FULL TILT POKER BLOG

So Friggin Stuck

Posted by jgreenspan | Filed under Uncategorized

I ran into Steve yesterday, a friend of Houston. I don’t know him well, but I’ve always liked him. He has an easy smile and a quiet sense of humor I find disarming. I saw him in the hallway and he said that he was running bad. I offered sympathy but I didn’t think he needed it. He seemed okay, not terribly out of sorts.

A few hours later my name was called for a PLO game and I saw that there was an open seat to Steve’s left. He’s good – excellent, in fact – so I sat to his left, thankful for the favorable position and an amiable tablemate. In short order, Steve was involved in a big hand. He bet the pot on the flop and the turn, clearly representing top set. The river brought a disaster card – any draw would have gotten there – and Steve grimaced as his opponent moved in.

“Think you were a little bit behind?” Steve barked as he slapped his high pocket pair on the table. “Take the friggin pot.” He then gathered his hole cards and flung them at the dealer.

A quick reprimand from the floor man and an insincere apology followed.

“All friggin week,” Steve said to no one in particular. He turned to me. “Six days and I’m stuck seventy thousand dollars.”

“Get up,” I might have said, or “Go home.” But I said nothing. Steve had another five grand in front of him, and he was tilting hard. I had to stick around and hope for a piece of what was left.

***

A week ago thousands of card players convened in the Rio for the tournaments and the side action that surrounds it. And now, a little more than a week later, most are stuck. Or as Steve so accurately announced into his cell phone, “So friggin stuck.”

Of those who have lost, some are skilled players who’ve put ten or fifteen thousand into tournaments. Others are donkeys who’ve come without nearly the skill or the experience to compete.

The stuck-ness, the fact that so many are doing so badly, permeates the mood here. A pleasant conversation may pick up some steam, but it’s usually derailed by a beat-fueled rant. In the hallways, acquaintances can’t help but share their hard-luck tales.

***

Last night, about three hours into a cash-game, I flopped a straight and was facing a bet from a tilting Englishman. I was trying to figure out how I could best extract his remaining chips and asked how much remained in his stack.

“You have a problem counting?” and asked, then tossed a mess of red and green chips in front his cards.

At that moment, a cheer rose from the opposite side of the massive poker room. I turned and saw that a tournament had concluded. A bracelet had been won.

The moment perfectly encapsulated the flavor of the WSOP right now –misery, punctuated by moments of joy.

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