GULF COAST POKER.NET
The Premier Website for the Gulf Coast Poker Player
HOME * BLOGS * TOURNEY SCHEDULE * CASINOS * LINKS * SPONSORS * ARCHIVES * FORUM *WHO'S WHO
KAI'S TUNICA WIN PART 2(A)
Tunica Part II -- Standing on the Shoulders of Giants
I re-enter the den of backbiting, blookthirsty jackals the next day for the main
event ready for action, 154 of us in all. I had planned to act as ridiculous as
possible for payoff equity, but after scoping out my table I realize that none
of that is necessary. Two players are playing extremely soft, and on my left is
a large cowboy who plays just the opposite of his physical appearance. He’s a
big kitty cat.
I realize how fortunate I am to land at this table after checking out the whole
field. Among the more notable entrants slated to possibly butt heads with me
today are:
Chris Moneymaker…needs no introduction I’m sure; snagged a 2d place
finish here in Tunica just a couple of days ago outlasting 300 others, and is
presumably not taking Tunica lightly.
Bill Edler, seasoned Vegas pro with well over 3 million in tournament
winnings under his belt, and recent 1st place finisher of last years WPT in
Biloxi for a cool $750,000…seems to run hot in the South.
Allen “Chainsaw” Kessler, almost 100 cashes to his name for over 1
million and a silly nickname to boot. Presumably “chainsaw” trumps rock, paper,
and scissors.
Matt “AllinAt420” Stout, only 24 years old with half a million
already…and that’s just offline Usually quite stoned. The Big Lewbowski of the
group. The Dude is tearing it up...Dude!
Other “young guns” include Justin Vinsant, Tyler Smith, and Jordan
Morgan. The most notable “young gun” is Adam Junglen, who, unable to
play poker until he turned 21 this year, had to make due with only being allowed
to play in Europe and Australia at the age of twenty, and has already amassed
half a million dollars. Adam is Asian and sporting bright pink colored hair.
Gavin Smith, probably needs no introduction, but has torn ass to the tune
of 5 million in tournament play alone.
Kathy Liebert, has made as much as Gavin despite being born with a
serious disability – she is a woman with a smaller brain than a man. It’s true.
It’s science. ;) Seriously, to call her a great woman player would be insulting.
She’s a great player period.
Captain Tom Franklin, representin’ the Gulf Coast yo! Has been playing
since before I was born (I love a good backhanded compliment), and I calculate
that he’s made $70,000 in poker for each year I’ve been alive. Presumably, he’s
got this game pretty well figured out.
Also appearing in the tourney today was… Joe Dirt…how the Schlitz did he get
here? They’ll let anybody into these things. I check quickly out of pure guilt
for dog hair and dried blood on his boots, but happily, I find none.
So I start today’s table with the quick hopes to make it to tomorrows final
twenty-seven. We’re going to be here (hopefully) for fourteen hours today. Get
comfortable.
All is going well for day one; I steadily build my initial stack of 20,000 to
40,000 when, suddenly I make the same mistake I made days earlier. Intending to
raise UTG to 1,600, I grab the wrong colored chips and make it 16,000 to go.
Oops. Did I really just do that? Yes, dumbass, you did.
The kittycat cowboy calls for 16,000, and everyone folds to me. The cat’s out of
the bag now as to what he has. I think even Helen Keller has a read on it. But
when the flop comes giving me a double belly-buster straight draw, I check and
he bets just around half the size of the pot. I need to think about whether or
not it’s worth it to call.
White heat is screaming in the jungle
Complete the motion if you stumble…
If I do call,
I’d have to hit my 8-outer on the turn. I know if I hit, he’s going to pay me
off for every chip he’s worth, so I’m trying to figure out how much the pot is,
the ratio of the bet, how much he has left to reward me with and if it’s all
worth it this early and…
“Hurry up!”
WTF…who said that? I look around to the other other side of the dealer to see
the seat ten position barking at me.
“Let’s go. Come on. You’re wasting time.”
Fifteen to twenty seconds? I’m trying to think here and I’m NOT taking too long.
I fly off the handle. How dare he inturrupt my train of thought and that RCHP
song on continuous play in my head which doubles for great blog subplot
narration?!?!
“WHAT!? You don’t like it? Call the floor!”
I look around to see that I have the second most chips at the table. The
ever-increasing antes and blinds mean much less to me than to some people. The
floorman comes over to moderate the dispute.
“Put a clock on me!” I demand. I think about giving this guy the finger behind
the dealer’s back and out of view of the floorman. The floorman tells me I have
one minute to decide and then if no decision is made my hand will be folded. I
have no intention of doing anything for one full minute.
Seconds tick off the regulation clock and I sit there with my hands behind my
head doing absolutely nothing. The table is NOT happy about Captain Dickwad
pissing me off.
“Let the antes and blinds get higher and higher and higher!” I scream raising my
open palms up into the air, pumping them above my head. “I’ll kill us all. I
swear to God, I’ll kill us all.”
The seconds roll off agonizingly for everyone at the table except for me.
Certainly no one thought I was capable of crossing over into Jihad mode.
The floorman finally announces 60 seconds are up, and I slowly muck my hand. One
card at a time. “Anyone else want to rush me or call a clock on me today?”
Silence.
That’s what I thought.
The guy eventually apologized to me, and I accepted, and we were cool, and in
hindsight I’m glad it happened…it allowed me to steal for the next, oh, several
hours. Now why had I decided to play nice today in the first place again? I
can’t remember.