluffing I want to keep giving
him rope to bluff, and if he's value betting I don't want to give him any reason to think his big
pair is beat. So I called, hoping for a brick. The river was the beautiful 3
and I continued my
story by checking. Eetu thought for a bit while counting chips, eventually deciding on $740.
With $230 behind, I put him all in for his remaining chips and he called showing AA. I won the
huge pot and put the idea in Eetu's mind that I wouldn't always take conventional lines against
him.
A couple hours later with my stack up to $3800, a similar story played out when the fish limped
UTG. I chose to overlimp with 8 8
and Eetu again raised it up to $60. We both called, as
the flop came 2 4 6 . Two of us checked and Eetu C-bet $140. I was the lone caller and
we took the 8
on the turn. I checked my top set to Eetu and he obliged with a $350 bet. I
called again and the river brought the A . While this may look like an action killing card, it
actually is a great card for the dynamic between me and my opponent. He could very well have
been bluffing with A-high and the way I played my hand, I should never have an Ace. So for the
3rd time I made a dangerous check and Eetu again bet $800 with $650 behind. I aggressively
shuffled my 20 black chips while tilting my head back and forth before throwing them all in the
pot as if it were an instinctive decision. He smiled, while mumbling that he should've checked
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the river before eventually committing the remainder of his chips. My 88 was again the winner in
a huge pot against a great player.
Hours later I cashed out for a $4808 profit, one of my top 4 sessions of all time.
Day 5 started off a lot like day 4. In my first hand I called an UTG raise to 40 with A Q .
The blinds both called and I flopped the nuts with T J K . All three players checked and I
threw a weak bet of $90 into the pot. The action got to the Bb, who still hadn't taken his chips out
of the rack. Instead of sizing up for a raise, he slid the whole rack into the pot, which contained
$1300 in chips. I double checked my cards before calling and asking the dealer to refrain from
placing any hearts on the board. The turn was an A
and the river an offsuit 5 . My opponent
flipped his hand up confidently. I feared a chop. But all he had was A T . "I had so many
outs," he said while leaving the table. Right. A whole nine of them.
A few more hours of aggressive play ensued, before Eetu and I crossed paths again. He opened
in the CO to 30 followed by calls on the Btn and Sb. I looked down at AJ in the bb and decided
to bump it up to 150. With the action back to Eetu, he chose not to believe me and 4bet it up to
340. Instead of folding, I decided to challenge Eetu and made the call. The flop was 3 3
3
and after I checked he continued with a quick bet of $340. I made the call and we took a
6
on the turn. I checked and he immediately checked back. This worried me. By checking so
quickly he told me his hand had a little bit of strength but he would rather keep the pot small. My
AJ now had no showdown value. I was going to have to bluff. On a 2
river I counted out the
appropriate chips. I wanted to bet enough to put him to a decision, but small enough to look like
value. I decided on $670, thinking he would fold every pair under TT. Eetu struggled with the
decision while talking out loud. "I should never fold this hand with those pot odds. But I don't
know anything I can beat," he said before releasing his hand into the muck.
My reads had never felt better. I was on top of my game. I cashed out with a $3400 profit,
pulling my 5 day total to $10,200 while Justin sits at a -$2,400 total. If Stuey Unger Jr. ever
decides to show up again, he has the talent to erase that deficit in no time, but right now with my
confidence and motivation I don't think even the real Unger could catch me at this rate.
That next day three of my best friends from high school came into town for a weekend of
degeneracy and partying.
On Friday night a bunch of us went out to Town Square in hopes of reeling in some fish (no not
that kind) at Blue Martini. Unfortunately, Jack, my dumbass friend, chose to wear sandals out,
which in Vegas are as unwelcome in clubs as handguns. So instead we ended up at the bar next
door.
Upon entering we realized that the people in the bar did not look like us. They were all black.
"**** it" I said while we threw back a shot of Jameson "Let's go get some women." I approached
the best looking girl in the group and after some sweet talk and white boy dance moves she was
feeling my swagger. We branched off for some dirty dancing, and after awhile we started kissing.
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We were having a great time and I was certain I was going to get my first dose of ethnic love.
But as the old saying goes, it's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt. And that somebody
was the brother of the girl I was kissing. Him and his posse picked me up and threw me outside
the bar; ruining a good shirt, but more importantly my first chance at romance with a black girl.
Once again, I woke up the next morning pissed. But this time I still had some alcohol in the
bloodstream. Combined with the "were in Vegas" mindset of my friends, we made a plan to visit
an Asian Spa that afternoon. Naturally, I had some doubts. A) None of us had ever paid for sex
before, and B) my last closed encounter with an Asian adult hadn't gone so well. But, ****, if
Lawrence Taylor can justify paying for sex with a 15 year old, then I shouldn't have any god
damn worries about getting jacked off by a mid-aged lady.
So we all got ready, dressing in costume in order to chalk up the damage to our alter egos. I
chose to go as a Puerto Rican pimp, wearing a gold chain and scarf over a white tee, and Ray
Ban aviators under a winter skull cap. Keep in mind it was 90 degrees last weekend. Then we
made the drive down Spring Mountain Road looking for our best shot at finding love on this
Saturday afternoon. We came across the "Full Service Asian Spa" and knew that we needed to go
no further. Before leaving the car, we made a pact. Sounding like the kids from American Pie, yet
looking like the Village People, we vowed not to leave the parking lot until WEALLGOT
HANDJOBS.
The building looked like a normal spa. There were no signs that read "Happy Ending" or books
of Kama Sutra on the counter leaving Dan to question that we weren't signing up for what we
thought we were. "I'll bet you 20 that we are" I challenged him. "Book it" he said in true gambler
form while we waited for our rooms to open. Slowly each one of us disappeared into the depths
of the building, knowing our lives would never be the same.
My girl came in and I did my best to keep my eyes closed, not sure if I was ready to see what I
was getting myself into. I started face down, and the whole experience felt like a very normal
rub, but a bad one at that. After a half hour went by she turned me around and I was now
completely unsure whether or not it was just a legitimate massage. Still when she tried to
massage my face, I told her no, on the basis that it's still possible those hands pumps penises for
a living.
25 minutes later with the massage about to end, she said something to me in broken Chinese that
I understood none of. I looked at her funny. She pointed to my penis. I understood that. I nodded
and laughed as she got started on "earning her tip". The sick thing is the first thought in my head
was Dan and the bet I'd just won. Let me tell you, not a good visual considering the
circumstances. A few minutes later the massage was over and I'd officially received my first hand
job since freshman year of high school.
I was the first to exit the room and head back to the lobby. One by one my friends came out as
we giggled like schoolgirls and discussed the details of our virgin encounters. The masseuses all
passed us and smiled awkwardly as we burst out laughing at who got the fat one and who got the
ugly one.

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All in all, it was an experience to say the least. A creepy, awkward, pleasurable experience. Glad
as hell we did it. Yet glad as hell it was over.
Just like the show of his hero Charlie Sheen, We've put the challenge on hold while Justin
recuperates from his bender. Regardless, I've remained in the grind mindset, and the results are
still showing. With a couple more profitable days, I've moved my profit for the trip up to
$56,000. So from now until the beginning of the Series I've set the goal at 80K in profit, which
would put me in a bankroll situation comfortable enough for 10/25 NL at the Rio.
My feel good song of the week When the Sun Goes Down- Kenny Chesney & Uncle Kracker
MM
04/12/11: My Shot
"See I learned how to win a little bit at a time, but finally I learned thisIf you're too careful
your whole life can become into a ****ing grind"
No heart dealer, keep it black. 3h. ****. My opponent didn't hesitate either. Counting out 16
black chips and adding a yellow to the top of the stack before pushing them into the middle. The
bet was $2600. A little more than the size of the pot. I turned to Krish, looking for a pulse, a
posture change. Anything to tip me in the direction of call or fold. But he just sat there like a
statue, giving me nothing but intuition and experience to base my decision off. A decision for the
biggest pot of my life...
My decision to move up in stakes started innocently enough over a glass of Johnny Walker Black
and a Marlboro Gold. It was early Friday morning after a long 5/10 session and Joe Bartholdi,
Brandon Myers, Mark Newhouse and I were at the Chandelier Lounge at the Cosmo. They were
telling stories about the "old" days. Days where they were young and dumb. Rich and ambitious.
I was sipping, puffing and listening. After all, I didn't have much to add to the conversation. I'm
nothing like them, or like they used to be. Mark told the tale of his WPT Borgata victory and the
subsequent million dollar downswing he went on the following year. A downswing that included
playing 500/1000 FL with a $20,000 bankroll and a roller coaster ride between 7 figures and
IOUs. Two week prop bets for nice dinners don't impress guys like Mark Newhouse. I wanted
what these guys had; Millions of dollars and Championship titles. But not at the expense of my
bankroll, of my sanity.
Still contemplating the night before, I spent Friday afternoon on the golf course with New York
Joe, my golf partner and poker friend. Without telling him what was on my mind he brought up
the idea of moving up stakes. "The way I look at it" he began, "Our edge is so big in the 5/10,
that no matter how many times we fail at the next step, we'll always have money waiting for us
as long as we put in the time." He was right. I'd made 32k in the past 5 weeks and couldn't
remember the last time I lost two nights in a row. My fear of losing at the higher stakes was
slowing disappearing.
The final step came later that night. At the tail end of a session I ran into a spot against an
aggressive younger European. He raised the btn to 40, the sb called, and I raised the bb to 170
with 9 9 . Only the Euro on the btn called. The flop came T T 8 . I checked and he

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quickly pushed out a stack of $200, representing an over pair. I called as the A
hit the turn. I
checked again and this time he immediately bet two stacks, $400. Now all of a sudden, he
wanted me to believe he was playing the Ace. I called and the third trouble card hit the river as
the 6
fell belly up. I checked again, and without hesitation my opponent bet his final $870.
NOW he wanted me to think he caught the flush. I don't beat any of the hands he tried to
represent, but my god, how many cards did this guy have under his chip protector. This wasn't
****ing Omaha. I called the bet and low and behold my opponent was bluffing. KQ high was no
good, as my 99 raked in the pot. I winked at Joe from across the table as I stacked up my chips.
He knew exactly what it meant. It was time to move up.
The next day at Bellagio I walked right past the customary greetings of Tim and Dan at the front
podium and into the back. I needed to see Carmen. She ran the high stakes podium and from here
on out would be my ticket to the next level. I put my name on the list, tossed her a $10 and a few
short minutes later I was seated at the 10/20 NL must move. I played tight that night; sulking in
all the information I could. Just like a video game, each level of poker involves mastering new
skills and concepts that build upon the previous levels. While my game felt red hot, I knew that
without the proper adjustments I would be back down in the 5/10 within no time.
So I sat and studied the tendencies of ADZ, Brandon Cantu and Freddy Deeb as they
aggressively maneuvered their ways through my table. Meanwhile, I was painfully folding hands
like AX suited, low pairs, and off suit broadway cards. Hands I would never throw away at the
5/10, but folds that were necessary while I developed my proper strategy. Hours later, with my
patience running short, I witnessed ADZ go bust for his third buy-in. Looking confused and
disheveled he stood up from the table. Feeling the eyes of the table on him, he felt it necessary to
offer an explanation for his departure. "I'm down thirty four thousand today" he said in between
the cracking of his voice. "I could've bought a car with that money. A ****ing nice car." His
voice trailed off as he exited the top stage of Bellagio poker room, but the message lingered loud
and clear. Suddenly, my patience was restored.
I cashed out that night for a $300 profit. The money was minuscule, but step one was out of the
way. The road towards the Rio $10 and a $Quarter game had begun, and I was still standing.
The next afternoon I returned to the Bellagio for an early session, hoping that the passivity of the
afternoon games would help ease my transition into the 10/20. Immediately I recognized an
opportunity to win some pots with aggression as we played short handed. An hour into the
session and my original $3k buyin was up to 4k when I encountered my first interesting spot.
An ABC player opened to $80 and a tighter kid called on the btn. I 3bet to $330 with A Q
and both players came along for the flop. The first 3 cards came out 2 4 5
and I lead into
my opponents for $720. The Co folded but the tighter kid called on the btn. Before the turn could
come out I decided to check in the dark, thinking it would look like a good pair, and putting the
pressure on my opponent to represent a hand that could beat it. He checked back a 10
and I
now knew he only had a one pair hand. The river was perfect for my range as the K
peeled
off. I thought for a bit wanting to make a bet that looked like value without giving my opponent
too good of odds to call. I decided on $1320. "I played this hand so bad" the kid said while
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shuffling his chips. It looked like bad news as that's usually the speech they give before a crying
call. But this kid was protective of his money and tossed his cards in the muck as I pulled off my
first 10/20 bluff.
My next opportunity came a little easier as a fish sat down to my immediate left. After showing a
propensity to play a lot of hands and play them passively, I was excited when he limped and then
called my raise from the BB to $180. My A Q
connected with the flop as the A 8
4
hit the board. I bet $300, even on a dry board, knowing he was the type of player to call
based on his hand strength, not my betting size. He called as the board paired the 4
on the
turn. This time I bet $800 and again was called immediately. The river came a 9
and I decided
a $1400 bet was my best option. The old man tanked this time, before saying "It's time to go
home anyways" and calling me with 89. As the dealer shipped me the pot he put up a brief
protest before being told that the 4 gave me a higher two pair. The old 3 pair losing to 2 pair,
classic mixup.
As afternoon turned to night I got hot. We're talking Charl Schwartzel hot. Better yet, Jason
Day's wife hot. Flushes, two pairs and trips helped set up my next big bluff. With K 5
I
3bet an active new player and followed it up with two big bullets on a J962 board, getting him to
fold what I thought was TT or a J.
By the time 2am rolled around I was up 11k and ready to call it a night. My best night ever. As I
racked up my chips, Carmen passed me by and said "I wouldn't leave now if I were you" as she
sat a new Middle Eastern gentleman to my right. I took her word for it and stuck around. The
game slowly got shorter as our table became the must move into the big game. Eventually it was
two handed, me and the Middle Eastern gentleman. His name was Krish. "Matt you're up for the
main game" I heard just as I was about to get the fish heads up. Not wanting to play a full game I
decided to call it a night, but not before asking Krish if he would rather play heads up. He was
more than enthused, but because I chose to skip the main game we needed to change the stake in
order to allow the match up.
So began my 20/40NL heads up match. After no more than 20 hands I was up 2k when Rob
Pisano passed the table. "Hey you want to get in this game" shouted out Krish, noticing the flags
in Rob's rack. I could sense he was growing sick of the heads up. Rob looked confused, then a
lightbulb went off in his head as he said "yeah" and sat down to my left. "I heard there's a good
5/10 game running downstairs" I hinted to Rob hoping he would go away. The dealer chuckled
quietly as another rounder joined the table and my chance at heads up with the fish vanished.
In between thousand dollar hands, Krish got a phone call. It was about a comic book. "Throw in
a bid for thirty three thousand" he relayed to the voice on the other end. "That's an expensive
comic book" I joked at him. "No, expensive is turning Transformers into a movie. That was
nothing," he said matter of factly. Turns out Krish was one of the biggest financers of the X-Men,
Transformers, and Mission Impossible movies. He showed us pictures of himself with Josh
Duhamel and other Transformer actresses as I slowly realized that I was going nowhere until this
guy left town.

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Finally with 5am rolling around I got into a good spot with A J
on the btn. I raised to 140
and Krish was the only caller in the Bb. On an A T 8
board I bet 300, knowing he wasn't
the type to fold any draw for any price. He called as the 4
peeled off the turn. He checked
again, and I bet $900 into him on such a wet board. He called before I'd even taken my hands off
the chips. And then came the river. The ****ing 3 of hearts.
The biggest pot of my life, on the biggest day of my life, against the richest player I'd ever
encountered. I looked at Krish again. It was as if he was a little too still. And the bet was a little
too big. But was he smart enough to turn a straight draw into a bluff? Of course he is you moron.
He turned a comic book into a movie. He could turn a ****ing Peanut Butter and Jelly into a
bluff if he wanted to. "I call" I announced quietly. Krish tapped the table twice before turning
over 67 offsuit. My ace was good and my stack was up to 19k.
A bit later Pisano got stuck and the automatic straddle was instituted. I was now playing
20/40/80NL, the biggest game at Bellagio since Pacquiao came to town 2 months ago. After my
Jacks got out flopped by the other rounders 88, I decided to call it a night before I did some
serious damage. Don't think you can blow a lead that big? Ask Rory McIlroy what he thinks.
I drove down Flamingo into the rising sun, 14k richer. I took a shot Mike McD would be proud
of and came out the other end on top. With my profit now at 72k, hopefully this is the beginning
of a successful transition into the bigger stakes with the 5/10 becoming smaller and smaller in
my rearview mirror.
MM
04/27/11: Black Friday
Two Fridays ago, I awoke to text messages and Facebook posts indicating that the end was near.
Not the end of the world as Nostradamus had predicted, but the end of an era as the DOJ had
instated. Poker domain names were confiscated, funds were seized, and the right to make a living
for thousands of United States online poker players was denied.
After years of playing chicken with the Federal Government that housed over 1/4th of their
customer base, Full Tilt Poker and Pokerstars were hit head on by the Obama train. Their
remains splattered all over the interweb as rumors of money laundering and bank fraud surfaced
with the help of Daniel Tzvetkoff, a former employee, who'd been betrayed months earlier by the
very companies he helped take down.
It all had a very Cruel Intentions-esque feel. A story about power and deceit. The DOJ's message
on poker websites resembled the passout of Sebastian's diary, while Howard Lederer stood up in
front his peers as we watched his empire crumble on the basis of his lies. The golf balls and
flowers he used to launder money were exposed in front of the world like the cocaine hidden
inside Sarah Michelle Gellar's cross.
Of course this movie has no happy ending, at least for now. The justice rests in no one's honor,
instead leaving hundreds of thousands broke and confused.
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Rumors of the Vegas ramifications of Black Friday have been running rampant over the forums
and at the tables the past couple weeks. The truth is, the games have changed; for the better and
for the worst. Bed-head, 5 o'clock shadows, sweatpants, and strawberry daiquiris have taken over
the poker rooms on the strip. These players play better, but these players tilt harder.
Coincidentally the new player pool was introduced just in time for my adjustment to 10/20;
resulting in a lot of bumping heads with online "celebrities". Players like WGCRider and
KingofCards have been sitting regularly in the biggest games at Bellagio. My hero/role
model/inspiration Tony Dunst was even sitting in the 5/10 game, but like a true nit I couldn't
muster the balls to say what's up. As a result of the improved player pool, my results were very
up and down. I've recorded a few +3k and +5k days, but also just as many on the negative side.
Going into last weekend, I was even since my 14k day, when I sat at my most difficult table yet.
With Doug (WCGRider) to my right and Daniel (Jungleman12) to my left, online they would
call this "bad game selection". But **** game selection. After all this month is about putting
myself in unique spots, and opening my eyes to the nuances of this level; Preparing myself for
the 10/25 at the Rio this summer. If anyone could prepare me for high variance play, it was
Jungleman. And that's exactly what he did. He 3-bet a healthy percentage of the time, always
seeming to pick the best spots.
An hour or so into the session, with a 3k stack I was placed in a spot where I couldn't help
myself. I had position on Daniel and J 4
on the btn. In a straddled pot, after two fish
limped, I made it 280, hoping Jungleman would go easy out of position. He didn't. He took his
time, meticulously counting out black chips before making it 680, 3betting me for the 3rd time.
Against every player I've played in Vegas this would be a clear fold. These players don't take
position into account; they don't recognize that I'd isolated the two biggest fish at the table. They
don't adjust my range.
But Jungleman is paying attention to every detail and always looking for spots to exploit. It's
what makes him the best in the world. I knew I had to raise. I waited anxiously as the rest of the
table folded back to me, strategizing the most believable raise size. I didn't have enough money
to raise and fold, so regardless of my sizing it would be committing. "$1600" I announced as I
held my ground and pushed back at the champ. The suspense didn't last long as Daniel checked
his cards one last time, before throwing the rags into the muck. I showed the J4. It was the last
time he 3bet me all night.
The mood loosened up after that hand as we passed around vodka Red Bulls, then Jgerbombs as
the night got later. By 8 o'clock we were all a bit toasted and ready for a different type of table
then the felt. So Sarg, the player fueling the game with his reckless aggression, called his host
and set us up a table at XS nightclub. In one of the most bizarre scenes I've ever encountered at a
poker table, 7 of us strangers, moved the action to the nightclub, and fought over women instead
of straddled pots. Only in Vegas.
With my poker confidence at an all time high, I returned to the tables the next day looking to
make a big splash against anyone who challenged me. The game was 10/20Nl at the Bellagio and

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this time there was a new famous face across the table, Issac Haxton. Ike as he's called online, is
a super friendly, smart looking.shortstacker? "Shortstacking cause the rest of your money's
stuck online?" I joked from across the table as I eyed his 2k stack. He smirked and shook his
head. Maybe it wasn't a joke. Black Friday was real and affecting some of the smartest, most
successful people in poker.
My first hand at the table came when a competent regular opened to 80 and got 3 callers. The
action got to me in the sb and I made it 400 with Q Q . The 1st caller and the btn called.
Both players were solid and I weighted their ranges more towards small pairs and suited
connecters. Hands that could bust Aces.
The flop came T 8 6 . Not the best flop for their ranges but with 1400 in the pot and 2600
behind, my queens were a profitable Cbet. I lead for 820. The first player tanked forever, asking
both of us how much we had behind before folding his hand high into the air. High enough to
make the 8
visible. The next player counted his bills before placing them all in the middle,
putting me all in. I had a slight bit of history with this player and knew he would've 3-bet TT
preflop. By viewing the other opponents exposed 8, it seemed to me like his range was weighted
towards combo draws. So I called off the last 1800, expecting to be in a racing situation. "Run it
twice" he asked me. That was a good sign, must be a draw. "You're not there yet?" I rebutted.
"No I've got a set, I'm worried about you." ****.
We ran it twice and the board brought me life twice as the J
and the A
peeled off. But it
proved to be just a tease as a red deuce and a red 3 finished off the races, shipping the whole pot
to my opponent and his set of sixes.
I wasn't too upset with my play, but just as I pulled out money to reload, the game became a
10/20/40. A huge fish had requested the game, but would only play if the third blind was
initiated. Everyone obviously agreed, and I had a decision. I was down 3k for the day and didn't
know if I could afford another huge loss. My decision was made easy as I witnessed the fish with
a 25k stack show up with 96o in a 3bet pot in his very first hand. "4 in black and 1 in orange" I
said to the chip runner, while handing him a flag. If I was too afraid to take shots in this game
then it was time to pick up Monopoly. These are the games where dreams are made.
I sat patiently for an hour, studying the fish's tendencies, planning my future attack. An hour or
so into his stay, I developed a strikingly reliable tell. Everytime he acted slow, meticulously
picking up his chips and placing them into the pot, he was strong. When he quickly and
recklessly flicked chips into the pot it was weak. "I might make a million tonight" I texted Joe.
"This guy may as well be eating KGB's oreos."
However, he was losing quick, and I was card dead. His original 25k was down to 7 and I hadn't
even sniffed a playable hand. Dejected, I slouched in my seat, daydreaming about the
possibilities that were passing me by. With Bob Marley slowly putting me to sleep, I took a peak
at a real hand. J J
in the BB. Suddenly all of my energy was restored. Things couldn't get
better as the fish opened to 200 after a limper. Typically I would call and play postflop, but I
didn't want to share with the limper. I wanted to fry this fish all by myself. So I isolated the
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action to 600. The limper folded and without hesitation my opponent flung his remaining 7k into
the pot. Quickly and recklessly. My eyes widened as I took a second to catch my breath. Not
what I expected, I thought to myself. I didn't show up to gamble preflop, but I couldn't go against
my tell. My opponent was weak. I slid the remaining 5k of my stack into the pot. "Once or
twice" I asked him. He held up one finger. Of course he wants once, he's here to gamble. The
board ran out 9 7 3 . The turn was a Q . I glanced for a reaction. The river was a 5 .
My opponent reached for his cards as my eyes stayed glued and my heart beat racing. After all,
11k was on the line. The biggest pot of my life. Red K....and a red 3. No pair, I thought as my
eyes shifted from hand to board. But why is he flipping that so proudly? "Flush" the dealer
announced, pushing up the 3 diamonds from the community cards.
I nodded my head and tossed my lousy one pair into the muck. My night was over. A disaster pot,
left me on a -8k day, the worst of my life. Strangely, I wasn't too upset. Instead I walked home
contemplating everything that'd happened to me the past couple weeks. I'd locked horns with
guys I used to read about on the internet and in magazines. Guys who have done some pretty
incredible things in this game. Aggression used to intimidate me; back when I was new, and
afraid to lose big pots. Today it excites me. That K3 was the last cut in my emotional detachment
from the dollar. My bankroll is just a scoring system in this crazy game. The currency determines
my level, my status. Though if I'm too reckless in my commitment to make it to the top, before I
know it, it could be game over, lights out.
MM
05/06/11: Finding Truth on Fantasy Island
The K3 hand hit me hard. Hard like an unsuspecting pigeon taking a Randy Johnson fastball to
the abdomen. Hard enough that the force carried my 175 pound frame back down the High Limit
stairs straight to 5/10. It's okay though, they say even Doyle went broke more times then he
could count. And I know Ivey spent many cashless nights sleeping under the boardwalk; back
when he was still Jerome. I could take the experience as a failure, or I could learn like those two
legends, and come back stronger the next time.
But for now it was back to the grind. Like going back to an old girlfriend, my return to the 5/10
was filled with shame and regret, but there was also a sense of comfort. The poker community is
filled with gossip whisperers. Everyone knows whos been winning, whos been losing, and
whos been taking shots. But it's also composed of intelligent and respectful acquaintances. So
after a few head nods and half-smiles what happened last week was understood. There was no
need for bad beat stories or tales of failed triumph. Whether the cards betrayed me or I simply
wasn't ready was unimportant. I was back and my old coworkers did their best to make me feel
comfortable, without overemphasizing the deed.
Returning to my bread and butter, I picked up as if I'd never left. The 10/20 taught me a lot about
the power of the 3bet, and the difficulty in playing average holdings out of position. I did my
best to take these lessons straight to the felt and apply them to my 5/10 opponents.
In one particular instance, I had an aggressive dynamic going with an old foe. The James Van
Der Beek look alike from my first trip was in town, as he often is, and it didn't take long for us to

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tangle when he was moved to my right. My stack was deep as I'd been bullying the table, but he
didn't know that. So after the board paired on a 5676 turn and I raised his 180 blocker bet to 600,
I had to show the A4 as he folded to get his juices flowing a bit.
A couple 3bets followed and eventually I found my time for the aggression to pay off. He opened
in MP and I again raised it up to 120. This time he went to his stack in stride and made it 340.
Problem for Dawson is his timing was a little off. I woke up with A A
and decided to flat
call for deception and to allow his weaker holdings to catch up a bit. The flop came 2 3
4
and he led into me for 400 with 850 behind. Enough is enough, so I shoved in my entire stack
and got called. The turn was a 4
and the river an offsuit 7 . His mid pair was good, but not
good enough. My aggressive image got me paid off in the form of a $3300 pot.
That was the closing session of an 11k upswing. The 8k I'd lost taking a shot was fully
recovered, plus an extra 3k to add to the bankroll. We celebrated that night at the Rhino. Not just
the upswing, but my 23rd birthday. With every naked dime thrown on my lap, I was reminded of
how messed up this town really is. Nothing is real; but everything is attainable. Entertainment,
compassion, sex; they can all be bought and fictitiously performed to emulate the real thing. It's
why I can't enjoy myself at the strip club. I spend all my paid time talking off the strippers ear,
searching for conversation, flirtation, something familiar; that I end up with a half assed dance
and personal insight halted by the shallow depths of the typical tequila-flooded, cocaine-laced
stripper brain.
The reason why every tourist wants to come here is the same reason why every local has a plan
to leave. Vegas is not real. It's a fantasy. But living here isn't like the fairy tales you read about in
books. It's more like the E True Hollywood story version. After the drapes are closed and the
costumes removed, all the actors are exposed and it's just a culmination of characters trying to
find their place in this world, with the same insecurities and fears that brought them out to this
town in the first place. Mine were a job and a girl. A job I didn't want and a relationship that
needed closure. But my god sometimes this town comes close to driving me back to the things
that pushed me out here.
With rampant thoughts and paid conversation clouding my sense of reality, I took a look at the
money I'd won, excuse me, the chips I'd attained, and realized it was time for another shot. After
all, they're just clay circles, on loan from the Bellagio. Losing them really has no bearing on my
happiness, and if I'm going to be out here sacrificing everything that's normal to chase my dream,
then goddamn it I'm going to take every reasonable opportunity to fulfill it.
So after a weekend trip to San Francisco, seats at the Charlie Sheen show, and 10th row tickets
behind the Mavs bench for game 1 of their series with the Lakers, it was back to Las Vegas for
high stakes shot number 2. The game seemed okay on the Tuesday evening I planned my return
so I jumped in with a 4k stack and an eagerness at a 2nd shot.
My first opportunity at some profit came against the table fish. The straddle was on and I found
myself in the Sb with Q T . 4 limpers to me and I joined in with my medium strength hand,
hoping the straddle wouldn't get frisky. He didn't and we saw a flop of T 5 2 . I led into
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the field for 160 and the fish was my only caller in the CO. The turn brought a pretty safe 9
and I threw out 380, hoping for value from worse T's and flush draws. Instantaneously, my
opponent went all in for 1900. It made no sense for him to do this with a better T if he wasn't
going to raise the flop, so he either caught two pair with the 9, or it gave him some sort of combo
draw with his diamonds. His timing pushed me towards believing the latter. So even though my
hand strength was fairly mediocre, I put in the extra 1500 expecting to be ahead. The river
brought the 6 . I shook my head as the fish flipped up Q 8
for the rivered flush and
$4,000 pot.
Shortly later my K K
got check raised by a good player in a 3bet pot on a 2 4 6
Q
turn. I was lost, ended up folding my hand and racked up for the night a 4k loser. It was
430am and Joe, my closest friend in town, and fellow 10/20 shot taker, and I were at an empty
table discussing our losing nights, wondering about our next move. Mid conversation, in walked
an acquaintance, Asian Sam. "Sam what is your deal. You're always just getting in this place in
the middle of the night." Joe asked him, half jokingly, half curiously. "I'm just an early riser"
responded Sam, "plus I help get the 10/20 started in the morning". "Is the game any good" I
interrupted selfishly. All of a sudden Sam's demeanor changed from joking to serious. "No it's
not very good at all. You two aren't missing anything," he replied. Joe and I shot each other a
look. Something wasn't right. I've had close friends go so far as to call the floor to keep me out of
good games. It's a shark eat shark world at 10/20 NL. Good games are few and far between and
when they come, some guys wouldn't tell their wives or even their own mothers if they thought
there was a chance word would get out. So at no point did I put it past funny man Sam, a veteran
grinder, to lie to us rookies about the value of the game.
We stuck around that morning, and checked out the lineup of the game as they came in to play.
All old guys, all nits. While this may have seemed like a horrible lineup for a 5/10 game, when
trying to adjust to a higher stake, a nitty game is the perfect way to get acclimated without the
added aggression. So, just like we do constantly at the table, Joe and I decided our lives needed
adjustments. Starting Thursday we would wake up at 9am every day and grind out the morning
games, one nit at a time.
There was no rebuttal. No mention of how we were going to pull this off. It wouldn't be easy.
After all, our current lives included waking up at 2pm and playing until 3 in the morning. This
was no subtle adjustment. Our internal clocks weren't in for redecorating. They were in for an
Extreme Home Makeover. Cause when god gives you internet poker players. Hundreds of
technically sound, uber aggressive, internet poker players, you attack their Achilles heel,
mornings. We will make the adjustment that the other players aren't capable of making because
in this game you look for any edge you can find. Sometimes it's at the table, sometimes it's in
your alarm clock.
That Thursday I woke up at 10:15, an hour after my alarm clock went off, but hey this **** isn't
easy. I drove to Bellagio, walked down to Palio for a cup of coffee and took my seat in the oldest,
nittiest high stakes game I'd ever witnessed. I was relieved when the other players opened with
limps and generally shut down to any form of aggression.

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A couple hours into the experiment I was up $500 and had the 8 9
in the CO. I opened to
$120 at 10/20/40 and the Btn, sb, and bb all called. The flop came K T 7
and I Cbet 320
when the action got to me. Only the sb, an older Asian gentleman called as we headed to the turn.
4th street brought the J , bingo. He checked and I bet $860, to which he painlessly called. The
river was the 6 , turning my straight into a backdoor flush. I thought about my plan, before
deciding on a big bet, hoping my aggressive reputation would get me paid off. "1960" I
announced while pushing the appropriate chips in. My opponent wasn't happy, but it didn't look
like he was going anywhere. "Ooookay, nice hand," he said while tossing two yellow chips into
the pot. My straight [ed. note: flush?] was good as my stack rose to $8,000.
With the evening rapidly approaching my stack stayed close to 8k, while slowly but surely the
empty seats were being filled by young aggressive players. It was almost time to go. But not
before I could attempt one last bluff. With A 9
I opened to 120 utg, getting called in two
spots, the CO and Sb. The flop came K J 3
and typically I would give up on this board,
but I knew I could barrel these nits to death and put them in unfamiliar spots with marginal
hands. So I bet $300. Call, Call. Uh oh. The turn was a 2 , a complete blank. While this may
seem like another bad bluffing spot, if they see me betting strong, two streets into multiple
players, my hand becomes tough to beat. I gathered a yellow, a black, and an orange, making a
bet of 1120 and threw it into the pot. The first fellow immediately folded as the action reached
the sb. He looked at his chips, looked at mine, then asked me how much I was playing. My
palms were sweating while I played it cool and counted my chips as unsuspiciously as possible.
"About 6k more" I told him, hoping that was the answer he wasn't looking for. Still his eyes kept
darting from my stack to his. Was this old nit on crack? I played it cool with my head buried in
my hands, and let out a gigantic sigh of relief as the old man tossed his cards into the middle.
As I raked in my chips PeachyKean took the spot to my left. The final straw, it was time to go. I
racked up a $5,100 winner and with some restored confidence that had been lost the night before.
The win put me back up to 77k profit for the year. Hopefully this shot goes better than last time,
but if not I know they'll be waiting for me at the 5/10, nodding and smiling.
MM
05/25/11: 10/20/40
After a short adjustment period, I was consistently waking up at 730am. This may not seem
difficult to the working stiffs of the world who've been trained like boot camp soldiers to rise
with the roosters, but in the poker world it makes heads turn. To me, it was step 1 of my journey
to the top. Base camp at Everest.
Step one didn't just include an adjusted sleep schedule. I cut out drinking, started eating healthy,
and made damn sure I went to the gym daily for some type of physical activity. This time around
was gonna be different. I was going to be ready.
And so everyday I was out the door at 8am, driving out to Henderson to pick up Carless-Joe and
a Vanilla Latte at Saxby's on Seven Hills. Driving back down the 215 we'd discuss any and
everything to help gain an edge on the table. Reads on our opponents, hands we thought were
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played poorly, even whos been stuck and whos been winning. "Ballsy" Joe said one morning as
I ran a yellow light on Eastern. "Plus EV" I responded, not missing a beat.
My life had become a poker game. It was all I thought about, all I cared about. I'd gotten a taste
of high stakes, a taste of N9NE. And now I wanted nothing to do with the midstakes, the Ellis
Island life.
Of course as the games become bigger, the player pool becomes better. While I was still battling
the older, nittier crew in the morning, as the hours rolled along the seats were slowly filled by
recognizable pros. Guys like Freddy Deeb, Phil Laak, Jungleman, KingofCards, PeachyKeen,
Ozzy87, Lee Markholdt, and Brad Booth were new my opponents. There wasn't any time to run
when they took their seats, it was adjust or go home.
With all of the preparation I'd put into my game I expected to come out hot, winning every hand
I played. But poker is ****ed up like that. Just when you think you've got everything figured out,
variance crushes you, making you question your own decision making.
One particular Asian gentleman from San Francisco was giving me trouble all week. His
constant 3betting and unwillingness to back down was causing tons of damage as he put me in
horrible spot after horrible spot. After one particular winning session of his, he ordered (with
presumably my money) 2 bottles of very expensive wine and 7 glasses. There were nine of us in
the game. I wonder whose not getting a taste I texted Joe from across the table. Just wait till we
have a big day he texted back. We'll order Crystal and obnoxiously toast each other while we
count all our money, one chip at a time. I laughed as the Band of Brothers cheers'd their little
secret society while passive aggressively letting us know we weren't welcome in their game.
Fast forward a week, and I wasn't laughing any more. I was 13k in the hole before I even knew
what hit me. Looking for some good spots I raised the btn at 10/20/40NL to 120 with 8 T .
Brad Booth called in the MB (middle blind) and an older tighter gentleman called in the BB. The
flop came the perfect 6 7 9
and I bet 300 when they both checked into me. Brad raised
the action up to 950, picking up my heartbeat and grabbing my attention. Before I could think of
my next move, the BB moved in for 4k. With only 5k behind I shoved in my stack and Brad
eventually folded bottom two pair. My opponent had a set of 9s, giving him two draws to 5 outs.
"One time" I muttered under my breath for the 15,000th time in my life. The turn was a deuce. I
nodded my head in agreement. The dealer took forever to deal the river, putting me in legitimate
danger of cardiac arrest. 6 . The set of 9s boated up; I was busted. "And that's why they say
you need 20 buy-ins to play this game" said OD, the table smart ass. I kept my frustrations
bottled inside as I walked to valet, unsure of my next move.
Joe joined me shortly later and did most of the talking on the drive back to Henderson. He'd been
crushing the game, he was the genius. We mostly discussed other pots, particularly a QQ hand I
misplayed by 4betting preflop against a tight opponent. I was embarrassed. Embarrassed about
my losing, embarrassed about my poor play. "I think I got one more bullet" I told Joe. "If this one
misses its back down." He could sense the disappointment in my voice, but there wasn't much he
could say. We rode in silence the rest of the ride as I dropped him off in Seven Hills and fought

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the sunset on my drive back down the mountain. I called it an early night, hoping it wasn't my
last at the 10/20/40.
The next day was my game 7. I wanted more than anything to remain in the big leagues, but my
logical side told me that any losses over 20k deemed a demotion. Still with the pressure on, I
kept the discomfort to myself, not wanting my opponents to know that every pot I played could
potentially be my last. A few hours into the session I was feeling good. My stack was up a couple
thousand and my focus was right where it needed to be. However, as I've learned, everything can
change with the turn of just one card.
Ben Lamb opened UTG to 120 and 3 players called in position. I was in the Sb with 9 9
and decided to do some set mining. BOOM. The flop came out 9 5 3 . With four
aggressive players behind me a check raise felt like the best move. Ben Cbet 360 and was called
in two spots. With the action back to me, I gathered a plethora of orange chips, totaling 1560, and
shoved them into the pot. Ben reluctantly folded and so did the first caller. The action got back to
Justin Young, two-time WPT finalist, and high stakes regular. He asked how much I was playing.
It was $3400, and once he received the news, he elected to call. The turn was a 7 . Safe
because I avoided a spade, but dangerous because it completed the 46. Still, I only had one
move. "All in" I announced, looking the dealer in the eye. Before I could finish pushing my chips
across the line, I heard the confident "call" from across the table. I looked up quickly. I was
caught off guard; but that's how it goes in this game. One minute you're dining at the top of the
palms, and before you know it, before you even realize you're at risk, Teddy KGB shows aces
full, and you're broke without a second to catch your breath.
"Once or twice" Justin asked me. "Twice is fine" I responded. "I've got top set if you've got the
straight." What followed was a beautiful moment of silence as Justin rechecked the board.
"You've got top set?" he asked me equally as surprised. "Just tell me how much I owe you kid, I
can't catch up" he said while flipping over 35 for bottom two pair.
I cashed out a $7200 winner. Not enough to get out of the red, but just the confidence booster I
needed to keep me afloat. Joe lost a buy-in that day. This time it was him dumbfounded and
confused on the drive home. He was asking the questions, and I was the genius with all the
answers.
Confidence is this intangible quality that plays an incredibly tangible role in a poker players
mindset. Oftentimes, even the hardest working people have trouble obtaining it. Yet sometimes it
can be as simple as being in the right seat at the right time. The cards make geniuses out of the
worst of us, and fools out of the smartest. It's the sickos who can see through the bad beats and
take their own good fortune with a grain of salt who are best prepared to play winning poker. I
tried explaining this concept to Joe while bouncing the idea through my own cranium. I was
finally a winner, but I was far from where I needed to be.
Perhaps I was simply in the right place at the right time, but one more winning session had my
confidence reaching "Situation" Sorrentino levels. The hard work seemed to be finally paying off
when I got a shot at my San Francisco nemesis from the week before.

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I opened K K
in the co to 140 and SF made the call from the MB. The flop came down
J
6 2
and he check raised my 200 bet to 700. With a better grasp of his tendencies, I called
the flop and we took a 7
on the turn. He lead into me for 1400 and I put in my 4200 stack
after careful deliberation. He called and the board finished off with a 4 . KK was good as my
stack reached the 10k level.
A few hours later, I entered my next pot when a tight, solid player raised utg to 140. OD, the
permanent funny guy with temporary tilting issues, called on the btn. Looking for any excuse to
enter the pot I found J 9
in the bb and threw in the necessary chips. The flop came 9
4
3
and I checked to the raiser. He Cbet 340 and OD folded to me. I decided to peel one
more, expecting my top pair to be best a decent percentage of the time. The turn brought an 8
and I checked again. This time my opponent bet out 1100. His image and bet sizing told me he
was most likely protecting one big pair. My 9 was a losing hand. However, I had an image of my
own, having only shown AA and KK for the day. It was time to use that to my advantage. I made
it 3k total with around 7k behind; doing my best to represent a set. The bet caught my opponent
off guard illuminated by his change in posture and re-interest in the hand. He stacked and
unstacked his chips, checked and rechecked his cards before ultimately tossing them face down
towards the muck.
Still glowing off the success of my biggest all-time bluff, I bobbed my head to my music, eager
to get involved in another thought-provoking decision. Before long it fell right into my lap. I
picked up 9 9
and called a raise in the CO. Four of us saw a flop and once again my
favorite pocket pair came through with a 9 8 2
flop. The action checked to me and I bet
340 into the field in last position. My SF nemesis would have none of it. He took out 15 black
chips and bumped the action up in the sb. With deep stacks I called hoping to see a safe turn. The
4th card was the 3
putting up a backdoor flush draw. SF wasn't backing down. 3100 was the
bet this time. I counted out my chips, going back and forth between a call and a raise. If he's
bluffing I want to give him more string, but if he's value betting I want to get the money in
before any scare cards come out. After a minute or two of strategizing, I announced "all in", a
7.2k raise.
The pressure was back in my nemesis' court as I crouched into my all in position, sitting as still
as possible. We had history. Super-aggressive, borderline reckless history. I channeled my innerLeo, hoping an attempt at Inception would remind my opponent of the weak hands we'd shown
down in the past. Of course those pots were pennies compared to the one in front of us, but all it
takes is one agonizing memory. One small part of the brain that isn't satisfied with handing over
the money uncontested. A moment of weakness where the urges from pride and testosterone
overpower the brain and squeeze out the magic word.
And then I heard it. With my eyes staring down the corner of the 9 , SF rose from his seat and
yelled out "call". His eyes widened as he eagerly awaited my reaction. "Top set" I called out. The
disappointment poured out of his body as his face lost all color and he slid back into his seat. The

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river was the A

me off.

. "Nice hand kid" he quietly called out as he slid 7 yellows into the pot to pay

Before I could finish stacking my chips, I felt a vibration in my pocket. It was a text from Joe.
You ready for that champagne yet? I cracked a smile while I counted my money. All twenty four
thousand of it. Before the day was done I'd reached 25k, 17k in profit. By the time my Thursday
night flight to Chicago came around I was finishing off the touches of a 35k upswing, putting me
a shade over 95k for my year long total.
After a week off of poker, I'm on the plane back to Las Vegas, ready for 8 weeks of grinding
before I head out to Europe. The best players in the world will be coming into town shortly and
I'm eager to see how I stack up.
For the series, I'll predominately be focusing on the cash games, but I will be playing 6 events
<$2500 and the Main Event. So to any of the 9-5ers looking for a work week sweat or the action
junkies looking to gamble, I'll be selling off 30% of myself in all of those tournaments to any
interested readers.
MM
06/06/11: The Carnival
"Why you so happy" I asked Sam as I approached him and his ear to ear smile in the Bellagio
Sportsbook. "Ain't ya heard Matt, the carnival's in town," he responded, referring to the
festivities at the Rio. "Now we just got to find you some tickets so you can get on the rides" I
told the old veteran. Almost in cue, an attractive younger brunette approached our group looking
like she had something to say. It must be my lucky day I thought as she got closer and her chest
got bigger. But she wasn't interested in talking to me. She went right to my old, washed up,
overweight counterpart and grazed his left shoulder with a smile, while asking if she could
bother him for a picture and an autograph.
Sam rolled his eyes as she walked away, back towards the casino. "Oh don't even lie," I accused
him "You love the attention." "Yea right" he fired back. "I love signing trees for these people that
think I'm worth millions. Would you believe that some of these maw ****ers come up to me
asking for a stake?" He said with a laugh. I joined him in laughter as he finished the story. " I just
tell 'em 'listen, I wish I could, but I work on the same side of the street as ya'll'".
Money is always a sensitive issue. But in the poker world it's amplified. It's how we stay in
action. It's the way we keep score; though oftentimes it doesn't tell the whole story. Good players
can run bad and good people can suffer lapses in judgment. It's easy to become
uncharacteristically jealous of friends while they ride the upswing of the "luck curve", while
you're on the way down. As a result, I've been trying to stay away from "numbers", especially
while I go through the biggest run-good of my life. I know the envy and jealousy that I've felt
watching friends of mine do big things and the unjust feeling of inadequacy that it's caused. So
when people like Sam ask how I've been doing up in the "big game" I try and tell them there's
good days and there's bad ones. A week ago Saturday, was a good one.

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That Friday night I was out for drinks at the Cosmopolitan with Joe Bartholdi and Alan Keating.
It was my first night off the wagon in sometime, so only a couple whiskey and cokes had me
feeling confident and ambitious. As Joe headed to the bathroom Alan and I dove into deep
conversation about our own expectations with life and poker. Mid chat we were interrupted.
"Hey guys look who I found on the way back" Joe said standing next to a guy with the fastest
moving mouth and whitest teeth I'd ever seen. It was Layne Flack. Eight years ago when my
poker fixes were cured by the Tuesday night running of WSOP episodes, Layne was my idol. His
fearlessness and aggression paved the way for the style that I would soon develop as my own.
And now he was here next to me, buying me shots of a foreign liquor that came with a flower as
a chaser, yapping in my ear about the absence of an afterlife, while challenging my rebuttal with
"have you ever encountered your soul?" He was everything that I hoped Layne Flack would be.
That next morning I woke up at 730 with the taste of sunflower in my mouth and distorted vision
in my eyes. But motivated by my encounter the night before, I did my best Layne Flack
impression and regrouped in time to make it into the 10/20/40 game. I was tired, but luckily my
decisions were very basic. I turned Queens full when an opponent shoved into me, and my AK
held up against an overaggressive player's AQ. Before I knew it I was up 10k for the day and
sitting at my juiciest ever 10/20/40 table.
The final hand of the day came when an online player opened UTG to 140. 4 players called
before me, and I joined in the Sb with Q J . The Mb, a recreational player with a ton of
chips, called as well, as we saw a flop of Q J 7 . I led out for 820 and was called only by
the Mb. The river was the 5
completing the flush that I was nearly certain my opponent held. I
checked, knowing I'd be forced to fold to his turn aggression. However, he chose to only bet
$500, giving me an insane price to hit my 4 outer. And wouldn't you know it the J
popped out
on the river. I paused for a moment, deciding between leading or check raising. Against an
experienced played I'd have to lead to catch any value, but against this guy, I was not only
confident he would bet, but also call off my raise. So I checked. This time he took out a lot of
chips. 1700 of them. I contemplated my raise before reaching for my blacks and placing all 56 of
them in the pot. "What's that" the older gentleman asked while he fumbled through his own
chips. The dealer began counting. "Oh it doesn't matter, I call, he said looking me in the eye.
My boat had his nut flush trumped and I was now approaching my biggest day ever.
By the time I made it to the cage I was 19.7K richer than when I'd entered the Bellagio, indeed
my biggest day. I was excited, but it's hard to be satisfied in a game with such big swings, where
the very money you win can disappear the next day.
A few days later, I was at the same table, but this time it was perhaps the toughest lineup I've
ever played in. Phil Laak was two to my left, Bryn Kenney and Luke "FullFlush" Schwartz were
to my right and another name pro was across the table. That final "pro" is a particular player
that's rubbed me the wrong way; subtly taking shots at me since the first big pot I won off him.
That particularly day, he put me over the edge.
The seat to my left was open when Amy, the morning Floor, came and locked it up with a post-it
note bearing the name of the loose-passive player who would soon be joining us. "Hey Kid" the

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pro called referring to me. "If you're gonna change seats you should probably do it before he gets
herelooks bad, you know?." I hadn't made any mention in moving seats, nor did I have the
intention of moving to this player's left. I wanted to needle him back. To make mention to his big
ears and receding hairline. To ask him if he used to dress up as the dude from Star Trek for
Halloween. But when you got super sized listening lobes yourself and a hairline on the brink of
extinction, there isn't much to say. Instead, I just nodded and smiled, daydreaming of busting his
bankroll. Not every pro is as awesome as you imagine.
I'd been playing snug and had a 7k stack when this interesting spot came up. I raised UTG with
A Q
and got called by FullFlush in the Sb and a drunk rec player in the BB. The flop came
J
7
7
[ed. note: original post had JJ7 but this was confirmed to be J77 which makes the
following make more sense] and the Bb led into me for 200 after FF checked. I called as did FF.
On a A
turn FF led for 700. The Sb folded and I called. The River was a Q
and this time he
led into me for 1560. I no longer felt like my hand was any good. In fact, I was pretty certain he
had a 7. The story was about to end with a fold, when all of a sudden I imagined an ending that
also made perfect sense. What if I go all in? I can rep 3 credible full houses I thought to myself.
FF is a good enough player whos capable of folding a 7. **** it, lets do it. "Im all in" I
announced as FF let out an utter of annoyance while slapping the table. "How much is it?" He
asked me. "Do you want to chop?" I didn't respond to either question. Instead I sat and stared at
the corner of the A . I saw Tom Dwan do it once with 9 high, getting Phil Ivey to fold the best
hand. If it worked against Ivey, it can work against Luke. So I sat and stared as he took his time
with the decision. A couple minutes went by. My concentration was so intense that my brain had
begun playing tricks on me. Suddenly, the green felt had changed to purple and the cards were
beginning to shake. Like something straight out of a movie, I didn't know how much longer I
could stare. Finally, with my eyes watering I heard "Alright I guess you got the boat," and saw
my opponents cards tossed at the dealer. My biggest bluff ever, and I couldn't resist showing my
opponent. His neighbor and friend, Bryn Kenney, took note.
My stack had risen to 11k when I got my shot at the 2nd half of the duo. Bryn opened UTG to
160. He'd been playing solid and tight, but I couldn't fold given that the drunk kid with the big
stack had called to his left. So I joined with T J , as did a few others. The flop came down
the perfect J T 3
and Bryn Cbet a curiously small 340. The drunk called, next to act, and
it was up to me. I counted out a big raise, wanting to put pressure on both the big hands and the
draws. "1620" I announced. I expected Bryn to fold just about everything, but I was wrong. He
took his time, scheming out his next move. "3500 total" he fired right back. This woke me up,
never did I expect him to raise, especially that small. I thought about my options; none of them
seemed good. I opted to call, hoping to disguise my hand while also dodging a plethora of bad
turn cards. The turn was the 2
and this time the tournament pro checked after some thought.
Internally I let out a sigh of relief as I now was certain my hand was best. With only one option I
shoved in for 6400. Bryn was noticeably upset. After some thought, imaginably about the bluff
I'd shown his friend, he called my bet. "Ten ball" I called for as the dealer prepared the most
important card of the hand. It was another 2. The Deuce of Spades. "****" I said loud enough for
Bryn to hear as I flipped over my hand. The flush got there, and the 2 counterfeited my very own

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two pair. "Top two is good," he said surprising me greatly while looking at his cards, praying
they would change into an overpair.
I was shocked but stayed calm not wanting to offend my opponent after such a big pot. I stacked
my chips as I listened to the two pros arguing over the correct way to play the hand against me. I
took it as a compliment and a huge boost to the confidence as I loaded up another 12k day. The
upswing has been in full effect for the past few weeks. Still I must stay aware and focused or the
money can disappear just as fast as it got here.
MM
06/28/11: (Angry)
They say to write a letter when you're angry. To stuff it in a drawer and return two days later if
you still feel like sending it. But if I continue to wait until calm to relay my thoughts, the manic
mood changes that come with losing 15k pots to the strategically challenged might forever go
lost in my experience.
So here I am, at the UNLV library, hours after another losing day, rewinding the tape, rewatching
the wreck.
You know it's funny, I haven't been to a library in the summertime since my mom sent me to
keyboard camp in the 5th grade. Half as punishment for tormenting my 8 year old sister and half
because the woman was obsessed with the emergence of Microsoft. I was eleven. And I was in
hell. No baseball, just typing. It may as well have been Tent City.
I made myself two promises that week. 1) I would never be back; and 2) Nobody would find out
I ever went. Twelve years later, both pacts are broken and my only explanation is losing.
It took me two weeks and change to get back to the thread because I was busy winning. I know
that sounds conceited and Charlie Sheen-ish but there's actually logic behind the rubbish. Day in
and day out I was playing solid poker and being rewarded by the god's above. My purpose was
fulfilled. I was Matt Moore, professional poker player. But as the cards began to disobey, and my
luck turned sour, I saw my sense of identity slowly slipping away. Insecurities took over and I
found myself grabbing at empty space, searching for something to fill that void.
It's a natural cycle, at least I think it is, because I've been through it before. I load up on one area
of life; be it a sport or a relationship and slowly disregard everything else. But when things go
bad, and they always do, I'm back trying to relocate the parts of my personality that I'd been
neglecting. So in my best attempt to channel Matt Moore, the writer, here's the story of my peak,
and the Grimmstarr-esque destruction that ensued.
Streaking in the Wrong Direction
There's 3 ways to lose money in this town. Being reckless, being unprofitable, and being
unlucky. Each ingredient touching on a separate yet equally important emotion in the losing
process. The recklessness triggers regret. Instant wishes to take back our mistakes; usually
curable through wisdom and experience. The poor play triggers anger; not completely fixable,
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but tamable through trial and error. And then there's bad luck. The Joker in the deck. Battled by
superstition and karma, mastered by neither. Bad luck causes numbness. The simplest, yet most
dangerous feeling of them all.
Regret
I suppose the story begins on the Eve of the World Series of Poker. Not the actual opening night,
but it would turn out to be the night before my 1st event at the 2011 series. The night before my
downfall. We were on Spring Mountain Rd at Hot n Juicy Crawfish, cracking, eating
celebrating. I'd just raked in another 5k day. I say another because these things were rolling in
like Tiger Woods mistresses. I could do no wrong.
After dinner, Deep and Dan mentioned they were going to the RIO to play some satellites. I
decided to join. An hour later, after only 1 attempt, I'd turned $100 into 5k in tournament chips,
the exact buy-in to the next days No Limit tournament. I could've saved the chips. Spread them
out towards various 1k events. But I was Matt Moore, professional poker player. Nobody was as
in tune with the current live poker scene as me. There wasn't a doubt in my mind I was going to
cash in that tournament.
So the next day I wandered back to the RIO, with no idea of the beast that lied in front of me. I
was completely unprepared for the super-aggressive nature of the high stakes tournaments and
after 3 piss breaks and 5 minutes before dinner, I was down to 10k in chips from the starting
stack of 15,000. Still, I had a few cash game tricks up my sleeve and brought one out when I flat
called an aggressive players 3bet with K K
and led small on a 9 9 8
flop. He
shoved and I made the call, to see I was up against AQ. The turn brought a third 9
giving me a
full house. The river, the final 9 , giving him quads with an Ace kicker.
The same process would be repeated 4 more times over the next couple weeks, as I burned
through my money and that of a few disappointed investors. Still, my profits at the Bellagio
10/20/40 were keeping my bankroll neutral and allowing me to be reckless with my separate
investments. Then slowly, my luck began to change.
As poker players we have this Sixth Sense where we know when things are about to go wrong.
But we're addicts and we're egomaniacs. And even if Nostradamus came down to the Bellagio
warning us about bad luck at the tables, we'd still sit down as long as there was an open seat.
My sign came in the form of pocket Kings. Twice in two sessions I ran them into Aces, losing
both in 12K+ pots, but also recovering and avoiding any sessions in the red. I should've taken it
as a hint. Should've known it was only the tip of the iceberg. But no, I took it as a positive; a
massage to my growing ego. If I can get KK in against AA twice in two days and still not lose,
how were they ever going to bust me??
That was my mindset as I set out for a weekend getaway in Phoenix, telling the Twitter world
how #lifewasgood, and the ASU girls how ****ing great it felt to be a professional poker player.

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Anger
Upon my return, I naively assumed that my progress would continue at the same profitable pace
it had been traveling at. That as a gambler I could maintain a steady, variance-free income.
Hadn't I learned my lesson before? Like in January when I followed up a 25k month with 5
weeks of break even poker. Sure, but no matter how many times I go through the cycle of
winning and losing, the blender of misery and ecstasy, I can never prepare for the change of
fortune and the resulting Chris Brown beat down on my Psyche.
It began last Tuesday morning, after a quick trip to Palio for a cup of coffee to help ween me
back on the early morning schedule. The game was tougher than normal, detailed by the
expensive watches and V-neck shirts draped on my barely legal opponents. A month ago I may
have gone to breakfast and waited for the old school/new school equilibrium to even out. But on
this day I wanted the toughest players they could send my way. One particular Asian opponent
gave me a bunch of trouble right off the bat. He cold 4bet me and then check-raised me off AK
on a KT9flop. He seemed reckless; I was going to make him pay.
With a 4k stack I called his raise to 140 with K Q
in the BB after a fish had already done so
in the small. The flop came A K Q . I checked to the raiser and he followed up with a 280
bet. My thinking was to check-call, but the fish decided to play as well, making me adjust on the
run. I chose a raise to 940, planning on folding to further aggression from either player. The
Asian called and the fish folded. Turn was a harmless 5
and I looked down at my stack to
realize I'd put myself in a difficult spot. With 2800 I didn't have any room to bet and fold. I could
either go with my hand or give up. I decided to go with it as I pushed my 2800 into the middle
for a little more than a pot sized bet.
I was called instantly; Never good news for middle two pair. The river was a T , but it
mattered little as my opponent had me drawing slim the whole way with AK. I shook my head
and reached into my pocket, reloading for another flag.
As the session was coming to an end and my winning streak appeared in jeopardy, I picked up
the A J
in MP. I raised it to 140 and got two callers, a younger Euro on the btn, and an older
fellow in the bb. I flopped the nuts with the K 9 8
[ed. note: originally he wrote K78 of
clubs, but corrected it in a subsequent post] and threw out a 280 cbet. Things got even better as
the Euro raised my bet to 820. With 6k stacks, I pondered between a call and a raise, before
greedily deciding to just call for deception. The turn brought the K , destroying my plan for a
check raise all in. I checked, and the Euro followed it up with a bet of 2 stacks of 20's and 2
black chips. I called the 1k bet and checked quickly as the offsuit 7
hit the river. Now the
sunglassed Euro grabbed his towering stacks of orange and pushed them across the line. "3320"
the dealer announced after breaking down the ridiculous stacks.
I sat in agony for a couple minutes, hating both of my options. The player was capable of having
99 or 88, but it would've required him to raise me on a 3 flush board. My opponent could also
have Q T
or 6 7 , but this would require him shoving on a paired board. It came down
to whether or not he would bet the river with the two worse flushes. From his perspective my
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two hidden cards looked like A Ax and A Kx. I was convinced he would. So with the eyes
of the table awaiting my decision, I kissed my chips like a mother sending her child off to
college, and tossed them into the fire, hoping I would see them again.
I wouldn't.
The Euro turned over two red nines, knocking me to the rail with my biggest losing day ever.
I fought to hold in my anger in as I walked out to valet, sitting in the 115 degree heat while my
black T-Shirt attracted the burning sun to my Irish skin, soothing my masochist urges. It's sick
but sometimes the physical punishment helps calm me down mentally. Still, after 20 minutes of
anxiety-filled waiting my patience ran out. I turned to the shade and put a closed fist into the
very tree that was keeping me cool. Needless to say, I didn't win the fight.
Numbness
It took a couple days, but eventually my anger was subdued, my sunburn faded, and my knuckles
swelled down. I still wasn't winning, but I was back to playing great poker and waiting for good
spots.
My good spots would come two days later, welcoming my chance to get unstuck. I wasn't as
active these days early in sessions, gun-shy from the lost battles the week before. But after
grinding up to 6500, an unorthodox play put me in position to win a big pot.
After watching my neighbor to my right lose a huge pot, the frustrated LA grinder opened UTG
(7 handed game) to 140. I had 3 3
in the next position, which usually was a simple call. But
in this game, with two of Vegas' best players behind me, just waiting to prey on dead money, I
had to make an adjustment. I raised to 480, knowing I was ahead of the opener's range, and
confident the beasts would leave me alone. They did and only UTG called as we took a K
5 3
flop. Bingo. My opponent check called 580, leaving me thinking he wasn't planning on
folding. The turn came a 5 , giving me a full house. This time I bet 1580 hoping to set myself
up for a river shove. Again my opponent thoughtlessly called, illuminating his medium strength
hand.
I pondered between an immediate shove and a tank shove while the dealer burned and turned the
river. The deck had different plans. I laughed as a 3rd 5
hit the board and my opponent
checked to me. "Back in Chicago we call this the submarine," I said while flipping over my
sunken boat. His K 6
got there, and my chance at gaining some momentum would have to
wait.
Waiting is just what I did, for the next 5 hours, attempting to fold my way through the variance.
The boredom that comes with live poker cold streaks had me sunk in my chair when two black
Kings rocked me back to consciousness. I was in the Bb and it was a limped pot to me. I made it
240, but it wouldn't stay that cheap long. The first limper reraised it to 800 in mp.

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Now this wasn't just any random opponent who raised me. It was an ex-rival from my days at the
boat in Lawrenceburg, Indiana. We'd spent countless all night sessions battling for each other's
beer money in the small stakes games during my college days. It had been a year since I'd seen
him, but he couldn't have changed much. He was tricky and aggressive by nature, evident by the
dozens of times we'd gotten all the money in the middle. Though I had a feeling by the time this
one was over, it may just trump them all.
I made the call. The door card helped ease my growing pulse, as the K
was followed by the A
and the 5 . I checked to my old friend and he counted out bills before betting 1300. I made
the call and we saw a 4
on the turn. I checked again and my opponent wasn't backing down.
He reached to his stack and pulled out 28 bills. Now while middle set looks fabulous here, I
wasn't about to soil my pants or start dreaming about Vegas and the ****ing Mirage. AA was
certainly in his rangeBut so were a few other hands. Not wanting a
to kill my river action I
opted to go all in for his 2800 plus my final 3,000.
My opponent quickly called and we eyeballed each other as the dealer prepared the river. The
J
fell on it's back and it was my turn to show my hand. "I got 3 kings" I said as I reached for
my cards.
My hand would never make it there.
My rival joyously flipped over AA. The nuts.
I stood up from the table and reached for my backpack as I slowly faded from consciousness.
The dealer was reaching for my chips and posing a question in my direction; But all I saw were
moving lips. I felt a nudge from my right, and heard with my site, 'Did you really have 2nd
trips?'
I was lost in the moment, aloof to the world. I couldn't feel the pain, I just knew it was time to go
home. So I walked back to valet and I sat in the shade, staring blankly at the tunnel that would
bring up my car. I wasn't worried about when it would come my way, or anything that would
come my way for that matter. It all made no difference in that moment. Because when you've lost
all control over the things you value most, the numbness spreads like a cancer until you can't feel
anything.
Since that day I've been subconsciously viewing the 5/10NL games on my way to the big stage.
Perhaps it's the act of a greater force preparing me for the next step in my poker career. A drastic
step backwards. I think about the orange chips they battle over, and how I use them to post small
blinds. Part of me isn't sure that I'd ever be able to go back.
I'm back to the edge of the high stakes cliff. Two more bad days and I could be overboard. My
dream of playing in the Main Event, which was such a given 2 weeks ago, is now a lofty goal.
With only 3 weeks remaining until my 6 week trip to Europe, this month could determine
whether or not I come back to Vegas afterwards.

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There's no sake in dwelling over the losses or trying to recover them in a minimal amount of
time. So for now, on this loop in life's rollercoaster, I'm focused on a piece of advice my dad sent
me. "Anyone can be the man when things are going well, it's how we react and handle failure
that separates the winners from the losers."
MM
07/04/11: The Home Game
"Is Wayne Brady gonna have to Djokavic?"
It's bland, unoriginal, and barely witty; but as we reach hour 12 of the session and the sleep
deprivation takes us to a state of stoned like hysteria, it's got me slapping my knees in laughter as
Mars performs it in his well-rehearsed Christopher Walken accent.
It's 9am and the strippers are gone, the fish are broke, and the pros have retired back to their
homes. It's only me, the home-owner, and his loyal posse, who rotate between the box and short
naps in the guest bedroom. Three of the flatscreens are set on the Djokavic upset of Rafael
Nadal, while the 4th plays the days best alternative tunes as according to DirecTV. It's hardly
McD vs KGB, but this underground Heads-Up battle is the biggest game and my best
opportunity since moving out to Las Vegas.
Across the table from me is 40 year old Mars Callahan, writer, director, and movie producer; but
most fascinating to me for his ten episode stint as Wayne Arnold's best friend in my favorite 90's
TV show. Mars started playing high stakes poker 6 months ago, and just recently began his own
home game while in search of ideas and inspiration for his upcoming movie, Poker Junkies. It's a
sequel-esque film to his 2002 hit Pool Hall Junkies, which I mistakingly refer to as Pool House,
sparking rage from his cronies, but plenty of laughter and jokes from Mars himself. My harmless
digs and playful competitiveness seem to have sparked some life into a guy whose been trained
into aloofness by the ego massaging that dominates the interactions within his inner-circle.
The game had gotten stale. After four hours of heads up play, our grasp on each other's
tendencies restrained our stacks from teetering much past the 17 or 21k mark. Though it wasn't
always like that. Four hours ago, shortly after the girls were returned to the Rhino and the last
Degens surrendered to exhaustion, I was certain that all the chips would be mine. In fact, I had
the majority of Marss chips all in on a T high board, but a river K bailed him out and paved the
way for our marathon session, which Mars would later put into perspective by saying "I've got a
lot of crazy stories kid, but this onethis one's going in the book."
Well if this were to be a chapter in the Mars Callahan biography it certainly needed some revival.
The synthetic energy we'd created through cases of Red Bull was now being used to bob our
heads to the beat of the music, while replacing the words of the songs with lyrics that summed up
our night. The white boy freestyle. Finally, after our rendition of Foster the People's "Pumped up
Kicks (10K Bricks)" our attention returned to poker. Mars made his hourly request to raise the
game to 50/100NL and for the first time I was considering. The stakes were over my head, but if
we didn't do something soon, my chance at Mars' 20k was gonna disappear.

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"Alright, lets do it" I said as I posted the $50 Sb on the btn and looked down at 8 2 . I raised
the action to $300 and Mars defended as he typically did. The flop came Q 8 5
and Mars
led into me for $450. It was a strategy he'd developed during the night, and one that made it
difficult to defend against when I didn't flop a pair, especially knowing I couldn't afford to rebuy.
This time, however, I caught a small piece and continued onto the turn. Fourth street was the
6
and again Mars led, this time for $1,000. It was a close spot, but I needed to set the
precedent that I wasn't going to be run over or intimidated by the raise in stakes. I called and the
river brought the 4 . With four to a straight it may seem like a bad card, but against a
recreational player it's going to help polarize his betting range. In other words, his one pair Q
hands are gonna have a very difficult time betting another value bullet.
Mars went into the tank, his body language giving off the sense of genuine thinking. About a
minute later he emerged with a plethora of black, totaling $2700. All I had was middle pair with
a deuce kicker, but against his line it may as well have been Queens up. Unless he ran into the
straight, I was confident I was ahead. "I call" I said, nodding my head while pushing my chips
into the middle. Mars stared into oblivion. I wasn't sure if it was his lack of sleep or his defense
against getting caught bluffing, but it was an unusual site. Eventually he flipped over a K,
indicating that was his high card, and I countered by showing my 82. That put him through the
roof. While the dealer, his good friend, sheepishly pushed the pot my way, Mars mumbled to no
one in particular about 'four to a straight' and a 'deuce kicker', before congratulating me with a
"Nice hand, Matt."
While I was having fun with Hollywood's elite, I was in no way disappointed that tilt had kicked
in, and the stories of Vince Vaughn stealing "Swingers", and Miramax offering up the Rounders
sequel, were replaced with big pots being pushed my way.
By 10:30 the new day was fully underway, while Mars appeared to be approaching the end of
his. His stack was down to 8k and his temperament implied that he was looking for any excuse to
get the money in the middle. I hoped to give him a reason as I opened the btn to $300 with A
A . He defended and we took a 9 4 5
flop. Mars led for $500 and I faked deliberation
before raising to $1600. My bet was met with a quick call as we took a 6
on the turn. This
time it was Mars who was deep in thought, before firing $1900. I wasn't terribly happy with my
hand but with $4300 behind I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get all the chips. "I'm all in" I
told him, putting the action right back on him. "Whatever, I call I guess" he said while placing
his now short stack into the middle.
"I've got Aces" I said out of respect for the host, letting him know what he needed to catch up.
The river was an 8 , causing a commotion from the previously depleted Movie star. I wasn't
sure what to make of the outburst; Mars is a pretty bizarre guy, as I suspect are most people
named after planets. But once the 9 8
was turned over, the confusion was all cleared up.
My 2nd chance at all the money was brushed to the wayside as our stacks appeared eerily
compatible, growing that disheartening knot in my stomach.

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By 11 I got the feeling that our 5am pact to play until one of us had all the money wouldn't be
reached. Mars started telling members of the posse, one at a time, that they should go home and
that we could handle the rest of the game by ourselves. By 11:15 the dealers had left, and it was
just Mars and I, each with our own deck, doubling between playing the current hand and
preparing for the next. One of us was a multi-millionaire who bought guest houses simply to
throw parties, while the other was a struggling grinder who probably couldn't afford to rent a
room in the very house he was playing in. But in early afternoon on the 1st of July as we shared
the same caffeine induced psychedelic state, we were just two guys, shuffling as fast we could,
desperate to feed our adrenaline. Two Poker Junkies.
We had it down to a science by 1130, as our hands per hour rate reached internet poker levels.
But the substance of the game had perished. Mars was off tilt, and we were back to our
seesawing stacks, with neither of us willing to get out of line. Soon it became apparent that we
were simply shuffling cards, cutting decks, and tossing chips back and forth. With the sun
minutes away from high noon, and the session approaching hour 17, Mars broke the prolonged
silence. "How much are you stuck?" he asked me. "About 1.7" I told him counting my 18.3k in
chips. He reacted with a mischievous, youre-never-going-to-belive-this smile. "So am I".
I knew where this was going and even though I could've played until the delirium had me seeing
the rest of the solar system as well, I saved Mars the feeling of inadequacy and agreed that it was
probably a good time to call it quits. He called his assistant, a runner up finisher on VH1's reality
show "The Pick Up Artist", and ten minutes later I was riding shotgun with Mystery's prodigy on
my way back to the strip.
With my head floating around somewhere in the clouds, I couldn't help but laugh at the
ridiculous nature of my night. While I was disappointed it didn't end like Mike McD's 2nd battle
with the Oreo eater, I reminded myself it could've also ended like their first. But sometimes,
outside the Hollywood set, when the script's being written all by itself, there are no life changing
endings. Just 90's freestyles, horrible puns, and an experience that you'll never forget.
Foster the People - Pumped Up Kicks
MM
07/13/11: Main Event
When you're 23 and responsibility free, overflowing with ambition and confidence, opportunities
that seem dangerous to some, seem completely logical to you. The best way I can describe my
group of friends is by justifying calculated recklessness. We may not be the most handsome or
the smartest bunch. And we still may be working on what the pundits call "money management".
But one thing we do know, is what we want out of life.
Eight years ago we watched Chris Moneymaker storm through the field at Binion's Horseshoe
and dreamt countless nights of having the opportunity to accomplish the same. Back then my
bankroll was somewhere between $0 and $20, depending on the last time I mowed the lawn. And
my focus was simply on scrounging up enough change to get in the next $10 tourney in Mike
Tung's basement.

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Well things have changed now. I don't have to cut grass to get in the game. I've got a little bit of
money. Not a lot, but enough. And the story's the same for friends Joe, Dan, and Deep. So while
the older and "wiser" may tell us we don't understand how much of a bankroll you need to play
the Main, I tell them right back, that maybe they don't understand. Or at least remember what it's
like to be young and so close to something you've been dreaming about for so long.
Sure we're smart enough to know that 90% of the people go home with nada, but were also
skeptical enough to know this opportunity won't be around forever. We're all winning players,
but none of us are anchored down to Las Vegas or the idea of living our lives as poker
professionals. I've got an expiring apartment lease and a one-way ticket to Europe on July 21st.
For all I know, this could be the final two weeks of my Vegas life.
And if that were to be true, what better way to go out then the biggest tournament in the world
I spent the last week with those very friends, hopelessly debating the big question. To play or not
to play. Essentially it just became a way of passing the time because we all knew which side of
the seesaw would prevail. There was no way we were missing this tournament. The cameras, the
pros, the celebrities, not to mention the value in simply registering was too much for us wide
eyes rookies to pass up.
So in my spare time I expanded to the outer boundaries of the lazy man's preparation guide and
called anyone I thought would have advice to offer.
Here's what I collected:
..."It's all about the overbet. In the cash games we use it for value, but in this tournament it
should be used as a bluff. People are scared to lose their chips."-Deep
"Kid, if I had to give you one piece of advice for the main, now are you ready for this, cause I'm
only gonna say it once. Get your IPod game together. I'm not just talking your music, I'm talking
your roommates, the guy you buy pot from, the girl with the funky hair at the pool. You talk to
them, you hand them your Ipod or your MP3 or whatever it is you use for music and you don't
leave until you've got it all. Cause if you're doing it right, this week will be the biggest grind of
your ****ing life. I can promise you that."-Phil Laak
"Good thoughts. Good things will only happen if you believe they're going to happen to you. If
not you may as well not even enter."-Dan
"Pay attention. Find the weak players; the ones who are very predictable. And then 3bet them,
and raise their blinds, and do whatever you can to get involved in their pots. The stacks are deep
and you're a good player, you can afford to play marginal holdings." -Ryan Leng
"Don't pay $300 for a handjob from a hooker who just ate sushi."-Anonymous college friend.
"Here's the thing, I like your style, I really do. I mean, you play every god damn hand. And I
think thats the way to play poker, but for this thing you've got to slow down. Listen to me, when

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dem old folk start bettin' you better start running. Now dem internet kids, they still gonna play
their style, but when da old goats are in the hand you better make sure you got the stones."-Sam
Grizzle
"Pay attention and do your best"-Mom...
So with my guide to winning the Main Event set in stone, I sat down in the Amazon room,
Orange 311, seat 5, on Saturday, day 1c of the 2011 WSOP Main Event.
Surprisingly, I wasn't very nervous. I guess cause when you sit down with 30k in chips and
realize that it's almost impossible to go bust in the first 4 hours, it's easy to stay calm. My table
draw felt pretty good. Not that I knew what to expect, but the mixture of 5 "old goats" and 4
young kids seemed like a lineup that I would find profitable.
My first hand of the tournament would come at 50/100 when I opened A Q
in EP to 250. A
guy with a "poker league" shirt called in the SB and the table fish called in the BB. The flop
came A K T
and we went check, check, check. On a 9
turn, poker league (PL)
checked again and the fish led for 400. Since he was leading with a super light range I raised it
up to 1100. Now it gets interesting as the action returns to PL and he cold calls. The fish also
cold called and we finished the board with the 5 . They both checked to me and I returned the
favor, giving up hope of taking this one down. PL tabled AK for top two pair, but the fish
trumped him with pocket Ts. This would be my last top pair, until the last level of the day.
With my stack down to 22k, and one hand remaining before dinner, I raised K Q
in MP to
750 at 150/300. A solid European called on the btn and the SB and BB joined as well. On an
8
8 T
board I saw an opportunity to put pressure on my opponents with a big bet. I
decided on 2350. The Euro agonized and folded, as did the SB. I was one player away from my
first pot of the series, but the BB wasn't ready to give up. He called and we took a 5
on the
turn. This opponent was very passive and undisciplined so after he checked I gave up on getting
him off a T and checked back. The river, however, opened more doors as the J
added an
overcard and finished the backdoor flush. I was certain he didn't have an 8 as he checked for the
3rd time, so I went into the tank to determine how I was going to get him off a T. I remembered
Deep's advice and thought if I put out enough chips, he would just accept the loss and move on
to dinner. "8750" I announced, leaving me with less then 10k behind. I wasn't repping many
hands, but that's not as important when playing the recreational players. Still my heart was
pounding, as he meticulously counted the pot and deliberated amongst himself. Finally, he shook
his head and tossed his cards in the middle. I was off the hook and back up to 28k.
My comeback began as we returned to play and the antes were incorporated. My wide opening
range was now rewarded, especially as my opponents failed to adjust. My aggression helped
raise my stack a few thousand, and also gave me a loose reputation that would play a role in my
last pot of the day.

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Dan Shak, hedge-fund manager, and apparently (PokerNews took pictures of him all night)
famous poker player, opened in the SB to 1200 when the action folded to him. He was pretty
aggressive and basically an action junkie, so I was perfectly fine calling from the BB with A
3
. The flop fell A Q 8
and he Cbet 2k. I called as the turn brought the 9 . Again, he
continued for 4k. I was close to folding this street as I expect most players to give up their bluffs
here, but Shak isn't most players. He's got about as much money as the other Shaq, and If he
feels like bluffing, then my god, he's gonna keep bluffing. The river brought the 9 , a good
card for me, as my kicker was promoted from a 3 to a Q. Surprisingly, however, Dan threw in a
small 6k value bet. I was confused, but I wasn't about to fold my hand on a river like that. I
called and he tapped the table. I waited for him to show, wanting to know what he was triple
barreling with, but he threw his hand into muck. I attempted to do the same, but apparently even
though he surrendered, I still needed to show. WTF!? Where's the logic in that?
And just like that, I'd survived day 1 of the Main Event. I bagged 39,750 chips, not impressive
by any means, but certainly nothing to frown upon with the cold deck of cards I was dealt.
I took my day off to relax, get some exercise and keep my mind off of poker. But even with all
the distractions in this town, it's impossible to keep a wandering mind from where it's trying to
go. With 4,400 players remaining, and millions of chips standing in my way, I still found myself
daydreaming about the final table, knowing it was one step closer
Day 2 began at black 10 in the Pavilion. My table appeared, younger, more European,
assumingly a bit more difficult. Still, their were a couple amateur-appearing players, and one of
them fought back at me in my very first raised pot. I made it 1250 in EP with Q Q
and he
recklessly took out 3700 and splashed it into the pot from the BB. Without much information it
was a tough spot, but his slouching posture and careless appearance made me believe he didn't
have to have AA or KK here. So I called and the flop came 9 8 5 . I was determining if I
would raise or call his bet when I hear the dealer confirm that he'd announced all in. 19k into a
7k pot. What the ****'s going on. I didn't know anything about this player, but I knew that most
people would search for some value with AA or KK. So I called, placing the majority of my
chips in the middle and watched my opponent turn up the red TT. The turn was a 6 , keeping
me in front, but adding 4 new outs for my opponent. No 7, no T, no 7, no T I chanted in my head.
7 . The table took the beat worse than I did, oooing and aaaaing, while shaking their heads in
my direction.
Surprisingly, I wasn't very tilted as we moved on to the next hand. Sure my stack was just
crippled, but I wasn't dead yet. I finished off the level with a few failed opens, and as we headed
to the urinals, my stack was down to 5 chips; 2 5ks 2 1ks, and a 100.
I saw O.D. a 10/20/40 regular, and tournament wizard, in line for the bathroom and did a lot of
listening as conversations with him often go. He talked about the big stacks, and the short stacks,
and how poorly people play them both in this tournament. "These guys are so consumed with
'what's average' that they completely forget to just play their game. Here's a secret Matt, it's not
about how you're doing compared to the field, it's about how you're doing compared to the

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blinds," he told me. Sure I only had 12K left with the average above 45, but he was right, I still
had 24 BBs. That would be plenty of room to stay calm and look for my spots.
My spot would come soon as I picked up TT on the CO. A raise came in from EP to 1500. It was
from the Old Granny. Typically not what you want to see when you're preparing to shove in your
tournament life with T T . But this wasn't your typical granny. This was like your Wedding
Singer, freestyling granny. Opening a fair amount, living a bit on the wild side. So I stuffed it in
(no not like that) and she followed suit with A Q . My tournament life was on the line. The
Flop came 2 4 5 . The turn was an 8 . I got on the edge of my seat to ensure the first
glance at the river. It was paint. J . I'd survived.
With my stack up to 24K, I felt a lot less pressure and relaxed a little bit; even taking time to
check out my surroundings. As my eyes were wandering, they caught the phone of my opponent
to my right. I saw a picture of myself. He was on twitter. He was on MY twitter. Mother ****er.
But really it wasn't his fault, with the table listings available online, I should've been more
careful on what I chose to post. I spent the next few rounds planning a witty, funny post, to let
him know that I knew he was following me; until, I had a revelation. Let's use this to our
advantage.
The opportunity came when we played our next pot together. This is what I wrote on Twitter:
Aggro guy opens to 1400, I make it 3250 with A2. He 4bets to 5500 and I call cuz I think his
4bets are bluffs. Flop QT5 c/c. Turn 9 c/c. River 6 he checks, I bet 8k putting him to the test and
he folds.
It was all true, except I had JJ not Ace Deuce, and I didn't necessarily think all his 4bets were
bluffs. But now that I knew he was reading my updates, I had all the power.
Maybe ten minutes later, my aggressive neighbor opened again, and I looked down at AA in the
CO. I 3bet to 3250, knowing that he "knew" I 3bet A2. Well he used that knowledge and 4bet me
to 6100. I now knew he couldn't be bluffing here because I told him I thought all his 4bets were
bluffs. So I raised small to 11k, and let him shove it all in for my 30k effective. I insta-called,
grinning over the Twitter bluff I'd just pulled off. He flipped over QQ as we took a flop of J98.
All of a sudden I wasn't so giggly. The turn was a 4 and I was one dodged bullet from a sizable
stack. This time it was no Q, no T, no Q, no T that I chanted in my head as the dealer burned and
turned. 8 on the river. I tapped the table, letting out my excitement, and stacked my chips that
now equaled 60k.
Shortly after, that opponent would bust, but as he exited, he left me with what he believed were
words of advice. "Just a tip mate, don't post your non-showdown hands on Twitterbecause I
read every one of them."
The competitive side of me wanted to let him know that I was a step ahead of him, but I felt for
the guy who just busted the biggest tournament of the year, nodded my head, and thanked him
for the wisdom.

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The rest of the day was a blur. I changed tables 4 times, once putting me close to Hellmuth, the
next time close to Costanza, and the final time across the table from Mark Vos. I rode the roller
coaster that comes with opening lots of pots, but calculated my aggression, and by the end of the
day showed up with a 96.5K stack.
Deep got knocked out at the end of day 1, Dan's aces got run to the ground showing him the door
on day 2, but two of us remain alive in day 3. I accomplished my 4th goal, making it until the
fields combine and now have my eyes on my 5th, making the money. Day 3 is tomorrow, under
2,000 players remain and my stack is in the top 50%. We're a ways away from where we want to
be, but for now I'm taking in the moment and enjoying the dream.
MM
09/13/11: Back to Vegas
So the last time I checked in we were in the midst of the Main Event, waiting for day 3. Well, I
lasted a little past dinner break, before my table nemesis called off my final chips with AJ vs my
pair of sixes. After the T hit the turn, giving my opponent the nut straight, it was mathematically
over. Still, I rechecked the board, desperately searching for an out; even if it were only for the
chop. There wasn't one remaining.
That's kind of how it goes in your first attempt at the main. You hang on for dear life, refusing to
give up hope, even if it means surviving till the next hand, the next level, the next break.
By the time the few seconds of fantasizing about a variable that could change my fate were over,
my opponent already had his arm outstretched, rushing the process of my removal from the table.
I shook the flesh of a man younger than I, but the confidence in his grasp told me I'd fallen to the
sword of a far more experienced soldier.
I'd entered the day with the money bubble at the tip of my brain. However, I knew that surviving
wasn't the key to reaching my goal. I thought about the advice of a good friend and tournament
pro who told me "when two aggressive players meet for the first time, it's the one that's willing to
reach that next level of aggression who will win the battle." And then I thought about Any Given
Sunday. And Al Pacino. And the speech that's given me goosebumps over and over. In this fight I
was gonna be the guy that was willing to die for that inch.
I sat down and scaled the table looking for my victim; instead, I'd sought out my eventual
assassin. Sitting directly to my right, he had the stripes on his chips perfectly aligned and a
fauxhawk manicured to a similar perfection. I expected him to proceed with caution. Classic
Mike Caro.
So the first time he opened, I threw in a 3bet. I followed with the same the very next handand
again a few rounds later. Well, he 4bet me. Not once, not twice, but all three times.
Perhaps my aggression would've worked against the majority of the field and instead of being
short, I could've propelled an above average stack passed the bubble. But my real downfall in the
main event wasn't bad luck, it was a lack of preparation. Too many times I found myself lost and
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confused; and by the time my 66 fell to his AJ, I was eliminated because my previous poor
decisions had cost me vital lifelines.
After the main I flew over to Europe, carrying my belongings on my back, and Eurorailed
through essentially all of the Western half of the continent, playing poker in five separate
cardrooms.
In Mainz, Germany we entered the glass doors at the corner of a strip mall where the Mainz
Casino ran operation. I would later learn that this was the prototype for European gambling.
After dropping off my hat and backpack at the security checkpoint, I was now allowed to enter
the casino. Around the corner was a room roughly the size of the Bellagio poker room which
contained all of their gambling options. I sat down at one of the two poker tables which was
spreading a 3/6E NL game and waited anxiously at my chance at a pot with the mid aged gent in
the Barcelona jersey. He was the overaggressive "can't lose any pot" type of player that I seem to
play best against.
In this particular hand he was one of five limpers to me in the BB, where I bombed it to 65E with
J J . Barca and one other called as we took a J 4 3 . Bingo. I checked knowing this
guy couldn't pass up the opportunity to bet his air. And he didn't, pushing 180E into the pot. I
called, as did the other opponent in between the action. The turn was a 5
and I checked again
to our aggressive neighbor. This time he bet 350E, and while I would've loved to keep throwing
him rope, there was another player in the pot, and too many action killing river cards. So I
announced the two words that I found universal to all languages "All In". He pointed to my
stack. The dealer counted 900. Then he asked another question in a foreign language. I didn't
comprehend. But I understood time, and knew that the longer he took the more likely he was to
fold. But to my surprise he shook his shoulders and put the chips in the middle. The river was a
harmless 8
and I expected to take in my first Euro pot, when my opponent flipped over 67 for
the slowrolled straight. The American slowroll.
Our next poker night was in Barcelona Spain, where a slightly larger, two storied casino rests at
the tail end of the boardwalk and right in front of 6 or 7 beachfront nightclubs. It's a place where
missing the blinds is not an option, because they are posted from your stack whether you're at the
table or not. Walking down to the poker room we were stopped by security who told us that the
entrance fee was 7E unless we were staying at a 4star resort. I flung out my HostelWorld card
and then 7E. The poker room was a good size and busy due to a Paradise Poker sponsored
tournament. Stakes all the way up to 10/20E were offered, but we chose to sit in another 3/6E
game due to our lack of accessible funds.
I played well for the first few hours and again had my sights set on the overaggro player on the
opposite head of the table. I found my opportunity with 6 6
on the btn as he had already
opened the pot to 35. Usually small pairs are good set miners but not against players opening this
frequently, so I 3bet him to 110. He called rather thoughtlessly, as we sat 1800 deep and we took
a flop of 4 7 8 . Usually a standard Cbet, I knew this guy would get crazy with flush
draws and decided to take the "pot controlling" option and checked it back. The turn was a 7

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and immediately he fired 200E into the pot. I called it in stride and watched as the T
hit the
river. "Cuantos" he asked me pointing towards my stack. It was a bizarre question as I clearly
had more then he would be betting. Something was fishy. Still I counted it out as he settled on a
560E bet. I knew right away I was calling, but in case I was wrong I saved face and postured for
a few seconds before tossing in the chips. He flipped over A 5
and all of a sudden the
money the Union had taken from me back in Germany was returned to me in Spain.
Our next stop was to the world famous Monte Carlo, Monaco. If it wasn't evident we were
staying in the richest country in the world by the heaps of million dollar yachts or the Mercedes
Benz taxis, it became apparent when we entered the Sun casino and were told that the smallest
poker game running was 10/20E NL. This was a small problem as there were 3 of us and our
combined bankroll was only 6kE. Still with the table looking like a JP Morgan board meeting,
we would have to take our chances with the short stacks. So we divided the money evenly,
opting for two half-stacked buyins and went off to our separate tables.
It didn't take long for me to lose my first 50bbs after an early position raiser and 3 calls, I went
all in with TT. The initial raiser called and we were momentarily flipping. However the AAK
flop ended that sweat quickly as his AK locked it up.
Later after rebuilding my next buy in to 1400, I saw a 7 way limped pot with 3 3 . The flop
came down A 7 3
and I set the trap with a check. One of the more ambitious older men
bet 150 and was called by 2 players behind him. With the action back on me I made it 700, afraid
that a shove would scare off all AX hands. To my surprise all 3 players called. Looking to catch
some black, I saw the demoralizing 8
fall on the turn. The first player to act went all in,
covering my stack. While I knew I was beat, I still had to call off my remaining 700 based on the
size of the pot. Unexpectedly, the two other players also threw in their remaining chips, and we
were nearing a 6kE pot, roughly $9k in US dollars.
My neighbors had been intrigued by my tales from Las Vegas, so I showed them my bottom set
while we collectively rooted for the board to pair. But somewhere along the way, the conflicting
wills of the Swedish, Italians, and Americans were too confusing for the poker gods to
comprehend as the 4
bricked off on the river. I was broke a 2nd time as all 3 opponents
flipped over flushes. Just your standard four way, 4-outer. Even though a 2nd member of the
team offered me his extra buy in, I decided to call it a night after watching the dealer rake 80E
from the previous pot; Choosing instead to walk outside and listen to Fergie sing about her
lovely lady lumps, as the Black Eyed Peas were performing at a small GALA around the corner.
After that debacle it was off to Paris, where we kindly rejected their xenophobic 100E entrance
fee, and then to Amsterdam where I made a generous donation to the over-friendly Dutchies in
the 2/5E game. Our last poker stop of the trip was London where we played in the super nice and
action-packed Grand Vic casino. Even amongst one of the best mid-stakes games I've
encountered I still managed to contribute my fair share of Pounds to the player pool. Even worse
I was suckered into their 1P/Minute massages before remembering that no matter how I spun it I
was still paying $2/minute.

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Finally, I headed home to Chicago where I made a jet-lagged early morning trip to the
Horseshoe. During the time they were running a promotion where they gave away one seat every
3 hours to their $1500 300k guaranteed tournament the next day. Well at four in the morning
there were 5 tables running, but one of them was a heads up 3/6 limit game. The rule was that in
order for the table to be eligible, there needed to be four active players. So with two minutes
remaining my friend and I moved to the 3/6 game where our chances at the seat were increased
2.25X. And wouldn't you know it our table was picked. After paying one of the players $30 to
bow out of the drawing (lol) it was a 3way high card for the seat. The first gentleman received a
5, followed by a 6 for Casey. As if the deck were perfectly un-shuffled, I followed with the
winning 7d. Perhaps the first contestant to win a seat with a non-facecard, I was hoping it was
the beginning of an epic tale to a 6 figure score. But it wasn't meant to be as I was eliminated in
the first level of the tournament after hero-calling with 99 on a J74T6 board against a player who
thought he was bluffing with 2nd pair.
So that's the story of my past 2 months and the poker beatings I received all around the globe. I
returned to Vegas on Wednesday where I've been grinding the 5/10NL. After spending around
11k in Europe, I've got around 90k for my live bankroll. While the 10/20 was invigorating and
gave me a sense of progress in my poker career, the 5/10 provides comfort and a less stressful
day to day operation. The choice of which game to play is one I've gone back and forth on, and
probably won't know definitively until I settle back into my routine.
"My plan is to stick around for another year, while I think of something I want to get super good
at and go back to school for it" I explained last Sunday to Amy the Bellagio Floor-lady. She just
shook her head and smiled at me as if she'd heard it all before; the doubt in her eyes was glaring.
"You've got the poker fever, Matt. Not many people can shake that."
I guess time will tell.
MM
09/22/11: Return to the Felt and New Age Masseuses
It's 9:30 on my 13th night back in town. Finally, I've taken the time to relax, to escape to one of
my favorite spots on the strip. With the Eiffel tower in front of me and the lights of the Northern
Strip illuminating the sky to my left, I sit here watching the water from the fountain rocket past
the tree-line, easing my mind into a state of tranquility.
I can't imagine many cities where parking garages double as sanctuaries; But here I am, on the
4th floor of the Bellagio's, listening to the faint sound of God Bless the USA while I separate
myself from the madness below. I should've done this many nights ago, but the manic stages of
high variance poker had me either too elated to relax or too disappointed for comfort. It took me
12 nights and my first break even session to realize that my mind desperately needed a break,
and my heart could use one too.
In my first post-World Series view of the ABF (After Black Friday) state of the games, I saw a
lot of fresh young faces occupying the seats that used to be held by the old retirees. "Don't be
confused, it's like this every year," I was told by friend and 5/10 veteran, Leslie. "Some last

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weeks, others months. Most of them are good enough to beat the games, they just don't know
how to handle the losing."
After the past few months, I'd considered myself an expert on the topic. I'd lost every tournament
I'd played, the biggest pots of my life, and 1/10th of my bankroll wandering through Europe. If
there was one thing that wouldn't destroy my dream, it was losing. Or so I thought.
I'd chosen to begin my return by playing 5/10 NL; partly to deal with rust and partly because I
wasn't so confident in my edge in the big game. For four days I played small pots, took careful
routes, and booked small wins for my wounded bankroll. And then everything changed on that
fifth night when I was seated to the left of an anxious French gentleman, who played his pots as
if he were anticipating the casino closing any minute.
We'd played one previous pot where he raised my $100 river bet to $200. While he stacked his
chips, I told him next time he made it $200, I was gonna make it 6. My tone was joking, but my
intent was all business. Later in the session, my words would put me in a dream-like spot.
A tilting player had opened to 50 and my splashy neighbor had raised the btn to $200. Low and
behold I looked down at my cards from the Sb to find two red Aces. Typically I'd 3bet these
smaller against the fish, but I had a promise to uphold. $600 I announced while looking at my
opponent to ensure he'd remember. But before he'd have the chance to act, the original opener
shoved all in for $1500. Still it didn't stop the old Frenchie from reshoving over the top and my
2k effective joined them in the middle shortly after.
The flop fell Q T 4
as I stared blankly, refusing to put my brain through the suffering of
wondering which cards were bad and which were good. The turn came a 5 , and it seemed safe
when the A
hit the river. But before I could turn over my top set, the original raiser jumped
from his seat and I assumed the worst. Reaching for his cards, I saw the K first, and then
expected the J. But to my good fortune it was the case A. "Sorry Burt, I got top set" I told him as
I reached for my cards. The French gentleman had already mucked when the attention moved
back to Burt. "Oh ****ing mother ****er" he mumbled while ripping to shreds the cards he'd
triumphantly turned over just seconds earlier.
The $5500 pot was all mine and I was en route to a 4k day. With 6k built up in profit, I'd made
up my mind that the next morning I would take my shot at the 10/20 NL.
The game looked very familiar, as it often does with the Bellagio morning crew. Most faces are
consistent in that game, which made it a bit easier on the transition. On this particular morning
there was only one unrecognizable player at the table. An older bald man, wearing a Nike DryFit, I'd made the mistake of characterizing him as "tight" when my triple barrel bluff was called
down by A7 on an AQ4JK.
Still, up about 1500 from my initial 3k buy-in, I'd decided a $2/min massage would be worth the
price if it could keep me from the sudden looming urge to tilt. So I roamed the perimeter of the
room, as I often do, before picking out a new, cute, dark haired therapist. For the next 20
minutes, I worked on my fold, while taking in the masseuse's unique tactics. Unlike the typical
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pain-relieving massages that I'd grown accustomed to, this one consisted of hair-raising petting.
"I'm working on the Central Nervous System" she replied after the player next to me called out
her technique of grazing my neck and shoulders with her fingernails. "I love the human
anatomy," she whispered in my ear in a tantalizing voice.
Confused, I continued to fold, until the cards told me I could fold no more. The old bald man
opened to 80 UTG when I looked at A A
on the btn. Knowing that he hates to fold, I chose
a big 3bet, to 340, with our deep stacks. He called and we took a flop of 9 7 3 . Checked
to me and I bet 480. With my opponent mulling his options, I became distracted by the growing
seductive moans coming from behind me as the masseuse was now using of her hands, pressing
firmly against my shoulder blade. Turning around to gain a closer listen, it sounded like Serena
Williams volleying in a library, as the new girl took this "massage" to a whole nother level. But
my attention was quickly returned to the game as my opponent had decided on a raise to 1800.
Starting the hand with a 5k stack, I typically don't like getting in 250bb's with one pair. But the
raise seemed too big for a set, so I shuffled my chips a few times before announcing all in. Dry
Fit called and showed me the A Q ; I had 9 outs to dodge. The turn was red. The 4 .
Phew, I thought as the dealer went for the river. "Black please" I asked at the last second, as if it
made a difference. Q .
While raking in the mountains of chips I heard another whisper approaching my right ear. "Can I
keep going" she asked me in the least professional tone she could possibly pose the question. I
never was good at saying no to professionals, and I wasn't about to start now. For the next hour, I
continued to answer yes, until I racked up my chips and called it a night. I was an 8k winner in
my first trip back to the big stage at Bellagio.
The next day I returned, just as eager to keep up the winning streak. As I pulled into valet I saw
Teddy, a regular in the game, getting out of his car. Quickly I gathered my things, put my head
down and galloped past Fix and Snacks before passing Ted with a brisk speed walk on the way to
the poker room. The game on this particular day contained a whole bunch of unfamiliar players.
In fact four recreational middle-eastern players held up almost half of the seats in the game. Half
due to my luck, and half to my strategic hustle, the one remaining seat belonged to me.
I abused the rec players with isolating raises and well-timed C-bets to again get the day started
off on the right foot. And then with a 4k stack I had my chance at a big pot when one of the four
opened to 100 and I 3bet my Q Q
to 340 in position. He called and we took a Q J
4
flop. After check calling a 420 bet, my opponent became suddenly intrigued when the 9
fell on the turn. Fearing only KT, I fired another bullet, this time 900. With the action back to my
opponent, he counted out his chips, before looking at the dealer and motioning towards the
middle with his hands. The dealer tossed him the "All in" button and it was 2400 more for me to
call. Fearing that my run good was coming to an end, I still couldn't get away from top set. I
called the bet and watched as a harmless 7
fell on the river. The Arab gentleman was excited
to flip over his cards, and equally disappointed to learn that his 99 was trumped by my QQ.

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I sat on my stack for the next few hours, getting no action for the rest of the day. Well almost no
action. Before I could leave I felt the brisk slight of a finger along my neck and a now familiar
voice whisper into my ear "I brought lotion today". I couldn't help but laugh.
In my first week back I ran the run-good train to the tune of a 20k week. The excitement was
expected, but what made an unwelcome appearance was a heavy dose of anxiety. Perhaps I've
been cursed by too much experience, but every time things go well, I become enslaved by the
prospect of the inevitable doom that lies at the end of the poker rainbow
MM
09/29/11: 50K Day
This post was supposed to be about the losing streak that followed my 20k upswing. It was
gonna talk about the Aces that couldn't hold up in the 14k pot. And Abe. The Yarmulka-wearing
super Jew, who I doubled up too many times to remember. I was going to discuss the frustration I
felt every time he'd leave the game "to eat" and return to the table with only his original 3k buyin. And the urge I had to stand up for myself and say something.
And then I was gonna end it on a bright note. I was gonna mention that even though I'd burned
90% of the previous weeks winnings, that I was proud of myself for speaking with my brain
instead of my ego; an idea it had only taken me 23 years to comprehend. For congratulating Abe
after every pot he won, instead of accusing him of "going south" and potentially scaring him
away from the rest of the grinders who were also trying to pay their bills.
I was gonna reference that night on the parking garage. And how exhausted I was after only two
weeks in town. How cruel it was of the poker god's to hand me 20 thousand dollars, only to
slowly and painfully take it all back.
But then I woke up Thursday. A day that started just like any other, but a day that would end like
none before. The day my life crossed paths with AR.
"Figures" I mumbled as I strolled into the poker room on Thursday morning only to find the
10/20 table as empty as Full Tilt's bank account. The little hand on my watch was just south of
the 9, fulfilling a promise I'd made to myself to start showing up early again. Not because the
games had been that good, but more so to restore a sense of discipline that I felt had been
slipping away during my 18k downswing.
I sat at the empty table bored, adjusting my bracelet to pass the time. A bracelet that had seen
better days. Composed of just yarn and 3 blue and white beads, the evil eye bracelet is supposed
to fend against the envy of others. But weathered by shower water and inner-circle jealousy, the
yarn was clinging together by its very last strings.
As a poker player you get used to the feeling of envy, even from your closest friends.
Admittingly, it's difficult to be 100% happy for someone's success when your competitive side is
telling you that should be you. But once I started losing, and still felt that negative energy
coming from close acquaintances I was truly introduced to the conflicting powers of friendship
and envy.
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And it was driving me crazy.

Hoping that a winning session would help clear my mind, we got the game started right around
1030. Mostly regulars, there wasn't too much expected action. Still, I managed to get stuck
within the first 10 minutes when my AQss couldn't get there in a 3way all in on a 357ss flop.
I reloaded for 5k, putting me in for 8 total, and told myself this was my final buy-in. Coming off
this downswing, money was tight, and I couldn't afford to get any deeper in the hole.
As I put on the soothing sound of my oldies playlist and practiced patience, I noticed a lot of
money being thrown into the pot from the player to my right. This older, heavy set, well-dressed
gentleman seemed to be enticed by any remotely playable cards. "I bet 220 in the shower," he
announced before the cards were dealt and he was UTG+1. The dealer told him it wasn't his turn.
He told her he didn't care. The bet stood.
Right then I sat up and turned the music off, recognizing that this was a day requiring all my
concentration. My first pot with AR came when he raised to 200, as he did with roughly 70% of
his hands. I called with 5 5 , as did 3 others. The flop came 9 5 4 , and everyone,
including AR, checked to me. I bet 460 and it was folded around to AR who made the call. The
turn was an A
and after some thought he lead into me for 1200. I opted to just call for
deception as the Q
fell on the river, completing the flush. Immediately, AR shoved me in for
my final 3600. Typically a tough spot, I was pretty confident AR would bet all of his flush draws
on the flop, so even though it was my last bullet, I wasted little time before making the call. He
sheepishly turned over 8To and I was up to over 11k.
Now, with room to work with, I was able to employ what I believed to be the best strategy
against "high action" players. You see when someone like AR sits down at the table you can
throw out everything you've read in Super System or on TwoPlusTwo. The goal becomes to play
as many pots possible with the player, and preferably to play them alone. Luckily, he was to my
right, so every time he opened I had the first opportunity to isolate. And I did, usually with any
two cards above 9, knowing I was ahead of his range.
Later, AR opened UTG to 220 and I made it 580 with K T . He called and the flop came K
T 7 . He check called a 900 bet as the 8
fell on the turn. Again he checked and this
time I bet 1800. He called again without much thought as the 6
came belly up on the river.
After he checked to me I had a decision to make. This player could easily have any 9 in his hand,
but he also was calling me with much worse. So with my heart beating through my shirt I
counted out 25 blacks and neatly placed them into the pot. AR wasted no time in calling. KT was
good.
The very next hand, while I was still stacking my chips, AR opened the pot to 340. I looked
down at two black Kings and 3bet him up to 1020. He called quickly, giving off the impression
that he was growing sick of my aggression. The flop came J T 6
and he checked to me.

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"1920" I announced, making sure to use my lucky number 19. "Call" said my counterpart. The
turn was a 4
and again he checked to me. I decided on 3400, but it didn't remain that cheap for
long. A few seconds went by before AR casually tossed all of his chips into the middle, as if they
had no monetary value. All in. It was 7k more to me. Never in my life have I been so eager to
call a reraise that large with just one pair. The river came an 8
and knowing he didn't know
the rule on who showed first, I saved everybody time and flipped over my pair. I tried to act
casual as AR surveyed the board, but my insides were screaming with anxiety. Finally he spoke.
"I can't beat it. It's a good hand" he said while flipping over the J
and declaring he was now
50k behind.
In just two hands, my stack had risen to 32k. I couldn't believe what was happening, I had to take
a walk. I walked around the Bellagio, calling my dad and explaining to him what was happening.
"Leave" he responded citing the martingale theory. "It doesn't matter how large your edge is, all
it takes is one time and you're broke." He was right. I was up 24k, more than erasing my
downswing, but all it would take was one bad beat to ruin it all. I walked back to the table, stared
at the three racks lying under my chair, but couldn't get myself to pick them up. I was willing to
take the risk.
Back at the table it was business as usual. After another AR 250 in the shower, I bumped it up to
600 with K Q . While everyone else at the table folded and AR was thinking I flipped over
my Q . He looked at me like I was crazy, then broke into a big smile as he happily called the
raise. The flop came J 5 4
and swiftly we went check check. The turn was a 9 ,
changing nothing for me as I didn't plan on bluffing a pot where I already showed a maniac a
card that didn't match the board. We both checked as the river paired the 9. Now AR went deep
into the tank. Maybe 3 minutes later he explained the delay. "I can't understand what to make of
your Queen. You've got me confused." I was almost certain his decision was between super thin
value or running a bluff. Another 30 seconds went by without any action, so I took matters into
my own hands and bet 80 out of turn. Immediately he picked up 12 blacks and spazzed them into
the pot as I expected him to do with all bluffs. I called right behind him and tabled my KQ. He
couldn't beat it.
After continuing to isolate and running one more large bluff on AR, my stack had risen to 40K. A
few hours of card-deadness went by, which I spent shooting the **** with AR, who through all
the losing kept a great demeanor, and you could tell just really enjoyed the competitiveness of
the game.
Eventually, however, we returned to battle. On his straddle, I opened Q Q
to 300. Early in
the night everyone would've folded almost their entire range, but the rest of the table was
catching on to my isolating ways, marked by the 3 callers I received. With the action on AR in
the straddle, he called the necessary chips and we took a K Q 2
flop. I bet 1340, called
by only AR. The turn was a 9 , not the best of cards, but I still needed to get value. I bet 3100
and again was quickly called. Praying for a blank river, I was internally ecstatic to see the 4
on the river. AR checked for the 3rd time. As I masked my thought through shuffled chips, AR

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had an input. "Be careful" he warned, "This is my lucky masseuse" he said pointing to the girl
working on his shoulders. Little did he know that all of his luck could only cost him more money
in this instance. Believing, or at least hoping, that he was being honest about his fortune, I
announced my bet, "9800".
"Call" he said smacking the table. "I pay" he followed while rising from his seat. I turned over
my set, as he quickly reached for his cards. But as he begun to realize that my pair matched with
the board, his reach for his cards lost momentum. By the time his K4 were sheepishly turned up,
the look of defeat had taken over his face.
It was 11pm when the floor added a 10th seat to the game. It was directly to my left and occupied
by notorious action junkie Dan Blizarian and his 100k stack. It was time for me to go. But before
I could rack up, Dan looked at me and said "Hey kid." I looked up only to see him point back
down, "You wanna flip for your stack." I laughed at the thought of flipping for 58k while politely
declining and walking to the cage a fifty thousand two hundred and thirty dollar winner.
The next day was hectic. All around town word had gotten out about the mysterious AR, while
local grinders flooded the Bellagio in anticipation of his return. Controversy over which game he
would be added to, the must move, or the main game was debated between the players, the floor,
and eventually Poker Room manager Doug Dalton. By 3pm I'd given up hope. He'd flown home,
never to be seen again, I assumed. And then when I'd least expected it, I'd felt two hands resting
on my shoulders. I turned around, only to see AR standing behind me, grinning from ear to ear,
ready to play poker. "Kid I just wanted to tell you" He began while herds of grinders made their
way upstairs to get a glimpse of the growing legend, "You played excellent yesterday." "Thank
you AR, I appreciate that," I said while looking him in the eye, "but you know it's easy to play
well when the cards are going your way." "No", he reaffirmed, "You played all your hands well.
Of all the players I played, you were the best."
I smiled as I looked around the room and thought about what he said. Sure there's not much merit
to a ranking that comes from a recreational player, but knowing that guys like Ben Lamb,
Andrew Robl, Justin Young, and Dan Blizarian were all in his game, it made me feel like I
belong at this stake and as long as I keep working hard at my game, I can compete with the best
of them.
AR only played 3 hours that 2nd day. But still it was enough time for him to 5bet shove A
2
for 12k into me preflop. I called with AK and held for the monster pot as my encore to my
biggest day ever became my 2nd biggest day ever, 22k.
I flew home to Chicago on the red eye that night, frightened by the capabilities of having too
much money in Vegas. I relaxed for four days, and now I'm back, still on cloud nine. And while
nothing has changed accept some added comfort, I doubt I'll ever forget the 22nd of September:
The day I crossed paths with AR.
MM

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10/14/11: Learning to say no

During the night that followed my two-day heater, there wasn't much time for celebration. I'd
squeezed in every last minute I could with the infamous AR, laced up the chucks and raced to
McCarron to make it on time for my flight. Still I fielded plenty of texts from friends, family, and
fellow grinders, congratulating me on my good play and good fortune. The messages were all
uniquely meaningful. As a cash game player recognition is often lost because results are typically
spread out over time and difficult for outsiders to place a finger on.
So you can understand the excitement I felt when my phone rang and an old Vegas friend's name
popped up on the display. We shot the **** while I waited for my plane to take off. He asked me
a few questions about the game and then told me how proud he was of the progress I'd been
making. I thanked him and told him I hoped things were going well for him too.
"Actually Matt, that's why I'm calling" he said. "I don't like doing this, but they just turned the
cable off, my kid keeps asking me about the internet, and I only got till the end of the weekend to
make rent. Could ya loan me a thousand or so? Get me in that 5 10 game over at the Bellagio." I
told him I was on my way out of town and I wouldn't be able to help him this time. That's when
he caught me off guard. "That's fine you can just have one of your friends give it to me and you
can pay them when you get back." I froze, with no right words coming to my tongue. So I told
him I'd ask around tomorrow and maybe something could work out. I ended the call shaking my
head. He was a friend, but he was in deep to a few people in town. The second I handed over that
yellow chip would be the last time I ever saw that money.
I avoided the situation for the next few days, not wanting to waste my vacation stressing out. I
returned to Vegas knowing he would be upset that I couldn't come up with money, but hoping he
would've found another solution to the problem. Our paths crossed my first day back in the
Bellagio poker room. "Matt" he called out as he left his game to come chat. "I just wanted to
thank you for trying to help me out." Immediately my heart sunk and my chest filled with guilt. I
hadn't made an effort. But before I had a chance to dig a deeper hole, I detected the sarcasm.
"Some friend you are" he finished before turning his back on me and walking away.
The Las Vegas loaning culture is completely contradictory of the principles I was brought up on.
Loans are as prevalent as busted bankrolls, even if the odds on the return are close to zero. In
fact, I don't doubt that same friend would have helped me out if the situation were reversed; but
I've learned through the years that mixing money with friends will only cause problems. I'm
willing to go extreme lengths for the people I care about, but when it comes to money I've
learned not to ask and not to give.
It's not easy to say no. Most people come with a story, usually exaggerated, in an effort to arouse
the pathos portion of the brain. They ask twice, three times, sometimes four. They offer interest,
remind you that you know where they work. And each time you say no, each scenario you shut
down, it digs a little deeper at your insides, inching closer to your heart.
First it was close friends, then casual friends, and eventually casino acquaintances. Am I doing
what's right? I kept thinking as the requests kept rolling. Maybe I owe these people a chance; It's
not like it would break my bankroll. I spent a lot of time doubting myself, and still ponder if I

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made the right move while I watch the destruction of one of my friendships, and wonder if the
others are equally disappointed
But throughout it all, there was still poker to be played. One particular session last week left a
lasting impact. The game was bad, as it's often been this month, but I kept my seat for a couple
of reasons. A) I'm now comfortably rolled for the 10/20 and B) the only way to keep improving
is to play with the best. To learn how to beat them.
In my first pot I opened K Q
UTG and got called by a tricky aggressive player in MP, Phil
Laak on the btn, and another solid Canadian in the BB. The flop came 2 5 8
as the Sb led
into the field for 260. It was the perfect spot for me to raise, as I had done so to the same player
earlier in the night and felt he was weighted towards a strong range by leading into 3 solid
players. I made it 700 and now Tony G went into the tank in MP. When he emerged he grabbed a
stack of black and announced all in before tossing them into the middle. The action folded to me
and I called off my remaining 3k, pretty confidant he would make this move with other flushes,
Ad blockers, and perhaps sets. But he turned up with AJdd, and I shook my head while the final
two insubstantial cards filled out the board.
Quickly stuck, I reloaded only to find A A
UTG a few rounds later. Again I raised to 80,
and again I was called by Tony G, and Andre (perhaps the most aggressive, sometimes reckless,
sometimes unstoppable, player at Bellagio) in the Bb. The flop came K T 5
and I Cbet
180. Tony called and Andre postured before making it 800. All three options seemed painful, and
regrettably I chose the least drastic, call. Tony folded and the turn came an 8 , to which Andre
bet out 1080. With 3k in my stack, I compared his value range to his range of bluffs. It was close.
But when it came time to make a decision I reminded myself I had Aces. Aces on a draw heavy
board against Andre. And like so many before, I fell into the trap that is Andre's reputation. I
shoved it in and was quickly called by my opponents set of 5s.
I was out of the game before my butt could even warm up the seat. And even though I craved
that type of competition, I could hardly handle watching them clean my clock. The mixture of
shame and disappointment filled my veins with that tingly feeling I hadn't felt since Nick Venson
knocked me out of the DPGC Inviteusing only a 7 iron.
It's not as if the feeling of losing was anything new, but this one felt different. Losing always
sucks. But getting outplayed by the players you're striving to be like brings the pain to a whole
new level. Typically the disappointment lasts an hour, maybe two, but 8 hours later I was still
sitting there, stuck inside my thoughts, torturing my brain with replays of the mornings events.
And then Dan came in and asked me if I remembered what Layne Flack had told him after one
particular bad day weeks ago. I hadn't. "Losing humbles us" he quoted. "It can be the most
convenient inconvenience. It keeps us grounded."
A week later and I found myself in a game with another very tough player. The maniacal Yi was
directly to my right and opening a lot of pots. After a weaker player limped, he isolated to 100
and I 3bet T 6
on the btn to 300. He called and we saw a 9 5 3 . Yi check called

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320, as the Q
fell down on the turn. Again he checked, and again I fired, this time 780. The
stubborn Yi refused to give up, and now it was up to the deck to save me from a difficult river
decision. Conveniently the Q
completed my flush, while also pairing the board. Yi checked a
3rd time as I started putting together my bet. 3 stacks of orange, a yellow chip and 4 blacks,
totaled out to 2600 as I pushed them across the imaginary betting line. For reasons that would be
unbeneficial for me to mention I was pretty confidant I was ahead and where Yi was at in the
hand. So I shuffled my chips quietly, hoping the passing time was spent talking himself into a
call. And then he stopped thinking and announced all in. My convictions and my reads were
thrown for a loop. But Yi is capable of some crazy moves, and under no circumstances was I
folding my flush for 1400 more.
"I call" I said, looking at Yi to make a move. "You got me" he conceded before flipping over just
a single 5d. His concession quickly turned to confusion and tilt as he saw my hand. "Shouldn't
the small raise be enough to convince you that T high flush is no good?" he asked. I wanted to
tell him about my reads and the pivotal points in the hand. After all I'd just had my ego smashed
to the ground by the other half of his high stakes crew. And now I had the chance to build it back
up. To tell him what I knew and why I knew it. As the needling questions continued and his
sarcasm grew stronger, my will was tested. But, I've learned a thing or two this year, so I kept my
humbled ego suppressed inside and stacked my chips while marveling at the future EV I'd just
preserved.
"I'm tilting" Yi conceded while admitting he made the bet because live players fold too much.
"5k is like nothing to you" I combated. "It's not the money, I just hate getting outplayed by good
players," he said. "That one felt worse then the 2 outer Andy Beal hit on me in the 400k pot."
And then it all made sense. Everybody playing big wants to be the best; wants to beat the best. It
all comes and goes full circle: the money, the ecstasy of winning, and the shame in losing.
Results are just a silly mirage, one that only fools the weak. The professionals see their mistakes
and are prepared the next time that part of the circle makes its way around.
MM
10/18/11: Ethics
In the spirit of tonight's Republican Party presidential debate at the Venetian, I thought I would
bring up a couple scenarios I encountered where the boundaries of poor ethics were pushed at the
poker table and see where the general consensus lies.
Last Saturday I was playing in my regular 10/20NL game at the Bellagio when I entered a pot
against a player whom I have a lot of history with and also am very friendly with. He opened the
btn, the sb called and I 3bet Aces to 320. Only he called the raise as we took a flop of J 8
2 . I checked to him because I think in the long run checking here with over pairs will
discourage him from trying to steal every time I check the flop in a 3bet flop. He checked back
and the turn came a 8 . This time I led out 460 and he called with relative ease. On a 9
river, I decided to bet out 960. This time my opponent did not come quickly to a decision. He cut
out the call in blacks before placing it back in his stack and then doing the same with the orange

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($20) chips. Finally, he came up with a combination of the two and stacked them high on the left
side of his monster chips stack. With his left hand he moved them towards the middle in a
confident matter, to which I almost reached for my cards to flip over the winning hand. But as
my brain was sending the signal to my arm, his chips took a last second turn to the right and
were returned, this time to the opposite side of his stack. There is no betting line at the Bellagio.
Thankfully, I didn't give too much away, for after a bit more deliberation, he pushed that stack
fully into the middle and paid me off.
Later that session I and the same opponent played another hand, where he isolated a limper to
100 in the Sb and I made it 340 in the Bb with Q 8 . He called and the flop came down T
4 2 . He checked and I ignored the urge to fire at such an unfriendly board and checked it
back. The turn came the Q
and this time he quickly led into me for 400. With only one viable
option I didn't waste much time before placing the 4 blacks into the middle. On the river,
however, things became a bit less clear. The K
fell belly up and my opponent reached for a
stack of black, making a $1600 overbet. I tanked for an appropriate amount of time, since I
wasn't prepared for a bet that large. During the 2 or 3 minutes I went back in forth between what
I wanted to do. To gain a better read, I at one point cut the necessary chips to make the call and at
another held my cards as if I was about to toss them in. Occasionally this causes players to give
off tells. Eventually, I sensed discomfort, and made the call. I was good.
A bit later, that same guy told me he thought I was crossing the line of etiquette with those antics
and advised me to stop. I admitted to doing both of those things, but told him I wasn't sure if it
was bad etiquette or simply part of gaining information, before acknowledging his own
borderline behavior in the earlier hand. The pot would not be calling this kettle black without a
proper rebuttal. He was caught off guard but continued to defend his own actions while accusing
me of mine. A lot of worthless bickering ensued without a proper solution established.
So who was out of lineme? him? both of us? neither of us?
A couple days later the same group of people were playing at the same table amongst a way less
crowded Bellagio poker room. You see, that weekend the Bellagio had hosted a free roll poker
tournament for their biggest pit players with a 500k 1st place prize. The room was a zoo, filled
with finger-licking, tip hungry hosts and pretentious wives or maybe daughters (some times you
really can't tell with that crowd). Anyways, by Monday most of the degens had returned home to
their yachts and mansions and the room was left to us local grinders.
However, one particular New York businessman had stuck around. Well-known and wellrespected in these parts, this guy comes to Vegas a few times a year and gives real good action to
the high stakes games. On this Monday morning at 11am, we were the only game in town. So as
soon as he walked into the room he was given a seat at the table and some very exciting, nerveracking poker ensued.
By 1pm a couple of the "higher stakes" guys showed up and noticed the player. By 1:30 there
were 8 of them, most of whom hadn't been seen since the WSOP, at the table next to us, starting
a higher game and recruiting the gambler to join while he walked to the bathroom. By 2'oclock

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their game was underway, including the action player, and our game disintegrated, before
eventually breaking. I was about even, but felt relieved as I witnessed a few of our other players
buried multiple thousands and left with little hope of getting unstuck.
So, are these guys in the wrong for recruiting a player out of our game? Or is it their right to
open a bigger game if there isn't one offered?
Now consider that the 10/20 at the Bellagio is the only high stakes game that runs consistently
during the day in the city of Las Vegas. There are a few players who play that game every single
day and have been doing so for many years. Without the consistency of the game this action
player probably wouldn't have showed up at all, and the "higher stakes" players who only came
because they received a phone call, wouldn't have had such a profitable opportunity.
Does that change your stance? If you do believe the situation is unethical, is it on the Bellagio
floor to prevent it? Or should the "higher stakes" players have the sense to respect the game?
MM
11/07/11: Ben Lamb runs good.we do not
While this story may have begun yesterday sometime after breakfast, its origins trace back all the
way to a booth at a small sushi dive off of Paradise Rd. sometime back in March. It was late.
Late enough where people with responsibilities were sound asleep. But in Vegas, it was just
another hour, and Kaizen Sushi was moderately filled with poker players and performers and
other varieties of people who work at strange hours of the night.
I was coming off another session of 5/10NL and for the first time beginning the mental
entertainment of a jump to the higher stakes. Dan was trapped in his own world, probably
entertaining a jump to another dimension. And Sam. Well Sam was coasting as Sam does, taking
a break from his nightly search for a stake to come grab a free meal amongst friends.
Dan and I were 1 for 2 on the night. Successfully convincing the old man to try sushi for the first
time, but failing in our efforts to get him to join us for sake bombs. Still the mood was light and
the conversations were filled with poker as they typically are. In the midst of Sam's ultra
humorous chopsticks lesson, I saw a figure approaching our table in my peripheral vision. He
was blonde, and a bigger guy, but contained a face as unthreatening and inviting as they come. It
seemed fitting that they called him Lamb. Ben Lamb.
He said hello to Sam as they'd both been around town for awhile, then introduced himself to us
and moved back to his party. I'd never heard of the guy, but Dan spit out a few acronyms to
represent important internet tournaments he won, and Sam seemed hopeful at the prospect of
gaining a stake from the gentle giant. I thought little of it all.
Fast forward two months and that mental speck had turned into a full out reality as I was now
taking my shots at the 10/20 and 10/20/40NL games. On one particular May afternoon I was in
the 3blind must move game, when in sat Mr. Lamb. While it was my first time playing with the
local legend, I was not to be confused by his gentle demeanor, as by now I'd heard the stories
around town and was well prepared for his calculated recklessness. At least I thought I was.
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I stayed out of his way until the cards forced us to cross paths. I'd raised the btn with Q8 and he'd
called out of the bb. The flop came 842 and I continued with a standard half pot bet. Ben would
have none of it as he raised the action to a price he was more comfortable with. I, however, was
in no mood to fold my top pair as I called the bet and another large barrel on a 6 turn. Expecting
him to slow down, his aggression had only escalated by the time we reached the river and he
threw in a full pot-sized bet at the K.
After careful deliberation and a dose of the now infamous Benba stare, I'd opted to call the bet
with my mid-pair Q kicker. He flipped over KTo for a rivered King. While I sat there, visibly
dejected, he consoled me with some respectful bullshit about how lucky he was, I'm sure only to
cover up his more genuine, less-appropriate feelings of another young sucker incapable of
folding.
I thought that was the last I'd hear of big Ben. I was wrong.
As the weeks leading up to the World Series rolled in, so did the stories of encounters with the
kid who always seemed to get there. First it was Dan with his sob story, and then it was Joe, who
flopped top set on a 823, only to be stacked in a 10k pot against Ben's 46. Finally followed up by
Sam's version of a bad beat. Ben had put him into a mixed game against Brandon Cantu, only to
end the agreement prematurely in order to jump in the game himself.
****ingbenlamb had taken a permanent place atop our narrow vocabularies. While friendly in
nature and lacking any true ill will, taking down Ben Lamb had become a fantasy amongst us.
An enigma standing in the way of our mission towards the highest stakes. But as the fake hate
grew so did the legend of what will surely go down as one of the greatest WSOPs of all time.
First the final tables. Then the victory in the PLO. And of course the deep run in the Main Event.
So yesterday morning I sit down and the game is 3 handed with Tom and an aggro German
named Bari. Bari overhears me discussing an interest in betting on the upcoming final table and
offers me a deal. I can choose anyone in the field in a last longer, but he gets first pick. And his
pickis Ben Lamb.
Salivating at a chance to end the Ben Lamb curse, not just for me, but for the whole crew, I
ambitiously accepted the bet and it's $500 price tag. And although I wouldn't know Martin
Stazco from Marlin Brando, my biggest sports bet ever was riding on the coat tail of the current
chip leader.
In between thoughts of the great revenge, there was poker to be played. And my aggression
appeared to finally pay off when I 3bet squeezed Bari's $80 open and 3 callers to $420 with K
K
from the BB. Only the btn, the table fish had chosen to call as the 6 7 9
flop
followed suit. I didn't like it as my opponent appeared anxious for his turn, but I had to follow it
up with a $720 cbet. Immediately he asked how much I was playing and then shoved it in for my
final $2400. I wasn't ecstatic, but I also wasn't folding.

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His next question was how many times I wanted to run it and I held up 1 finger. A) because it
makes me feel like a super-baller "I don't care about 7k" badass and B) because the chance of
getting a fish stuck in this game is too profitable to pass up. The turn came an offsuit J and the
river an offsuit Q. My opponent slowly lifted his cards from the felt, making his two hearts
clearly visible. I thought I'd dodged a bullet. And then he tabled the K T
for the runnerrunner back door straight.
In my secret rage that followed I told Bari that $500 would no longer do it. I was stuck. We
needed to raise the Ben Lamb bet to $1,000. "No problem" he responded.
But before I could go sweat the biggest prop bet of my life I had one more pot to play. Bari
opened to $80 as he often does, when I woke up with Q Q
in the Sb. With an opponent that
plays spewy to a very profitable tune and a 6k stack out of position I chose to keep variance
down and only call. The flop brought gin. Q 8 8 . I checked and he bet out $140. I checkraised to $440, polarizing my range to the max. Bari called and I again led, this time for $800 on
aJ
turn. Again he effortlessly called, as I planned a river check raise to maximize my profit
against a thin-value-betting, busted-draw betting opponent. The river came the A , changing
the dynamic a tad, but not enough to alter my plans. So I checked. As I expected he bet. What I
didn't expect was his 1.75X pot overbet shove. Never has the second nut boat looked worse. In
the end, my poker brain told me he was too capable of doing the same with straights, 8s, and
smaller boats to lay it down. I called off my last $4500, only to be shown pocket Aces, for the
rivered top boat. A minus 10k day.
In a Mike McD type of daze, I numbingly left the table, picked up Casey, and drove out to
Henderson to watch the live showing of the main event at Joe's house. The day seemed to only
get worse when we turned on the coverage to see Benba making a run and my first look at
Martin Stazco, the plaid wearing, 40 year old virgin looking, live tell box. Things seemed to take
a turn for the better when Phil Collins caught up to the AQ of Ben with a runner-runner diamond
flush. The hand crippled Ben to somewhere around 14M, while Stazco nittingly coasted from
orbit to orbit.
My chance at ultimate revenge finally seemed conceivable when O'Dea tank called Ben's Q
8
all in ship with A9o. Of course nothing comes easy as the J J 7
gave Ben a total of
15 outs twice. The turn brought a blank as I pranced around the house like a baboon, yelling for a
river brick. With one to go I crouched into a defensive stance, staring at the 72 inch TV from a
foot away. 8 of hearts. ****ingbenlamb.
I fell onto the floor as Ben fell into the arms of equally despised Sam Stein. This guy CANT
lose, I thought, resigned to my own losing fate. Joe and Casey shook their head, holding in the
chuckles that wanted to burst out at my misfortune.
The resignation seemed complete as we hit the vaporizer and changed our tune from intently
rooting to laughing at our misery. The blunt of our anger shifted from Ben's run good, to Stazco's
downfall, as he burned through chips with misreads and obvious live tells. "We need to get a

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hold of Stazco's phone number and tell him about these tells" Casey laughed out as an obvious
joke. I took it a bit more seriously. "Dude, I'll just twitter him. It's worth a shot." I said back. And
so I went onto the internet, searched for Martin Stazco's twitter and sent him a brief message
regarding the nervousness in his shaky hands whenever he's bluffing. I followed up with another
message suggesting the caffeine from the Red Bull could be contributing to the problem. With
only 43 followers I thought there was a small chance I could reach him.
Thirty minutes later, making up for the 15 minute TV delay, Martin played a hand where he
raised preflop with KJ and smoothly barreled twice with just a gut shot straight against Pius
Heinz. We were all certain he had top pair, maybe two. But after Heinz folded and the cards were
revealed, we were confirmed fooled by the no longer shaky Stazco. And then he went for a sip of
his energy drink. Except this time, the Red Bull was replaced by a water. We went wild in
celebration as we were now back in the running for the last longer bet.
The stars aligned once again as Ben got his stack in with A 7
against the JJ of the solid
Gallianetti. One more hold and we were winners. But the 4
fell on the turn, completing
Benba's flush and knocking down the tournament to the final 3 players. Heinz, Lamb, and Stazco
will return Tuesday night with the Main Event Bracelet and the Ben Lamb curse on the line.
Drained of emotion as we drove back to the strip, Casey and I sat in silence soaking in the
craziness of the day. Finally, Casey spoke. "What's there to say man, Ben Lamb runs good
Wedo not."
MM
12/30/11: 10th Chairs
Hey guys, its been awhile. I do have three blogs written up that I will post within the next week
summarizing my last couple months of living in Vegas. And then on my flight to Australia on the
8th Ill write up a year-ending review of living in Vegas and my thoughts on my shot as a poker
professional.
10th Chairs
Things cooled down considerably in the high stakes Vegas scene after the departure of AR.
Understandable, I guess, when a whale who added a rumored middle six figure donation to the
poker community packs his philanthropist bags, never to be seen again.
Nevertheless, things on the felt were slow. Games were reg infested, opportunities were minimal.
Personally, however, they'd never been faster. I'd recently reunited with an old girlfriend, moved
into a nicer place, planned a month long trip to Australia, and taken steps towards my entry into
the Big Brothers Big Sisters program, an idea that'd been at the tip of my brain for quite some
time.
While money may not buy happiness, it certainly buys you time. And with time, the stress of
staying on pace disappears, and opportunities to do things that we'd always wanted to accomplish
suddenly become far more accessible.

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I was happier then ever to be touching on these other aspects of my life, perfectly fine with
sacrificing my poker time. Eventually, however, that content faded. The honeymoon period
ended. Mentally I was adjusted to my new bankroll and no longer satisfied with its staggering
pace.
The six weeks of breaking even had turned from unimportant to frustrating. I was back to
constant grinding without much to show for my efforts.
It was around that time, during another mundane morning at the 10/20NL when I turned to
Bellagio regular Teddy with a question I'd carefully prepared in order to avoid an unintentional
insult. "Do you ever consider moving down to the 5/10" I asked him with heavy emphasis on the
verb and a mumbling of the noun.
Perhaps it was the slowness of the game, which was now regularly composed of 9 familiar faces,
that sparked my interest. Or maybe it was last night's $4700 win I'd had at the 5/10, my biggest
score of the month. Teddy took the question well, and agreed that sometimes it feels like we were
tossing money back and forth, while potentially missing more profitable opportunities
downstairs.
There was one thing, however, that the 5/10 couldn't offer, he told me. "The chance at the high
action guys."
I nodded my head, daydreaming of another chance with an AR type of player. A dream that
would soon come true.
"Okay guys we've got a special guest today," said Bellagio floor manager Frank as he
approached our dried up table later that week. "If there are no objections, we're going to add a
10th seat." Nobody said a word, just head nods and smiles. 10th seat additions are rare occasions
given to players who give big action in the pits. 10th seat additions are like Christmas.
In sat a curly-haired, fast talking lawyer from New York. Plainly dressed in a t-shirt and jeans,
but carrying an unmissable murse (man purse), filled to the brim with bricks of cash.
My strategy with high action players is a bit different then the standard (and also profitable) wait
for the goods, they don't like to fold. I'm in the camp of getting action comes with giving action.
Especially with these super successful, super competitive individuals, I think it's important to
make it personal in a friendly type of way. So the gamesmanship began in hand number 1 when
our villain raised it up to 120 and I made it 400 from the btn with 9 7 . "1500" he announced
casually. Ok then, I thought, showing him the 7 faceup, while throwing the 9 into the muck.
The very next hand our opponent raised it up 120 again. Looking down at my hand, the first card
I peeled was the 7 . Say no more, I told myself as I 3bet him to the same 400. This time he
called as we took a A92 flop to which I cbet 460 and received a quick fold. Again I showed the 7
prompting a smile from across the table.

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I slowed down a bit after that, staying active enough to not seem nitty, but careful enough to
preserve my already doubled up 10k stack. And then I got another shot at the lawyer when he
opened UTG, 3 players called and I joined on the btn with 3 3 . I clutched inside to contain
my excitement as the K 5
and 3
fell on the flop. It got better as our villain led into the
field for 400 prompting folds from the rest of the players. When the action got to me I grabbed a
yellow, a black, and an orange and made it 1120. "Alright kid" he said, "you want action you got
it. Im all in." I called immediately, not thrilled with the idea of potentially racing for 20k with a
flush draw, but knowing what needed to be done. "How many times you wanna run it I said
flipping over my bottom set." "Hah" he laughed. "We can run it 1,000 times for all I care. I can't
beat that hand." His KJ had me in great shape to double up, and the cards wouldn't betray me, as
the board finished out 4
8 .
Soon after the lawyer would leave for the craps table, while keeping his seat locked up in case he
wanted to return. Even though it was later then my typical ending point I stuck around through
the afternoon, not willing to pass up the chance at he came back.
Hours passed with no sign of his return. Three missed dealer buttons usually indicates a players
removal from the game. This guy had seven. He wasn't coming back, but in popped another
player who would help pick up the game. Matt Marafioti, better known as ADZ, sat down next to
me with his 50k stack and began running over the table with raise after raise. I was fortunate
enough to have position on him and used it for bluffing purposes when I raised his 1100 river bet
on an AJ4 9 Q to 3200, prompting a fold out of the internet legend.
On my last hand of the night I 3bet ADZ with K K
in a straddled pot to 480 which he
called. On a J J 4
flop I decided to check back against an opponent whose bluffing
tendencies I wasn't familiar with yet. The turn brought the 7
and this time after his 2nd check
I felt I was safe from a check raise and bet 760. He got curious and called, followed by the 4th
on the river 9. With a good opportunity to polarize my range I picked out 2300 and placed it
into the pot. ADZ went into the tank as I hoped for a call, fold, or raise in that order. Impulsively,
he shoved the stack of 23 blacks into the pot, anxiously awaiting the turn over of my cards: a
turnover he wasn't happy to see. He claimed a Q
as he tossed his hand into the muck and I
raked in the chips.
I racked up my chips with a restored fate in the state of the games and a greater understanding of
the patience it takes to beat high stakes poker. All it takes is one 23k day to make up for weeks
upon weeks of standstill poker.
As we all know poker works in streaks. And after that day I would begin one of my most extreme
streaks of my year.
MM

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2012
01/02/12: Tom's Game
If confidence is the backbone of success, then I was well postured at the table in the weeks
following the 23k day. Unlike after my previous big win, this time I gained motivation to play.
My reads were sharp and the situations seemed to be falling in my favor.
Every morning at 9am I'd show up to start the game with the man who'd been doing the same for
7 years counting. Tom Lock, Lockness Monster, Tomahawk Chop, crazy nit on crack, whatever
you'd like to call him, he's been occupying the 8 seat at table 15 since the beginning of time; at
least as far as no limit hold em is concerned. He was in the game in February 2004 when
Bellagio started NL and has been ever sense.
Tom represents why I love live poker so much more then the online game. A game that's been
destroyed by training sites and tracking software. In the cyber world, players are defined by
numbers. Numbers that predict exactly how many times they will raise, 3bet and continue their
aggression throughout the hand. Tom Lock cannot be defined by numbers. With his infamous
dark checking and outspoken hate for big pairs, he plays a very unique and personalized type of
poker. Three streets of value? Tom gets it all in one. Often checking his value hands on all 3
streets because all it takes is one oversized check raise to make up for all the missed value. Tom
makes you think twice about value betting, hell he makes you think twice about betting period.
Anyone who plays in the game knows that at any point their whole stack can be at risk when
Tom is in the pot.
Needless to say, I'd had some trouble with Tom in the past. We'd played a ton of big pots, and
even though I'd won a few, he definitely had the upper hand, epitomized by the time I 6bet
shoved A 7
into AA for 11k and then taken my anger out in the form of a right jab through
my bedroom door.
But now that I had this newfound confidence, I was ready to give the legend another shot. So
every day we started the game, heads up, with a twist. There was a forced $60 bet and call and
one hole card at random turned face up before we even saw a flop. The game started out friendly,
but as the days passed on quickly turned competitive as we tried to infiltrate the mind of the
other. With bluffing such a prevalent part of the game, my reads were forced to improve
immensely.
In our biggest pot of the matchs history I bet 100 on a Q 6 4 . I had pocket 7s with the 7
showing and Tom's upcard was the T . "Small raise" Tom said making it 340 total. I called
and we saw a J
on the turn. This time Tom collected his army of orange like he so often does
and pushed out an $800 bet. It was a tough spot because if Tom has the QT he knows he can't be
beat and can bet as confidently as he'd like. But with his only logical bet being a Q, I decided to
stand strong behind my pair and peel off another card. The river came the 8 , a card that

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appears to smack my range. Tom seemed undeterred, this time leaning on his black stacks to the
tune of a $2400 bet.
I stared across the table, hoping to get some sort of guidance towards a call or a fold. But the
man's been doing this for a decade, he wasn't offering me anything. So I went back to his line
and to previous big pots we played. Would he really value bet so thinly if it seemed conceivable
that I would have improved? I didn't think so, I thought as I closed my eyes and impulsively
tossed the chips into the pot.
When I opened back up, I saw the 4
joining Tom's T. Just a pair of 4s. My 77 was good.
Running good against bad players was one thing, but making a good read in a big pot against a
great player pushed my confidence to another level. A level that opened my mind to a correct
fold with KK against his 33 on a 237J8 board and then later led to our biggest pot since the A7
blowup.
I opened KQ to 80 and Tom called in the Sb, as did the BB. The flop fell Q 9 2
and with
the action checked to me I bet 180. Tom made it 720. We began the hand 6k deep. Folding
seemed too weak and raising too strong so I called to see a turn. The 7
fell on the turn as Tom
led into me for 1560. Nobody likes to put 300bbs into a pot where they very well could be
drawing dead, but sometimes the money needs to be put into the middle. "Im all in" I announced
as Tom asked for a count. I calmed my nerves by telling myself that I did all I could. I turned up
my music and stared at the assortment of cards that made up our riverless board while Tom did
all the hard work. Suddenly his hands were on his chips and there was movement in his lips. My
heartbeat quickly returned to cocaine levels as I realized I'd just gotten in one pair in for 300
bigs. The river was the J . "Just a Queen" I told Tom. "Whats your kicker" he barked back as I
tossed the K
into the air. Silence ensued. The defeating head nod that ensued told me
everything I needed to know. I raked in the pot, so confidant with my reads that I vowed never to
be wrong in a big pot again.
"Matt's got the nuts again," said one of the regulars as he turned to his left and joked about my
huge stack. A stack which was becoming a regular monument at the 10/20 table. "Yeah kid
doesn't miss these days. Buys in for 3, leaves the table with 10" barked back his friend. I gritted
my teeth as I listened to another compliment laced with a subtle dig. The "Matt runs good"
comments were common practice this month, and gaining steam with every big pot I won.
Generally I was the butt of most jokes at the table, as the rule of thumb goes that the guy winning
the most money takes the most heat. I was okay with it, as I witnessed the pity they gave to the
losers in the game and imagined how much that fake bull**** would bother me.
But part of me wanted some respect. I wanted people to take notice to my improving game and
the hard work that produced it. But in poker when your critics are your opponents, taking things
personally will only drive you insane.
In the meantime things were heating up with my girlfriend. We'd been together off and on for 5
years but never truly while living in the same city. Knowing that I didn't want to return to the
midwest and that she was hesitant to come to Vegas, she suggested moving to LA when her lease
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ran out in September. The idea of playing poker at Commerce, living on the ocean, and finally
being with someone whose been such a large part of my life was enticing. I was all for it as my
mood reflected the winning days that seemed to be playing on repeat.
And as those days kept coming, the sessions started running longer. I was addicted to the
winning. Addicted to the feeling of being right. Not only was I now starting the games in the
morning, but I was also playing through their development into the later parts of the night. There
was no working out, no writing blogs, and not much time for anyone else in my life, period. But
then again, who needs those things when you're printing money?
That was my mindset, justifiably or not, as I closed out November on my biggest winning streak
of the entire year. I headed home for a week with family, friends, and gf with my bankroll at it's
all time peak and my non-poker investments as widespread and lucrative as they'd ever been.
With California dreams and a big relationship step in the foreseeable future, my life began taking
form in all of the ways that I hoped it would.
MM
01/06/12: ERS (Extreme Range Syndrome)
Coincidentally falling at the conclusion of the year, poker in Vegas is never as good as it is in
December. Especially at Bellagio where the 5 Diamond Classic brings in the tournament players,
followed by the college bowl season and New Years crowd to finish off my month. This would
be my 3rd December in Vegas, and with the last two producing 20k in profits at 5/10 NL, and my
recent burst of confidence, I had every reason to believe the month would be a magical one.
I returned from Chicago refreshed, but facing a new obstacle which I would later come to know
as Extreme Range Syndrome. Often coming after a period of solid play and matching results,
ERS is a direct result of overconfidence. While a major goal in improving as a poker player is
narrowing our opponents ranges, sometimes that task can be dangerous. Sometimes we ignore
all of the possibilities as we're hypnotized into certainty that our opponent holds a specific two
cards. Other times we get stubborn, simply believing what we want to believe.
ERS is the older brother, the driving influence of the "Hero" at the poker table. A good friend of
mine Brandon Meyers was playing in a tournament at the Bellagio, dressed head to toe in his
modern hippie gear, when he got into a spot facing an overbet but holding just AK high on the
river. He made the call and his opponent was visibly sick to his stomach as he couldn't beat the
hand. Scott Seiver looked at the guy, shook his head and said "come on man, he's not gonna fold
A[ce] high, a guy in a hat like that (Brandon Meyers image 2) wants to be a hero. While Scott
may have been joking, there's a lot of truth to what came out of his mouth. There is a certain
personality that enjoys making the big laydown and the unforeseen call. I am cursed to the same
disease; a sickness that typically shows its symptoms after a dose of over-thinking.
I returned to play in December and while my mind was still sharp, the considerable amount of
run-good I caught in November was obviously wearing off. I spent the first week breaking even,
grinding long hours, playing catch up to escape the unfamiliar losing sessions. Towards the end
of that first week, I was given an opportunity to be a hero.

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It was 10pm on a weekend at the Bellagio, but I was still in the game, chasing losses stemming
from the first leg of my 9am starting session. Night grinders who were distant acquaintances a
week ago, were slowly becoming my new regular opponents. One in particular was fueling my
last wind of energy with his witty humor and constant conversation. Wise guy Pat was sitting
directly to my left, bitching about everything from the $5 bag of potato chips in the gift shop, to
the guy on the TV who just fumbled in the red zone, ruining his chance at a cover. Always
voicing his curiosity out loud, Pat's presence feels like a Seinfeld episode, giving us a look into
Larry David's life had he gone the hustler route.
I wasn't as familiar with Pat's poker game as I was his comedy routine, but I knew he'd been
around for ages. And like most people who've survived this town for more then a breeze through,
he tended to go with the conservative side of his options. This would play into my mind as I
raised the T 7
to 60 in the co and Pat took a break from his venting with the cocktail
waitress to toss in the call on the btn. "Come along boys" he directed towards the blinds, "This
maaaaayyy just be a big one."
I was hoping he would follow through with that prediction as the flop fell Q T 7
and I
lead in for a $120 bet. Pat called as we waited for the turn card. The T
would fill up my full
house while also adding a backdoor flush draw to the mix. I continued my building of the pot
with a $300 bet. "What are we playing for, peanuts?" Pat asked as he tossed in $750, "Lets raise
it up a little bit." Starting the hand with $7600, we did have a chance to play a big pot. But not
wanting any scare cards to keep Pat from putting his whole stack into the middle on the river, I
decided that out of position, I needed to place in a 4th bet, risking him folding his hand. "Make it
1800 total," I announced.
Pat looked at me intently as I placed the bet into the middle, his eyes expanding to the size of
ping pong balls while his bald head started pulsing. "You okay kid" he asked in his East Coast
persistence. "I mean, do you know what the **** you're even doing." Shuffling his chips while
he mumbled I had a disturbing thought in my head. Do I know what the **** I'm doing? I don't
even know what I'd do if this guy raised me. Back in reality, almost in cue, Pat had emerged from
deliberation. "Alright Im gonna raise it two thousand on top."
I let out an internal sigh as I counted my stack and realized a call would leave me somewhere
around $3800. I had a full house, but now wasn't even sure if I was ahead. Typically I'd discount
QQ from his range, but Pat had 3bet me 3 times earlier in the day, prompting me to tell him I was
gonna go broke $60 dollars at a time folding to his raises. I had the sense he was gonna start
flatting bigger hands against me. Also every time I've sat next to Pat and there's been an all in pot
he always comments about how that moron got all that money in with such an average hand.
I'd made up my mind, I was going to fold. But just as today's hero reached for his cards to toss
them into the muck, Pat opened his mouth again. "Kid I'm not gonna lie to you. I got the 8
9 . I may not be ahead, but I can't guarantee I won't get there. Never lied in my ****ing life."
As if the fold wasn't going to haunt me enough, now I got the guy telling me he's got 9 high. Is
Pat going mental. I postured a little longer after that comment, but at the end of the day, Pat's a

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hustler, and a pretty damn good one. I racked up my chips, tossed my hand into the muck, and
left the game, never wanting to see that man again.
I called up my girlfriend, as I sat in valet waiting for my car. My phone logged an 11 minute
conversation, but I couldn't tell you a word of what was said. My head was still in the clouds,
incepted by the thought of Pat's bald head telling me he had 9 high while I tossed my full house
into the muck. "Babe do you even listen to anything I say" Alyssa shot back at me as I shook out
of my daydream and returned to the present. "I'm sorry, I'm just distracted," I told her as my car
pulled up. "Well you've been distracted a lot lately," She reminded me. "Next time we talk will
you at least pretend like you're paying attention."
That night was a relief. Neither Pat nor the 89 of spades made it into my dreams like I'd feared,
leaving me alone for 8 hours of comfort. Returning to work, however, was a different story. The
losing days were outnumbering the winning ones, leaving me in danger of my first losing cash
game month since February. The games were good, though, and I certainly couldn't take time off
with these types of lineups.
My next hero opportunity took place as I sat in the best game I'd seen all month. With clothes
designer Robert Cavelli and a Dubai prince sitting across the table, this lineup featured two
players worthy of the 10th seat privilege. Again my day had begun recklessly, leading to an 8k
buy in, but as variance would have it I had gotten unstuck, leaving me deep stacked with two rec
players, I say, using that term loosely.
Cavelli raised to 80 utg, as the prince called in mp, I joined on the btn, and another player called
the bb. The flop brought Q 4 5
as Cavelli looked uncertain before betting 220. The
prince then called behind him. This seemed like a good spot for me to raise with my 5 6 ,
but I decided to go against my intuition, instead siding with my golden rule, we don't bluff those
on the Forbes 500 list. Instead I called, content being super deep and having a lot of backdoor
equity. The turn brought the interesting 4
and instead of checking, I had the brilliant thought
of leading, supported by my evidence that both players have no idea what the size of the pot
means, and often bet 5X just because those are the chips they picked up. So I pot controlled with
a 480 bet, thinking they both never have a 4.
Cavelli folded, but the prince wasn't giving up. He picked up two yellow chips and tossed them
into the middle making it 2k. I was confused. My initial read was he couldn't have a 4 in this
spot, and any hand greater than 1 pair he would've raised on the flop. So instead of examining all
the possibilities, I went with my gut; He's got a flush draw.
The river was the J , missing both flushes. After some thought the prince bet three thousand.
I'd missed my flush, but I didn't think I needed it. There was no way he would play two pair this
way, and I still couldn't see the prince calling the flop with a random 4. I was wrong. I tossed in
the chips and was shown the 4 8 . Immediately I felt this pit in my stomach. I'd played my
worst pot of the past 6 months, using dumb logic. Illogic.

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I was angry as I left that day. Stealing the blinds on the last pot of my afternoon, and telling the
dealer to "keep it" because I didn't think I deserved it. This was different then the curiosity and
distress I felt after folding to Pat. This was legitimate anger. The type of anger you feel after
taking 5 thousand dollars and flushing it down the ****ing toilet.
I wish I could say I left that feeling at the Bellagio, but it followed me home and lingered like a
bad fart for the next few days. My mood was affecting my relationships too, as I was easily
irritable and not very pleasant to be around. Then as I was driving home one night, trying to
navigate my car around the godforsaken Las Vegas Marathon without a detour sign in site (thank
you LVPD!) I took out my anger on Alyssa. She'd brought up LA when I snapped. "I don't see
why you can't just move out here," I told her over the phone. "Give it a ****ing chance." I didn't
want to move cities, at least I told myself in the moment. "I can't do it. I can't do this anymore," I
explained to her as we broke up in our final attempting at defeating long distance.
December was a bad month.
I finished off the year with my worst month to date. A month that appeared so promising looking
forward to it. But that's the thing with pokerwith life; sometimes it doesn't matter how hopeful
things look. Unforeseen factors arise, and we're caught off guard and tested in ways we aren't
prepared for. And then sometimes--we just **** up. We act impulsively and we make mistakes.
And as much as it sucks, we take solace in the thought that another day, another month, another
year lies ahead. And that in time our mistakes can soon become the stepping stone towards our
goals of the future.
MM
The Killers - Exitlude Las Vegas Finest
01/21/12: Aussie Update and 2011 Review
"Better luck mate". It's proper, courteous, and a tasteful response to taking someone's chips. It
was funny the first time I heard it, cute the next, but by the 3rd time hearing it without proper
reciprocation it became flat out agitating. I'd raised the btn in the 10/20 game to 80. The sb, a
solid player, grinding out massage minutes that made even me raise an eyebrow, had bumped it
up to to 210. A peculiarly small 3bet in the states, but down under it's another interesting norm of
theirs. The Bb tanked before folding his hand, prompting the 3-bettor to remark "aw don't tease
me like that mate." Obviously he doesn't have Aces. It got back to me and I kept with the host's
trend by making a small 4bet to 460. Immediately, he shoved in for 3k. I wasn't far behind him as
I turned over my K K
only to see his AQ offsuit.
I casually stared at my opponents face as the flop came out, a new superstition I've adopted in
attempt to switch up morale after the disaster that was December. His eyebrows raised and he
nodded his head in half-agreement as the first 3 cards fell. He must've flopped some sort of draw
was my read as I now diverted my attention back towards the board. 3 5 A . Fuck. The
turn and the river both shot blanks as I shipped my freshly purchased stack to the seat to my left.

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And then he said it; as friendly and well-intentioned as one man could be after stealing another's
rent money. Yet still, I wanted to stab him in the face with a soldering iron. I need to go for a
walk, I thought as further devious thoughts began boiling in my brain. So I stood up and headed
for the escalators, the exit out of the dungeon that is the Crown Poker room. But before I could
make it, I crossed paths with a familiar barbarous fellow carrying the type of gloat you feel after
turning $250 into a 10k main event seat. His subtle smile and head nod were like a readjustment
of the dagger he'd stuck in my heart nearly 12 hours earlier. With 15 people left in the 10k main
event satellite and 12 receiving seats he'd called my btn shove with TT and held on the whole
way against my A9 of diamonds.
The proceeding celebration between him and his "islander" friend reflected in his smile as we
crossed paths the next day. Perhaps he wasn't a Gumnut College graduate, but when all your
Australian knowledge comes from Planet Earth and Summer Heights High, stereotyping makes
things easy. Easy and hilarious.
Tournaments have this strange, unhealthy affect on my psyche. Forget how much was at stake.
It's not the thought of money that's been waking me up at 8am every morning to the disturbing
replays of last night's knockout hand. It's the thought of putting in all of the hours, all of the
work, and being so close to results. Tangible results; searchable on the internet. Proof that I'm not
just a bum without a job.
So far I've played 4 1k events and 2 1k main event satellites. Oh for six. Both satellites I finished
in the top 20 with 12 seats given out. The first three tournaments weren't much of a sweat, but
the final, a $1500 bounty tournament with 325 entrants and a 110k 1st prize, saw me with a top
10 stack with 40 players left. That is until I called JP Kelly's raise on the btn with Q 9 .
Called his flop bet on a 6 7 8 . Watched him check call on a T
turn and then check
raise me all in on an 8
river. I had no idea who he was at the time and painfully folded due to
his extreme nittyness the 3 hours prior. He was bluffing. A round later I shoved in my now short
stack with A T
and got snapped off by QQ. GG Me.
It's been discouraging to get so close and always come up short, but I'm making a note to
embrace the heartbreak of this trip and store it somewhere in the back corner of my brain. To
never forget what it feels like to roll over at 8am not ready to wake up because that means facing
the music of last night's mistakes. Because I've been observing the fish's missteps and soaking in
the profitable habits of the winners. And I know that I want this bad enough and there will come
a time where I get it all right. And when that day comes the thought of traveling across the globe
only to get my clock cleaned will make victory that much sweeter.
I gotta confess their are selfish reasons behind the timing of my year end report. While I'd like to
say it's because I promised it in early January, more truly it's because it's been a difficult 6 weeks
and for my morale I thought it would be a good time to remind myself that 2011 was most
definitely the best year of my life.
I was born with this attraction to risk. Not the type where you bang the campus slut without a
rubber, or swallow colorful pills with a colorful promise. I'm talking about a nose for investments

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with profitable expectation. Good genes I guess. And this past year I took two "shots" that
changed my life. First and foremost I moved out to Vegas. Left behind my family, friends, a girl,
and everything familiar. The midwest way that had defined my first 22 years turned from a home
into a vacation spot overnight. And it wasn't easy. I struggled right off the bat. After a December
that shocked even me with the piles of money it proceeded, January and February brought me
back to reality with loads of variance and a slight digression. But it all came together again in
March where a small score at the Wynn Classic mixed with loads of 5/10 run good jump-started
my bankroll's motor, which wouldn't slow down until the final months of the year.
While the money was an obvious reward of the move, the greatest payment was how I was able
to spend my time. I've always been kind of an anxious person. So while I knew throughout
college that I was smart and capable of holding a decent job, I had this fear of going to work
everyday hating what I did. I'd tried jobs during summer breaks, but never felt like I was making
use of my time. I have friends in Vegas who call themselves poker "pros". Friends that play
maybe a couple times a week because they have to, not because they want to. They tell me they
used to love playing everyday in the beginning, but that things change. They haven't changed for
me yet. Even amidst a losing streak, I go to work smiling everyday, knowing I get to spend my
time doing something I have so much passion for. If there's one bit of advice that could stick with
everyone who reads this, it's go with your heart. Because when you love what you do, money
becomes an afterthought.
The second "shot" I took this year was my move to 10/20NL. Surprisingly, this one was more
difficult to make then the move to Vegas. In late April, at the time, I was making really steady
money at 5/10 and was more concerned with the potential halting of my progress then I was with
the potential reward. But thanks to the support of people around me, I was able to muster up the
courage and rise up to the high stakes. One particular friend helped me completely overhaul my
mindset, a change that was 100% necessary to my progress. As Im sure many of you noticed,
around late Spring I made this transformation from a naive, wide-eyed poker player, on to a
confident and aggressive poker killer. And while I'm very anti out loud cockiness and
condescending personality traits, in my mind I was formulating a plot to becoming the best NL
cash player in Vegas. So while I'm sure sometimes I came off arrogant, keep in mind you had an
insight into my thoughts not my actions. Every opponent I encountered was studied, and no
matter how flawless of a player they were I was continually searching for leaks. "So and So has
been crushing the 25 50" I would say to Joe. "Psh that donk" he would respond. "3bet's way too
wide, calls down way too light." This is how you rise to high stakes NL. Always be critical.
Always search for leaks.
Now before I get too far, I should say that I'm aware I'm nowhere near the best NL cash player in
Vegas. And I'm way further then I'd like to be from one of the best at 10/20. In fact, every time I
go on a run and gain some confidence, I encounter a new player whos doing something better
than me and thinking along a more profitable path.
The first reward of finally succeeding in my 3rd 10/20 shot was the eclectic group of interesting
people I got to encounter both in and out of poker. I've played with TV stars, princes, the voice of
American Idol, Clothes designers, almost all of the name pros in Vegas, and many people who
I'm sure I've forgotten. Nelly once asked me if it smelled like an old persons home at our table.

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Prahlad Friedman, a guy who was probably my favorite TV pro growing up, came up to ME, and
said he'd been meaning to check out my blog before asking if I wanted to freestyle sometime.
Like WHAAAAT??
The second reward of my 10/20 shot was that my bankroll was now at a point where I could
afford to take trips around the world, an idea that had become more and more appealing to me as
I busted out of my midwest shell. The first trip was a month long journey across Western Europe.
I'll never forget the sight as we first rose out of the subway in Madrid to a courtyard surrounded
by ancient buildings, filled with protestors, shouting in another language. Complete culture
shock.
And most recently I've gotten the chance to come out to Australia for a month. A place that had
always intrigued me, probably out of mystique for the faraway land, but nonetheless an itch I'd
been eager to scratch. And here I am, drinking a Fosters on my balcony in the middle of January,
soaking in the summer sun. I never did care much for winter.
A couple regrets I have:
A) Not getting involved in Big Brother Big Sisters. I got halfway through the registration
process, but as my life became polarized so to speak during my late fall poker run, I stopped
caring about the outside world. A friend and I were doing this thing where we bought 10
homeless people lunch every Sunday, and while that was cool I feel like I have so much more to
offer. As poker players we're blessed with the absence of time restraint that constricts so much of
the work force. And as a result I feel a lot more obligated to make meaning of my free time then
the average person.
B) I spent $15,000 on massages last year. And while it's a running joke with my friends, it got to
the point where it was fucking pathetic. Like anything with the human body, I grew a small
dependency on the massages when I took them everyday. Your back starts aching every day at
the same time, even when there's nothing wrong with it and when all it costs is a couple chips,
it's easy to give in. I've made it a point to quit them this year and so far, we're 21 days in and I've
only had 3 of them.
C) Not keeping records. A big reason behind the massage debacle was that I didn't have proof in
writing of how irresponsible I was being. This resulted in a lot of other reckless spending issues
too. Also without a yearly PnL it was harder to balance my spending/investing. So far this year
I've kept records everyday and see no reason why this one shouldn't be the easiest of the bunch to
keep.
Goals for 2012
A) Travel more. While I enjoyed Europe, one thing I learned about myself is that I love poker too
much to take six weeks off. With that in mind I plan on visiting a lot more cities when their big
tournaments are going on. Right now the plan is to spend some time in LA for the LA Classic,
Vancouver for their big series in the spring, and India and Macau for the APT events that run
next fall.

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2) Start a normal, healthy, same city relationship. This goal may have some trouble coinciding
with goal 1, but it's something I'd like to see happen after the whacky and unhealthy experience
of a long-term, long distance relationship.
3) Publish something. A lot of people have pushed me into the direction of writing something
publishable. Parents, friends, and others of that sort. But I never thought I had the dedication to
do so. That was until I left the country and random poker players in all different parts of the
world told me they'd been following my blog and really enjoyed the story. So if I can sustain a
passion to write for an extended period of time, I'll be working towards a writing project
throughout the year.
4) Win a poker tournament! My focus will still be on beating the cash games as I think that's
more important towards my survival in the poker world. But I want to feel the joy of victory that
I've watched many of my friends experience and plan on taking the necessary steps towards
making it happen.
Jennifer Tilly and Phil Laak once told me this story that supplied me with my Aha! moment. Jen
started by telling us how she had this World Series of Poker video game and how she picked it up
everyday with the goal of beating it. Then one day, just like that, she beat the game. So logically,
her next goal was to win a World Series of Poker bracelet. So she wrote it down in her little black
book like she does all of her goals. Well a year went by and she kept wondering why she was no
closer to success. That's when Phil stepped in and said "Hunny anyone in the world can have the
desire to win the World Series of Poker. But not many are motivated enough to truly desire the
steps that it takes to accomplish their goals." And so the next day she wrote down HOW she was
going to win a WSOP bracelet, and months later, there she was, with the hardware.
This year I'm putting a lot of focus into the HOW portion of my goals. I want to transform from a
dreamer into a go-getter. I still remember being in the car last year and getting the text about
John Lennon. About finding happiness. And how strongly it resonated with me. Well this year
I'm at a new point, and I have this eagerness to conquer initiative. "I guess it comes down to a
simple choice" Andy Dufresne said it best, "You either get busy livingor you get busy dying."
MM
P.S. I know I don't say it enough, but thanks again to everyone who reads and leaves comments.
Even the negative comments that spark discussion are helpful. This blog and its readers have
really helped better my life and I look forward to informing and entertaining in the year to come.
01/28/12: Fear and Loathing in Australia
So after all the losing, I'd temporarily altered the itinerary of my trip in order to keep spirits high.
The Crown was fucking depressing. At least for me. Signing off on a daily withdrawal that kept
inching my account further south of 50k was demoralizing. Paying $17 for food court lunch was
robbery. Passing through the final tables on my way to cash was flat out depressing.

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So I did what any 20 something does when faced with adversity. I drank a lot of foreign booze
and chased a lot of foreign women. Deep joined occasionally, but for the most part he was busy
chasing down final tables. Bastard.
Appropriately classified as a bender, I spent the better part of four days stumbling across the line
of appropriate behavior. And then one particular morning I awoke painfully to the vibrating
sound of an iPhone text message. It was Guppy, coming to me from across the world. "Check out
the Ray Lewis postgame speech on finding strength through failure," he told me as I you tubed
the link Ray Lewis postgame speech.
The Gupster has always had a good nose for danger, and once again came through when I needed
him most. I rose out of bed, tossed my worn out chucks into the rubbish and bought myself a pair
of big boy shoes. I'm out to prove I'm a professional, I told myself, as I walked through town
with Ray Lewis' screaming in my head that GOD DOES NOT MAKE MISTAKES.
My next stop was Gloria Jean's for an overextended 3 cups of Long Blacks while I searched the
web for more inspiration. I stumbled across a few gems, but nothing more powerful then my old
favorite, Tony D'Amato. Al Pacino's Inspirational Speech. I'd once written a paper on the coach's
words to the Sharks. An F in the professors eyes for failing to use a "real historian", but an A to
the author as it was one of my rare collegiate experiences where I applied "real effort".
By now I was fueled to the brink with caffeine and goose bumps. I took off for the river and
walked the 3.5Ks to Crown, bypassing the 4 minute train ride. 30 minutes later, I arrived, leaving
behind most of the adrenaline, but maintaining the focus on the 6 inches in front of my face.
The biggest NL game running was a 10/20/40 with a pretty strong short handed lineup. Skill wise
there wasn't much of edge, but only one of us had Al Pacino and Ray Lewis whispering in his
ear.
My first chance at utilizing the inspiration came when the weakest player at the table opened to
175. A local grinder called in the SB and I bumped it up to 550 with K K
in the bb. Both
players called as we took a J 9 5
flop. The sb check called 850 as we lost the player in
the middle. The 9
brought a backdoor flush draw and gave me a good opportunity to rep-wide
by shoving in for almost a pot sized 2700 after the local guy slowly checked to me. He tanked
and cut his chips leaving me relieved that I hadn't run into 5s full. A couple minutes passed
before he told me I was going to need to "show him the aces" as he pushed the call into the
middle. The A filled out the board. Not the best card, but probably not hitting his range if he's
predicting I had two of the Aces. I confidently flipped over my Kings as he mumbled something
about getting there before showing his AJo. Sadly all of the will and determination in the world
can't change the order of the cards.
So I was stuck. Again. But this was nothing new for me as I'd spent all trip coming from behind.
And then conveniently I hit a small run of preflop cards, combined him some healthy double
barrels to work my 2nd 4k bullet up to around 6k. The game was getting better, too, as former
main eventer Matt Jarvis sat in and quickly got stuck a couple buyins. After his 2nd loss, a 5 bet

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shove with JJ, he suggested raising the stakes to 25/50. Everyone agreed, including myself, as
long as the Crown's typical mandatory straddle was not enforced.
The steaming Jarvis would open the pot to 150 in my next relevant spot. The CO, the local
grinder from the AJ hand called, as did I with 44 on the btn. The flop came down 2 2 5
and Jarvis bet out 400, a fairly large Cbet on this board. The CO called, eliminating any hope that
my hand was good but opening up lots of opportunity to represent winning hands. So I
overcalled with a plethora of creative plans for the different turns and rivers. The turn was a 6
as Jarvis slowed down with a check. The CO now lead for 1100. A huge bet, I used my brilliant
detective skills to put him on a range with a lower end of 88-JJ and a higher end of 2x type
hands. Either way, I had the straight blockers and any raise I made would look super strong,
forcing Jarvis and the CO to fold most of their hands. So I made it 2400 with 3500 behind.
Jarvis looked pained as he folded his hand into the muck before the action got back to "Curley".
He did some legitimate thinking leading me to believe he was now closer to the stronger end of
his range. Come on Curley, I thought, think back to the last hand we played. I ALWAYS HAVE
THE GOODS. Apparently our wires got mixed as the stooge pushed all in, turning my creative
bluff into a big ugly pile of spew. I folded and racked up, waving another white flag to the crown
casino.
Not deserving of the $11 cab ride to Richmond, I made the walk to Flinder St. forcing myself to
take the late night public transportation back to our apartment. Big mistake. I got on the train
only to find out we would be delayed due to mechanical problems. Splendid I thought as I
reached into my book bag hoping to find reading material. All I had were poker books. I would
rather read ****ing Glamour then put my brain through any more poker punishment. So instead I
sat and observed. Eavesdropping on the late night train riders.
The fellow next to me was in a similar dilemma. He wanted to smoke, which is illegal on the
train, but he didn't want to miss our departure. So he stood in the middle of the doors, blowing
his smoke outside, but keeping the train from leaving without him. Decent idea on paper,
vulnerable in execution. One particular old man voiced his displeasure in an awkwardly loud
"There's no smoking on the train". Our smoking hero wasn't about to have some old man destroy
his bulletproof plan, so instead of tossing the cig he shot the screamer a stare.
Oh boy, I thought, as the old man had now risen from his seat. But before he could charge the
smoking punk, things took an interesting turn as a non-afflicted, white T, fitted-cap wearing girl,
walked in between the two and told the old man to "piss off". He was full on ready for battle but
couldn't get through the girl as she was now holding bars from both sides of the train, leaving no
room to squeeze by.
With two clear options, the old man picked the bolder of the bunch and put his shoulder down
like an old Jerome Bettis touchdown run, running straight through the chest of the women.
Before he could get to the smoker, the attention had returned to the girl who was now facedown
on the ground ravaging through her purse. "Yeah take it out why don't you" the old man taunted,
calling the girl's weapon bluff. I didn't have a clear view of the girl, but I knew the exact moment

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the bluff had been called as the old man lost color in his face before turning to reason. "Come
on," he said, "We're all just trying to make it home here, let's relax."
By now I had peaked into the aisle only to witness the knife gripped strongly in the girl's right
hand as she decided if she was willing to make the life changing swing. I wasn't particularly
scared. It was a gun I was worried about. I had about 6 feet of running room and there was no
way this broad was catching me with my life on the line. But with a gun, there was no running if
Queen Whackjob decided to go postal on the rest of us.
So I watched intently as her arm started shaking and she broke down to the floor, crying.
Showing weakness was her 2nd mistake. A slew of the old man's cronies now returned to Alpha
Male mode as they literally kicked the girl off the train, telling her to catch the next ride.
What happened next would raise my heartbeat to levels that Gloria Jean's and 4k bluff's could
never take me to. The girl reached back into her purse prompting one of the old men to yell
"GUN" as they tackled her to the ground. I didn't stick around long enough to find out if they
were right. Thoughts of my last day spent on the outskirts of a bender and a 5k loser fueled my
steps up the escalator and out of the station. I'm not supposed to die like that!
Turns out I paid for the $11 cab that night, and made a vow never to punish myself again in such
a manner. I may still be buried for the trip; but I'm still aliveAnd 1 for 2 ain't all that bad.
MM
02/19/12: Bobby's Room
On February 4th, 2012, I played poker in Bobby's Room. Not Brady or Brown. Bobby fucking
Baldwin's poker room. The glassed off area in the center of Bellagio; known for housing the
biggest NL Hold'em games of all time.
To believe this was a goal of mine would be like believing Sandusky was just horsing around in
the shower. It was a dream; plain and simple. A fantasy buried in the corner of my brain,
occasionally surfacing when I'd drift apart from consciousness.
But a week ago, it suddenly became a reality. Emphasis on the sudden
I was just emerging from the biggest downswing of my career, barely rolled for 20/40 yet alone
200/400NL that they typically play behind the prestigious doors. So it should come as no
surprise that I didn't look twice as I passed the glass on my way to the 10/20 podium.
Also, I had other things on my mind. Most notably maintaining a 25k week that saw me erase all
of my Melbourne debt; Even leaving a little left over for a few Go Raw organic shakes.
The 10/20 was good and again I maneuvered my stack between good decisions and good fortune
to the tune of a 5k day. It was an early victory; the type that results in a lot of talking, joking, and
safe decisions. Locking up a win, so to speak. Consequently, I was extra attentive to outside
distractions on this day as I heard floor man Calvin call "Jeremy" for Bobby's room.

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Jeremy Ausmus is a 10/20 regular in the Bellagio games. One of the best; but more importantly,
the epitome of a poker professional. For younger guys like myself he's been someone to look up
to, an opponent, yet still a friend who won't hesitate to offer advice that pertains to poker or the
lifestyle that comes with it.
Jeremy certainly has more money then me. But 200/400 money? I had to see it to believe it. I
approached the main cage where Jeremy was coloring up, put on my best Kinish, and asked him
if he was holding that rack of blacks and yellows for somebody else.
"They're only playing 25/50/100," he laughed. "Michael Phelps is in the game. He didn't want to
play outside." 25/50/100?? I've played 25/50/100 before. I need to get on this list, I thought as I
followed Jeremy to the podium and placed my name 3rd down the sheet.
It was a long shot, as many pointed out viaTwitter. Games like this don't come around every day.
And as lazy and unmotivated as most poker players are, they've been known to reach deep in the
tank when the EV is right.
I wasn't expecting a seat in the game, yet still went around selling percentages to friends of mine
within the community, dragging out the fantasy as long and as lifelike as I possibly could. And
then about an hour later it happened. "Matt M 50/100" I heard on the loud speaker as I looked
around the room searching for reassurance.
I fumbled my chips into the racks as my hands shook and my mind attempted to wrap itself
around the magnitude of the situation. Get your **** together I begged as I walked through the
doors and placed my 15k into seat 3.
I looked around the table. Tom Marchese and Justin Young to my right. Phil Laak, Jen Tilly,
Mike Phelps, and Ben Lamb across the table. I stumbled through my hellos as I unracked my
chips. I hadn't been this nervous since my first encounter with vagina. Then I looked directly to
my left and caught the comforting head nod of Jeremy. The familiarity calmed me down. It was
just another game of cards; Focus restored.
I folded the first few hands while my heart dropped to an acceptable rate. The Seven Deuce game
was on, I was told by Justin. $200 from every player if your 72 wins the pot at any point.
I got my first taste of action when it folded to me in MP and I raised up AQo to 350. Jen Tilly
called on the btn and the rest of the table folded.
A little bit of relevant history with Jennifer Tilly; I don't think I've ever lost a pot to her. I'm not
saying she's played bad or that I've owned her, I've just always happened to have the best hand.
Now for some less relevant history, I was terrified of two movies growing up; It, and Chucky. I
avoided drains and dolls like the plague from years 5 to 12. So when Chucky picked up a Bride
in the late 90's sequel it was double the trouble, double the nightmares. Jen would now pay for
putting me through years of torture.

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The flop fell down A 8 4

and before I could bet I had a flashback to a hand I wrote about
months ago where Jen raised me big on a similar flop with AQ. I didn't want to start guessing so
early in the game, so instead I checked to the aggro Tilly. She bet $500 to which I called in
stride. The turn was a 3
and again I checked. Tilly threw out a suspiciously small $800 bet. I
called as the T
fell on the river. A third check from me prompted a 3rd bet from Jen. This time
$1500. I went into the tank. My hand looks like JJ-KK and while Jen certainly could have 2 pair
on this board I didn't think she would be able to resist the urge to bet a more healthy 2k or so
with such strength on the river. So I did something funky and raised it up to $4550.
Now it was Jen in the tank as she justifiably mumbled about how I always have the best hand
against her. At this point I was pretty confident in my standing and internally begged for a call.
Unfortunately, Jen wouldn't get stubborn, instead chucking her hand into the muck.
I sent a mass text to friends and investors after the hand. Everyone hated the line. Some even
despised it. Spirits were low until I got word that David Williams loved it. The only smart one of
the bunch. Genius restored!
A few hands later I limped along on the btn as we played an 8 way pot. Justin Young bet $600 on
an A 8 4
and I was the only caller on the btn. The turn was a 2
and Justin led for
$200. I raised it up to $1250. After brief thought Justin was on board. The river paired the 8
as
Justin checked to me. I carefully deliberated for 6-8 seconds before firing $2400. On cue Justin
came back with a speech. "That seemed like a fake pause" he told me before surrendering his
hand. While I don't particularly want him to know what I had, I gained some free information as
to what goes through the mind of a smart player when reading opponents. Information more
valuable then the pot I won.
With the stack up to 22k I raised up 9 9
to $600 with the $200 straddle on. Again Ms.
Chucky was my only caller in the CO. I checked a J 2 4
and she bet out $900. I called
and we took a 7
on the turn. I checked again, and Chucky threw out another $2100 barrel. I
couldn't find a fold against the most aggressive player at the table, even though I suspected a big
river bet was on the horizon. The T
completed the board. Mother ****er. I checked, but was
pleasantly surprised when Jen returned the favor. 99 was good.
It was around this time that the game took a very steep turn. After one player put 50k in preflop
with a weak hand assuming J Tilly had 27 (She had QQ) most pots were straddled up to $800. A
couple even made it to $1600. To lighten the tension Mike Phelps offered shots to everyone at
the table. I was hesitant, thinking of my investors, and also my own money that was at risk.
Hesitant until Justin talked some sense into me. "He is an Olympic hero, you will take a shot
with him goddamn it." Touche.
One shot, turned into 4 full glasses of Don Julio tequila. As if the 8 pros weren't tough enough, I
was now fending off a 9th battle between the Don and my precious brain cells. Thankfully, I'd
been practicing my drinking in Australia. I knew that losing would come in handy somehow.

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What I wasn't prepared for were the 2k Omaha flips that were now concluding every round of
play. While they weren't mandatory, it was definitely frowned upon for anyone winning in the
game to sit them out. As luck would have it, I bricked four in a row. Before I knew it, I was back
down to 17k without even playing a hand.
With the game 8 handed, the $1600 straddle was on, leaving me UTG and on the btn at the same
time. I looked down at pocket nines. I did some brief drunken math and determined there was
$3150 in the pot. I certainly didn't want to raise and induce 2 high cards to shove me in. I had no
option. "I'm all in" I told the dealer as the action progressively folded to Mr. Phelps in the $800
blind.
Mike went into the tank, showing his cards to Phil Laak while he seesawed between a call and
fold. Everything that had me dominated seemed like an obvious call, so even though there was
enough dead money in the middle to build an African empire, I secretly wanted Phelps to call it
off with his 77/88. Eventually, he announced fold while holding onto his cards. Marchese
mucked his hand next before Mike tabled his prized fold. T T .
The gods were on my side on this day. I could've gone broke; I should've gone broke. But I
didn't. On the last hand of the day, a 2k Omaha flip that I split with another 10/20 regular,
Canadian Connor, we used our 4
and 9
to make a boat and scoop up the last chips of the
day.
When the dust settled I racked up $26,050, an 11k winner. I understood there was a lot of luck
involved but I was also happy with my play in the early stages, before the degeneracy took over.
And of course it's always 10x sweeter when you can make your friends some money in the
process.
For all I know that will be my one and only trip to prestigious Bobby's room. And that's fine with
me. I played with the greatest, swam through tequila with a legend, and came away 11k on top.
To quote the homie Ice Cube, Today Was A Good Day
MM
03/02/12: To Live and Die in LA
January was about as fun as appendicitis. A daily test of my mental strength. But it's okay cause
while I was off punting buy-ins to the Aussies, roommate Deep Pulusani was winning everything
in sight. He won the Shootout tournament for almost 40k, a seat in the 10k main event, and
another healthy score in the 6max. Other than a few folded small blinds I think he really might've
won every pot he played.
I was content playing the Robin role while Batman took Melbourne by storm. I've always had
this unique view on poker as a "team sport". My friends and I, we bounce ideas off each other.
We've done it over Jay's, under half-naked strippers and in between bites of sushi. No matter
what were doing, we always have holdem on the back-burner. We don't always agree, but that's
okay. Because while were all striving for this perfect understanding of poker, it's equally
important to understand how others view the same game.

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So when someone in my inner circle of friends does something special like Deep did in January,
I get this sense of accomplishment out of it. Like some part of my brain played a role in the
success. And I hope they feel the same way too because I know I wouldn't be half the player I am
today without the collective insight of my friends.
Which leads me to the current. I've spent the past two weeks of February living in LA. More
accurately the ghettos of Hollywood. "It's cool though," as my high school friend Greg whose
floor Im sleeping on puts it, "You really feel the pulse of the city out here."
I feel the pulse all right. Techno beat after techno beat blast from the neighbors below, emitting
vibrations through the carpet and straight to my brain. It's a gift that gives at all weird hours of
the night and makes its way through these paper thin walls almost flawlessly. It's quite
impressive though; and I suppose a fitting punishment for someone who spent the past two
months living like royalty while playing like garbage.
I'm about a 20 minute drive from the casino, a nice buffer zone that keeps me from falling victim
to the Commerce curse that's taken the souls of so many poker players before me. A curse that
holds you captive from the second you arrive until the minute you finally escape.
My first week of play was magically consistent, with 7 winning days and just one loser. Boring
poker so to speak. But also a time I was able to rediscover my game. A game tainted from bad
habits due to constantly battling some of the best NL players in Vegas cash games. I had become
too timid. Pot controlling is a good concept to practice against capable and aggressive opponents,
but I'd let it take over my entire game. I was checking way too many turns, afraid of being
bluffed off the best hand. And by doing so I was really handcuffing myself in a lot of spots,
"Capping my range" as the experts say. But now, just like Forrest Gump kept running, I kept
betting. Betting until they raised me. And when they raised me, I would just fold vs the players
incapable of bluffing and evaluate against the more complex thinkers.
My renovated approach to NL was epitomized in this interesting pot I played earlier in the trip. I
was dealt the J 4
in the bb, typically an easy muck. But play was folded to the btn, a young
aggressive Asian who raised it to 70. We had played one pot earlier in the session where he
raised the CO, I 3bet the SB and he called with 57o. I knew his range was far too weak and his
hands would catch up to him as our pots got larger.
So I 3bet to 230 and watched as he effortlessly placed the call in. We saw a 3 5 6
flop, a
pretty standard Cbet for my hand. I made it 330 and he called casually while continuing to hold a
conversation on his cell phone. The turn brought the helpful J . Still this is a spot where I used
to check for pot control and deceptive reasons. But in my improved state of mind I continued
with a bet of 680. Again he was undaunted as he called, telling the person on the other line he
needed to go as the river fell. It was the 8 . I good card for me because it hits his 78 and misses
the flush draw. Again I reached into the tank and confidently bet 1550. Suddenly my opponent
wasn't so casual as he cut the call out of his stack while counting his remaining chips, should he
choose to call and lose.

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A minute or so passed before he'd decided to call. I flipped over my J4 and quickly my opponent
reached for his cards while he analyzed my hand. His eagerness slowly faded as he realized I'd
spiked a J on the turn and after a quick recheck of his whole cards, they were into the muck.
"You are the sickest," said last month's hero Deep from the seat to my right as he rode out his
own cold streak of cards.
It was a lot like that during my stint in in LA. I made a lot of quality decisions as I came across a
bunch of profitable situations. However amongst the boringness of consistent winning, there was
one day that really got the juices flowing.
After a morning trip to Santa Monica beach, I made a rare night trip to Commerce last Sunday. I
planned on playing a main event satellite but as is often the case I lost motivation once I sat
down at a cash table. On this day I had extra reason not to leave.
After an hour or so of play at the must move table, our three empty seats were filled by none
other than Phil Hellmuth and two of his buddies. It wasn't a complete brain shocker as I'd seen
Phil around the casino earlier in the week, but I never actually expected him to sit down in one of
my games.
Quickly the game was changed to a 20/40 in order to keep anyone from having to move, and
riding out the Phil Hellmuth experience for the duration of the night. However, nobody reloaded
chips, so while we played with 20/40 blinds, the game still felt somewhat like a 10/20NL.
Early in the session I jumped at an opportunity that I just couldn't pass up. With K5o I checked in
the bb as a few limpers, including Phil on the btn, joined the action. The flop came 224 and we
checked it around. On a Q turn everyone checked again to Phil who quickly bet 120. Knowing
how easily I could represent a 2 I made it 320. Phil called with lightning speed, an old trick
aimed at slowing down bluffers. I wouldn't be deterred as the A
dropped on the river. Again I
made a valuish looking bet of 440. Phil picked up his cards, showed me the Q and said,
"sometimes you have to fold top pair." "Yeah sometimes you do" I shot back as I flipped over my
K5o.
"These kids don't realize how much money I make off them bluffing me" he said in the direction
of his friend, but directed straight for my ego. Two checkmarks to the bucket list. Bluff Phil
Hellmuth. Piss off Phil Hellmuth.
I actually didn't play very well on the day I sat with Mr. Poker Brat. The patience I'd displayed
all week had been replaced with an anxiousness to get involved. To show the self-proclaimed
"best in the world" that I had some skill in this game too. But even with some hiccups, I had
another chance at the pro as our night was winding down.
Phil was sitting on a 2k stack as he limped UTG+1. I was immediately suspicious due to both the
limp and his recent chatter on how much I'd been bluffing him all day. So I took the cautious
route and limped A J
behind; a hand that has a lot of multi-way value anyways. Three more
limpers joined us as the flop fell A J 6 . It was checked to me and I built the pot with a
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$140 bet. Everyone folded to Mr. Hellmuth, as it appeared my 2pair would go for nought. But
wait, what's this, he's reaching for more chips. "360" he announced as the action was back on me.
Seeing no reason to over-rep my hand I smooth called in position as the turn solidified my hand
with a J . Phil continued his story with a $500 bet and again I just called in position. On an 8
river, I watched as Phil cut and counted his remaining chips, secretly praying he would chuck
them in the pot. "All in" he announced with his left fist covering his mouth and his right hand
tossing in his $1100 stack.
I don't remember if I said call. I've played multiple pots over 20k but none of them clouded my
head with endorphins the way this 4k hand had. The next thing I know my AJ is face up and Phil
is chuckling to himself while his two cards go flying towards the muck.
But my Phil Hellmuth experience doesn't end there, I paid for the ride and now I was about to get
my money's worth. "It's funny you know," he said to no one in particular. "The kid's been
bluffing me all night, showing garbage after garbage. He wanted to get it all in with me (two
rounds ago) with the K8, and now I finally have him right where I want him. He's ready to pay
me off, like I've been planning all night, and the dealer bails him out. I mean it's ****ing
amazing the situations they throw me into sometimes."
I just sat there and nodded my head, feeling no need to defend myself, but also not willing to dip
into his ego. Eventually, he turned to me with his rant. "Kid I had you right where I wanted you.
But I'm Phil Hellmuth, they never make it easy on me."
It was then that I realized how serious he was. That "act" you see on TV. The same "act" that
brought him the sponsorships and the notoriety as the Poker Brat. It's no act at all. He is so
competitive, that even when playing 20/40nl he can't handle the embarrassing silence of defeat.
The same silence I used to combat with raised music volume, he fights back with angled excuses.
You can't win with the guy, so don't even try.
I left LA with a 16-4 February record. That's Miami Heat type numbers. And I did it all while
sleeping on a Hollywood floor. If last month I played Robin, this month I was Jeremy Linbut
with broker friends. I'm enjoying one of my best months ever at the comfort of my home in
Chicago. I'm returning to Vegas for all of March and then come April, hitting the road. Guppie
and I will spend the spring months traveling to local casinos and underground games, mostly
along the middle of the country and the East Coast. We'll also be visiting as many MLB stadiums
as possible before returning to Vegas for the WSOP fun this summer.
If anyone has a game or a city they'd recommend please throw it out there. We'd love to grab a
beer with any and everyone along the way and would gladly accept any couches for sleeping.
MM
03/12/12: Bluffing
Bluffing is an imperative part to a winning player's strategy. We say we like how it balances our
ranges, but really we just like how it recharges are egos. Dan recently bought a book to improve
on this portion of his game. The Art of Bluffing, it's called, discusses good spots, mannerisms to

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look for and the theory behind the bluff. He's spent the past week reading the manual and
incorrectly following the directions. However, it's not that he's misinterpreting the writing on the
paper, he's misinterpreting the idea behind the concept. Bluffing is essentially lying. You must
have a feel for the situation and convince yourself you're telling the truth, before you can
convince your opponent.
I've been practicing bluffing my entire life. I've bluffed my way out of school, all sorts of
commitments, and in and out of relationships. It's a convenient way to avoid the unpleasant.
However, sometimes you come across a calling station so stubborn, that even the most well
thought out bluffs can go for nought.
Cue Claire. I've been working with Claire for the past year. Occasionally she's been my
electrician, my cable guy, and even once my grocer. But for the past 14 months she's been my
realtor. She's brought me 4 different residences at the Meridian and I've reciprocated with a
year's worth of commission. It's been a well balanced relationship but one that I felt was tilting in
the wrong direction when I got an email in Melbourne telling me my next apartment would be
$1350 a month, a $150 swing in the wrong direction. "If anything I should be getting a discount"
I fired back viciously through angry emoticons. A) There was the loyalty factor: the piles of
money I'd consistently been placing in her hand, on time, in cash, every month. And B) simple
supply and demand supported my case. Lots of supply equals low demand. The Meridian's
vacancy rate is over 50%. She should be on her hands and knees begging me to come back.
Instead, she responded to my request for a reduction with, "My daughter needs a new Coach
purse."
This had me steaming so hard my dad could feel it from the other side of the world. "Don't give
in," my old man told me, "She'll come back with an offer soon enough."
So I didn't. I played it cool, acting like I didn't need her; a tactic I'd practiced plenty over my
years on campus in Oxford, Ohio. But this broad was tough. Weeks went by. I transferred from
hotel to hotel waiting for her call. That got expensive, so I drove out to LA, reducing my sleep
space to dirty carpets. STILLno contact. Next I flew back to Chicago, stayed with my parents,
ex-girlfriends, and best friends from high school. I had completely changed my life to pull off
this bluff. Yes, It was only an extra $150 a month, but it was the PRINCIPLE, a word that's been
running my world since I learned of it's meaning.
Eventually, I called Claire and told her I wasn't happy about it, but I was ready to sign for $1350.
Enough was enough. "Well, Matt, we've had a lot of recent interest, it's now gonna be $1450.
Cold Blooded Killer. In came another poker concept; knowing when you're beat. I was in deep,
but I wasn't going to fire this river. I had to book the place or be at risk of missing one of Vegas'
finest occasions, March Madness. "I'll take it," I quietly muttered back.
I've been back in Vegas for a week now. After a short stint of losing at the Chicago Poker
Classic, highlighted by a 2nd round exit in the heads up tournament to the eventual champ, I flew
back and moved into my newly overpriced apartment.

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Back on the felt I was noticing a pattern of ABC poker clouding over the 10/20 game. It's a bad
habit that forms from dealing with high action recreational players. In certain lineups it's often
more profitable and less stressful to just play solid and wait for spots with the fish. But that style
of play had carried over this week even though most of the games had 9 seats of locals.
To beat the local games you have to do something different. These guys are just as in-tuned with
the state of the games as I am and aren't going to make mistakes against standard lines. So I see it
as a chance to advance my creativity.
In one such pot, a regular opened the btn to 60 and I 3bet 2 red Queens to 200 from the small. He
called as we took a flop of A K 2 . I checked and he surprised me with a bet of 280, as
he's always checking back Kx and usually doing the same with Ax. So I called and we saw a 9
on the turn. I checked, planning on calling another barrel, but this time my opponent checked
back. The river was a T
and I checked one final time hoping to get to showdown. My
opponent confidently bet out 480. Why wouldn't he, it's not as if I'd done anything to convince
him I made a hand. My first instinct was to fold as not many people are betting missed flush
draws on this river after checking the turn. But then I thought a bit deeper and concluded that he
wouldn't check any huge hands on that turn either. So even though I was repping thin, I took out
my stack of blacks added an orange on top and made the new total 2020.
My opponent was justifiably confused as he asked for a count, stacked up his own chips, and
glanced at me for a read. I was staring at the corner of the T , knowing the longer he took to
think the more likely he was to fold. My hand was strangely played, but I hoped he'd revert to
logic and conclude that people just don't bluff in this spot. Eventually, he did. His cards were in
the muck, soon followed by mine as the stolen chips were pushed my way.
With the Hold'em games showing very little value I was happy to sit in a 5/10 PLO game one
evening with some unfamiliar faces. I've been working hard on my PLO games as it seems like
all of the games above 10/20nl are either straight PLO or half Omaha half Hold'em. My style is
tight and I typically just observe the good players and use showdowns as a chance to educate
myself on how I should be proceeding with certain hands.
I was even in this game, sitting on a 3k stack when I open the CO in a straddled pot to 60 with
K T J9. A good player called in the Sb and the straddle, a tighter opponent called at well.
The flop fell K 6 4
and I checked back after their action, seeing little opportunity to
improve on my one pair hand. The turn was the interesting T
giving me top two and bringing
a 2nd flush draw on board. The sb checked again, the straddler announced 'pot' making it 180 to
go. I called, not wanting to overrep my hand and the action returned to the Sb. He announced pot
as well, making it 720 to go. The small blind looked pained as he clearly wanted to play but
couldn't shake his tight inclination.
"I can't believe I'm folding this," he said before tossing it into the muck. Some might find that
info useless, but when you're sitting on top two in a game where sets win pots I saw it was a
goldmine. The chance of him having 44 66 or some combo of the two cards was now very

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strong, leaving my new opponent's chances at the same hand very weak. The action was back on
me. With two straight draws and two flush draws I knew he could bluff me off the winning hand
on almost every river. I decided to raise pot, putting the remainder of my stack in the middle.
The sb wasn't happy about it at all. The news was good, but still my heart was beating quickly as
I stared into oblivion, secretly hoping for a fold and a non-showdown winner. My request was
denied as "let's gamble" was followed by a firm shove of some blacks into the pot. The river fell
the 7 . "Nuts" I heard before I had the chance to show my called hand. A 9 A7.
Unique lines are growing in importance at the higher stakes as the games dry up and avoiding
transparency becomes goal number one. Overdoing the deed can lead to fancy-play syndrome,
but as long as the regs stay competent, walking that line between creativity and absurdity will be
a growing priority as many look to regain their diminishing edge.
MM
05/20/12: The Craziest Hand I've Ever Played
I just got back from a 10/20/40 session at Bellagio, and while I have a separate blog post I should
be writing up, this one is fresh in my mind. This is the story of the craziest hand I have ever
played.
The lineup was good, as it's been all week. Three tables of 10/20/40 consisting of a good mixture
of regulars, tournament players in town for the 25k WPT and recreation players. My day had
been going well, I was up to 11k from my original 6500 buy in and I had a pretty reckless image
that would hopefully get me paid later in the session.
The first critical portion of my "craziest hand ever" occurred when the mid-aged rec player
moved from the 4 seat (directly to my left) to the 8 seat. His parting words were that I had "too
much gamble in me."
It couldn't have worked out much better when he opened UTG to 140 and I looked down at the
K K
on the btn. Enter the 2nd significant portion of the story. In the HJ, a player, W, who
I've been playing with every day for the past year calls the bet.
Now W isn't your every day poker professional. He's an older gentleman who's made loads upon
loads of money in another field. He lives in Las Vegas and plays Hold'em every single day.
Apparently he used to be quite the action player in the game. But by the time I started playing
with him a year ago, he was probably slightly a losing player, and by now in my opinion he is
definitely a winning high stakes poker player.
But his skill level is irrelevant for the course of this hand. What is important is the presence that
W holds at the Bellagio. He's the number one VIP. He treats all employees very well, and is
friendly with all of the players. For these reasons, mixed with his business success, people are
enamored by W. Everybody laughs at his jokes, everybody massages his ego. Lots of regulars
even check it down when they're heads up in a pot with him.

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I've never understood this approach and generally it makes me uncomfortable. For that very
reason, my relationship with W is slightly different. I give him ****, and he gives it right back.
We play lots of hands together, but have a different type of respect for each other. We are friends,
but we're not afraid to gamble.
Okay so back to the hand. With two Kings on the btn I 3bet the pot to 560. Both players called
with W commenting that he was going to ride out the rush. "Haven't you heard that every rush
meets a tragic end," I told him as the A 4 6
hit the board.
Both players checked and the action was to me. To protect myself from being bluffed off the best
hand and potentially getting called by worse I bet 760. The original player folded and W tossed
in the call.
"I wouldn't be so sure this one has come to an end yet," he told me as the perfect K
rolled off
the deck. I counted the pot, roughly 2800, and bet out 2 yellows and 3 blacks after W had
checked. Immediately he called what he believed was 1300. Noticing his mistake he was
undeterred as he realized it would cost him another 1k.
Grasping the potential 20k pot I was about to win, I kept my cool the best I could as the final
card was about to come. The 3
fell belly up, and before I could curse the gods for ruining my
perfect set up, W had immediately shoved his 7k in remaining chips into the pot.
My initial intuition was to fold as I knew W's game pretty well, and was certain he was capable
of having both a backdoor flush and a rivered 57. Then began the bull****ting.
"God damn--it. I wanna call you W, I think you're bluffing, but I just don't have much," I said
while flashing him the K . At this point W was very talkative. Sitting next to his wife, who was
waiting for him to leave for dinner, he was flashing his cards to others at the table, and even
members of the rail. Members of my rail.
Now before we go any further lets review the two Bellagio rules that we just broke. There is no
showing of any cards allowed at Bellagio, or any table talk about hands. Both bizarre rules, but
both rules nonetheless.
However, at the expense of sounding arrogant and condescending, the high stakes games don't
exactly follow all rules. Cards are shown all of the time and table talk is often used when fishing
for information.
After a couple of minutes, I'd made up my mind. As painful as it was, I was going to have to
release my hand. W was too capable of having flushes and he seemed overly confidant.
"I guess I'm gonna let you bluff me" I said to W, as I picked both of my cards up with my left
hand and held them at eye level as I took one more look at the wasted set.

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But before I could make any motion towards folding or even think of muttering the "final
answer", W flipped over a card.
The card was the 6

I let out a shocking "huh". I couldn't lose the pot. "Now what are you gonna do?" W asked me
one final time in his challenging tone. "I can't lose to one hand with that card" I said while
flipping over my set of Kings.
Now while I was considering the severity of what had just happened and the potential 22k pot
that was about to be controversially won by one of us, another player spoke up at the other end of
the table.
"That's not right Matt, you can't call him here. You said fold," chirped David Limb. He was right
about one thing, but 100% wrong about another. Yes I was preparing to fold my hand, but I had
never muttered the words, or even made a tossing motion towards the muck.
I was completely dumbfounded, I didn't know what to do. W had now shown me his other card,
the 6
I could sense the embarrassment coming from W as he had either just failed in tricking
me to call him with a worse hand, or prematurely flipped over a hand I could beat.
There's twenty two thousand in the middle of two competitors and two friends. A guy you play
with every single day has made a mistake. A guy who went out of his way to invite you to his
house for Christmas when somebody told him you'd be in Vegas alone. The pot is worth more
then your whole bankroll was when you started this poker journey. You're on the clock...
MM
06/05/12: Sunday Funday
It was Sunday morning at 3am; though you wouldn't have guessed it if had you been sitting
inside the Bellagio poker room. Every table in the high limit area was in use, a rarity during even
the high traffic hours at the B. There was a 10/20nl main game and must move. A 25/50 main
game at table 14, and a short handed must move on 13. That is where I was sitting. Accompanied
by friends Tony G, Joe P, and a growing curiosity into the whereabouts of the mysterious
character that had me awake in the middle of the night playing 3 handed with two of the
Bellagio's best NL players.
It sounds crazy, but this wasn't your average Sunday night. It was fight night at Bellagio. It was
also Cinco de Mayo and the beginning of the casino's WPT Five Diamond Classic. All factors
predicted good 10/20 games, but nobody could be prepared for the invasion of high stakes action
that took us by storm that weekend.
It started when I'd heard M was in town. The New York lawyer who I'd mentioned in my "10th
seat" post was good for any game. But he typically liked to play 25/50 and only PLO if it became
an option. Then I heard about E, the mysterious businessman from Texas who also is prone to the

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big pot. But the kicker came when I was told via text that the Asian businessman from Macau
had made a 3am visit to the Bellagio poker room the night before, buying in for 50k...all cash.
Nobody knows Mr. Macau's name because the man speaks no English. But everybody with a
pulse and bankroll big enough for the 10/20nl has heard the story of his February trip to Las
Vegas. The sickos like me had dreamt about his return. The 90% opening range, the 50k pots
with J3o, and the 100k swings he endured on a daily basis were the breeding points of his
growing legend.
I was told not to tell anybody what I knew. Not that I would've anyways; when situations like
this come around it's best to play dumb in a current poker community where high action players
are few and few between.
I played a morning session at Bellagio that day. I got all the money in, in a 3bet pot with A
A
on a Q 4 5
against the 3 4 . The board ran out 7
K . Joe stared at me from
the neighboring 6 seat, grinning and shaking his head while I calmly raked in the 10k pot. "No
sweat? No mention of running it twice? How rich are you anyways," he asked as I collected my
chips with less excitement than a Barry Sanders touchdown celebration. While statistics say it's a
50/50 spot, statistics don't account for run good. I was winning that pot at least 8 out of 10 times.
"Lets go play golf," I told him without any response to his previous needles, "I've got a secret
that might be of benefit to you." And so there on the 3rd hole at Revere Golf Club out in
Henderson I told Joe why we were playing golf. How he'd be playing poker all night tonight,
potentially in the best game of his life.
After a stellar round and a stop at Fusion Pizza, it was back to Bellagio around 11pm; though it
quickly became evident that I wasn't the only one to blow the secret.
The whole top section was filled, a feat rarely accomplished during even WSOP time. Players
that never played past 6pm were still grinding, equipped with backpacks and coolers. Even
regulars from the Aria, Wynn, and Venetian had left their home courts in preparation for tonights
all-star lineup.
Joe and I sat down in the 25/50 must move game, in anticipation that Mr. Macau would like to
play the biggest game running. After a turn check raise failed to get JJ to fold on a 9 7 2
6 , and my Y chromosomes got in the way of a river bullet, my image was nice and whack.
Just how I like it.
The very next hand I remained reckless and 3bet the same opponent from the bb to 475 with
AQo. On an A74 rainbow I cbet 550. The shiny chain/big watch wearing guy made the call as the
T
fell bringing a backdoor flush draw. Undeterred I bet 1400. Again I was called, with about
6k in stacks remaining. The 6
finished out the board and even though it wasn't the safest spot
for AQ, I'd earned the right for thin value with my bluffy image and I'd be a fool not to utilize it.
So I counted a big stack of black and placed the unnecessary green on top. "3225" was the price

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to see my cards. Thought was short on my opponents behalf as the stack was matched quickly.
AQ was good.
A couple hours passed by. With my stack up to 16k the rest of the amateur players had left the
table. It was Tony, Joe and I playing 3 handed. A game none of us would ever sit in, but a
necessity if we wanted a chance at Mr. Macau. As the minutes passed and time slowly
approached 3am, strategic rumblings began filling the tables. Not poker strategy, seat selection
strategy. The Bellagio floor does such a horribly inconsistent job in these situations that nobody
really had any idea where the guy would be placed when he showed up.
M was in the 25/50 main game, but he was already an added 10th seat. Would they be allowed to
make a game 11 handed? I didn't think so. The 10/20 must move had open seats, but we feared if
he chose that game, he'd be escorted directly to the main game.
So the three of us continued our 3-handed play, hoping it was our best shot. As the clock struck
2:30 I found myself in a pot against Tony (www.crushtheweak.com) G. He'd opened the btn to
125 and I'd 3bet the K 9
to 400. He called as we saw a 9 7 5
flop. I cbet 600 and
after little thought he shoved it in 4500. I called as we flipped over our hands and agreed to run it
twice. I was up against J8. On the first run Tony bricked and on the 2nd we both caught our card,
the T . My flush trumped his straight and I scooped the whole thing.
With the expected final moments before arrival approaching, chaos reached extreme levels.
Representatives from every game were having private meetings with the floor, trying to ensue
that Mr. Macau would be added into their game. Players in the 25/50, friends of mine, had
reportedly pooled together money to pay to pay a player to leave the game, with one catch. They
couldn't leave until Mr. Macau showed up. This strategy ensured that the next person on the list
would not get into the game. I was the next player on the list. These were guys I play golf with,
guys I drink beers with.
I was livid externally, though deep down I understood. In a community sucked so dry of "dead
money" there was no room to look out for anybody but yourself. After all, missing out on this
game could potentially cost a lucky player 10's of thousands of dollars.
I was venting out in the sports book when E approached me on a break. He was in the 10/20
must move and very aware of all the shenanigans taking place inside. E and I had grown pretty
friendly during his frequent trips in town. I'd even loaned him 5k once when he didn't want his
wife to know he was taking out more money. Perhaps he felt indebted for my good deed, or
maybe I was simply in the right place at the right time, but E had a secret for me. "I talked to the
guy's bodyguard yesterday. I give him the loosest action of anybody. I know he wants to play
with me. Come take a seat before it closes up."
The logic seemed sound and even though I doubted they'd add a 10th seat to a must move game,
it looked like my best available option. Within 15 minutes of locking up the final seat, the clock
struck midnight. My watch read 330 as the mystical character I'd been dreaming about entered
the poker room. He surveyed the games as mass amounts of non-verbal persuasion followed his
presence.
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A collection of thumbs up, waves, and ESP replaced the chatter as everybody sat nervously
awaiting their fate. His blank stare advanced to a full-face smile when he saw E in the seat to my
right. "Pull up a chair" he said to no avail, until he pointed towards our game. The floor had other
ideas as they came by to tell him if he wanted 10/20 he'd be placed in the main game. Mr. Macau
just shook his head while pulling up his own chair and placing it between the 3 and 4 hole in our
must move game.
The floor and his bodyguards were discussing the situation, but my attention lay on the hopeless
faces of the 25/50 players. I smiled and nodded whenever our eyes met. A small needle and
reminder that the guy they'd shut out had the best seat in the house. The tortoise had won the
race.
While it seemed like the battle had been won, the war was far from over. Even with a reputation
for crazy spazz, the man had booked a win in his last trip and had aggression that was potentially
devastating if I wasn't careful with my 22k stack.
In the first hand we played he opened the CO to his typical 340. I called the Bb with Q J
after the small had first joined. On a T 9 2
rainbow flop we checked to Mr. Macau who
surprised us both with a check. The turn was the 5
and when the action was to me I chose to
bet. I'd previously seen the man bet bottom pair when checked to so I thought his flop checks
were more aimed at giving up then pot controlling. I bet a fair 800. He raised it to a fair 11k. I
smiled as I'd clearly been tricked before tossing in my cards facedown. His were surrendered
face up. The A J
brought cheers from our tablemates. You didn't need to know English to
feel the excitement in the air.
I watched in amazement as the guy was able to play 100% VPIP to a profitable tune. Stacks were
taken down 10k at a time. My time seemed like it may come when he raised in early position to
340, two players had called, and I looked down at T T
in the Sb. I called as well, with two
specific cards on my mind. The T
hit the door card, followed by the A
and the 7 . It
checked to him and he bet 1k. While my first inclination was to raise, I changed my mind as I
looked back at my stack. I knew the guy would float any draw on the flop and every turn card
could potentially leave me guessing for a 40k pot. So I went to strategy B) brought upon by a tip
that he attacks weakness. I would call and lead any safe turn for 1200, hoping to induce spazz.
The turn brought the perfect card the 5
and after my bet I saw a confused look on Macau's
face as he turned to his bills. Please count past 12 I prayed while he slowly went through his
bills.
My plan proved faulty as he only called and we were ready for a river. The 3
was another
productive card and this time I checked, assuming he'd bet all A's for value and all missed draws
as a bluff. He did just that placing 2500 in bills into the pot; it was Hollywooding time. An act
I'm not proud of, but for 20k there are a lot of things I would do that I'm not proud ok. "9k" I
announced after the stall had lasted long enough.

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The show was for not, though, as he folded quickly, indicating he'd probably had a busted draw.
Minutes later, in the middle of a hand, Mr. Macau picked up his bills and placed them in the now
short handed 25/50 game. What ensued was the most barbaric, shameless scene that I'd ever
witnessed outside of Animal Planet. Players from all three games, shot out of their seats, jumped
over chairs and bulldozed their way to the new table. The game was filled within 3 seconds as an
argument ensued between two players who claimed the last seat. Voices were raised, fingers were
pointed, and eventually the cameras were used to indicate the deserving party. All the while Mr.
Macau sat and watched as the pigeons fought over his final piece of bread.
That was enough for me as I racked up, embarrassed by how we'd acted, yet secretly satisfied
with how everything worked out. When the chips were counted I'd made $29,500 on the day.
Added with a $650 I'd earned from a good karma 10% JC Moussa had given me and I'd topped
the 30k point for just the 2nd time in my life.
This run good, I promised myself, I'd enjoy as I walked out to valet and the beaming rays of the
morning sun. Because when you're flush it never feels as good as it should. And when you're
busted it seems like you'll never be back up again.
MM
Kid Cudi - REVOFEV
06/06/12: Heads Up at the Wynn
Every casino has a reliable characteristic that mid-stakes players have come to accept as truth's.
The Bellagio has the most consistent 10/20NL games. The Aria can be counted on for the deepest
5/10 games, and the Rio will always spread more high stakes PLO then they do NL.
When it comes to the Wynn they have a special trait that's less utilized but potentially more
profitable. Whenever a game over 5/10NL is running, there is a very good reason for its
existence. While it seems like a tough leak to exploit, the Wynn made things a lot easier on guys
like me who rarely venture over to that side of town. They made an App. Now anytime I have my
phone with me, I can press the little red button and it will not only tell me all of their games that
are running, but also how many are on the wait list.
"You've been making it to the Wynn quite a bit lately," said Boston Jason as I rushed to see that
no seats were available in a recently started 10/25 game, "Is the Bellagio down for maintenance
or something?" "Just looking for a change of pace" I told him with a smile. "Bullshit. You go
straight to that App and rush over whenever the time is right" he called my cards out perfectly
with the tone of a disgruntled customer.
I knew I needed a change. I couldn't keep showing up late and missing these great games. I
needed to be ahead of the App. I needed next days news. I needed an informant.
Cue J. A 5/10 grinder friend of mine who'd recently been spending his days at the Wynn. He told
me he would start texting me whenever the slightest chatter of starting a big game even came
about. My man.
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And so just a few days later I got a text from the informant. "Talk of a 25/50 tonight. I'd get
down here. Aoki and his friends gonna play after the show." Now Steve Aoki is actually a solid
player, but his friends have some spew tendencies. Tendencies worth being in the game for.
So at around 8pm that night I made my way down to the Wynn and got the 25/50 started with a
few other regulars and a few guys in town for the real estate convention. The game was
uneventful, as I expected it to be until later in the night when the real players showed up.
While the action remained tame, the chatter and jokes were sure to pick up as out of the corner of
my eye I caught Doug Polk hanging out at the podium. Half man, Half AmAsiang! THE
WGCRIDER.
Doug came running at me, with a smile, as he always does whenever we see each other. But
before he could even say what's up he turned to the table, with his typical tone that overpowers
any other conversation attempting to take place. "Does everybody know who this is??" he asked
around the room. "This is the world famous Matt Moore. Another Kid Another Dream," he
continued to needle me as my face turned a darker red than the sweatshirt on my back. "I've seen
you in Bluff Magazine," said one of the real estate guys in response to Doug's public
embarrassment. "I assure you, you haven't. He's just messing with us." I quickly told the man as
Doug got a laugh over what he had started.
Doug and I caught up for a bit. He was sober at this point, though he wouldn't be for long as his
plan for the night was to head to XS to see Aoki spin. We talked about Brad Booth and the 30k
he'd stolen from Doug. He told me he'd seen him on HSP with 1 million. How he'd sent him 13k
which was paid immediately so he stupidly thought he could trust another 30k transfer. I could
relate as I had a similar story of my own.
Months ago, during college football season, I got a text from a Chitown sports betting friend of
mine. A perpetual fader of Joe Public, he told me he had the "pick of the year." Syracuse was
playing West Virginia and the 55.5 o/u wasn't nearly high enough. His pinnacle account was
maxed for the bet and he asked if I could place some action down at one of the books for him.
That night I was at MGM drinking and playing some low stakes poker with Deep and Edwin
Kim. I told them I was going to the sports book to make the pick of the year if they wanted to
hop on. Edwin quickly interrupted. "Just book it on my pinnacle account. You'll save a bunch in
juice if you're betting that big." His reasoning seemed logical and I had very little reason not to
trust Edwin. He'd often hooked me up with comp stuff, I'd watched him play BJ for $500 a hand
and I'd loaned him 3k before which was paid back to me. So we booked $4500 in action. 15 for
my friends back home, 15 for deep, and 15 for me.
The next day the two teams combined for something like 80 points, giving us very little sweat on
the biggest sports bet of my life. Feeling like a genius, I was excited to collect my money, but
Edwin was unreachable the rest of the week. I chalked it up to sleep schedule variance and
thought little about it until I opened up 2p2 and saw the outing post from JayLV. Not only did he

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owe Jay 100k, but others came out of the woodwork to tell their tales of Edwin's scumminess.
My 4500 was on the bottom of the laundry list of debts Edwin had to pay out.
Still I couldn't bear to **** over my friends, so I paid out their $1500, losing, instead of making
$1500 on the game. The 3k that I lost at the time, is probably right on par to what it felt for Doug
to lose 30. It's sick though, we discussed. Guys like Brad and Edwin are not bad dudes. I've seen
both guys do numerous things that exhibit that they do in fact have a heart. But when people get
stuck big in the gambling game, all logic goes out the window. Guys like that are in so deep that
****ing over one more person is a small price to pay for a chance to get out of the hole.
End of digression. With Doug out at the nightclub, I returned to my boring game, anxiously
rooting for the small hand on my watch to inch it's way closer to the 3. Just as the feat was being
accomplished, in marched a crew of well liquored club goers, back into the poker room. Doug
led the charge with JayLV, Dan Fleyshman, and co behind him. However there was no Aoki and
no sign that any of the members wanted to play cards.
Soon the following departed and it was just Doug, stumbling over his footsteps and his words,
making outrageous challenges to play anybody in the room heads up. When nobody accepted he
offered X amount of money per hour paid to that person. Again it was laughed off. After all,
Doug is one the best rehearsed heads up NL players in the world. Things got interesting however
as he upped the offer to 2X.
I deeply considered playing him at this point as I looked over and watched him slouch in his seat
at an empty table, with one eye closed attempting to type out a text message. It just wasn't worth
the variance. "Doug" I called out in his direction as he rose out of his seat and looked around in
circles for who had called out his name. "I'll play you heads up 50/100 if you pay me 4X an
hour."
I wasn't sure what he'd think of this offer, but I knew I had nothing to lose. His eyes rolled to the
top of their sockets and his face cringed as he seemed to be doing some type of drunken genius
math. "Get a dealer," he said while pointing 10 feet to the right of me.
15 minutes later the cards were in the air. "You know what Matt," he told me while he stacked
his black chips into matching towers, "I respect you for stepping up to the challenge. I mean
you're the ****ing only one who wanted to play me," he told me with a smile. "That is a true
statement" I replied concisely as if he were the drunken uncle making uncomfortable statements
at the family Christmas party. "I respect you too brah."
The very first hand, I looked down on the btn to Q Q . I min raised and Doug quickly
picked up 8 blacks and tossed them in the middle. With a 10k stack to start the hand, the plan
was to call and ship over most flop bets. The board fell J 8 2
and Doug bet out 1100. I
spent a few moments thinking about my best move (remember time is literally money in this
scenario) before bumping the action to 2400. Immediately Doug's cards were in the muck and he
was ready for hand two.

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I thought my early aggression would slow down Doug's 3bets, but it had the opposite effect.
Doug opened every single btn of the match and 3bet over 50% of my opens. His strategy was
clear. Make the game high variance, make the 4X per hour not seem like much.
I came back with a very nitty rebuttal. Time was my friend tonight. Keeping the game small had
lots of value. So I stopped opening btns and limped as Doug would make it 400. Sometimes I
would 3bet, sometimes I would just call. Out of position I 3bet only a few times, all as bluffs,
with the goal of keeping the variance down and passing the time with minimal damage.
In our next hand I had limped J T . Doug made it 400 and I had called as he showed his
cards to a blonde lady friend who was there grinding the 1/2. "Come on just sit on my lap" Doug
pleaded as I made the call and the dealer prepared the flop. "No Doug," she responded sternly. "I
am not in the mood to feel your boner on my leg right now." The flop fell T 6 4
and
Doug cbet 600. Seeing no reason to stop him from bluffing, I called as the 7
peeled off the
turn. "1600" he announced as I searched both him and his lady friend for any signs into what he
was holding. Again I called the bet, waiting to see what the dealer had in store for the river. 5 .
What a ****ty ass card I thought while Doug decided whether or not to bet. "3400" he
announced as I cursed the deck for putting me in such a tough spot.
So many bluffs got there I thought while I counted the chips and searched for tells. Doug was
rocking in his chair, slurping the final remnants of his vodka Red Bull from the bottom of his
glass. What am I doing, I thought, after too much time had passed. For christ sakes even he's
probably forgotten what he has by now. And while a lot of bluffs got there, a lot of bluffs also
have to keep bluffing that card. "I call," I announced as Doug reached for his cards. He lifted
them as if he'd seen them for the first time. He looked over at the board, then back at his cards,
before tabling the A9o. Top pair was good.
I was up 9k for most of the 2nd hour before we decided it would be our final hour. With 10
minutes remaining I limped the btn with A 5
and called the bb raise. It was a handful of
chips picked up from Doug's now fallen towers that totaled 600. I called as we took the A
T
T
flop. Doug Cbet 800 and I called immediately, 2nd level thinking to entice him to
continue barreling. It worked as the 6
fell and the new bet totaled 2300. I was very confident I
was ahead and called the bet as the 8
nailed the river. Suddenly Doug's demeanor changed.
"4100" he announced in a now confident and valuey tone.
But how could that card help you I thought as I would when anybody has a change of demeanor
after an insubstantial card. I wanted to fold. I should've folded. But the logic part of my brain
didn't want to believe it. I called the bet off desperately, hoping my intuition was wrong. It
wasn't. The 79 rivered the nut straight and won the biggest pot of the match. Two hands later it
was over. I was still up $700 and after getting paid my generous hourly, $700+4X. But that last
hand put me in check and had me thinking of what could've been.
I woke up the next day with a text from Doug. "Dude what happened. I came out of a blackout at
8am, butt naked in that Blonde girl's pool. Who won our match??"
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Ladies and Gentlemen. THE WCGRIDER.

MM
06/17/12: Racquetball as in Poker
In a search for healthier hobbies than gambling, golf, betting on golf, and poisoning my body,
I've picked up an aggressive racquetball habit over the past couple months. There's a group of
four of us over at the Meridian who rotate and play each other five days a week. There's Brett.
He's the best of the group, a 30 something who works Bell at the Venetian and crushes suckers in
racket sports in his free time. The next best is Darren Alias. Darren's a tournament poker player
in his 20's who comes around this time of year chasing bracelets. And then there's Freddy.
Freddy is a 56 year old retired whistle blower. Despite living with a broken ankle for the past
decade, Freddy spends the majority of his time exercising in some capacity. Imagine Lance
Armstrongwith one ankle, and two balls.
It was a Saturday session at Bellagio and it started off well. My 10/20 table was filled with a
mixture of Beats headphones and Tommy Bahama button downs. The action started when an
online pro opened in mp to 80, the Oklahoman businessman I'd been chatting with called to my
right and I 3bet the A J
on the btn to 320. The opener folded and my friend came along as
the flop fell T 8 4
rainbow. He checked and I cbet 280, about 40% of the pot. It's
something I've been experimenting with in order to get my opponents to continue along with the
bottom portion of their ranges. He called as the A
hit the turn. But instead of checking this
time he went deep into his stack and pulled out an $800 bet. I stood still in thought as I
determined my best move, before calling the bet. On a 3
river he shoved in for $2300. The
line didn't make too much sense and I was willing to pay off the ATs and A8s for all the times he
made the same move with spazz. "You got it," he says as he flips over the 5 6
for a flopped
gutterball gone mad.
Since Freddy and I are closest in skill I've logged the majority of my hours playing him the past
month. Sometimes we'll play at noon before I go to Bellagio, other times I'll come home around
7pm for a mid session break, but most recently we've been playing right through sunrise after I
finish my sessions and he wakes up for the day.
Oklahoma and I both moved to the 10/20/40 game when our names were called. "I've got chips
to win back," he responded when Frank the floorman asked if he was following me upstairs to
the bigger game. When we arrived we were joined by Oklahoma's good friend, Brandon Stevens.
Stevens is a fit, well dressed older man. His name recognizable from his Main Event final table
run years ago. He was sitting directly to my right and it wasn't long before we got tangled up in a
pot. After I opened 9 T
utg to 140, Oklahoma called the Sb, and Stevens made it 440 in the
Bb. We both called and took a K 8 2
flop. Stevens led out for 660, but I sensed some
unease, leading me to float the flop bet in position. I hit the best turn in the deck as the 7
peeled off, leaving me drawing to the world. Stevens now bet 1720, challenging my read of
weakness on the flop. With about 8k in my stack I considered a raise but didn't think he was

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bet/folding that turn often enough. So I called, planning on hitting one of my outs, and bluff
shoving a
.
The dealer came up big, bringing my backdoor flush with the
. But as I rechecked the board I
noticed it paired up the 8, adding a slight drizzle to my poker parade. Stevens seemed undeterred
though, throwing a flag in the middle and announcing 3250. I looked down at my chips, noticing
that was the exact amount I had in small chips, with 3 yellow 1ks behind. It seemed like a bet
that wanted to be called. I couldn't fold my backdoor flush but spent a minute or two debating
whether or not to put my final 3k in alongside. Eventually I feared the extra potential value
wasn't worth the slowroll I was currently putting on and simply called the bet. Stevens flipped up
2 Jacks. "What the hell did you have on the flop," he asked me as I raked in his chips. "T high" I
responded deliberately with confidence.
At first we could only play 3 games a day; with myself being the culprit for the early ending
times. I didn't understand it. I consider myself in pretty good shape and the huffing and puffing
that resulted from less then 10 feet of movement had me stumped.
But there was a very good reason for my low stamina. My competitiveness had turned from a
strength into my biggest weakness. I hate to lose. More specifically I hate it when my own
mistakes results in loss. I can handle a bad beat on the river or a good drop shot down the line,
but what makes me tick is when I make a horrible call against a nit or hit an easy kill shot right
into the ground. At the tables it's inappropriate to act out on these impulses, but in the glassed off
racquetball court I can yell obscenities as loud as I want, as the echo amplifies the pain, while
also draining me of energy.
I'd worked my stack up to $16,000. It was another promising day during a profitable summer,
and it had a chance to reach higher proportions as the table was playing very loose. I hoped to
capitalize on the flow of the game when I picked up K K
in the Sb. Kieran, an aggressive
German player, opened Utg to 120 and was called by two players behind. The action was on
Stevens on the btn and he threw out a 3bet to 560. I was the direct next to act and put in a 4th bet
to 1600. Stevens was stuck and I was close to certain he wouldn't believe my raise.
But before I could focus on stacking the ex-November9er, Kieran was in deep thought UTG.
When he emerged he had a 5th bet ready, $3,340. Suddenly my big pair was shrinking
drastically. Stevens postured on the btn when the action returned to him, and I took the time to
think about my best move, 16k deep out of position against a great player. But before I could
come up with the most profitable play, Stevens announced all in on the btn. It was 14k to me.
What the **** is going on, I thought to myself as I scrunched my eyebrows and surveyed the
two gunslingers.
Individually I would get it in against both opponents, but the presence of a 3rd party had to make
both of their ranges exceptionally stronger. I shook my head, and showed the one seat my cards
before tossing them into the muck. Kieran called the all in and the cards were turned over as they
decided to run it twice. Kieran had TT. Stevens had 8 9 .

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I bolted out of my seat and swiftly walked around the room with my hands on my head. They
tried to hand me 45k and I refused the money. I returned to the table to see all of the chips being
shipped to Stevens. Confused I checked out the runouts. AQ859 and 44567.
Freddy has this one move that tilts me to death. Every time I hit a horrible shot or have a bad
point he won't say anything. But after we've had a long fought point and I have a shot for the win
and hit a good shot that just barely skips before the wall, he looks directly at me through his old
man eye protectors and says "thank youI needed that" as he hobbles back to the servers box.
"You folded two kings?" Stevens questions me with a laugh as I get back to my seat. I give the
death glance to the 1 seat for spilling my secret before quietly shaking my head in Stevens
direction. "Waitress let me borrow that pen" he calls out to the blonde on the other side of the
room. "Here kid, start taking notes."
At first I was beating Freddy with my length and athleticism. But once I'd get tired, the veteran
knew how to finish me off. Because while he was gently painting the corners of the court like
Picasso, I was trying to pound the ball through the front wall like Canseco. As in poker,
aggression can only get you so far in racquetball. If it's reckless and impatient it can put your
careful and methodical opponents in good spots to take advantage.
I'd moved to the 25/50nl downstairs. Stevenss stupid needles were pissing me off, plus a seat
had just opened in the Steve Aoki/Dan Fleyshman game. A tighter player had opened for a
minraise and I had chosen to just call with the A Q
for one big reason. "I raise," announced
the reckless drinking buddy of the Aoki crew as he tossed in 700. Bingo. I'd only been in the
game for 30 minutes, but had already seen him throw in a handful of 3bets. The tighter player
chose to call, which I'd expect him to do wide against this opponent with a 5k stack. I had 11k
behind and went with a backraise to 2200. "I should've seen this coming" said the 3better with a
smile as he tossed his hand into the muck.
Surprisingly the tighter gentleman wasn't letting go so easily. "Okay I'm all in" he announced
while placing his racked up chips into the pot. "You know it's bad luck to play with your chips in
the rack" I reminded him as I called the final 3k. The board ran out A T 7 K 4
and I
was confident with my chances as I flipped over top pair. But to my surprise the old man had
trapped, twice, with AK.
I couldn't believe he didn't reraise the maniac. And instead of walking off my frustration, I put it
towards some reckless preflop aggression. By the time the game broke I'd turned a 14k profit
into a break-even day. The most tilting of sessions I'd had all year.
Racquetball has taught me a lot about handling adversity. About how much energy we waste with
frustration and better ways to channel that. Perfection is an irrational goal for any poker player to
follow. There's so much more value in learning how to handle our mistakes then there is in trying
to eliminate them completely. Im working on embracing the unsolvable game that is Texas
Holden and instead of sweating mishaps, challenging myself to react in ways that are good for
my game and good for my psyche.

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MM
06/24/12: Late Nights at the Aria
This time last year I was the consummate professional. Everyday up by 8am and in the game at
Bellagio by 930, cup of coffee in hand. Twelve months later and I have transitioned into the
typical professional. I rise with the falling sun. I work my craft while the rest of the world rests
and close my drapes around 10am, hoping to block enough sun to catch some sleep.
I routinely forget the names of the days, not to mention the difficulty relative time poses for my
memory. I eat meals in reverse order and sleep through the closing times of stores and
restaurants.
Aside from the difficulty to readjust there is some strategy to the schedule I'm on. Games in the
middle of the night tend to be short handed. And while oftentimes it's with other professional
poker players, as long as I believe I have an edge, that edge is amplified in the short lineup.
Accompanied by Aussie's Will Jones and Chris Edgar, we easily maneuver our way through the
vacant blvd, searching for the best game. I've come to expect Asians Gnoc and Peter grinding
Chinese poker at the B and white boys Brian and Jason finishing the games at the Wynn.
And then there's the Aria. Home to the Icebox.
The Icebox is still a certified man killer. She takes on all challengers in the 10/20nl game,
preying on their underestimation with barrels of bluffs. Even though she's been tamed from her
heyday, she's still a shoe in for most aggro at the table. And while Im sure in writing this I will
just add to the Icebox's already long list of ways to beat me, the story needed to be told.
She portrays innocence in an Alanis Morrisette goes hipster kind of way, but anybody whose
spent time with the Icebox (or even just read her blog) knows she's a cold blooded killer. There
was one ultra successful day of mine where I was sitting on a big stack in the Bellagio 10/20/40
game. "Hey Matt how deep are you playing," I heard in a soft spoken, nonchalant tone coming
from my right. "About 23k" I replied proudly. "Thanks" said Icebox as she moved to the open
seat to my left, adding two 5k flags to her 15k stack.
She's the ultimate villain.
Last week I walked out of a packed Bellagio poker room, through the Vdara, and into the Aria,
hoping to find an open seat in the 10/20nl game. We played full ring for a few hours, but by 4am
it was a 5 handed game with two tighter pros, one fish, meand the Icebox. This is how the
encounter would've looked in real life (1st 30 sec)Spike Don't Play With Girls!
Ice was playing her typical aggro style and building up quite the chip stack while I grew
impatient with my lack of opportunities. I got my 1st shot when she straddled a pot and I opened
the btn to 120 with Q T . Both blinds called and she squeezed to 600. We peeled in position,
as did one other. The flop brought us A 8 4
and Ice cbet 920 as the action returned to me.
It's not a great spot because I can't rep much with a shove, but with a 4k stack it was the best

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option to A) get her to get it in with worse draws and B) fold out her random bluffs that still
might have me beat. She called the shove. We decided on running it twice and the first board
brought me a flush and the 2nd a Q. Her AJ was good for half the pot, as I was lucky to chop it
up.
A few rounds later we got in again. This time we called her 3bet with A 3 . In a multi way
pot we lead a 4 5 7
board and shoved over her massive raise. She had the top set, again
letting me run it twice, again letting me split the pot.
Frustration was high by the time she'd 3bet me for the 49th time of the night. The other players at
the table had become a sideshow at this point; simply watching the battle going on between Ice
and I. Witnessing the massacre.
This time we were in mid-conversation, talking about Juicers. But even a shared love for blended
vegetables couldn't keep Ice from raising my btn open. She made it 260 in the bb. This time I had
a hand. AJo. A hand I would never typically 4bet and a hand that plays well against her 3betting
range. But I was sick of missing flops. Sick of Icebox barreling me off of hands. I wanted to take
the lead in this dance.
So I made it 520. Ice called as we watched the dealer turn the A 8 3 . Instead of the
protocol check, Ice lead into me for 800. With a $5600 stack we called as the 3
peeled off the
turn. Ice asked how much I was playing, and upon hearing $4800, decided to put out a bet
covering the remains. Almost 2X the size of the pot. The 3 was a pretty brutal card because the 3
was not a heart on the flop. But I couldn't find enough reason to let my hand go. I called it and
anxiously waited as Ice reached for her hand. AQ. Is this real life I thought as I looked to the
ceiling and reached into my pocket for the case chips.
I ran that 4k up to $6500, feeling a semi resurgence of confidence, when the rotating Asian
couple sitting to my right limped the Icebox straddle. It was the woman in play this hand and I
isoed her straddle to $200 with the A K , just as I'd been doing to her husband all night. Ice
would have none of this, making it $650 from the straddle. With a perfect opportunity for my
2nd 4bet of the night, I made it a super small $1300, giving her a false sense of fold equity. What
I got was a re-minraise. She made it $2020, simultaneously making me want to puke. But I'd
come to far and was stuck way too much to let this kind of beauty go. I shoved in the remainder
and was snapped off once again. This time she showed me pocket Kings.
I waited for a mid-hand opportunity to leave the table that morning, opting to avoid any
embarrassing goodbyes. I've never been very good at waving a proud white flag and that day was
no different.
Icebox and I got it in 4 times that night for at least 200bb; A feat in itself constituting a statistical
anomaly. But for her to have the best of it every single time was downright disturbing and
something my competitiveness won't soon allow me to forget.

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There's this silly phrase you hear poker players pass around when justifying preflop mistakes. I
called to "outplay them postflop" they'll tell you. Well, what does that even mean? We outplay
our opponents by having a stronger range then theirs as often as possible. Pumping money into
the pot on any street with a weaker hand then your opponent's range is burning money, plain and
simple. It's an ego mistake, and one I made way too many times that night at the Aria.
I tried to "outplay" the Icebox and I ended up broke. Out of chips, out of manhood.
MM
07/09/12: Tdddddddisshhhhhh
Weeks ago, after our heads up battle at the Wynn, I had dinner with Doug Polk at Naked Fish on
Durango and Flamingo. He might've thought it was a "make up" dinner for the partying
invitations he'd shut down, but I had other plans in mind.
After being seated and receiving our first bottle of sake, I informed Doug of my goals. "I want to
learn heads up," I told him as he nodded his head and took another sip of his rice wine. "And I
want you to teach me".
I was in luck. Already aware that Doug was beating some of the biggest heads up games online, I
didn't know that he had ventured into the coaching and staking portion of the business. For the
next couple of hours we talked. Talked about strategy, talked about the economics, and talked
about my plan.
"Obviously you know there's a limited amount of online heads up action, especially in the
states," he explained to me. "I'm aware," I responded, feeling the alcohol making it's way through
my blood stream. "And that's why I'm moving to Vancouver."
It was the first time I'd said it out loud; though I'd been thinking it, planning it, for weeks. You
see for everything that Vegas is, the glamor, the lights, the energy, there's everything that Vegas
isn't. And recently I'd been wondering, maybe more so worrying, that if I didn't remain proactive
on truly getting the most out of life, that 10 years would pass, and I'd still be sitting in the same
seat, at the same table, with nothing but stories of unfortunate rivers and regrets of missed
opportunity.
Friends and fellow NL Bellagio regs Kyle White and Connor Allison have been splitting their
time between Vancouver and Vegas for years now. As Canadian citizens they're only allowed a
certain amount of time in the states, so it's 3 months there, one month here. And so on for the
entire year. When they return to Canada at the end of July, I will be joining them. Exploring a
new city, meeting new people, and focused on a new challenge, beating online Heads up NL.
Back on the live poker scene, the Icebox had knocked me out of action for an entire two days. I
don't typically take days off. But a mental health day was in store, and when I returned I felt
fresh, and ready for the recovery.
That week I was sitting in a 10/20/40NL game at the Bellagio. The lineup was rather uneventful
other than one fellow sitting in the 5 seat. Badih Bounahra, last years November 9er from
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Belize, had been playing in the games recently, with him and I sparking up quite the battles. I
knew he A) opened relatively light, B) didn't fold to 3bets, and C) peeled the first 2 streets rather
light. These three factors had earned me a ton of value in medium sized pots throughout the
summer, but we had yet to play a big one.
That changed when he opened to 140 from early position and I 3bet A J
on the btn to 420.
He called as we were 7k deep and the flop fell 3 5 7 . I cbet 560, not because I expected
to win the hand here, but because I knew he peeled light, and as the pot got bigger, his cards
would become more vulnerable. On a T
turn I bet again when checked to, this time 1440.
Again Badih called. The river fell the 4 . On the surface it's not a great card, but as Badih
checked again it became a golden opportunity. I wasn't scared of a flush as he would lead into me
almost always, and had enough of a stack to get him off everything else. I shoved all in for
$4500, a little less than a pot-sized bet.
Badih groaned, clearly irritated as he picked up the 5 yellow chips, shaking them in front of his
eyes like a magic 8ball. I was calm considering the circumstances. I'd used some logical
reasoning and convinced myself that he couldn't call with the hands he had in his range. Time
passed as I turned to daydreaming, off in the distance, when I was brought back to the present by
a familiar sound.
Tdddishhhhhhhh.
The noise registered immediately and only look my brain a second or two to match its
significance. Five clay circles, splattering upon contact with felt. Badih had made the call. And
once seeing my AJ and checking the board an extra 2 times for total reassurance, had flipped
over his 4 4 , for a rivered set.
It had been a tough week and made me consider my current plan of action. I'd been spending
some time with Doug, going over heads up adjustments, and even more time in the library
studying these new ranges, which were like a foreign language to me. Was my full-ring game
suffering? Is it possible to turn the switch of reasoning on and off?
I tried to avoid the voices in my head and stick to playing poker as I returned to battle later that
week. The games were good after all. One particular night I found myself in a 6 handed game
with Prahlad Friedman's girlfriend and a loud, aggressive Russian to my right.
The Russian had just lost a pot and might've been slightly tilting when he placed on the $80
straddle. I opened the 4 7
with a 6k stack in the co to $260 and watched as the action folded
to him and he defended. Now I am not a straddler, but if there's one thing I've noticed about their
type it's that they defend super light; a pretty huge mistake in my eyes.
The flop fell A56 rainbow and he check/called my $340 bet, assumedly with a wide range. On a
9
turn I threw out a bet of $880 when checked to. This time I was called in record time,
indicating the true weakness in his hand. The river fell a K
as I went into deep thought as the
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Russian tanked. I'd seen the trick before, I knew he was checking, and needed to be prepared for
my move. 880x2 + 340x2 +280x2 +70..the pot was $3,070. Thank you Kumon Math. I had
$3700 remaining. That means three options, give up, bet small, or ship the chocolate chippies.
My instinct was to ship it in. Against a good player I would default to bet small, but this guy
wasn't thinking clearly; He was trying to see my cards. I needed to make him feel the pain. But
as he checked I couldn't pull the trigger. Badih was in my head. Staring at those ****ing chips.
Tddddddishhhh I kept hearing over and over. And then I saw Gus. Gustavo Fern. Telling Walt
White the key to success. NEVER. MAKE. THE SAME. MISTAKE. TWICE.
Fuck, shut up Gus.
The action was on me as my opponent checked. I looked in the middle, at all those pretty chips. I
couldn't give them up for free. "I'm all in" I announced, looking at the dealer from the 9 seat.
This time I was nervous. The longer the Russian thought, the harder my heart beat through my
chest and seemingly through my new too-tight American Apparel t-shirt. Why was I wearing this
stupid t-shirt??
The Russian asked me if I would show if he folded. I wanted to tell him I invented that question,
but instead I sat in silence, starting at the K . "OkayI call," he said.
The pain was over. He'd called me with 46o.
Tilted, I walked back to the Meridian that night wondering if I was destined to bluff off my entire
bankroll. I'd made such good reads. But knowing what your opponent has is only half of the
equation; the latter, and more important, is understanding what they'll do with it.
My 13 cash sessions between the Icebox debacle an July 5th looked like this.
-7200
-1760
-5500
-2600
-3150
+3350
+2075
-5740
+4600
-3000
+3100
+1600
-2200
Something had to change. Quickly.
MM

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08/13/12: The Bellagio Cup

Ive been avoiding writing of all that was July in Las Vegas for various reasons involving both
laziness and over commitment, but after my roommate went Mike Tyson on the Internet modem
last night, I've run out of procrastinating excuses. So here we go.
Bellagio Cup
It was sometime after the 4th of July; A holiday that I used to love. But ever since I moved to
Vegas the date became nothing more than a reminder that the Main Event was just around the
corner. This year that had me worried. Funds weren't exactly optimal after my debacle with the
Icebox. The downswing seemed to be gaining steam since encountering evil, leaving me
underconfident and underrolled for a 10k main event.
"We gotta play," said Joe. "We'll swap 40% like we did last year and take our chances with a big
run." It was easy for Joe to say so, he was in the midst of a summer that saw lots of W's and very
little L's. Meanwhile, I was going through my 2nd WSOP ending in a downswing. Doubts were
running through my mind as I questioned whether or not I actually had what it takes to compete
with the best in the world.
Those doubts lingered as I sat in bad games and continued to fold my way through what I
justified as a bad run of cards. The 6th of July was no different as I quickly got stuck half a buyin at the Aria and reached the realization it would take nothing short of a Bicycle miracle to get
me unstuck in this game of rocks.
Pleasantly, my pity party was interrupted by a text from Joe. "Just got word that the Bellagio 5k
looks super soft. Im busy but I think you should play and I want some of your action."
Nobody ever WANTS any of my tournament action. Friends occasionally accept some in the
name of variance, but for somebody to have that much confidence in my game was crazy.
So crazy that it might just work.
I eagerly booked my loss and headed over to the Bellagio. By the time I got there it was an hour
before dinner break and only 19 players remained out of the original 27 entries. I paid my entry
fee and was seated at table 35 with 60bbs, alongside 9 other young hoodie bearing youngsters.
Where is this soft field I thought as I looked over to the other table to see most seats filled by
oldies in suits. I caught the eye of my friend Brandon Myers. Before I knew it he sent me a
breakdown of the table via text. "Jon Aguier, Steve O'Dwyer, German sicko, Finish sicko, that
guy played the one drop, that guy won a bracelet.
Gee thank god I made it for such a soft field I thought as I looked down at my first playable
hand, AKo. It was 150/300 and I made it 675 in mp as it folded to Aguier in the BB. He peeled as
we saw the 2 3 T
rainbow flop. After his check I picked out a $500 purple chip, and
three black $100 chips and tossed them into the middle. "5300" the dealer announced. My heart
skipped a beat. I casually looked down at my other purple chip as I shuffled it back into a stack.
While this color was worth $500 in cash games, in tournaments it was a 5k chip. I played it cool,

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or at least as cool as one can when he accidentally chucks over a 1/3rd of his stack into the
middle 10 minutes into a 5k.
Aguier was tanking. Minutes went by before he finally spoke. "You're just gonna call it off with
88" he said before releasing his cards. "I also could've had it," I said as I breathed a sigh of relief.
"The way your jugular was piercing through your throat suggests otherwise," he said at my
expense in a douchey tone while looking at O'Dwyer for joke approval. I took a break from
stacking his chips to graze him with the death stare. If there's one thing I hate more then
condescending poker players, it's nerdy condescending tournament players. Aguier was now on
the list.
By the time we returned from the dinner break, the dynamic of the field was dramatically
changing. Apparently I wasn't the only one who got the "soft field" text because 10 German
online guys showed up just as registration was closing. There were now 37 entrants and a whole
table of European killers.
The next few hours were kind of a blur. I did a lot of folding as I watched W, the player I played
the controversial chopped pot with earlier in the summer, raise his way through our table, picking
up pot after pot uncontested. Both times I entered a pot it was with A T . Both times I was
shoved all in on. Both times I folded. I didn't know what to think of either play, but Brandon told
me he liked both folds and Brandon crushes tournaments. That was enough for me.
Patiently I sat and watched as the likes of O'Dwyer, Aguier, and Myers hit the rail. I was still
short with 22k as the final table approached. There were 11 of us left when I looked down at TT
and shoved my stack in from early position. As the action was folded around the tournament
director announced "final table" as one of the others must've just been eliminated. Meanwhile,
the Sb had asked for a count of my stack. "Too much in the middle to fold" he said before calling
and turning over my hand, the A T . I was in good shape and it stayed that way as the 3 6
7
rainbow hit the board. The 9
turn made things a bit more interesting as it brought him
a backdoor flush draw. But the 3
was no luck for my opponent as my stack doubled and we
redrew for seats at the final table.
With 10 of us left, 5 players paid, yet even after a double I was 9th in chips entering play. I had
46k when I got dealt pocket 9s in the sb. Cary Catz raised the HJ to 2600 at 600/1200, which was
great news to me. Catz the owner of one of the biggest college loan companies in the States was
opening most pots at the table, using his big stack and lack of emotional commitment to money
to his advantage. Preparing my raise, I was forced to make an audible as the young German on
the btn had beat me to it with a 3bet to 6200. All three options seemed viable. But after watching
Catz count out the necessary call, I eliminated that option from my arsenal. It was down to raise
or fold. I looked at the German and had to determine if he was capable of raising Catz light here.
He looked composed. "All in" my mouth spoke, before my brain could talk me out of it.
I awaited the snap call as Catz folded. "How much is it" the German asked the dealer. His pause
was comforting, but eventually he called with AQo. As the dealer prepared the first 3 cards I'd
decided to stare at my opponent instead of the board. The cards had disappointed me all month, if

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I was going to be eliminated, human emotion would break the news. He gave a slight head shake
as I now checked the board. 2 3 8 . The turn kept me safe as the 5
peeled off. The river
brought paint. J . I was alive. Better yet, I was robust.
Shortly later that same German would be eliminatedAnd then another. With 7 players left I
took a look at the table. There was the super tight young kid to my left, an aggressive German to
his left, and four older guys in suits. My stack was just short of 115k. Without doing much, I'd
placed myself in a great opportunity to win a poker tournament. The tighter kid on my left was
eventually grinded down short and then busted. We bagged up at 3 in the morning with 6 players
left, set to return at 2pm the following day.
As day 2 began, the shortest player was on my right. It was the first orbit and after his "all in"
announcement, I looked down at my cards, A 4 . It was 32k to me, a little more than 10bbs.
I called as he flipped over the K J . The race was on. A win would mean my first cash since
the Wynn Classic in March of '11.
The flop brought the Q 9 2 . The turn a 7 . With one card to go, I whispered calmly for
the dealer to keep it low. Quickly he turned it over, The Q . I shook the disappointed 6th place
finishers hand, before returning to my chips, relieved that the two days of anticipation could no
longer leave me empty handed.
Five handed I picked frequently at pots. Day 1 chip leader, Cary Catz, hadn't experienced the
same luck as the day before and slowed down his opening frequencies, leaving more
opportunities for stolen blinds and antes. My stack fluctuated between 120 and 160k, depending
on whether the pesky German to my left chose to fight back or not. "He was tough," I told Joe
during a phone call on our first 10 minute break. "Definitely a better player then me. If I have the
chance to take him out, I'm going to stick the money in."
Joe was on board as I returned from break. A few minutes later, I would get my opportunity. At
1800/3600 I opened the K Q
on the btn to t7500. The German, usually methodical and
deliberate, had quickly moved in on me again, this time for 71k. I had 133k in my stack. There
are so many better spots at this table I reminded myself in an attempt to convince a fold. That
very same reasoning was eventually what changed my mind.
If I could end the torture coming from my left, the only person keeping me from stealing every
pot, it would be tough to keep me from winning the hardware. "I call," I said as we flipped over
our hands and determined it was the A 8
I would need to defeat. Internally, I was at peace
with my gamble, even after seeing the cards.
That tranquility would soon change.
The A 9 4
hit the flop as the German did a quick left handed fist pump. My insides were
in a panic. Everything was hitting me so fast; the money, the chance at the title, the unnecessary
gamble. What were you thinking you dumb mother ****er, how could you? I tore into myself
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like an insecure stepfather as my chance at accomplishing something with some substance, had
been tossed to wayside.
The internal beating took a turn towards reflection as the J
delayed my execution. Is that what
poker has done to you Matt? You didn't used to be this angry. Why do we hold so strongly to the
money. The one aspect of the game that we have the least control over, WHY then do we allow it
to consume us.
I don't remember the moment when the river had hit. My mind was still in the clouds. It may
have been the biggest card of my life, but I'd passed up the concentration for a moment with
myself. A moment to consider poker and life. The idea of disappointment. How letting go of the
things we can't control is the only way to stay sane in a world full of variance.
I think the sound registered first. The sound of surprise. The mixture of groans and excitement
brought my attention back down. Ten clovers spread out proportionately, right next to the J .
Runner runner straight.
I wasn't in the right emotional state to appreciate the fortune. I shook the Germans hand, sensing
the disappointment in the weakness of his grip. He'd played the best of anybody in the
tournament and now would be tortured by the T
for some time to come. I felt for him, but I
also knew there was work to be done.
I gave a look at the table, Cary Catz, an older rec player from Dubai, and W. They'd all been
playing overly conservative on this final day. I was going to punish them until they fought back.
For the duration of the tournament (maybe 100-130 hands) I opened every single pot it folded to
me, rarely finding resistance.
Catz was the first to go. His disappointing day came to an end where he frustratingly called it off
with 88 against Dubai's QQ. It was down to Dubai, W, and me. I minraised the btn, while
pretending to look as the action folded to W in the bb. He was all in. I checked my cards. Pocket
Queens. "I call" I said as W flipped up the K T . While the dealer prepared I checked the
board for payouts. 24k for 3rd, 44k for 2nd, 70k for 1st.
I couldn't help but think back to the day at the start of the summer. Splitting that 22k pot that
could've been rightfully mine, but also could've been rightfully his. Two months later and I still
had no idea how much of that pot I deserved. Karma works in mysterious ways. I wondered if W
was thinking the same thing as the flop brought an Ace and two low cards. The turn was low and
the river was red. I was heads up for the title.
Going into heads up play I had a 450k to 300k advantage. I planned on playing aggressively but
not fighting back if Dubai broke out of his uber conservative shell and fired bullets. That strategy
would prove worthless.
On the 5th hand of play I was dealt the K
and the K
on the btn. After a min raise, Dubai
grabbed a handful of chips and reraised the action. A series of raising proceeded before we got all
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of the money in. His pair of Queens was in big trouble. The J 7 4
had me nodding my
head to the B.O.B playing in my ears; The end was in sight. The turn brought an 8
as his
conceding smile had turned to desperation with one card to go. "Queen" he yelled at the dealer
while smacking the table "Queeeeeeeen". The dealer burned and turned.
J

2012 Bellagio Cup 5k champ

MM
B.o.B - The Kids (feat. Janelle Mone)
08/23/12: Back2Back
The days following the Bellagio Cup were filled with texts, tweets and emails from friends and
family congratulating me on my success. The words "proud" and "impressive" were thrown
around loosely as those not in the poker "know" were fooled into thinking I'd finally made it. The
truth is I hadn't "made" anything, outside of a high variance gamble and a backdoor straight.
But that's how poker goes, as my Vancouver roommate and fellow tourney chaser Kyle White
puts it. "I could win 30k in a cash game and no one would flinch, but if my family found out I
outlasted 500 people in an 800 person tournament they'd want to post it on our fridge."
He was right, In fact, I felt very little in terms of my personal satisfaction. But being able to
finally have some results of substance, searchable on the worldwide web, and to have it all
happen on my home turf filled a void obtainable only through the fortune of victory.
Not to mention the bankroll boost. With an extra 60k to my name, I was now in position to take a
shot if the proper game presented itself. And with the main event on the verge, big games were
formulating in every corner of town.
After a day of relaxation and racquetball, I was back on the cash game grind. It was 4am as I sat
at table 4, accompanied only by dealer Tommy. I was first on the main game list, but perfectly
content where I was, listening to Tom's stories about leaving Vegas and gaining relevant advice
as I prepared for the move of my own.
The stories, however, were soon interrupted. A commanding presence had just entered the room
as we followed his banter towards the PLO game in the corner. Loud and blonde, he soon grew
tired of his company and turned towards our table. "The whitest teeth in poker," I said to Tommy
as the mystery man revealed himself to be a drunk Layne Flack.
"Who wants to play heads up" he challenged to anyone within shouting distance before noticing
me, chips in hand, sitting alone at table 4. "What about you kid, what do you say?"
Now Layne Flack isn't just a random poker professional in the Matt Moore story line. His
fearlessness grabbed my attention during a time in my life that I idolized defiance and
aggression. If Phil Ivey acts as the Tiger Woods of Poker, the unanimous favorite amongst the
fans, then Layne Flack was my 1a. My Sergio Garcia.
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"Yeah lets do it," I said instinctively, disregarding EV for my chance to play the hero. "I'll grab
the chips, you grab the beer," he told me while requesting a Coors Light and heading for the
cage.
The game was 20/40, just high enough to keep us separated from the main game, but small
enough to elude the attention of the sharks. Things started out quick. Layne was 3betting almost
every hand, and within 10 deals he'd 5bet shoved A4 into my QQ for 5k. Two boards and one
Ace later we chopped it up, as Layne sheepishly shot me the "we got there" look.
But the runouts couldn't save him forever as I gained a few thousand in chips by checking a lot
of my value range, while allowing him to continue on his mission of winning every pot. Big pots
were approaching as I chose to 3bet his open to 400 with the 8 9 . The board ran out
favorably with the 8 8 9
as I led into Layne for 5 and a quarter. "1600" he announced
instantaneously, as he would with almost all of his decisions. I flatted as the turn brought me a
4th 8 . A bit of an overkill, but who was I to complain. I checked the quads to Layne. "All in"
he announced. I wasn't far behind in delivering the bad news, while moving his 4800 stack over
to my corner.
This time Layne reloaded for a fistful of hundreds. Literally. There was no counting of his bills
as they were sprawled in front of him like an unshuffled deck of cards. His opens had increased
to $200, and with the deeper stacks, I chose to flat A Q
from the bb. When the flop rolled
off A 4 7
I went into the playbook and rolled out a rare lead of $300. The first of it's kind
in this match, I envisioned Lanye having a hard time not attacking the weakness. And he did; to
the tune of $1100. After a brief act I matched the bet as we saw the 8
on the turn. This time I
checked and Layne continued his story with a $2400 barrel. Slowly, I called the bet.
The river brought the money card. 5 . While it seems like an action killer, it's actually the
contrary. If Layne was bluffing, theres no chance he's stopping now, but unfortunately for me
some of his bluffs ran into a straight. I checked, this time paying strong attention to Layne's
choice. "All in" he chose, pointing to his pile of money in front of him. "How much do you think
it is," I asked across the table knowing a count could take upwards of 10 minutes. "Like 6500 I
would guess," he told me. And then came the game changer. "Layne I don't think it's that much,
I'd guess 4k" said his friend who was loosely sweating the game, but tightly in tuned to his cash
flow.
Holy **** I thought to myself. The duo might've just given off a huge tell without even realizing
it. Layne was drunk and his friend was sober. I would expect his friend to be more sure of the
amount of money in play, as I would expect Layne to instinctively answer my question in a way
that would benefit his hand. He wants me to think it's more than it is. The bastards bluffing.
"Stop the count" I told them as they gathered the herd like a group of sheep, "I call". Layne
reached quickly for his hand. K 6 .

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Disappointed I awaited the count for the final tally. A few minutes later it was in. "8400" Tommy
told me quietly, with a look of disappointment as strong as the one I felt myself.
I couldn't believe the mistake I'd made. The decision to call was nothing compared to my failure
to wait for a count. Quickly I'd gone from up 7k to stuck 7k, and the news would only get worse.
Floorman Pete approached our table, and he was fuming. No way could a 20/40nl game run
heads up while a 10/20 was lacking players. We either raise the stakes or we quit the game. "Pete
please", I asked him when I got a free chance "I'm buried, can we let it pass this one time." The
look on his face told me everything I needed to know. It was go big or go home.
One hand earlier, I would've quit. But the fear of losing more money couldn't compare to the
regret I would feel ending the match in such a way. "Deal Tommy."
After my reload the stacks were about 12k effective. I expected Layne to slow down now that he
was in the black. Had I forgotten who I was playing? The aggression picked up as Layne sensed
my hesitance to bigger stakes and preyed on his edge, raise after raise.
I stayed focused on my strategy, promising myself that I wouldn't sweat the small pots. While I
was slowly gaining back losses, my time was running short. Layne had announced his 30 minute
warning many hands ago, as it looked like the night would end uneventfully. That all changed
when I was dealt pocket Queens on the btn.
I opened to $240 and Layne pushed the action up to $800 from the bb. "$1760" I announced after
hesitation. Layne beat me into the pot. On a J T 5
Layne took the initiative, leading for
2k. I called the bet as we waited for a turn. The ugly K
peeled off. Flack gathered a flag and
two blacks. The bet was $5200. I had 11.5k total.
The K was a rough card. Layne could have all of his KJ KT AQ and Q9 hands, but I held a
couple blockers and I didn't expect him to lead mid pair on the flop. Besides, it was Layne Flack.
That was enough justification for the $5200. The river would be a tougher sell. The J
peeled
off and almost instantaneously Flack shoved in for my remaining chips. I still didn't beat a
straight or a K, and now I was 2nd place to a J as well. But with 25k in the middle I was getting
almost 5-1 on my money. That's a bargain vs Dan Harrington. Vs Layne Flack it's a clearance
sale. "Oh Math" I sighed while punning my first name with the likely $5500 donation. "I'm in
Layne."
Back2Back broke into a smile. The whitest teeth in poker flashing my way. But the cards weren't
following. He'd been caught. "You got it kid, good call."
As gracious in defeat as he was compassionate in the lead, Layne shook my hand before leaving
the poker room. He remained friendly after a -10k session, furthering my education in what it's
like to be a professional.

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"Smoothies?" I asked Australian Chris as we headed for the Bellagio exit. It was 830am and a
quick trip to Whole Foods seemed like a reasonable ending to the day. Chris looked at me funny.
"You just took down Layne Flack. **** a smoothie, bro. Strippers. Dirty, busty, strippers."
And so we celebrated the milestone in a way that would've made Flack himself proud. A bottle of
whiskey and two of Cheetahs finest Tuesday morning employees. We drank until 11, laughed
until noon. The moment seemed too perfect; the ultimate send off to a summer, to a city, that had
changed my life in ways I could never have imagined.
Little did I know the desert was only heating up. The stakes would be raised, the swings more
dramatic. From underneath the curvaceous half-naked Spice, I'd remembered to send out my
main event swapping texts. They were delivered to the likes of Chris Johnson, Kyle White, Joe
Pergola, Sandeep Pulusani..and Jeremy Ausmus.
MM
Alabama Shakes - Hold On
09/02/12: The White Gnoc
My Main Event came and went quickly. The combination of a horrid table draw, Bellagio Cup
hangover, and an absurd river bluff shove, left me felted early on in the 2nd day of play. But that
didn't mean I was out of action. Of the five swaps I made, 3 of them had advanced into the
money round.
As they lived out the dream of the payment stages of the biggest tournament in the world I was
out on Sahara maneuvering my way through the car lots of West Las Vegas. The brakes on my
'05 Volvo resembled nails on a chalkboard, disturbing my million dollar day dreams one stoplight
at a time. As the swapees texts' rolled in the prospective models of my Volvo's replacement were
rightfully elevated. Deep finished off his torrid summer with a 23k score, while Joe parlayed a
day 3 1.5bb stack into a 29k score of his own. As Jeremy's texts rolled in, the emblem was
upgraded.
A prediction that I made here in June (Matt Moore Interview Part 2) was coming true more
quickly then even his biggest fan could've imagined. With 40 players left in the Main Event
Jeremy Ausmus was the chip leader. Even so, there's only so much reloading one can do of
Pokernews chip counts without going mad. I had to get back to work.
I walked through the diminishing traffic of the Bellagio poker room to the cheers and
congratulations of dealers and floor. Commonly mistaken for Jeremy in the past, this week's
corrections were slightly more awkward as I explained that I was the one who got Q8 suited in
against the Aces, not the guy with all the chips. "I'll keep correcting them for now," I told Jeremy
after day 6, "But the moment I see it as an opportunity to get laid, best believe I am Jeremy
Ausmus, Main Event chip leader. Implied millionaire."
With everything imaginable going my way, I was eyeing the 50/100NL games running nightly
around a Miami businessman with an overdue luckbox. "Daddy Fish" as he calls himself in 3rd

294

person was on a month long heater. It was 3am as I passed by just in time to see him 5bet shove
the J 3 , the results reminding him that he was still, in fact, a genius.
I texted the usual suspects, but nobody responded to my mid-morning cries for cash. With the
troops sound asleep, it was either take the beast on solo, or watch the likes of Eric Lui and Gnoc
chip away at his ankles. It would be the biggest shot of my life, but if there ever was a time, it
was now.
I sat down with a rack of blacks, my seat still warm from the last guy with dreams of cracking
DF's empire of bricks A dream turned into stunning disbelief, tortured by the J 3 . What
little information I had on DF came from Aussie Will Jones, a regular fixture in the 50/100 game.
"He preys on shorties," Will told me via text "doesn't like it when they get in his way."
Little did I know that snidbit of information would directly affect the way I invested my ten
thousand dollars of clay. DF opened early to $400 and received one call as it got to me in the CO.
I looked down at 9 9
a typical sure call, especially early at a table. But with my knowledge
of his hatred for short stackers, I chose to take the high variance route. I squeezed to $1400
shooting the action back to DF. With 60k in flags shuffling in and out of his left hand, his right
grabbed one of his many 20k bricks and placed it in the pot"raise".
The middle man quickly scurried and now it was back to me. Within five minutes at the table in
the biggest game of my life, I'd gotten the money in the middle with 99. Don't try this at home.
The board ran out T 6 3
Q
8
leaving me no idea what to think of my mid pair. To
lessen the burden on my racing heart I quickly flipped over my 99. One recheck and a
confirming nod later and I was raking in the 20k pot.
DF was visibly frustrated by the end of the night. Calling off my $3400 river bet on a 66QTJ, his
nods of compliance were replaced with groans of disgust and rapid hand movements as my QJ
raked in the chips.
The game broke around 8am as I returned to the Meridian and a sleepless night in building 7.
Thoughts raced through my mind faster then Jamaican sprinters, as I tried to comprehend the
purpose of all this good fortune hitting me at once. I empathized with Walter White as I watched
him from my pillow, turning into Heisenberg one batch at a time. Unexpected success was
riveting. 50/100 was my meth.
I tried to play 10/20 the next day, but the task seemed meaningless, the ramifications lacked
adrenaline. There was an open seat in the 50/100 game and despite my efforts to resist, my inner
Heisenberg prevailed.
With two limpers, including DF in front of me I bumped up the K Q
to 600 in the CO. The
Bb a solid player cold called as did DF. On a Q Q 4
I bet 850, called only by the Bb. The
young Euro had earlier called me two streets before surrendering on an AA47T board. I was
hoping this memory remained as fresh to him as it was to me.
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On a 9
turn I bet again when checked to, this time $2100. Again, I was called. The river
brought the beautiful K . A great card not only because it solidified by lock on the hand but
because he probably expects a young player to bluff this card. The final chapter of my story was
a $5400 river bet. My opponent looked pained as he collected the flag and 4 blacks. He seesawed
from side to side in his seat, while I remained still, hoping curiosity would prevail.
Minutes later, it would. I flipped over the bad news as he made the call, later telling me he had
TT.
The game slowly got worse as DF tightened up and young Germans better than I and more
accustomed to the stakes filled the empty seats. But before calling it quits I got tangled up in one
more spot. DF limped as he often does and Alex Kuzmin isoed the btn to $500. With A Q
and 10k effective stacks I bumped it up to $1600. The hand went from standard to bizarre when
DF quietly tossed a flag into the middle. "Player calls" the dealer announced as DF chose to say
nothing. I turned to Alex, he was equally confused, but also chose to call the bet. The flop was
J 7 4
and after failing to decipher the problem at hand, I chose the check/give up route.
To my surprise both players followed suit. The turn brought the game changer. The K
not only
added a flush draw, but hit my range way stronger than theirs.
I bet $1925, confident the 2.5-1 I was getting on my bluff was more then profitable. DF gave a
frustrated gasp before folding, leaving the action to Alex. "How much is the bet," he asked in his
Russian accent while counting his stacks and considering his options. A short time passed before
he made the call. I took the time to consider whether a bet, check/call, or check/fold was best for
the river. The 8
changed all my plans. The backdoor flush destroyed what little showdown
value my A high held as I waved the white flag with a river check. With the action on him, Alex
went deep into the tank; though I was uninterested as all options emitted the same result for me.
Minutes later he emerged with a tap of the felt. Finally, my AQ was face up. Alex sat motionless,
as I rechecked the strength of my hand. No ***** way I thought as it became more and more
apparent that I held the winner. It became official when his hand hit the muck and a visibly
surprised dealer pushed the chips my way.
DF left town for good that night as did the 50/100 game. I cashed out a 41k winner over my two
day stint in the high stakes world. I embraced my self given nickname as "The White Gnoc" a
tribute to how incredibly good I'd run in the biggest moments of time; But also held a sense of
guilt for why these things were happening to me.
I've always told the undedicated that good things happen to players who put in the hours, while
never knowing if I believed my own words. Could commitment actually outduel variance? I'm
not mathematically sound enough and way too out of tune with the forces of nature to know for
sure. What I do know is that sometimes things go my way, sometimes they don't. I've kept my
confidence through the tough times and fought the evil temptation of ego through the good. And
as I prepared to leave Vegas, almost 3 years after I'd first arrived, in the biggest games of my life,

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they held the one hand I could beat. I don't have the answers, just a sample size of one. My story,
Another Kid Another Dream.
MM
Send Me on My Way - Rusted Root
09/13/12: Back to the Micros
Click click click has replaced the vortexing sound of shuffled clay. I have four decisions to make
at a time, all against the same opponent. He was the one to challenge me, a surprise considering
the amount of time I spend opening half empty tables only to be told no. But ultimately, it's a
numbers game. And just like my days at Brick St. Bar, rejection is just another step in the process
of finding a companion.
The game is Heads Up NL100. "That's one hundred pennies" I explain to Doug while we bicker
over the merits of one of my flop check raises. He tells me why it's bad, backed by math, and I
tell him why it's not, based on experience.
"You need to stop being a live pro".
It's the closing comeback for every dispute we ever have. In order to progress, I need to first
forget. All of my instincts need to be tampered. Like Tim Tebow relearning the throwing motion
in the pros, my fundamentals have been blown up. It's back to the basics.
Back to the micros.
DuckMySick had 4bet me for the 3rd time in 20 hands, hardly surprising considering my 29%
3bet for this particular match. However, this time I wasn't folding. My two soldiers, K K, one
green and one blue, were ready to go to battle. Lacking the drama of the physical big pair
squeeze, there was no lack of excitement as the cowboys sat sprawled out in my bottom right
table.
"This muuuunkeys about to pay," I yell over at the vacant space across the table where Mike D
used to grind. Just days earlier he'd packed up his remaining sanity and moved back to Long
Island. I, however, was still here, high on Pumpkin Spice latte, yelling at his empty chair like
Clint fucking Eastwood.
Typically, all of my 5bets are shoves, but Duck and I were 300bb deep. So I pushed the action
from 18 to 38, faking fold equity. Duck was in thought, as his timebar approached expiration,
leaving only 3 seconds remaining. But like an old MJ buzzer beater, his stack was in the middle
just as the dealer reached for his cards. We called the bet and the hands were flipped up. I would
need to dodge a J. The K T 4
fell prompting a "Suck it" loud enough to wake the rest of
the housemates. In true karmic fashion, though, the board finished out 9 .Q , grabbing the
virtual chips from the tips of my fingers and shipping them in the wrong direction.
There was no commotion, no oooooo's or aaaaaa's, just four more hands coming out at rapid
pace. I felt this stinging pain, like a shot of adrenaline just under my stomach as I prepared to

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fight for the $1.00 blinds. Quickly he opened the btn and this time I 3bet the T 3 , a hand I
usually fold. But this urge for aggression was looming large, moving up my torso headed for my
brain. As if he'd seen it all before, Duck min 4bet me, handcuffing my stupidity, and prompting
an insta-fold/sit out across the board.
I was on tilt.
My buyin and a half winner had turned to a buyin and a half loser. The $300 was negligible, but
the prolonging of my stay in the cellar of online poker was eating at my pride.
The daily race between 2pm and tilt was won by the devil, ending my morning session early. By
1:15 I was on the SkyTrain headed towards Granville for lunch and a workout.
Losing poker and my workout actually make a pretty good team, prompting a successful
afternoon at Steve Nash Gym. It's the lunch and losing that typically cause the problems. $25
dollar meals are numbing in Vegas where the daily swings can reach 10k. But when there's no
cash flow or Bellagio comps, it's depressing to watch your bankroll disappear one Monopoly
$100 at a time.
This is the life of a break-even grinder.
After a month and 39,557 hands of mostly NL200, I am up $1,859.31 or as the pros say
2.23bb/100. Sometimes, sparked by self-loathing, I'll break it down to its more pathetic core, a
$7.47 hourly wage.
Still Doug, my coach and staker, allowed me to move up one stair of the ladder, citing my solid
preflop stats. Considering all students are given a basic chart of hands to open and hands to fold,
Doug was complimenting my literacy.
Booyah.
I underestimated both the skill of the low stakes grinders and how long it takes to get in tune
with the tendencies of the game. But that's not going to stop me from getting where I need to be.
While my tableside company no longer may be Layne Flack or Phil Hellmuth, I'm just as
motivated to take down OJLimpson and NittRomney.
And this Aha moment, the one where I finally apply a concept that Doug's been beating into my
ear, is more rewarding then any one pot I've ever won. I'm chasing the art of learning, and
everyday I get a little closer. Every coaching session, that moment yields a little more equity, and
that corner I've been trying to turn comes closer into focus.
I just hope it gets here before the sanity leaves for good.
MM
Aloe Blacc - I Need a Dollar

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10/01/12: Grad School

I got in the car at O'Hare International, the first night of my quick visit home to Chicago. Within
10 minutes of exiting the terminal and heading up 94N, my mom had brought out the same tired
questions. "When are you going back to..."
"Grad school," I finished her sentence with an exhausting reply and a nod of compliance. "Dad
went to grad school, JK went to grad school, if you ever want to get a job worth having in today's
market, you have to go back to school."
I was used to the question by now. I'd been hearing it since the day I left Miami. And I always
told mom that whenever I found something worth going back for, something I loved as much as
poker, I would do it. But if I returned to the classroom, and the deadlines, and the 8am classes, it
would be different this time. It would be because I wanted to be there.
Back in Vancouver it was business as usual. The quick stay in the central time zone made it
easier to get up for my 9am run. A run that begins outside of Science world and continues around
the city seawall.
Now I hate running. It's boring and exhausting and means I need to do laundry way more
frequently then I'm capable. Still every morning I step out into the crisp fall air, fighting the
northwest sea breeze one step after the other. I don't keep time and I don't track distance; but I
have one rule. I don't quit until I'm further than yesterday's finish.
It's a measure of endurance, but what I'm really testing is mental toughness; an idea my dad's
been beating into my head since T-ball. Each day I gain a little more confidence and quietly
establish a sense of discipline that's helping me reach where I need to be.
It's all part of the program.
After 45,000 hands of online poker I was still breaking even. I felt myself improving, but the
results were slacking far behind.
And then, over a lesson with Doug, in the midst of a completely unrelated discussion, something
clicked. Something I wish I could talk about here, but after reconsideration with the General,
something I need to keep to myself.
"Live poker is like storming the beaches of Normandy," Doug explained. "But in online poker
you're an assassin. And it's best if no one even knows you exist
Until they die."
The game seemed simpler, the punches rolled smoother, and the money came quicker. The house
joke of my pathetic hourly was losing its humor at a proportionate speed to the rise of my red
line.

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In my final 18,000 hands at nl200 I swept in 46 buy-ins and more importantly, rarely felt
outmatched at the table. That's 20.55bb/100 and an hourly of $129 dollars.
I was ready to emerge from the micros.
I woke up Sunday morning like a kid on Christmas. Doug had given me the okay for 2/4 and
3/6nl as I checked off the first box of my online poker goals. I flipped open my poker database
early in the afternoon eager to experiment with the nuances of mid-stakes no limit.
After a few moments of adjusting to proper sizing, it was back to the same game of one on one
poker. The same psychological battle, just with higher numbers and new screen names.
My game was sharp and my mistakes were minimal. My HUD, the same device I'd cursed in my
very first post, had become my most valuable confidant. My bible. These days I was swift as I
maneuvered through its numbers, leading me down the most optimal paths.
I barely left my chair that Sunday, logging over 4,500 hands of both 400 and 600nl. At the end of
the day, the results illuminated the hard work. By the time the comp was shut down I'd made
$5,200 online bucks.
We went out for a celebratory beer that night as I needed something to calm the endorphins if I
planned on getting any sleep. But even with a tight Eagles/Giants game and pokerless
conversation, my mind couldn't escape the recent smoothness of the road. Thoughts of high
stakes crept into my brain as I played out the fantasy of a redemption match with Ivey.
I was on top of the world.
The next day I woke up, returning to the seawall for my morning run. Except this time something
was different. My body wasn't tiring at its typical rate. By the time I finally felt winded, the end
of the trail was in view. There was no way I was stopping.
I popped through our front door pounding my chest like a baboon, accelerating the wake up
process of my roommates who sat quietly, sipping coffee on the couch. With nobody else on my
level, I transferred the adrenaline to my computer as I looked through the heads up tables for
opponents.
Sitting alone at nl600 was an old school heads up grinder. "I think I'm gonna take on sir
AEJones" I announced to the room, gaging a response that my monkey pounds couldn't muster.
Quickly we had two tables open as I took an early lead with well-timed pressure. But as the
match progressed I struggled to interpret his numbers. Every time I tried, I saw the kid I'd played
with at Bellagio and heard the voice from his Leggo videos.
His real life aura had strayed me away from the online discipline I'd been building and instead
had me playing virtual live poker.

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With J 5
I opened the pot and he defended his bb. We were $800 deep as I bet $18 on the A
9 8
and he countered with a check raise to $66. We peeled as the turn brought an off-suit
7
and he tapped the virtual felt. I checked back, watching the 4
hit the river. AE went into a
noticeably longer tank, before betting $110 into $156.
"This is close," I announced to my roommate, while deciding between raise and call. My
instincts were letting me down and time was running out. With 5 seconds left in the bank, my
imaginary coin landed on raise. But I needed to hurry. Quickly I made it $337 with $380 behind.
It didn't take long to realize the mistake of my sizing.
I took the Internet Explorer and placed it in on top of the table, as I often do to counter the stress
of sweating an opponent's decision. Only the size of the pot was visible as I pretended to skim
the White Sox story that stood between me and my real focus. And then the pot size changed.
$1,689. AE had shoved.
"Oh fuck you," I mumbled outloud, while internally directing the curses at my own stupidity.
I folded the J high flush, surrendering $400 in chips, but more importantly the momentum of the
match. A half hour of poor play later, it was over. I quit him, down $2,050. My first quit ever.
I was humbled and schooled in the same short meeting. I let my head get in the way of my brain
and it cost me time and resources on the road to my goals. Nonetheless, I gained a valuable
lesson and a new obstacle I'll need to address in order to continue improving.
"Ma, I know this might not make perfect sense to you," I told her from the passenger seat. "But
I'm in Grad school. Fuck, I'm at Harvard. And I know you don't understand it, but I promise I'm
working harder then any kid in a classroom. And I'm doing it my own way."
She took her eyes off the road to give me a quick look, remarking back without words. Just a
smile and the indicating stare that she finally understood. Not the job or the life that I chose, but
the passion and devotion in my eyes.
And the next time she picks me up, I think we'll have something new to talk about.
MM
Noah and the Whale - Waiting For My Chance To Come
11/05/12: Back To Vegas
Three things became apparent as my time in Oh Canada came to an end. I'd made a little money,
gotten a little better at poker, and felt a little bit homesick. My anxiousness to get back to Vegas
reached a point that could only be tickled by getting in the car and heading south.
The drive that took three days to complete on the way out, would be cranked out in one long
session on the way back in. I was mesmerized by the lights in the back of my memory, and I
wouldn't stop until I saw them, no matter how many cups of coffee it took.
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Twenty hours later, I'd arrived and after a late night trip to the Oyster Bar and a quick nap at
hcclubhopper's new pad, I was back at table 5 grinding out the 10/20nl.
Things began roughly, as the promise I'd made to "not be that online player" proved harder to
keep then I originally envisioned. "You're fighting for too many pots," Chris Johnson told me the
next day on the first tee of Paiute. Coming from a monkey like him, the message was loud and
clear. The 83% cbet percentage that I'd maintained on the virtual felt not only needed to be
lowered, it needed to be anchored somewhere south of the half-the-time border.
My 8k losing first day was an appropriate reminder that I wasn't on the internet anymore and my
newly learned heads up skills meant diddly squat if I couldn't find the proper ways to apply
them.
Things would turn around, however, as the rest of the week was filled with a mixture of massive
and moderate winners. Between Phil Laak massaging my ego with needles of me "always
dragging in pots" and Tom Locke reminding me that I still was the luckiest player he'd seen in 84
years, the universe was back in perfect alignment.
I was back to waking up every morning at 9am. My motivation to drink and party had gone
down drastically in the past 6 months. Perhaps I was becoming more mature, or maybe I was just
becoming more lame.
Regardless, my life was hectic enough without the added problems that overserved Matt tends to
find. Between the money coming in from my 5th place main event piece, and money going out
for my failed investments in the John-Robert Bellande game at the Aria, there were enough flags
flying around to cater a parade on the 4th of July. And it wouldn't stop there. My 12k sweat on
Tuesdays election could really make or break the months profits.
To say I'd lost my perspective on the value of the clay disks would be a drastic understatement.
Too much money syndrome circa 2012 was alive and capable of fueling my self-destruction if I
didn't act quickly.
My weeklong experiment with the boundaries of adrenaline reached its peak last night as I
reserved a seat in the 50/100nl at the Bellagio at the tail end of a 10/20 nl session.
Huck Seed and I were reminiscing about the time we kinda-sorta bailed Joe Bartholdi out of
Clark County detention, when he opened the CO to 300. An action player in the sb called and I
followed suit with the A T
in the Bb. On a J 9 8
flop we checked to Huck who put
out a bet of 650. The sb folded as I called with a 12k stack to my name. On a K
turn I checked
to the raiser, who chose to check back in stride. His hand reeked of showdown value, so I felt no
use in betting the offsuit 5
on the river. But once Huck bet out $1300 the door was back open
for some big hand-repping. With enough blockers to start an offensive line, I popped it up to
$3700 total.

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But my new school tricks were no match for the old school legend. As long as it took him to
reach for more chips and place them in the center was as long as I got to sweat the chance at
bluffing the world champ. His A J
raked in the pot as my almost straight, sorta flush, left
me digging into my pockets for more patriotic betting tokens.
A bit later a young regular opened the pot to 300 on the btn and I looked down at K K
in
the sb. I made it 950 and he chose to call and see a flop. The A K T
fell down and I
reacted with an 850 cbet. Swiftly I was called as we headed to the turn. The 5
placed little
danger as this time I bet 2050. Again, I was looked up by the btn. No Q no J, No Q no J.
J
Fuck. With my opponents 5300 remaining stack every option imaginable was still on the table.
Bet small, bet big, check call, check fold. I reached deep to channel my inner WWJD (What
Would Jeremy Do) but the chaos of the week blocked all connections and left deliberations up to
me and my brain. The story I was telling was a bluff and if I wanted him to keep reading, I
needed to keep writing.
All in.
The bad news was delivered before the cards were turned over as his insta call, all but insured
that my set was no good. The Q T
had gotten there on the river, putting me into the game
for more Ks then Kerry Wood vs the Astros circa '97.
With my last bullet intact, I found a good opportunity when an active player opened to 300 and a
bunch of guys called. I squeezed TT with 100bbs and got it in against AQo. The board was no
help to the overcards and all of a sudden I was on the brink of breaking even.
My emotions failed to keep up with the swings of the game, as the ethos portion of my brain was
still registering self-pity by the time I'd doubled up to 22k.
The action player fueling the 10/20 asked to borrow money, and it wasn't until minutes after I'd
handed him a flag that it registered I'd only met him 5 hours prior.
"What the fuck are you doing" I heard from my left as Len Ashby took notice to the disorder
taking place at Matt Moore, Inc.
The discipline that I prided myself on was disintegrating in front of my eyes. "Hey I've seen it
before," yelled over wise guy Pat in the direction of Len. "He's two or three steps from having
half the bankroll on the 2nd half under of a Raptors Wizards game."
The exaggerated joke was enough to wake me from the trance of black chip poker as I racked up
my chips, vowing that this was my final round.

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But before I could go, a tilting kid from Macau limped early and Sick Call Kenny Tran isoed to
500 in the HJ. I held 8 8
on the btn and called the bet, as did the limper. On a K 4
5
I considered folding to the cbet of Sick Call, before placing in the 800 asking price. With the
action back to the limper he reached deep into his stack and made it 3800 with 4k behind.
My first instinct was to fold after Kenny tossed in his cards. After all, it was essentially an 8k bet
I was facing with a midpair on a K high board. But after a few deep breaths I stopped thinking
about the price and considered the line. The size of the bet screamed "please fold" and the player
had been losing, which typically means all draws are overplayed.
So I grabbed my two 5k bricks and tossed them into the pot, putting the Macau pro all in. He
called as expected and now it was up to fate. The dealer burned and turned the 9
before
finishing off the board with the 3 . Quickly my opponent flipped over his Ace high flush draw
and I proudly flipped up my 88, glancing a quick look at SC Kenny to make sure he was paying
attention.
But by the time I rechecked the board things had changed. I picked up on a minor error I'd
forgotten in the excitement. His deuce kicker made the wheel, the 19k pot wasn't mine after all.
I finished off the round sheepishly folding my way to the bb. With one hand to go, I asked Kenny
if he'd folded a pair that hand. SC was nice enough to divert his attention from the oblivion in the
ceiling to respond "Kid, I play so many hands, how am I supposed to know what you're talking
about."
That's odd, I thought, considering I could count the amount of pots he played all night on Lil
Dave's left hand (https://www.facebook.com/lildaveslife/) and this particular sequence had
occurred 90 seconds prior. But instead of fighting in the name of logic, I granted SC the wish of
preserving his precious time and nodded in compliance instead.
The 15.3k loser took reins as my biggest ever defeat.
Today I took my first break since the return; the absence of poker providing some clarity and
time for reflection. So before I fall off the deep end, time for some rules
For the time being...
A) No more games higher than 10/20
B) No more loaning money
and C) no more non-poker investments
Starting Wednesday of course.
#4MoreYears!
MM
Walk the Moon - Anna Sun

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2013
01/04/13: The $7 Steak
Driving down Koval from the Meridian I bypass my routine right on Flamingo and continue
North past the Ellis Island. With the $6.99 steak sign prompting memories of the true grinding
days, I'm briefly sickened by the ease I now feel eating $100 dinners.
I take the eventual right turn on Harmon, but the new route is no more efficient than the old one.
There's plenty of time for reminiscing, as traffic permits a good look at the Signature towers: my
first Vegas home. Hard to believe it's been 3 years since I used to make that walk past the Planet
Hollywood, across the street to Bellagio.
I remember listening to 3EB religiously on that path, game planning the adjustments I'd make to
turn today's session into a winner. So naive. Fuzzy with this term variance, I was convinced the
daily swings were almost entirely a result of my own decision making.
Somewhere along the way, I lost that accountability.
I would sit in the Delights cafe, reporting on the previous days session. Not only because I
enjoyed it, it was also to satisfy my Pops who okay'd the trip, contingent on something
productive arising. Secretly, I think he hoped I'd fail. Sending me out with the sharks to Vegas
was like sending a rich white kid into the ghetto to scare the rap music out of him.
But I didn't. I made $10,000 that trip. Had I lost, and believe me I could've lost, hell, I probably
should've lost, I wouldn't be here today. I'm sure we would've chalked it up to meeting my match
and I'd be sitting at a desk somewhere in Chicago while this childish pipedream slowly faded to
pretend.
But back in the present, it was all still very real. And eventually I did make it through traffic, all
the way to the Bellagio main game and the direct right of a Saudi Arabian Prince.
I'd raised for the 2nd hand in a row and again Lee Salem called me from the blinds. On a 743 he
check raised my Cbet. "Ride the heater," I told him as again he dragged in the pot uncontested.
He looked up to speak and I was all ears, because when Lee talks, it's a good idea to listen. "It
comes in streaks," he told me simply enough, "like all things in life".
He couldn't have been more right.
Coming back from Vancouver marked the beginning of a new chapter in my poker career. For the
first time I was playing with all of my own high stakes action. I was ready to tackle the variance
alone.
Or so I thought. What I wasn't ready for was the freedom to be on my own.
The loss of accountability.

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I played big. I vowed I'd stopThen I played even bigger. In the two months since my return,
I've already had 4 swings of 35-50k, two in each direction.
The current trend in the graph was downward, but I found myself in a good opportunity with the
Prince sitting 70k deep. After a couple limps in the 10/20/40nl I opened the A K
to 300
from the sb. The prince called the bb as did the limpers. On an A J 7
board I led into the
field for 800. Immediately the prince raised to 2k. I called the bet as the 5
peeled the turn.
This time I checked and my opponent bet out a small 1k. Seeing no other option, I called again.
The river brought the 7
and before I could act the prince bet 1500 out of turn. With the nut
flush, I raised the action to 5500.
Immediately I was met with a call. My hand was good as he showed the A K
for a chopped
pot all the way up to the river. As I raked in my chips he gently grabbed my left arm with his
bear claw hands and in his deep voice asked "If I were to have two small hearts on that board,
and you have the K , who wins the pot?"
That night I started down 7k, reached a peak of up 22k, before settling with a 10k win. My mind
could hardly decide whether to be ecstatic or outraged. I wanted to celebrate about as badly as I
wanted to jump off the roof of parking garage.
One thing I knew is I wanted to play with more with guys like that.
Rumors had spread quickly through town of another 20/40nl running at the Wynn all week. So
the next day after dinner I made the rare trip to the North side of the strip.
There was nothing running when I arrived so I placed my name on the list. But before I could
leave the podium, I made another request. "I want to be on every high stakes list imaginable," I
told John, one of the best floor guys in the biz.
It seems like a silly request, but I'd heard the stories of how things work at the Wynn. How crews
of players show up all at the same time, with one action player and start whatever game has no
list, so that all seats can be reserved for them. I didn't know if that would happen, but I was
gonna be prepared in case it did.
A couple hours later, the regulars started rolling in. Seeing myself and a few other high stakes
players in the room, they had a meeting of the minds outside in the hallway. A few minutes later,
I was informed by John that they'd decided to play 50/100nl with a 30k min.
"You know they're only doing this to keep you guys out of the game," I was told by another
regular. Luckily I'd brought exactly 30k with me, their bluff was $1 short.
The chips were handed out and the game was about to begin when the action player chimed in,
"If were going to play big, I want to play 100/200nl" he declared. Some of the players tried to
reason with him, obviously knowing who the smaller blinds were advantageous to, but the man
wasn't listening.

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He left to return to his room for an hour as the game was being set up. Demeanors across the
table changed quickly from excited to worried. The bigger the game, the more important the
money to the pros. The more important the money, the more the action player's edge increases.
I wasn't happy with it, and I told them that their greed was potentially about to backfire. "You're
the reason this all happened Matt," I heard from ringleader of the group, somebody I'd had a lot
of respect for. "You're a real piece of work you know that."
Tensions were high on both sides, but instead of questioning the scumminess of locking players
out of a game, I sat to myself and kept my energy focused on playing well.
Two hands in to the game the ringleader opened for $300 tug. I looked down at A K
and
3bet the co to $1,000. A solid player in the Bb thought for awhile before calling, and now the
action was back to UTG. He reached for more chips and his intentions seemed obvious. I started
thinking, frantically, how I was going to proceed with 30k behind me.
Seconds later, his raise to $4700 was across the line. Did he think I'd be scared to play a big pot?
Was his ego carrying over the dispute from earlier? Am I really gonna shove thirty thousand
dollars in with no pair? "I'm all in" I said to the dealer while tossing out a few yellows.
The Bb quickly got out of the way and then we reached the moment of truth. No snap call. Phew.
Minutes went by, but my heart kept beating. I certainly didn't want to flip for 60k. And then after
a few more chip shuffles and hand checks, his cards were in the muck.
The game proceeded with careful caution as the action player joined us. Eventually he'd noticed
the 50/1 and wasn't happy. "No more 50/1" he said. "1/2 or no game."
100/200 blinds it was.
I folded to a few 3bets and missed a few flops for the next couple hours. Money goes quick in
100/200.
Later the action player limped and Joe Bartholdi made it $1400. Joe had been extremely active
using his complete and utter disregard for money to his best advantage. I called the btn with red
99 and so did the limper. The flop came T 6 5
And Joe bet $3k. I called and the fish
folded. The turn brought the 8 , an interesting card. Joe thought briefly before betting 7 yellow
chips.
I looked at those 7 chips for awhile thinking of my next move. But the longer I waited the more
my attention left the cards and focused on the chips. I've seen Joe go broke twice since I've been
to Vegas and run up a new bankroll each time. Those 7 chips remained just that to Joe. But to me,
the longer I waited, the more it became seven thousand dollars. And the more I thought about it,
the more I feared the $25k shove that was coming on the river.
I was in over my head. Playing in a game that was way too big for me, mostly because I knew
that others didn't want me in it.
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I folded the hand and shortly later quit a small winner.

The chase for money makes people do stupid things. Mistakes are part of our growth as poker
players and humans, but the longer we chase the bright lights the better our chance at going
blind. Greed will make you lose sight of who you're trying to become as repetitive mistakes turn
into defining characteristics.
Luckily for me the Ellis Island is right around the corner, and the $7 steak is served at all hours
of the night.
MM
The Lumineers - Stubborn Love
01/13/13: Stranger to the Sun
Opening my eyes I was met with the surprise that comes in the first moments of waking up in
unfamiliar territory. The sun reflected off the leaves of the trees and bounced through the window
of my bedroom. Was I on vacation? I'd dreamt I'd been on vacation.
I rolled over towards the other shoulder and reality quickly set in. My t-shirt from the night
before on the bed stand, resting next to the 16 inch TV that comes with Meridian studio
apartments.
Lying in my own bed, I wasn't lost at all. I was a victim of unfamiliar times. The New Year had
been underway for 12 days now, and out of that time, nearly half of it had been spent at Bellagio.
The other half spent in delirium tossing and turning in that very room, fighting the morning sun
for some honest hours of sleep.
Today was the first day of the year I hadn't awakened to total darkness. It was 3pm, and I
couldn't have been more ecstatic. Having only slept through one of the mornings playoff games,
I turned on CBS, grabbed my Mac, and took some moments to reflect on the week that had
been...
There's something to be said for the mystery of an all-night poker game. The emptiness of the
room emits new sights and sounds that can't be experienced under normal circumstances. The
ringing of slot machines is switched with the sounds of vacuums and the groups of screaming
sports bettors have been replaced with resting drunks.
Being one of two tables in the room feels more like the camping trip of a child then the workday
of an adult. Carried from hour to hour by stories from "Pre Vegas Days" it's these nights where
you really get to know the people you spend all year sitting next to. Ironically, there's nothing
innocent about the all night poker games. These are the times when hourlies are established and
vacations are earned.
It all started a week ago at the tail end of a 25/50nl game. The Saudi Prince had finished playing
at his typical 3am, as four of us either too buried or too caffeinated to sleep carried on the action.
An hour later I'd stood up from the 7 seat, prepared to call it a night. From the 2, I heard a
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mumbled "You might want to sit back down" as Len Ashby's eyes drifted from mine to the
distance over my left shoulder. "Hey sir how you doing, long time no see" I heard from the
seasoned pro.
There was no response, just a friendly headnod as I turned around to see the mystery guest. Mr.
Macau, as I've come to know him, speaks no English. He'll point when he wants your attention
and grab the dealer's yellow button when it's time to put you all in. The main boss from last
summers post entitled "Sunday Funday" [6/5/12], he has rightfully earned a reputation for
playing any 2 preflop and running 100k swings in a manner of hours.
From that night forward there was no sleeping at night. Mr. Macau was still on China time,
which meant I, too, was now on China time
Each night I'd awake between 7 and 9 pm and head into Bellagio. Around 10 the 25/50 game
would get going around the Prince. The Prince is good action, don't get wrong, but it was the
King I was here to see. When 3 am rolled around the Prince would say good night and the rest of
us would continue playing, patiently waiting. Sometimes the King would show up at 4, other
times not until 8.
Not everybody stayed; People have families and obligations after all. The rest of us would
gamble and laugh and caffeinate our ways through the hysterical hours of the early morning,
waiting for our shot at fortune.
My battles with the King started off one-sided. In my first crack at him I cold 4bet the btn with
the A Q
and a 6k pot-sized bet remaining. He called and then check called it off on a J33
with one
. I was drawing dead to JJ.
Later that session he put on the 200 double straddle and I opened 99 to 700. He called as did one
other as it came 667. I bet 1500 and only the King called. On a 4o turn I bet again, this time
3,200. He called once more as we got to the river, an offsuit K. After another check, I bet out
5800. Snap call. My 99 was no match to K8.
Two days into his stay and I was stuck 30k.
Still patiently I showed up everyday, prepared to pretty much go broke trying my luck against a
guy playing 80% of hands and opening most to $700 at 10/20.
In our next battle he opened to 500 and I made it 1600 with A Q . The flop fell down A Q
4
and now I had a real chance to get some money back when he check called my 2k bet. I
was playing 20k and he had me covered. The turn was a Q . Against this guy I wanted to give
him a reason to turn gutters into bluffs so I bet only 2800, all of my remaining small chips,
leaving me 3 flags behind. He thought for an uncharacteristically long time and called the bet.
The river was the worst card in the deck, another A .

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Jesus Christ, I thought, cursing out my luck. I assumed my boat had turned into a chop when he
led the river for 10k; Still I went through the protocol of raising my final 5k.
No snap call. I looked up from the felt and the King wore a smile as he slowly waved his head
back and forth. The type of head nod from somebody who'd been caught. Seconds later he picked
his cards up and tossed them faced down into the muck.
With the help of position, well-timed cards, and hours and hours of play, I turned a bad start to
the year into a decent sized winner. But there was still more poker to be played.
On the King's last day I once again had a seat directly to his left. He was in the 9 and I was in 1.
By this time we were joking together through hand gestures and his interpreter. I figured he liked
me; he certainly liked gambling with me.
But on this particular day, I didn't know if I wanted to gamble with the King. He ran a 30k stack
up all the way to 160k in no more then three dealers. One by one he picked off everybody at the
table. "If this keeps up the biggest game in this place will be 2/5 by the end of the week," I joked
to Chris on my left. Just like the Andy Beal trips from years ago, the King had the power to put a
major dent in the LV high stakes scene.
But there was no running. If you were at the table, he'd find you.
In a straddled pot he raised it up to 1300 in the sb. I looked down at the K Q
and instead of
3betting his unusually large sizing I chose to call. The flop brought gin, K 2 3 . The King
wouldn't be deterred, though, as he fired 2600. I called the bet leaving myself around 14.5k
behind. The turn was a 4 , way better for his range then mine, and he demonstrated that by
throwing 3 5k flags into the middle. I've never called off 300bbs with one pair faster in my life.
With my heart beating through my shirt, the river card couldn't come quick enough.
5

All doubts of not being good had disappeared.or so I thought. While reaching for my cards, I
heard a Chinese screech from the other side of the dealer, "Haaaiiiiiiaaaa".
Oh helllllllll noooo.
All of a sudden the beat was back up and running, as I waited for him to chuck down his cards.
The 6
was first. The T
next.
I counted the biggest pot of my life as the King slowly redistributed the remaining cash back to
the community. 90k later, he rose, and with a smile and a wave was gone, just as mysterious as
he'd arrived.
A horrid start to the year had turned into the biggest cash game week of my life.
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Sometimes in poker it's the light of the moon that illuminates the prize. As great as it is to
understand the mechanics of strategy, it's 10x as important to know where to be and when to be
there. As professionals we accept this part of the lifestyle, even if it means growing stranger to
the sun.
MM
Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band - Night Moves
02/22/13: Mike Phelps Rematch
Spending a weekend in Scottsdale, it didn't take long to realize the daunting task of actually
separating myself from the Las Vegas scene. Before I'd even unpacked my suitcase, texts rolled
in asking if I'd heard what was happening at the Aria. About the Persian who'd "never played
with blinds before", dropping $100,000 in the 10/20nl game.
Mother ****er.
The anxiety of missing out on a big game had found me, 400 miles off the Vegas strip. I tried to
enjoy the peace and quite of nature's exile, but the pull of big bet poker was too much. Before I
knew it, I was back at Phoenix International, jumping on the early flight home.
Back at the Aria, the party was underway, and I, apparently, was late. Lots of high stakes
regulars, but no Persians. Waiting out the commotion, I grouped up with other Bellagio regulars
to catch up on the weekends events. "He's not gonna play today," I heard over my shoulder as
the Icebox passed through our huddle hinting she may know something.
I gave it about a 30% chance of truth, with the more likely scenario being a protection of her
territory. But with the odds in my favor, I chose to wait it out unless something better came up.
Shortly later, that something better came in the form of a call from friend and local pro Randy
Dorfman. "We're gonna start a game over at the Palms with Mike Phelps if you want to come
play," I heard from the voice on the other line.
That was enough for me as I left the under-lighted, overcrowded Aria, aiming west down
Flamingo.
The game was 5/10 NL with a 10k min and a lineup of Randy, Tom Marchese, Chris Johnson,
and Joe Cheung as we waited for the Palms pool party to close and Mike to come down and play.
Joe got the action going strong by showing a deuce at every opportunity, loosening up the table
by the time Mike and his friend arrived.
We bull****ed briefly about our last encounter in Bobby's room and the time he tank folded TT
against my 99. That was my memory of Mike's poker game; solid, but on the tighter side.

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That memory would be put to the test as he straddled to 25 and I opened A

buddy 3bet the btn to 200 and Mike defended his straddle.

in mp. Mike's

I called as well as the flop came out A T 9

rainbow. Mike lead small for 200, I called,
and the btn looked agonized before folding what I assumed to be a big pair. The turn brought a
2nd low club as Mike bet 460 on the 4 . I called again, sensing that the alcohol from the day
club might be encouraging some optimistic bluffs.
Before we could see a river mike bet out 1k in the dark. Hoping for a brick, the dealer made
things difficult by stringing along the worst card in the deck. The 8 .
I dug deep in my imagination searching hard for a hand I could beat. A minute later my thoughts
surfaced as I told Mike I wanted to call, but I might be burning money. With the eyes of the guys
on my growing deliberance, I opted to call for the sake of the game.
I blew my chips a fake kiss and tossed the ten blacks into the pot towards Mike's side of the
table. "Just an 8" he said before turning over 86o.
"That I can beat," I returned while tabling my hand.
And then it began.
Randy, who nobody would accuse of being a folding connoisseur, went through the roof at what
he told the table was a "nit roll" (a hand so obviously a call, that the tank acted in the form of a
slowroll).
Mike enjoyed this explanation and jumped aboard the nit-roll bandwagon. As the winner of the
hand in a social game, I had the obligation of accepting the needles; it's just how things work. I
put up with it...but then the patron shots began.
And once they started, they did not stop. Four shots later, everybody was toasted and now the
rest of the guys were ragging on me for not snap calling a triple fucking barrel with one pair,
****-house kicker.
Calling a poker player a nit is like calling a doctor a nurse. I would've traded my 3k profit for my
manhood backinstantly.
I ate my comped steak under protest, as the head chef of N9NE delivered them personally, taking
the time to congratulate Mike on being the closest thing to a fish that mankind had ever seen.
You have no idea, I thought from the other end of the table, brewing in my own tilt.
I wanted to drown Randy, Joe, Tom, and Mike in one of his stupid pools, but that seemed
implausible. Instead, I planned a big bluff.

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With the 50 straddle on, Joe opened to 150 and I 3bet 9 T

to 500. He called as the flop fell J
7 3 . I cbet 750 and as expected Joe didn't go down easily. He called the bet as the K
fell on the turn.
This was it, I thought as Joe checked to the raiser.
With 2500 in the pot and Joe's stack sitting at 4500, I jammed all in for almost 2x pot. He was
caught off-guard as he recounted his chip stack and scrunched his eyebrows, illuminating his
surprise.
I stared off into the distance as the former November 9er went into the tank. My attention drifted
over his shoulder and towards the gigantic TV's in the Cantor Sportsbook.
There he was.
Wearing the exact same t-shirt he wore today, the man I'd just put all in, was on TV playing a pot
against Phil Hellmuth in a replay of the WSOP Europe.
"Okay" Joe said, as he'd come to a decision, "You win" while folding his cards into the muck.
"Well the bad news it I have this card" I responded while flipping over the T
news is, you're on TV!"

. "But the good

The table turned and roared with laughter as Joe's pocket 4s couldn't beat the full house of
Hellmuth.
I dragged in one more pot as the alcohol loosened up the game, when I picked off Phelps with
AK, putting my profits into the 6 figures.
Shortly later word spread of an Olympic champion in the poker room as handfuls of girls in tight
black dresses came up to the glass to see for themselves. "Sick life," I said as Mike and I shared a
look and a smile of understanding.understanding that I'd never understand.
Minutes later, the game had come to an end.
"Later nit-roll" Mike needled me as him and his boy headed for the exits. I shook my head
pondering the 10k price on my pride, the ease in which I quit a vacation, and the amazement in
how "normal" celebrities had become.
MM
Anything Could Happen / Ellie Goulding
03/03/13: Back 2 Bobbys Room
With my eyes barely open, I cringed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The pain in my
right wrist had reached the point of intolerable, forcing me to switch hit the morning's teeth

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cleaning. I assumed tendonitis; and all the hours of nervously shuffling chips, finally catching up
to me. A hypothesis rooted in the predictions of Bellagio masseuses and WedMd.
I had no time to see a real doctor; hell it's hard enough finding time to sleep when you're on the
type of run that Dan's spiritual guru manifested me to start the year. But that's the thing with
good runs; if you're sick and obsessed like me, there's not much time for anything else.
My long time girlfriend dumped my ass again, citing a lack of attention and commitment towards
the future. But I was numb to it, just like anything else that'd gone wrong the past two months.
Because when you're high every day on the most powerful drug in the world, you can block out
whatever the fuck you want.
Success was taking over.
I looked at myself in the mirror that Wednesday morning, shaking my wrist like somehow that
was the remedy, wondering if I really was happy. I think I am, I thought while trying to
remember the last time I'd actually felt sad.
I couldn't do it. But I also couldn't recall a time I wasn't floating through the clouds, numbed by
winning like a shot of Novocain.
Like anything, I knew this couldn't last forever, but I was gonna ride it out until every ounce of
adrenaline was gone.
Later that night, during our softball game in Summerlin, I hit a ball deep to center, over the wall
and into the overlooking lights of the Vegas strip; my first home run of the year.
I normally head home to sleep after games, but the deepball adrenaline pumped me up for at least
a walkthrough of the Bellagio poker room.
With my cleats and sweatpants on, I didn't intend on staying long. But that all changed when an
old friend walked up to the High Stake Podium and waved us down towards Bobby's Room.
Mr. Macau was back again, and this time he had demands.
100/200nl with a 20k minimum he wanted, as somebody in his circle had finally told him if he
was going to raise 800 every hand he may as well win 300 instead of 30.
I wasn't ecstatic about the stakes, but after talking him down to 50/100 with a 100a on the bb, I
grabbed my 20k and popped a squat in the 3 seat in Bobby's room for the 2nd time of my life.
Hours went by before I got involved in anything resembling a pot. I started to wonder out loud to
regulars Ngoc and Adam if I'd ever seen so many 2s and 3s in my life. Almost on cue I was dealt
the red Kings utg. I bumped it up to 300 and another action Asian player called the bet. The co
also called as the action got to Mr. Macau on the btn. He picked up 1400 and 3bet the pot, as he
often does with any two cards that can make both a flush and a straight.

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Starting the hand with 17k I thought through my 4bet sizing. But before I could make a move,
the other active Asian player made a bold statement. "You call, I raise," he told me in his Chinese
accent. I wasn't sure what to make of the statement without much history with this player. But
when I looked at my stack, I knew if he was lying I'd still have a perfect check-jamming size on
most flops.
So I took a risk and called the 1400.
A man of his word, the player made it 3500 total. Immediately Mr. Macau called, and now it was
pretty obvious that I needed to jam. I asked for the yellow "all in" button from the dealer while
shooting Mr. Macau a wink.
It was 17k total.
I expected at least a little resistance for an amount that could fly the whole village from Hong
Kong to Vegas. What I got was 10 seconds total before both players matched the bet.
The biggest pot of my life and it was now out of my control.
The flop fell 9 6 3
and instead of any action, one of the remaining players proposed a
deal. "Lets check it down" he asked to the other. **** no. While against the rules to make any
sort of 2way deal in a 3way pot, I was in a hopeless situation. Allowing that nonsense to take
place could affect the chance of my Kings holding up, upwards of 5-10%. But these two players
were special guests in our game. And even though I was staring at Fifty Thousand Dollars, and
the biggest pot of my life, I had to keep my mouth shot.
I put my head into my hands, staring at the now empty felt in front of my eyes. I'd been felted
countless times in my poker career, but never would it sting as hard as the current.
"You can't do that," I heard from my right. "It's not fair to the other player in the hand." I looked
up, shocked that somebody had spoke up. The poker gods had sent me an angel. They'd sent me
Ngoc.
After a check from the first player, the action was now on Mr. Macau and he was deep into the
tank. Kenny Tran had made his way off the couch and onto rail. He'd been first on the list for 5
hours; eagerly waiting his chance.
"May as well root for me" I told him while showing him the KK. "Cause I ain't leaving if I bust."
"Keed, you think I gi a fuh aboucho tiny lil pot" he reminded me in his strong Vietnamese
accent.
Mr. Macau had emerged with 3 flags in his right hand. The bet was $15,000. Shaking his head,
the 2nd player begrudgingly folded. The turn was a 4 . The river a T .

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I watched Mr. Macau shake his head, but I knew that didn't mean much. I'd seen him make
similar motions with the nuts before. I flipped over my kings and waited as the next few seconds
would be the biggest economically of my life.
He reached to turn over, but only brought one card. He flashed the 9 , while continuing to
shake his head. Moments later, the 2nd card was face down in the muck.
It seemed like things couldn't get much better. But a mere days later, an improbable hero would
get me into the game that everybody hears about but nobody actually plays. A game revolving
around a guy whos the closest thing to Andy Beal that Las Vegas has seen since the banker left
town.
And it couldn't have come at a better time.
MM
03/06/13: Brad's Game
"The ****ing queen of spades," Derrick Gibb repeated with a smile as I finished my story.
"That's why I play poker, for moments like that. It might only last two or three seconds, but that
feelingman thats the greatest feeling in the world."
It was Saturday afternoon and I was halfway to LA off the advice of Eric Lui, planning on
entering Sunday's LAPC Day 1b. Problem is there was no day 1b. It was THEN it dawned on me
that maybe a Google search would've been a nice pre-drive activity. And NOW that it dawns on
you that "wow any idiot really can beat high stakes poker."
Regardless, I had a choice. I could turn around at Zzyyxx Rd. or pump up the cruise control and
make it into LA for the end of the only day 1.
By 645pm I was on the 2nd floor of Commerce, handing over one of Mr. Macau's 10k bundles in
exchange for 80bbs and a dream of a WPT title. Some may call that reckless, but to quote the
Sherminator, "Confidence is high, I repeat, confidence is high."
The next day at around 2pm I'd blown my load early. Sitting at a table of tournament wizards, I
was ousted at the hands of my softball teammate Peter Roh when my KK ran into his AA.
The dream would have to wait.
I walked downstairs and took a look at the cash games, before realizing, if there's anything worse
then spending one day at the Commerceit's spending two days at the Commerce.
I was back in Vegas by 6pm.
And thank god I was. While playing a shorthanded 10/20nl at the Aria I got a call from the
HCClubhopper. His excitement reached me before any of his words as his breath was short and
his volume loud. "Mirage. Brad's here. Seat open. HUURRRRY."

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That was all I needed to hear. Because even coming from chronic overreacter Dan, I knew that a
1% chance of his information being true was worth a full out sprint across the strip.
Legend has it Brad's been coming to Vegas for 4-5 years. Legend has it in 40-50 sessions he has
NEVER won. Legend has it in that time, he's down upper 7 figures.
Typically he calls up a Vegas pro that he's familiar with and they set up the time and the other
players. For these players, meeting Brad years ago had a similar EV to making the November 9.
But somewhere along the production line this weekends performance was vulnerable. Because
within the window of them walking in the door and setting up, Dan was able to lock up a seat.
I power walked through the casino and straight to Dan's 2/5 game where he pointed at the table
and told me the 4 seat was locked up for me. I gave him a pound, a 5% freeroll, and it was on.
Holy fuck, I was in the Brad game.
I went to put down my things, directly to the left of Brad, and picked up the card saving the seat.
It read "Theodore Monroe."
The Iceman was on my side.
The game was 10/20nl with a 20k min buy. I sat down to a few glares and stares from the normal
crew, but for the most part people were cordial, happy enough to be sitting where they were.
I started stuck a quick $8,000 by making marginal gambles in exchange for information and a
reputation that I hoped would pay dividends later. As my reads improved my 3betting frequency
picked up and Brad made note of this as I bumped up his 100 open in the co to 340 with 89o on
the btn. "You raise me a lot," he said. I just smiled as we both awaited the A J 7
flop.
He checked his option and I bet out 400; immediately he made it 1860. His timing was quicker
then usual and he wasn't one for early-street thin value, so I collected an assortment of chips and
bumped it up to 3480.
He shook his head at a bluff gone wrong and tossed his hand into the muck. I gave him a private
peak at my cards, as he looked at me and laughed, "You actually had me beat."
Even though I was stuck, I was happy in which the direction the session was heading. My
opportunity to get ahead came when I was dealt 4 4
in the sb. After an early opener and a
bunch of callers, including Brad on the btn, I joined the party. The flop came the oh so pretty
K J 4
and after the action checked to Brad he lead out with a confident 500. I bumped it
up in the next seat to 1800 and Brad eagerly made the call. On an 8
turn I bet out 3200 and
again was called quickly.
Approaching the last card I was confident my image had earned me the right to bet a very big
amount, but my plan had to be adjusted as an offsuit A [ed. note: probably not a diamond?] hit

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the river. The QT straight draw had arrived, but more importantly a lot of his Kx hands were now
second pair. I toned down the fireworks, only betting 7100 into the middle.
I could tell Brad wanted to fold. That he no longer believed his hand was good, but that even
worse then losing, he feared being shown another 9 high. Curiosity prevailed as he tossed in a
bundle of cash, and upon seeing my hand, flashed me a J before mucking his cards.
It's not always that these smart guys with lots of money are incapable of playing good poker,
because most of them can. It's that they can't withstand the moments of bad luck or bad play like
the professionals. Gamblers gamble because they like the feeling of loaning their emotions to a
blackjack dealer or a poker game for a short amount of time. They enjoy the rollercoaster.
Professionals are trained to counter those very same urges. Brad was on his ride, and he'd
reached his breaking point.
I picked up pot after pot as my stack grew and the game had dragged us into the next day's
morning. Black coffee kept me fueled as I waited for another opportunity at a big one.
It would come when a player opened early to 100, Brad called the btn and I called the sb with
K J . The flop came down T 9 8
and I lead out for pot. Both players called as we
awaited the turn.
There it was, the Queen of fucking spades. And the moment inside, the feeling of pure ecstasy,
that comes with hitting absolute gin.
I checked as did the middle player, but Brad bet out 800. With the action back to me, I counted
out a raise.
"2600"
The third player got out of the way and it was down to Brad and I. "Raise" I heard, as that
ecstatic feeling returned for another brief moment. "Make it 5500."
I wanted to scream; to jam my whole stack into the middle and do a little dance. But I calmed
myself down and raised it up to 10k total.
Brad was in immediately.
As the dealer burned the turn, Brad looked at me and said, "I guess we have the same hand,"
alleviating any traces of anxiety as the board paired the 9 .
I looked at Brad's stack, he was playing about 15k. "I'm all in" I announced to the dealer. He
wasted no time, calling off his remaining chips with J8, only to be trumped by my K high
straight.

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By noon the game had broken for good as I racked up almost a 40k winner. Brad was defeated,
buried for the trip, and ready to fly home. But before he could leave, he placed a seed that buried
deep in my brain and has grown rapidly through my imagination.
"You know I would really like to play a million dollar match some day," he said as our eyes
locked momentarily, "I think that would be a lot of fun."
MM
Brett Dennen - Sydney I'll Come Running
03/16/13: Chasing Chris Johnson
The Bellagio was packed with regulars and all of the chatter revolved around Chris Johnson.
Chris, the most recent hometown hero, had just final tabled the Bay101 main event in San Jose.
The talk, however, was of a hand Chris played at the LAPC where he jammed over Duhamel's
btn open for 30bbs with 22.
Some took the chance to jump on the CJ bandwagon, while others saw an opportunity to fade the
star's thought process. I was on the backburner, listening to some great poker minds debate and
following up with questions of my own.
Historically, tournament hands had never done much to stimulate my curiosity; but times were
changing. Over the past 9 months it seemed half my friends had picked off a deep run in a major
live event. With Chris being my closest amigo of the bunch, I could feel the competitive juices
brewing in my veins.
Not the type of Tyson/Holyfield "I want to bite your ear off" juices, but more like the
Sosa/McGwire "I want to hit HRs, then meet for an interracial handshake in the middle of the
diamond" type of juices.
I left that day with a little bit of hunger. I left that day eyeing the Wynn Classic.
Back at the Meridian, the three year tenure as the only Vegas home I'd ever known was coming
to an end. I'd struggled with the idea of an upgrade for months now, with nostalgia proving itself
once again as my biggest personal enemy.
But finally, I'd reached my tipping point. When two of your neighbors get into a guns blazing,
life ending shootout on LVBD it puts things into perspective. A perspective that was able to
block out all the happy memories of my 1st 3 years in town long enough to make the responsible
decision of moving locations.
The next day I'd packed up my things and dropped my clothes at the "Los Laundromat" Fluff n
Fold before heading into the Bellagio.
The game was full with only me and regular Clayton Maguire on the list. Clay asked me if I
wanted to "battle" which I took as nerd talk for play heads up. I did not want to play Clay heads
up, but the only thing worse then losing a heads up match against an equally skilled regular was
rejecting said "battle". I needed to think quick.
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"I..uh.." I said as I looked at my watch which read noon "..was just about to go play that 1k at the
Wynn." Well done Matt.
I drove as far away from Clay as I could, ending on the 2nd floor of the Wynn parking garage. To
my surprise the field looked quite inviting as I paid my thousand bucks for the company of
several old men in golf shirts.
My focus was high, which is rare for early tournament moments, as my subconscious usually
tricks my brain into thinking the starting levels are worthless. I refused to autopilot and the
concentration paid off.
My aggressive image put me in a spot with 6 6
on a 6 7 9
flop. The preflop
aggressor led into 3 of us for 2k (2x pot) which I bumped up to 5200. He thought meticulously
before calling and lead jamming a 7
turn for 18k. His TT was no good when the river brought
aQ
and I was in business.
This would be the beginning of my over average stack, which would last for 95% of my
tournament life.
By the time dinner break came around I'd run it up to 100k and moved to a new table
accompanied by a few Vegas friends and one particular villain in the seat next door. As is often
the case in poker, I was playing aggressively against this villain to my right. To balance off the
incidental insults, I tried some small talk with the youngster.
My first attempt yielded no response. Was he offended by my 3bets? Did he take them personal?
Maybe he's deaf? I tried again, this time gently tapping him on the shoulder and repeating the
questions. He turned to look at me, sized me up top to bottom with his eyes, then returned to his
personal space without saying a word. **** this guy.
I ended day 1 with 117k in chips and a top 10 stack with 33 players left.
There wasn't much time to sleep as the TD requested us back by noon and the sun pulled its
annual daylight savings trick. But by 11:35 I was awake, and by 11:47 I'd remembered that all of
my clothes were still at Los Laundromat.
With BBs to burn, I considered the cross town drive, before looking at my imaginary WWJD
(What Would Jeremy Do) bracelet and throwing on yesterdays T-shirt and a spare pair of swim
trunks. I had a decent opportunity and I wasn't going to take it for granted.
Day 2 was slow. The majority of the field had a ton of BBs and nobody wanted to bust the
money bubble. I used that fear to my advantage, slowing growing my stack up to 200k by the
time we were down to 2 tables and safely in the money.

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With 13 players left and the blinds at 2,000/4,000 I opened T 7

in the CO to 8k. A good
player called in the sb and a super nitty older man defended his bb. The flop came T 8 7
rainbow and both players checked their options. I bet out 17k as the first player folded his hand.
The older gentleman picked up a handful of 5k chips and casually tossed them in the middle. The
total was 65k. I was completely lost. His defending range was wide enough to include 77 88 and
9J and I'd already seen him hold on for dear life with top pair hands.
I tanked for quite awhile. My opponent had leaned back in his seat, taken a drink of Fiji, and was
now catching up on the NBA game on TV. All signs of serious strength. But I knew this wasn't a
bluff from the get-go; I needed to beat his value range. I thought back deep to hands he'd played
previously in the day. How he 3bet KQ and played 2nd pair until the river. I was guilty of
stereotyping and polarizing his range. I had 2 pair and 50bbs in a tournament. I was all in.
"Call" the old man said loudly before flipping his hand face up. 8 7 . My biggest pot of
the tournament and I was in great shape. The turn brought a J , The river a 4 .
Shortly later it was on to the final table.
With 7 players left and a 400k stack I opened to 20k at 5k/10k and was called by a mp player
before the action got to the btn. He was tanking. I took a look over, it was the silent assassin from
day 1. Moments later he'd emerged with a raise to 70k.
"How much are you playing" I asked when the action returned to me. He opened his hand like a
****ing magician, displaying his chips but refusing to count them. "Sorry boys" I announced
after a minute, "I'm busy counting the crevices of chips." He had around 175k behind. I moved
all in for his entire stack.
There was no snap call, great news for wired Jacks. But the tank was perhaps a small needle, as
he had AK and we were flipping for the money. "You're golden" I heard from Aria grinder Pierce
in the 5 seat, as it was clear who he was rooting for. I chose to sweat Pierce's reaction instead of
the flop as he nodded proudly after the first 3 cards. The Q67 was followed by a T turn. The
river.9.
With 700k and 6 players left I was chip leader of the tournament. It would take us 3 and a half
hours to lose our next player.
I'd unsuccessfully run the biggest bluff of the night when I triple barreled a 9 7 3
8
J
for 180k on the river only to get called by 96o. A few hands later I got AA all in against 33. 3
in the door.
I was now the table shortstack. I got down to as low as 160k which was 16bbs. In the past a short
stack my as well have been a death sentence. I've played too impatiently and tried to win it all
back in one hand. But today something was different. I'd sat back and watched a guy named
Stephan Boker grind the paint off his chips with a 20bb stack all day. I was impressed and
inspired, vowing to appreciate the fact I still had chips.
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Stephan would be knocked out in the next spot leaving us 5 players. I was short, but I was on the
move. Well-timed jams had me back up to 330k when my biggest hand of the tournament came
up.
The action folded to the sb, a young Russian player, and he went all in for my 33bbs. I looked
down at 88 and instantly called it off. I was up against a red 66.
Again I chose to follow Pierce's reaction as the flop came out. "Ooooo" I heard him say as he
shook his head. My heart sank. He'd spiked a 6 and I was about to lose the damn tournament. I
looked at the board for confirmation and what I saw was 2nd life. No 6, but a 3 4 5
with
two diamonds. I was flipping for my tournament. The turn brought an 8
giving me more life.
The river an A .
With 2am approaching I knocked out another big stack with QQ against AT and we were down to
4.
Coming back from our final break the resident senior of the remaining players asked me if I was
Matt. He told me he'd like to shake my hand and thank me for the inspiration I'd given to his 21
year old son on his quest to playing professional poker.
As a profitable professional one of the remaining dilemmas is dealing with a lack of contribution
to society. Ive spent hours on end wondering if man were made to spend his time grinding
money off the unsuspecting. And it never gets easier. But at that moment, hearing a father tell me
that he was THANKFUL his son was chasing his dream because of my inspiration, some anxiety
was hushed, and a satisfying smile swept across my face.
Shortly later I shoved all in from the Sb for the BBs remaining 7bigs with 89o. He had 8T. But a
3-1 disadvantage wasn't nearly enough to pick me off. This was my day, my week, my month.
The river came a 9
knocking out our 4th place finisher as 3am rolled around.
With 3 players of equal stacks left we took a moment to pause and calculate an ICM. Minutes
later it was over. I'd cashed for $29,651. Our last hand would be a PLO flip for the granite statue
of the Wynn casino. My first two cards were 99 and the board ran out KK943.
Today was my day, my week, my month.
MM
04/03/13: Cards With Friends
During another early morning drive Derrick, Wes, and I woke ourselves up with a debate over
the world's biggest badass. UFC fighters and fictional movie characters were broken down and
dismissed before Derrick threw a celebratory punch at an imaginary victim from the drivers side
seat. The brim of his Jays cap rocked side to side and his voice raised as has become accustomed
when DG gets excited.

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"GriseldaBlanco" he said as Wes and I shared a glance and a here-he-goes-again headshake.

"Cocaine Cowboys. She was Miami's biggest coke dealer in the 80's. Used to sleep with guys,
then slit their throats in the middle of the night." Our looks of doubt adjusted as our eyebrows
raised and jaws dropped slightly. "That's a badass bitch," we laughed while pulling into Paiute
golf course.
This was how I'd spent my March days. Debating nonsense, prop-betting, and spraying my way
across the finest courses the Valley had to offer. In fact, since my victory at the Wynn Classic on
the 10th, I'd logged more hours on the fairway then the felt.
The 350 hours I'd played in January and February were catching up to me. And even though I
was on the heater of a lifetime, my psyche told me I needed some time off at risk of burning
myself out before the WSOP.
But once the sun descended and we ran out of holes there was still time for poker to be played.
After all, we were still junkies, and $25 a hole could only calm so many urges.
In one particular 25/50NL game I found myself deepstacked and holding pocket 8s in the CO.
DG opened utg to $150, I called the bet, as did the btn and the bb. The flop fell the beautiful
K 8 3
as the bb and DG checked to me. Typically this is a bet/bet/bet scenario, but I
decided to get tricky and check to the btn, an aggressive player with a barreling addiction.
He obliged with a $400 bet, but before I could act, DG had gotten to the check raise first. It was
$1300 to me. I smoothly called the bet, prompting a fold out of the btn. The turn was a Q ,
now two on the board, and DG followed up with another big bet, this time $2500. I was surprised
as I, myself, was representing a ton of strength. But all I could do was call. On a 4
river DG
went deep into the tank before rising with a $6k wager.
My mid-set monster had shriveled to a bluff catcher.
Still I haven't met any professionals who live by the mantra of "fold sets on dry boards", so I
called the bet, only to be shown the bad news. His Q Q
had turned 2nd set, bumping me
down to 2nd place in the race.
The next day we laughed about his good fortune as he picked me up on the way to Primm Valley
Golf Course. DG was on quite a run of his own, and I, of all people, was in no position to
complain about luck.
Poker remained on the back burner until Easter Sunday when I found myself back at Bellagio
hoping to close out the month as it had began. The game was all regulars; but what it lacked in
value it held in entertainment. With the Elite 8 on the TV and a cast of characters in the seats, I
was happy to be back at the tables.
It wouldn't be long before the action followed.

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DG opened in mp, Wayne called the co, and I flatted the K T

from the bb. On a Q 9
3
flop DG bet 140, Wayne called, and I check raised to 640. Both players called my bet. Stacks
were deep as the 4
binked the turn. I bet out 1160 aimed at keeping smaller flushes in the pot.
DG shot me a glance, gave Wayne a look, then raised to $3300.
Wayne gave his neighbor a look at his cards before folding what I could only suspect as a flush. I
called the bet certain I was up against the nuts or beating bluffs, nothing in between.
I expected DG to shut down his bluffs, as I planned a check and a fold to a bet on the river. But
plans change. The Q
rolled off and now the creative portion of my brain spotted an out. Not
only can I beat his bluffs, but now I can get him to fold the nut flush. After all, how the hell can I
be bluffing here?
"Fifty five hundred" I announced while meticulously placing the chips in the pot.
DG sprung out of his seat. Typically silent at the table, he checked the board, then his cards,
while replaying the hand out loud. It was obvious he had the nut flush. "You led into 3 people on
the turn. You did this with a SET" he said, taken back. No Derrick it was two people. One, two.
Count with me here.
"Are you good enough to turn a flush into a bluff," he asked, this time while peering up directly
into my eyes. No, Im certainly not. That would be crazy, I mean it's a flush man. Be real.
"You can't have Q9. You can't have 33. You can only have 99," he preached while brushing the
9
with his knuckle from the 6 seat. I promise you I can have all three. Don't go extreme range
syndrome on me now.
I was desperate internally as it appeared he was talking himself into a call. I wanted my bluff
back. Hell, I wanted my turn call back. But there was still hope as I stared at the corner of the
Q , dreaming of a buzzer beating fold.
"5,500 for one hand? Alright, I call."
The adrenaline was over as I flipped over my cards. His A Q
followed right behind.
Another 20k pot between friends, and another pot pushed towards DG.
I sat there quietly replaying the hand in my head. The mood at the table had changed as it often
does after somebody losses big. The jokes were replaced with silent stares at the TV.
I kept thinking everybody was looking at me. Or worse, that everybody was thinking about me.
Fuck, I hate that feeling.
I wanted to roll in a ball; to be anywhere but there.

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Lost in my thoughts it dawned on me that the next morning I'd be driving 2 hours to Mesquite
with the guy who just stacked me. I wanted nothing to do with that car ride, or that round of golf.
The truth is, friendships can be tough between competitive people in similar fields. It's a
challenge to be happy for somebody when their progress coincides with your own downtick.
My ego was blurring the line between friends and foes.
I walked outside Panorama the next morning waiting for DG and Wes, conscious of the way that
I handled myself. I wanted to act normal, but I didn't know how.
I opened the door as his Grama-green rental car rolled up, with "All Eyez on Me" seeping out the
windows. We sat silently for 15 seconds or so as I subtly nodded my head to the beat, staring out
at I-15 traffic. And then came the inevitable. Derrick reached for the volume nob, turned to the
left, and I swallowed my breath, bracing for an emotion somewhere between pity and
embarrassment.
His Blue Jays hat nodding from side to side he looked back at me and said "ManTupac was a
PUSSY." I laughed a sigh of relief as did Wes from the front, as he pled the case for his ludicrous
argument all the way to Mesquite.
We never did talk about that hand; but everything was cool. And that's the way it should be.
MM
2pac-Tupac All Eyez On Me
05/22/13: The Bag
It was 7am Minnesota time as I stretched my neck from 17c of the Spirit airlines redeye flight to
Chicago. The strain from sitting in an unretractable block of concrete had caught on almost
simultaneously with the final release of adrenaline strands I'd picked up during last nights big
game at Bellagio.
We'd dropped off a group of remorseful flyers at St. Paul International and prepared for the next
batch of outloud regret that seems to be the only constant in an otherwise unreliable Spirit
experience. I was exhausted and uncomfortable. Unshaven and underdressed, I subconsciously
adjusted my slouched posture as my new neighbor stuffed his briefcase into the overhead bin
before taking 17b.
"Rough weekend in Vegas?" he wondered aloud while buckling up.
I was too tired from the night and aloof from the year to decipher between his condescension or
friendliness. Instead I nodded, looking up just long enough to catch his suit pants, Burberry tie,
and perfectly manicured hair flowing from the Southwest to the Northeast corner of his head.
He looked about my age as he told me his name was Corey and he was on his way to Chicago for
a business trip. There was a time we may have had a lot in common, a time we could've bonded.
But in 2013 at 7am, he was just waking up and I was ready for bed.
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Nonetheless, he continued to push small talk. I figured it was a trait he'd picked up networking,
sometime after college. I'd never had to learn that skill, never really left my comfort zone. Poker
kept things comfortable. Money kept things simple.
A month prior I'd been sitting at table 14, drinking beers and playing Taiwanese poker when my
phone buzzed. I'd gotten an offer to play in a highly profitable super big game in LA. I say offer
and not invitation, because well, it was nothing like an invitation. Like most business deals in
Vegas, it was an EV tug of war. Once we'd reached a monetary agreement, which also included
no blogging about the game, I'd used excitement to quickly sober up and prepare for the 3 hour
drive to Southern Cali.
The game was a 25/50 100k minimum and planned to run all weekend. So after throwing
together some clothes, cash, and a Chad Kultgen book, I was off to LA at 2am, just me and my
old high school gym bag.
I slept that night with one strap of that Nike bag around my arm. A bag that used to hold my
sweaty socks and basketball jersey, now held a quarter of a million dollars in cash.
I took it to breakfast in Beverly Hills and the beach in Santa Monica, secured to my body as
tightly as my limbs. Walking back to my car, I saw an older man talking into his Bluetooth
approaching from the other direction. I detoured to the other sidewalk, taking no chances as to
who was a risk and who was not.
There was a reason I'd had that bag for 10 years: it was nostalgia. For a decade it'd held onto my
athletic gear. I'd trusted it with the things I loved most. And on this day it was fitting that it held
my bankroll. I couldn't enjoy the weather or even walk into the ocean because I was too worried
the old man on the sidewalk was scheming to take the bag.
Poker can take you so many places if you play your cards right. It opens doors you never even
knew were there. But it also has a way of keeping you tied down, allowing only one foot in the
door because the other one's stuck.
If I was like Corey, maybe I would've enjoyed my day in LA. Would've seen more things in
Australia, met more people in Canada. If I was like Corey maybe I wouldn't have cut my Europe
trip short, maybe I would've asked out the girl from the Venetian. I would've left my comfort
zone because that's what I would've been trained to do.
Instead I was trained to get money. Because money means freedom, and freedom, well, that's
what were all after.
I walked into the poker game that night, relieved to take the money out of the bag and put it on
the table. One of the action players came up with excitement and told me he'd seen me playing
on TV. I smiled back and confirmed what wasn't true, knowing that a lie that helped my place in
the game was a lie worth telling.

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Later in the night another of the multi millionaires took his frustration out on the dealer, telling
her that her "people" were what's wrong with this country and that she was as ugly as the cards
she'd been dealing him all night. The rest of us sat in silence as she fought back tears the best that
she could. Our loyalties lied with the money, and even if one of us had broken through and
placed our morals above our bankrolls, speaking out against the fish meant you were messing
with EVERYBODYS money. And that's against the gamblers code.
I won the next hand, maybe 2 or 300 dollars, Tossing the dealer a $25 green chip, my pathetic
attempt at justifying silence.
The game broke that night, failing to live up to it's weeklong potential. I hit the road
immediately, with a little more cash in my bag and a little more on my mind. Like all poker trips,
I was satisfied, but ready to get back to my comfort zone.
Drifting off I wondered if I would've been better off like Corey; Been more equipped to handle
life without the shelter my lifestyle provided. And finally, I wondered about the things I'd seen,
and if I'd ever really seen anything at all.
MM
Kid Cudi - Just What I Am
06/19/13: Streaking at the WSOP
Thank you everybody!!! Cant say enough how much the support means. Its gonna take awhile to
get over the disappointment of some of my decisions heads up, but all the love I've gotten is
making it a whole lot easier.
I wrote this blog 5 days ago after the Mix-Max, funny how fast things can change...
Streaking at the WSOP
Walking through the crowds of Bellagio, I was bumped hard maneuvering my way towards the
back podium. I turned around expecting to say something regrettable to the careless walker, or at
least meet eyes long enough to show him that I could make the meaner face. But by the time Id
turned he was long gone, lost in the sea of dreamers.
I was irritated.
Maybe it was the bump. Or perhaps the 20 minutes I'd spent panting my way through the Rio
pavement looking for my car in the desert heat.
Who am I kidding, I was on edge cause it was 5pm, and once again I was at Bellagio planning
the rest of my day, instead of sitting at the Rio, planning my dinner break.
0-5 for the year. A small slump for a great player, a slight bump in the road. But for ME, it was
just another handful of losses added to a career Oh-for-TwentySomething record at the WSOP.

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I felt another bump. Though this one more gentle and direct. It was Alyssa, the ex-girlfriend of
Dan Wojcik and current grinder of NL Holdem. She'd been playing off and on for a year or so.
Long enough to gather the rules and general strategy.
She had a big smile on her face, as I asked her how she'd been. "Great," she responded, "I just
played my first bracelet event."
"Oh cool, that's really exciting," I told her, "Did you have fun?"
"Yeah, but it was Pot Limit Omaha, so I didn't really know what I was doing. Busted in 93rd."
"93rd?" I asked back, my tone dropping to almost a whisper, "That'suhthat's in the money,
right?"
"Yeahstupid mincash," She shot back, matter-of-factly.
I smiled and nodded as my nails gravitated towards my right cheek. The beard I'd refused to trim
until I cashed a tournament was suddenly itching.
Alyssa was the 2nd girlfriend I'd known who'd cashed their first ever WSOP tournament. She
was sweet and happy-go-lucky. But to me, at this moment, neither happy or lucky, she was here
as perspective for how historically horrible I'd been.
I'll never forget Drew Himes duck-hooking a 3 wood into the jar for his 3rd hole in one while I
hit another 5 iron to 6 feet; and I'll never forget Alyssa telling me about her stupid mincash.
I had this summer all planned out. Gradual improvement, until I finally broke through and joined
my friends with deep runs and bracelet sweats. I was okay with some bruises along the way, but
when your road is one big speed bump it's hard to gain momentum.
Maybe I needed a setback.
In a year that's exceeded all my expectations maybe it's fair that variance waited until summer to
keep me from what I've wanted the most.
For now, I'll continue to hit the range and make sure I'm ready for my opportunity; cause you can
only hit it to 6 feet so many times before one of them accidentally goes in. And I'll keep my
jealousy masked behind the "No Cash" beard, as I enjoy my long strolls through the Rio parking
lot and dinners with no time limit.
MM
Classified - Inner Ninja
06/21/13: Jason Day and I
The next day was hard. I was exhausted on all fronts; mentally, physically, and emotionally. I
hadn't eaten much more then apple in 3 days, hadn't really slept either. And ever since Jason Day

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missed a kick in on the 72nd hole at Merion Golf Course, I'd only thought about one thing
winning a World Series of Poker gold bracelet.
"Let's hit the road" I heard from across the couch. "If we hurry, we can still make it." It was easy
for Kyle to say, he had bet against Day. I was still suspended to the leather, wondering how
Jason, my favorite golfer, and this week's horse had let another opportunity at a major
championship slip away.
But it was 425 pm on Sunday, and if I hurried out of my state of content, I could make the 4:40
registration deadline for the 1K NL event. I could miss game 5 of the NBA Finals and put up a
thousand dollars, that historically speaking, had a zero percent chance of coming back my way.
"Going as fast as I can" I shot back sarcastically as I strolled to my room extra slowly to throw
on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.
We'd made it just in time. Kyle, Mike, and I all drawing the late registration table where they
would quickly disperse us to open seats at all corners of the Brasilia room. Glancing at the TV, I
cracked a rare Rio smile. There were only 1400 players left out of the beginning 2100, I'd
already outlasted 1/3rd of the field.
At my first table, my 15bbs and I were accompanied by former world champion Jonathon
Duhamel. Everybody and their mom had questions for him. What did you buy with all your
money? Can you believe Joe Cheong spazzed with A7? Is Negraneau really that cool in real life?
I had no interest in these mundane inquiries. I wanted to hear about his ex-girlfriend. The one
who tied him up and robbed him at gun point. Moreso I wanted to know if he ever ****ed her
after that. He must've, I concluded, given the opportunity.
I restrained in the name of appropriateness, instead watching how he handled all of the attention
that he undoubtedly got every time he sat down at a table. Without saying more then 2 to 3 words
to him, I decided that Duhamel was a good guy. Also a great poker ambassador. For the moment,
I regretted fantasizing about his gunpoint kidnapping.
Chip stack speaking, I got off to a great start; but that goes without saying, because when you're
sitting with 15bbs, those who don't get off to a great start are sent directly back to their couch. I
stole a few opens and knocked off a shortys A2 with KQ to grow my 3k stack to 5500 by dinner
break.
Sitting with Mike and Kyle at the Vdara bar I made a pretty bold statement in between Danny
Green 3pointers. "Guys, I've got a good feeling about this tournament. I might just win the
thing." They laughed while reminding me that I had 5,500 chips and it would take 6.3 million to
claim victor.
We got back to the Rio a few minutes before the next level and I took the opportunity to walk
down the hall that connected the hotel with the conference center. I've found that one of the cures

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to chronic anxiousness is walking, so whenever I have the choice between moving or standing, I
move.
On the way back towards the tournament area I took a look at the Phil Ivey poster in one of the
windows. Nine bracelets it read. I don't think I've made nine dinner breaks. Once again my hero
had found a way to impress me. I gave both of his outward pointing fists a pound.
Phil and I were homies, whether he knew it or not.
The next few levels were all a big blur. I went on a run that I'd never experienced in my WSOP
career. 400 players remained and the money bubble drew into focus as I'd grown my stack to
76k, 15k above whom Pokernews had listed as the chip leader. I was playing solid and refusing
to let my big stack cause me to spazz, as I took the opportunities that came my way and gave
away no free chips.
I'd decided the majority of the credit was owed to Phil. And to soothe my obsessive compulsions
I would walk to his poster at every single break and give him knuckles.
Back on the home front, Mike had gotten wind of my big stack. "Bubble time" he told me. "Time
to open up your game and really get some chips." He was right, I thought as I walked back to my
seat after a short meeting with Phil.
Two hours later I'd ended my "opening up" experiment with half of the weapons I'd started it
with. I limped into day two with 37,500 chips. We were in the money, my first ever WSOP cash,
but I didn't care much. I was mad at myself for getting off my game, and knew that if day 2 was
going to be special, I would have to remain true to myself.
I was up early the next day. Even though 200 players remained, I couldn't escape the irrational
thoughts of winning the whole tournament. It seemed like forever, but eventually 1pm strolled
around and day 2 had begun.
Before the 1st level ended I was all in against a medium stack with JJ vs AQ. I watched his face
as the flop fell, and his confirming nod told me everything. The A
had popped up, crippling
my stack and any real thoughts of turning my first cash at the series into a meaningful one.
But the tilt that I typically feel when losing chips wasn't following. I was on the ultimate freeroll.
It was my first cash, in a tournament I shouldn't have even been in. If I lost, I'd get to go play a
juicy 10/20/40 game at the Bellagio. Life wasn't so bad.
I gave Phil another pound, thanked him for my first cash, and went back to work, ready to battle
as a short stack. As luck would have it, the lack of investment would lead to an abundance of
chips.
I had a super aggressive player to my left, which meant tightening up my opening ranges. KJ, AT,
T9ss, all of these hands were thrown directly to the muck. When I opened, I had it. My neighbor

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didn't seem to care; Still 3betting me about half of my opens. I was 4betting a ton. I was check
raising even more. By dinner break, with 33 players left, I was in the top half of the crowd.
As we got down to 3 tables our chips were moved to the stadium area of the Rio. Memories
quickly surfaced of standing in those same bleachers last year cheering on Jeremy as he made his
run in the Main Event. It wasn't quite the ultimate, but this was the real deal. I was in the
spotlight with a serious opportunity here.
A hearing impaired gentleman was sitting on my right and decided to limp the co at 3k/6k like I'd
seen him do before. I made it 18k on the btn with AJ, and immediately our spazzing neighbor
was suspicious. He made it 47k in the sb as the co went into the tank. Eventually he rose with his
right hand against his ear in the shape of a cellphone, it was his universal signal for a call. I too
was now suspicious. I had 35bbs and plenty of play. AJ was a vulnerable hand. I could fold and
safely look for a better spot, conservatively moving up the pay latter.
OrI could try and win the poker tournament.
"I'm all in" I announced, my heart racing for the first real time of the tournament. The spazz
folded, which was relieving, but not all that surprising. The CO was the real wild card. Minutes
passed. This time he took his right finger and spun it around like a hurricane. He was all in.
The hands were flipped up as I first caught wind of his K . And then the J . The excitement
took over as I flew out of my seat, standing as my essential tournament life was about to pass by
in the form of 5 cards. The flop came all low, and included no diamonds. The turn paired the
board. I was one non K from a really big stack. As instructed the dealer paused forever, allowing
the Pokernews reporters to catch up before flipping the river.
And then it came. The T

The day ended with 13 players left. And I, a cashless Joe Shmoe, Was 4th in chips.
As I awoke the morning before day 3, the texts were rolling in steadily. By the end of the night, I
would receive 300 of them, and many more messages in the form of Facebook, twitter, and
email.
The magnitude of the situation was slowly coming to light. To keep myself calmed, I did what I
do and made jokes. In the WSOP Bio sheet we were all asked to fill out, I decided to live out my
dream of being a pro ball player. It was an added bonus, knowing they might confuse me for the
Rays left handed pitcher.
By the time they announced us for the final 9 my introduction read, "Mathew Moore, a pro
baseball player, who learned the game from Chris Moneymaker has zero World Series of Poker
cashes.
If it's possible to stay unnoticed without a disguise, I'd felt I'd done the job.

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Early in the final table I was having trouble with the Russian to my right. A man of few words,
"raise" was definitely his favorite. I tried folding, calling, and reraising, none of which seemed to
work.
On the first break I went to my phone to check the texts:
Dad- Russian making you look silly.
Thanks, Dad. I hadn't noticed.
But for all the small pots that the Russian would win, I knew that if we played a big one I liked
my chances.
The opportunity came when he opened the co and I 3bet the btn to 135k with AK. He 4bet small
to 250K, a move that set up the perfect 1mill chip jam. But before I could pull the trigger, I had a
moment of clarity. Why jam when you can give him one more chance at a bluff.
"345k" I announced.
The Russian adjusted his posture, took a swig of his Grey Goose and began playing with his
cards. Fearless, as always, he reached for his chips and jammed them in the middle. I followed
him in, immediately.
Again, I had to fade KJ.
I flew out of my seat and ran back to my now growing rail as we sweat the biggest pot of my life
together on the big screen. The first four cards brought the Russian no help. I need to dodge a
KingOne more time.
I stared at my friends instead of the screen, as the dealer burned the final card.
I never saw the river. Only the overflow of joy as my rail jumped in the air screaming with
excitement. I let out a few right handed fist pumps, before floating back to my seat, poised to win
the tournament.
Hours passed as five of us grinded out preflop raises and nobody refused to go easily. And then,
in two quick strikes, the Russian and Carter Meyers were out. It was dinner break and my rail
and I headed down Flamingo and Decatur for some in and out Italian food.
My phone was off the hook. "Good Lucks" and "Holy ****'s!!" coming from all directions,
ranging from middle school friends to Phil Laak. My friends were completely toasted by now as
they all offered the best advice they could in their certain states of mind.
Brandon Myers helped me with 20bb shoving ranges, Joe Bartholdi told me to be true to myself,
and my roommate Mike frantically instructed the waiters to make sure our food was quick. My
girlfriend asked why I was ignoring her and my mom called in to tell me to smile more.

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The atmosphere was fucking absurd. But all I could think about was one thing.
We got back to the Rio, walked in the main door, and I started walking left. "Where the hell are
you going" I heard from behind "You're about to start again."
"Follow me" I yelled back as the entirety of my rail walked down the Rio hallway.
We got to the picture of Phil, and everybody with me gave him the good luck double fist bump,
before we headed back in to the final table.
The action had already started; I'd missed one hand. But it was all good, cause Ivey was on my
side.
Moments later, Jesse, the short stack was all in and behind. The chip leader held and we were
heads up for the bracelet.
Chris had 4.3 million and I held 2. He held the advantage, but it wouldn't last for long. I came
out of the gates firing. He was playing tentatively and I planned on taking advantage.
Chris limped the btn and I checked the bb with Q8. On a K Q 4
he bet out and I called.
The turn was an A and again Chris bet. I expected him to rarely bet this turn for value, so
again I called. The river came one of the ugliest cards in the deck, the J . Any T, K, A, or two
pair now beat me. And Chris was telling a story like he had it. He bet huge, almost the size of the
pot as I sat there reading him with my 3rd pair.
I noticed a swallow, which lead me to his neck. His pulse was pounding at an uncomfortable rate.
I couldn't imagine what I beat, but my poker instincts had gotten me this far and I wasn't about to
abandon them now.
I through a single chip into the pot, indicating a call. Chris gulped before turning over the 96o.
My Queen was good.
The energy in the room was completely on my side. I'm going to win a bracelet. My stack was
now up to 3.7m as his had slid to 2.6m. I imagined he was tilting as he 3bet my K T
a few
hands later. I called the raise as the flop fell Q J 4 . Chris bet out at the flop for 400k and I
called, knowing any A or 9 and the one thing I'd been dreaming about since I was 15 years old
could potentially come through.
The turn was the 5
completing the flush. Chris postured, before betting again, this time 600k.
My straight draw had weakened significantly; but I saw an outlet. I'd been controlling the match,
Chris was out of momentum. There was no way he was going to give up on this pot on the flop.

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I expected him to barrel light, and I expected him to reconsider with his tournament life on the
line. The words "All in" were creeping to the forefront of my tongue. And then, in mid-thought,
they spilled out.
I'd done this twice before at the final table; both with light 4bet's all in. Once I had A9 and the
other time KQ, but my instincts told me my opponents were full of it, so both times I'd allowed
the magic words to slip out.
And now, I'd done it again.
Chris gave a strange look, rechecked his cards, and yelled "call". My rail exploded with energy,
but there was nothing to be excited about. Chris had the K 3
and a stone cold lock on the
hand.
As the meaningless river spilled out, Chris had taken 3/4th of my chips. I was left with under 1m.
I fought back and gained some ammo. I even got all in again, allowing me the joy of one more
sweat, by the rail with my best friends in the world. But soon the blinds would raise and Chris
would have a run of his own. With 1.6m and 16bbs I rejammed K6. Chris called with A7 and
after flopping an Ace, it was suddenly all over.
I shook Chris' hand, told him he played great and deserved the title. After that, they rushed me
off the stage and over to the payout counter.
It was over. And I had no idea what to do.
The next day was tough. I didn't want to talk, didn't even want to leave bed. I'd won almost a
quarter million dollars and I was depressed. I was a prisoner to my brain as the KT hand played
over and over like a radio hit. I couldn't forgive myself for how it played out; I felt I'd let
everybody down.
I scrolled through my texts in the midst of the all day nap to find one from Jeremy. We talked for
a bit and he told me he knew how I feltand he did. He'd jammed in a similar spot for 10 times
the stakes. He assured me that time heals all wounds, and he told me I'd be back.
He was right. At least about half of it.
It's been 3 days now, and I've had the chance to reflect on the whole experience. I've lost my
connection to the bracelet and instead can look at my accomplishment as a whole body of work.
My bankroll got a huge boost and my friends and family got to see me do what I love, in real
time, on the greatest stage in poker.
I may have missed the putt on 18, but I missed it with my own stroke. I played my game all the
way to a WSOP final table in a field of 2,100 runners.
And just like Jason Day, I'll be back.

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MM
Walk Off The Earth - Red Hands
09/05/13: Dumb Luck
Waiting in line outside the Horseshoe casino, my attention span was tickled by the approaching
valet.
"You'll get 'em tomorrow," he assured the most recent loser as he opened her driver's side door.
The look of defeat was vibrantly drooping with the skin of her face, as she handed him a tipless
ticket before driving off into the Indiana night.
You don't notice these things in Vegas; the lifeless looks, the sluggish exits. Misery is
conveniently disguised behind desert tans and vacation bliss.
But you won't find Hammond, Indiana in Travel + Leisure.
This is compulsive gambling in its realest and rawest form. And as I wait amongst the rest of the
day's victims, the anomaly that is a winning gambler has never been more present.
In a system built to get as much money as quickly as possible, we as poker players have slipped
through the metaphorical cracks. Surrounded by the equally driven but poorly guided, Im struck
with guilt like a bolt of lightning.
What did I do to deserve what all these other people can't find? Why me?
Days after my WSOP final table, I was out with friends at our favorite sushi joint. A popular
poker destination, it came as no surprise to see Jason Mercier, Tom Marchese, and another
familiar face on the other side of the restaurant. It did, however, strike me as odd, when the 3rd
member approached our table, making eye contact on the way over.
"Hi, Im Matt Waxman," he said while extending his hand in my direction. "Just wanted to come
over and say congrats on your run."
I thanked him with a smile, still trying to figure out why he knew the 2nd place finisher of a
random 1k.
"My horse was actually at the final table," he continued, making sense of the situation. "Can I
ask you a question about a hand you played?"
"Sure" I told him, flattered by the request.
"It was the end of day 2, and you went all in on a K84AK board over Chris's river bet."
I remembered the hand distinctly. With 15 players left, I held 25bbs and flatted Chris's co raise
from the btn. It came K 9 4
and Chris made a continuation bet of 21k. I called and the

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turn brought the 4th

, an A. Chris slowed down with a check, and I mirrored his decision on
the btn. The river paired the board with another black K
and Chris led out for 60k. It was a
large bet and after some deliberation I put my entire 173k stack into the middle. Chris, normally
a quick thinker, was pained. He sat in his seat for over 3 minutes, his eyes darting between the
board, his stack, and my face. Internally, I was praying he'd get stubborn with the J or T of
spades.
"I had black queens," I told Waxman, as his face lit up in an I-Told-You-So manner.
"I knew it" he responded with a snap. "Chris tossed 4s full into the muck".
My jaw dropped; I was speechless.
I made three unique decisions that hand, to mask my hand against a great player like Chris. If I
hadn't flatted preflop, checked back the turn, AND jammed the river, I would've been busted in
15th for 12k.
But because I played the hand against potentially the only person in the 2200 player field who
could hand read well enough to fold a boat, my thin value bet worked as a 203k bluff.
Days later, one of my closest friends would finish the job that I couldn't get done. Deep Pulusani
came back from a 12-1 chip deficit to win the 3k nl bracelet and I had the pleasure of
commentating the whole run in the ESPN booth.
Deep and I came up together in the 5/10 game. He came to town with a 10k liferoll. Admittingly,
had that first week gone awry he would've been right back in Huntsville, broke and searching for
a 9 to 5. Instead, he's a World Series of Poker champion, master of his own schedule.
Minutes later my car arrived, and I was relieved to escape the aura of the bottom of the gambling
hierarchy. I've always understood that without the degens, casinos wouldn't exist, and I couldn't
make a living. But after humanizing a statistic it became impossible to enjoy the fruits of victory
without consideration for the anguish that breeds it.
I vented to Nick as we began the hour long journey back to our suburban bubble. "Dude you've
worked hard to get where you're at," he reminded me in his ploy for a less depressing hour.
And he was right, to some degree. I've loved poker since the first hand I was dealt. I loved poker
enough to not do my homework in high school, to skip class in college, and to bypass job
opportunities.
While everybody else was doing what they thought was best for their future, I was selfishly
doing what was best for my now. I didn't stay up until dawn playing online because I thought I
could make a million bucks doing it one day. I did so because it was more fun then assigned
reading.

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And now as my friends, who always did the right thing, aren't getting the juice that they
rightfully squeezed, my cup is overflowing.
The line between fortune and forgotten is so fragile in poker that the what-ifs have legitimate
cases and the why mes deserve a shadow of guilt on their road to the top. One card here or one
pot there and I could still be in the corner that my immaturity backed me into.
Instead, Im not; poker bailed me out. And for that I feel gratefulgrateful and guilty.
MM
The Luckiest Man - The Wood Brothers
11/21/13: Cookies and Chips
February 2013
Walking through the desolate Bellagio casino, we took a right before reception, heading past the
high roller Baccarat lounge, and into their back room where big time pit players snacked for free.
It was a fun little game during our breaks from the all night poker sessions, which were common
lately, trying to adjust to Mr. Macau's schedule. The challenge was making it through the room
without the pit boss knowing we had absolutely no interest in giving them action. And the prize
was the cookies. The softest, most delicious oatmeal raisin cookies you can find in the valley.
It was a stealth mission that required minimal eye contact and fake conversation; the essentials to
pretending like you belonged all along. I'd heard of poker players being turned away before, but
those guys were careless. They were loud, and noticeable, making no mistake that they were in it
for the cookies.
On this day, a day like any other, I'd taken my eyes off the floor. While only briefly, it was long
enough to lock stares with the graveyard shift manager; His nametag read John.
He knew; he had to.
I could see it in the way his eyes followed my steps. I expected a confrontation, a lecture, maybe
even the black list. But just as I thought he was about to open his mouth, he smiled, ever so
slightly, and nodded. I was in the clear. And that cookie was the most delicious cookie I've ever
had in my life.
Present Day
"The next best thing to gambling and winning...is gambling and losing." It's my favorite of the
many ramblings from high stakes regular Len Ashby. And while it doesn't fit my delicate,
calculated mindset, I'm aware of the truths that bred such a statement and their presence
throughout the poker room. Losing elicits a certain type of thinness in your blood stream, of
lightness in your head, of panic in your heart. And while every gambler's first wish is the thrill of
victory, many will settle for feeling alive.
I would never pledge allegiance to such an absurd statement, but October gave me no choice
besides an involuntary check in to Len's runner up "happy place".

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It all started during a 50/100nl game at the start of the month. Games this big run 4-5 times a
year and as a general rule of thumb are a good time to run your purest. I'd bought into that theory
so far in my young high stakes career, choosing these biggest moments for my safest turn and
river cards.
However, on this particular day, I couldn't get anything going. I was stuck 100bbs, and sitting on
a 17k stack when opportunity knocked. Chris Johnson opened early, I flatted the CO with black
queens and Chau Gaing came along in the bb. The flop fell 235 with two
s and it checked to
me. I bet out 600, which was met with a check raise from Chau to 2k. Chau, while historically on
the tighter side, had been feeling a bit frisky on this night, getting out of line on a few occasions,
potentially in an effort to exploit to size of the game to his best advantage. I called the bet,
predicting a favorable turn card. I was not disappointed as the Q
came along. Chau showed
little interest in the size of the card as he put out a $4,600 bet. With $14,500 in my stack the
decision to call or jam came down to my interpretation of Chau's hand. If I thought he was weak,
a call would be best. But his lack of concern for the Q told me he was strong, at a minimum the
nut flush draw. I announced "all in".
Chau called the bet and we settled on a 2 river run out. Both produced inconsequential red Kings;
This pot would have one winner. I turned over my top set at the same time that Chau revealed
4 6 . I took a deep breath, nodded my head at the inevitable facts and left for the day, a 27k
loser, my biggest single session drop of all time.
The swings that followed were big. 25/50 was running everyday and I had 2 separate sessions of
20k in each direction. My tolerance for pain was increasing as my value for the dollar depleted.
To me it seemed productive; all of the greats have little to no value for the dollar. It helps them
make the biggest calls, and well timed bluffs, zoning out all the bull****, and focusing on
nothing but the logic problem at hand.
I'd always found myself in the middle of that pendulum, watching friends of mine both too nitty
and too spewy, while I tiptoed cautiously on the side of logically risky. But thatwas all about to
change.
It was a Wednesday night and the NL game had just come to end sometime around midnight. I
was sitting alone with my chips, not yet tired, and hoping that maybe the game had one more
chance at revival. Just as I was racking up, in walked Matt Kirk. Matt, an Australian who
migrated to LA, has a reputation for playing some of the biggest PLO games in the country. But
tonight, he was here for a different game.
"Lets play some Taiwanese," he asked, recognizing me from the game the night before.
Taiwanese is a new age form of Chinese poker. Players get dealt 7 cards and make their best
Omaha, Holdem, and High Card hands. Two boards are then run out and chips are tossed to
whomever made the biggest hands. There is no betting or any postflop skill, but there is strategy
on where to place your cards. And since I have a lot of experience and it was Matt's first time, I
was more then happy to press my small edge.

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We started at 100 a point and eventually moved it to 200. By 730am I was stuck $7,000 and
worried that Matt was about to call it a night. "Alright mate," he told me, "I hate to leave a
winner like this, but I have given you seven hours of action."
My mind started racing through its hysterical state. I wanted to convince him to stay, I wanted to
get unstuck. But it was true, he had every right to leave. "It's cool," I told him "good game." It
was then, maybe he sensed the dejection on my face, or perhaps the all night bonding made it
tough to leave me stuck.
"But hey, I know how we can get even," he told me. "And we can do it together."
I should've gone home. I should've laughed off his ridiculous statement, like I always do. But I
was stuck, and my sleep-deprived brain wasn't able to sense the danger.
"Follow me".
I'd recognized my surroundings though the ground felt different. I was walking loudly, no longer
on my toes, and my head was held high. I was back in the baccarat loungebut I wasn't there for
the cookies.
We sat down at an empty table, reaching to our pockets for leftover yellows and flags.
"Gentleman, can I grab your players cards," I heard drawing my attention to the suit behind the
table. I saw the name tag first. And then the smile that 9 months later finally made sense. While I
may have won the battle for the cookies, John had won the war.
But that was nothing but semantics at this point. It was 8am and I was stuck like a pig. I pulled
out 13 yellows, refusing the dealers request for change.
The game felt like blackjack as I was dealt 2 cards, though Matt explained to me that our goal
was 9. He taught me how to sweat the sides, when the dealer needed to hit, and told me about
these things called "naturals".
I still can't confirm if the "naturals" were a real prize, or just one of Matt's ploys to add optimism
to my diminishing stack. We never did hit one.
By the 10th hand I was immediately turning my cards face up, bypassing the "sweat" and
eliminating the only ounce of innocent fun that the game supplied.
Later, two Asian players joined us. They were smiling and betting black chips; really milking the
sweat for everything it was worth. They looked happyAnd I couldn't ****ing stand it.
I moved to my own table, telling the new dealer that I wasn't here for the patronizing apologies
and I'd greatly appreciate if she dealt as fast as possible.

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I lost my 28th hand, driving my all time record to 4-24. I was the Jacksonville Jaguars of
Baccarat. I reached into my right pocket for another reload, but there was nothing there. I
reached into my left and felt the same physical emptiness.
"Ah mate, well that was ****, wasn't it" I heard from Matt, sounding as if he'd spilled coffee on
his shirt, or scraped his iPhone. "Alright well, I'll catch you later," he finished, completely
oblivious to the fact that I had just done the stupidest thing in my 25 years of existence.
I sat there, glued to the chair, as he waddled off into the night, left with nothing but my own
regret, a 30k tab, and an oatmeal raisin cookie.
I woke up the next morning, momentarily believing it had all been a creation of my own
imagination. But that pipe dream quickly burst, as the crumbles on my bed stand slapped me
back to reality. In some ways I'm happy with how it all turned out. The non-stop onslaught of
losing left me little doubt that I'll never be back in that room, and Matt whistling off into the
night reminded me that real misery has no company.
And all I can do now is regroup and rebuild.
Clear eyes, Full hearts.
MM
Tony Lucca - Devil Town

2014
02/20/14: Two Real Life Shorts
Drinks With Ernie
I was seventeen years old when I was given advice that I'll never forget.
I was gliding through the halls of the Cog Hill clubhouse fueled by a 75 in my last ever high
school golf tournament when I recognized a Chicago legend having a beer by himself.
He was well past his playing days but there was no confusing the smile of Mr. Cub.
"How'd you hit 'em, Mr. Banks," I asked while pulling up a chair at the adjacent table. "Cooked,"
he laughed before returning to his beer for a sip. I assumed that was the end of our conversation
as he scrolled through his phone, but just as I thought to get up he turned to me. "Kid," he started
as he shook his head, "watch out for women." I nodded, pretending like I had a clue where this
was going. "Cause they'll drain you for everything," he finished with an ironic smirk.
And that was it.
Seventeen year old me, who was still more concerned with getting women than getting rid of
them, was given the most nonsensical unapplying advice of my life from a drunk Ernie Banks. It
was like preparing for the end of your favorite TV show before you'd finished the first episode. I
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was confused and saddened and had absolutely no idea what to say as I extended the sip of my
coke long enough to freeze my brain and surpass the expectation that I prepare a response.
Mr. Cub was out of his mind.
Turk Going Off
A few Sundays ago I got a morning text from a friend that sent shock waves through my veins.
"Turk going off" it read simply enough to the standard eye. But I knew enough about Turk to
know each word was worth at least 10k a piece.
My instincts directed my fingers towards a "seats open?" return like the forces of a Ouija board.
But before I could hit send, real life took over. I looked up from my phone and sitting across the
table was Alyssa, smiling as she took a picture of something called a mimosa. We were miles
from the action, having brunch at DW Bistro, and as much as I would've liked to speed down the
215 and lock up a seat in a dream game with the tilting Turk, it wasn't going to happen.
After years of waiting for my return to Chicago, my long time girlfriend took the initiative and
began her "Bring Matt Home" tour with a strategic move to the desert. Gone are the all night
sessions and spontaneous road trips. In are dog park Saturdays and movie night Mondays. I've
spent 3 years considering mostly myself, and now I'm discovering that obligations are real
things, to real people, and they're not taken lightly.
"This movie looks REALLY good," she told me in-between sips, referring to "That Awkward
Moment" which I'd promised to take her to this afternoon. I created a smile as I reminded myself
of it's 22% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes, which was actually a serviceable upgrade from
the 14%er she took me to last week. "I love our lazy Sundays," she told me with genuine joy.
I nodded, continuing to pour the orange juice and vodka down my throat, hindering my ability to
verbalize as I dreamt off to 2005 and that crazy old man I met at Cog Hill.
Mr. Cub was ahead of his time.
MM
Chance The Rapper - Cocoa Butter Kisses
5,500 to 1
I was fifteen years old the first time I was cheated.
It was 2004 and like any teenager who gagged at the taste of booze and had yet to be laid, I spent
my Friday nights with my best friends playing dealer's choice poker. Of all the rebellious options
surrounding a teenage kid, low stakes gambling was ground floor in terms of adult anxiety.
Understandably, our parents had no problem stocking the fridge with pop and leaving us alone in
the basement till the wee hours of the night.

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It was innocent fun, typically, with losses rarely exceeding a 20 dollar bill. But as time went on
and our competitive juices boiled, the stakes began to increase. And as the game got bigger, we
began expanding our player field to anybody we knew who could pony up a 50 dollar buy in.
After weeks of playing with the new competition, one guy seemed to never lose. The original
crew stayed late one night, after cleanup, and came to the conclusion that he may be cheating.
We opted for a sting.
The next Friday night we showed up early, stocked a video camera inside of a decoy case of
cherry coke and aimed it directly at the culprits seat. Sure enough we watched as he maneuvered
cards into certain slots while he prepared the next hands deck. I was bewildered as we rewatched
the VHS in my parents 24 inch box TV.
I couldn't move, I had nothing to say.
I may have only dropped 25 dollars that night, but I lost a lifetime's worth of innocence and
naivety. Not everybody was who they portrayed to be, and maybe this game of poker wasn't as
innocent as our parents believed.
Cruising downhill in my A5 and out of the mobile dead zone that is Mt. Charleston I felt a
buzzing in my pocket that was the release of text messages trapped in iPhone limbo. Amidst the
questions from standard texting buddies was one from an old Bellagio acquaintance. He told me
about a 5/10nl he'd been playing at a house game in one of the cities most affluent
neighborhoods. This Wednesday they were kicking the game up to 25/50 and while he couldn't
afford to play it, I was more then welcome to take his seat.
After missing the Turks implosion and other opportunities I was anxious for a poker adventure.
Still I was mindful of a private game charging $5 a half hour that was okay with a pro coming to
play. "Why's the rake so low" I asked him? "Huge fish losses enough to keep the game
profitable," he told me. "But they need to fill seats".
I passed the idea through Alyssa who could sense my excitement as she gave me the thumbs up
for a night to myself.
That Wednesday I dropped half my money off at a nearby friends house to hedge against a
robbery set up, upgraded to a large chai latte to fight through my bodys natural 10pm resting
state, and entered into unknown territory at 8 o'clock sharp.
The million dollar home had the bare feeling of a house used solely for poker. Expensive
couches accompanied by no other furniture ironically describing the base of people with lots of
money but little sense of visual appeal. (And this coming from a guy who wears mismatched
socks and shoes with holes in them).
Two girls held the versatile roles of host, server, and masseuse. I watched their mannerisms as
they flirted with the players, internally debating whether or not they added "hooker" to the
repertoire come midnight. Probably not, I concluded, sensing their innocence and inexperience.

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I recognized nobody, but it didn't take long to locate the fish my acquaintance was referring to,
sitting to my direct left. I played a lot of pots early and showed him my inadequate cards,
hopefully setting up the big payoff later in the night.
Up a few thousand I played a big one with AJ against one of the regulars. The flop came JJ3 with
a flush draw and by the time the turn solidified my fullhouse with a 2nd 3, I'd gotten my
opponent to bet a big portion of his equal stack, before check raising him all in. I was called as
we'd built the biggest pot of the night. The dealer was quick to turn over the Kd river as was my
opponent to flip over his pocket Kings and rake in the twenty five thousand dollar pot.
I played 3 more all ins that night with one card to go and the best hand for pots between 8 and
15k, all shipped to 25/50 "pros" who somehow I'd never seen before. The total damage was
somewhere north of 25,000.
There was no hidden camera to legitimize my concerns, just a memory reel of misfortune as I
drove home in the dark reminiscing on the night I surrendered my innocence.
"I did the math and the odds of me losing all 4 hands was 5,500-1" I told Ben Hamnett later in
the week as he had received an invite to the same game. "I'm not saying I was cheated, but I'm
saying I won't go back."
He thought while nodding, as Ben often does, before reminding me of a time 3 years ago. "We
played at the house of a guy who wrote a movie about hustling pool. So many thoughts of
hustling went through his head that he decided to write a movie about it. And we let his friends
deal our cards and gave him our chips."
He laughed and I nodded, I suppose a biological difference in dealing with pain.
Sometimes people are exactly what they portray, and this game of poker isn't as innocent as our
parents believed.
MM
Rhymefest featuring Citizen Cope - Bullet
10/17/14: When The Music Stops
A slow Saturday showed signs of life as Mark took the final seat in the game. Marks the type of
guy smart enough to know the right moves, but too impatient to wait for them to come his way.
On this particular day his eagerness netted him early wins and the talking chips to match the part.
Would you guess Id never been to a sporting event or a movie in the theaters before, he
chimed in to a hardly related conversation on the other end of the table. The comment caught my
eye as I awoke from my morning daze to recollect on my teenage years. The **** you been
doing with all your free time? I tossed him from the seat next door. Caught the old man a bit off
guard as he nodded his head in thought before emerging with raw, brutal honesty. Well, he
started, Ive made a **** ton of money.

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Laughter filled the table, half genuinely and half following the script of customer appeasement as
I stared ahead, my thoughts slowing drifting from my 20k stack to memories of a better time.
Mentally I racked up and headed towards the 80 degree day at north valet. But in reality I stayed
in that seat until I was too tired for anything but sleep, as Mark dusted off the remainder of his
stack and his joyous tidbits had turned to muttered abuse.
.
I awoke to the missed call of an unidentified 702 number as butterflies filled my stomach and
lifted me out of bed without the typical adjustment period of a man with no meetings. I
optimistically assumed it to be the girl Id met the night before, fighting over the final Suja Juice
at the town square Whole Foods. She was bright with a sense of humor and an untampered glow
that can only come from a girl new to town.
I headed to the pool before calling her back, preemptively fantasizing about an unlikely runout
like the Day 1 chipleader of the main event. Three rings in I heard a damaged hello softly
spoken into my ear in front of an RnB beat, horribly out of place for this sunny Wednesday
morning.
Paige? I asked, surprised by the scenario.
No Ma, Is Heather I heard from the other end. You los mah numba, she finished in some sort
of question or statement. Chills filled my body as I entered a conversation I wasnt prepared for.
Heather was a Rhino girl and old drug buddy I hadnt seen in a year. Depression rang through the
speechless line as the wild, happy, upbeat girl I used to know brought me back to the bitter lonely
world of ecstasy comedowns.
UhAre you alright I asked unable to come up with anything better. Huuhhhhh She sighed
Yayyyyyssss, just a long night. Almost I get off. Would you like to
Heather, it was good to hear from you, I interrupted. I hope youre hanging in there and we
should get together when Im not so busy.
.I would like that followed a long pause and the resignation that todays endorphin replenish
would take place without an artificial crutch.
She never did call me again.
And neither did Paige.
..
Metaphorical sweat dripping down my temples, I found myself heads up, one on one, with
Johnny ****ing Chan; Though I swear it wasnt planned this way. Ill let you in on a secret: real
grinders arent trying to play rags against legends, theyre aiming for aces against losers. But
here I was, 30 dimes in the middle and staring at a 665 flop with no pair and the action on me.

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How did I get here? An inflated image, a timely 3bet and two without a clue in between. My 40k
buyin had long before been doubled up to 80, and Johnny was growing sick of the ribbings on
his ultra tight play from the table. All of these factors came together for the perfect storm as I
3bet my neighbor for the 3rd hand in a row with AKo to $1500. Two of the action players cold
called to my left and Johnny for the first time of the night made an aggressive action with a 4bet
to $5,900 from the bb. It all seemed too perfect to be believable. You know? Like the ex who
remembers how much she loves you after her new man takes off. A 5bet to 14k just seemed right.
There isnt a moment when you realize youre about to play the biggest pot of your life against a
back to back world champion. It just kind of happens. And on this night, the world didnt stand
still and all eyes werent on us. But as Johnny called and checked to me on 566, all I tried to do
was demonstrate a concept. The idea that aggression and position and stronger ranges prevail. I
placed a bet of $10,000, enough to threaten his whole stack, potentially earn me a free river, and
take down the pot if we happen to have the same hand. It felt right as I dropped it into the middle
and stared blankly while the pressure lied in the world champs corner.
I sat with the best in the world that night, I tell every wise guy in town without a roll but the
stomach to handle a good story.and the best won. Johnny raised all in leaving me only one
option, a trip back to the minor leagues.
Rumors floated around town that the Champ showed pocket 3s to his neighbor.
But I choose to believe it was aces.
MM
Sam Smith feat. A.S.A.P Rocky - I'm Not The Only One

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2015
06/16/15: Tear In My Heart
LOST ANOTHERRRR FLIP Johnny The 9 seat yelled loud enough for the lone member of his
rail to hear. Johnny nodded feeling for his friends misfortune. But more telling was post-nod
when he left the room, perhaps embarrassed to have an adult friend whose two days of incredible
fortune werent enough to contain his childish tendencies.
You, mister entitled superstar, are my new target.
Maybe Im being too hard on him, I empathized from the 8 as he counted his now depleted stack
of tournament chips, a feeling that all poker players know too well. He looked to me as Johnny
was gone. If I could win a god damn flip, Id already be at the final table.
Or maybe Im not.
Its refreshing to villainize opponents. A break from the were in this together culture of the
small buy-in tournaments. Because tournament poker isnt like that. Its a war of exploitation and
preying on the weak. Raising the blinds of the pay jumpers, and 3betting the opens of the thieves.
THESE arent your friends, theyre lunch. And without finding food in your nine seated territory,
you too will end up at the pay counter wondering where it all went wrong.
I peeled the corner of the first card dealt, a black Ace. And although wed been told by dealers
not to squeeze the newly cheapened WSOP playing cards, old habits die hard. I squeezed the 2nd
one. No sides. Red. Its a heart. Its the Ace of hearts.
I came in for the minimum raise of $20,000, a total that wouldnt last two players. Im all in I
heard from the 9 seat as he counted out $290,000 in tournament chips. My call was met with the
proud flip of AKo, a tough opponent for almost any hand. But as soon as my Aces were tabled he
knew his run was over. PAY OUT he screamed before the flop was dealt, his final plea for
justice. The board brought him none as I counted out my new total, stack by stack. 8009001
million chips.
It was my first time crossing the imaginary mark, as I looked up at the board for the Monster
Stack tournament. 7,192 players began, 4 days before, and now only 99 remained. I momentarily
scanned the remaining tables. One of us would be recipient of 1.3 million dollars and a wsop
gold bracelet.
Baby I need to play this tournament today I told my girlfriend as she rolled over from her side
of the bed. Not exactly the best way to wake her up. Id made a promise for a date night amidst
my busy summertime schedule, but those now were just weightless words floating in my
overcrowded land of empty promises. She was understanding or maybe just used to it by now;
keeping her true feelings bottled up until the next night of too much wine and too little attention
from her narrow-minded boyfriend.
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Its not something Im proud of but as habits become behaviors, and behaviors become traits,
Ive begun to recognize myself as accomplishment driven, or the less flattering, selfish.
But thats a worry for another day I told myself as the Monster Stack popped off the page of the
WSOP schedule. Touted as the mini main event, its one of the $1500 events that no limit
players cant skip. Plus after a top 5% showing in the Colossus and 17th place finish in the 1k
Turbo, the sweet taste of success was resting on my upper lip, just beyond the reach of my
outstretched tongue.
This summer had been different for me. Instead of fighting the crowds for live high stakes cash,
Id been staying home and logging on under the alias CanIKickIt to battle the midstakes online
lineups. Unintentionally, the new challenge was eye opening for my tournament poker game.
Instead of sitting 500bbs deep and scaling my strategy around positioning for huge pots, I was
taking aim at stealing blinds and eliminating careless early street mistakes.
Tomorrow baby, I promise her monotonically one last time as I leave the house, hoping my
excitement isnt as glaringly obvious on the outside as it feels on the inside.
Six tables remained as wed just hit another pay jump. $24,175, not bad for a $1500 investment,
but peanuts compared to what awaited the winner. Overopening hadnt gained me much in the
form of chipping up, but the curiosity of mucked cards has a powerful pull and I knew these guys
could feel it.
With a stack of 1.4m it folded to me on the btn with A K . The big blind was 60k, 4 times
the amount of what I started with on Saturday. I postured before making a min raise, hoping this
was the time that patience expired. The sb gave it the image protecting fake consideration before
folding. Now it was on the big blind, an amateur, hed flown all the way from Brazil for this
tournament. As the seconds ticked on, my chance of doubling grew stronger. Im all in, he
finally said as I took a breath before confidently moving my stack of 100k chips into the middle.
Aces he told me before flipping them over. For a split second, I thought he was kidding. I had
an ace. How could this happen to me? As his words were confirmed I felt a tear in my chest,
filling my body with overwhelming helplessness as my run at the bracelet was coming to an end.
I looked away as I often do when all in flops are dropped, rather feeling the sweat through
tablemate reactions. And then it happened. A gasp from the sb. My eyes darted to the board. Had
I flopped two Kings? Maybe a straight? Q 9 2 . I wouldve sucked out, he laughed,
failing to recognize the moments magnitude in my world.
Maybe this was punishment for my selfish ways, the same way my Aces broke seat 9s
entitlement just hours earlier. But more likely that type of karmic justice is only a mystical
hypothesis for mass variance and a lifetime that wont fulfill a significant sample. Good guys
finish last, bad guys finish first, and everything else is in-between.

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But I do plan on getting better. On keeping my word, becoming more accessible, and turning my
narrow focus back to a well-rounded existence.
Just in case theres another deep run.
MM

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