#431 - WSOP Notebook #4 - I’ll Sleep When I’m Broke

[written June 4 a.m.] 

I’ve been at the World Series just five days and I already think I need to leave town for the good of my health. Not that it’s been a bad 70-percent-of-a-week: I earned over $12,000 in my second event, finishing 26th in the $5,000 Mixed Hold ‘Em yesterday; Jo Anne and I spent two days alone together, which I’m referring to as our fourth honeymoon (before I sent here home, as Las Vegas is no kind of place for someone you care about); my friends Andy Bloch and Chris Ferguson finished second and third in the first two events; and Howard Lederer has made the final table in the Mixed Hold ‘Em.

That’s how it looks on the outside. Pull back the bedclothes, though, and it’s another sight entirely.

Take the time, for example. As I write this, it’s 6:45 AM on Wednesday. I woke up at 4 AM and have been unable to fall back asleep, even though I didn’t go to bed until 1:30 AM. On Monday night, I played poker until 2:30 AM and slept just four jours, after which I played 6 1/2 pressure-packed hours of poker. I should have been able to sleep more than 2 1/2 hours after that, but here I am.

The Compound I’ve rented for the duration has two bedrooms and I’ve already worn through one of them. The light came boring through the shades so bright and so early that I bought seven massive sheets of black construction paper and a roll of packing tape to cover it. While trying to rig this up at 3 AM after Day 1 of the Mixed Hold ‘Em, the entire window-shade-assembly came crashing down on me. The windows are awkwardly shaped and, using a steak knife to cut the paper, created a patchwork that served only to reconfigure - and, to my horror, seemingly refocus and intensify - the light streaming in.

I know guys like Andy Bloch and John Juanda and Howard Lederer have been doing this years longer than me, so they know things. But I’ve been coming here as long as Marco Traniello and he looks like he could fight for the UFC. Patrik Antonius - who’s practically a kid who has a kid - could probably wrestle a grizzly bear.

I was exercising daily in preparation for the Series. Yet in my first twenty-four hours in town, I ordered things in restaurants like “Forty-Niner Flapjacks” and “Burnt Tips Platter.” I went grocery shopping and, unless one of the four major food group is now called “crackers,” my diet is destined to remain unbalanced.

The Compound has a fitness center, though I’ve yet to locate it. Perhaps I’ll look after I finish these microwaved White Castle cheeseburgers for breakfast.

I’m playing the $2,000 NLHE at noon. Maybe after that, I’ll tell Jo Anne I’m coming home for her birthday, though what I’m really looking for is one night with at least six hours of sleep.

On the other hand, the $2,500 Stud OEB/Omaha OEB is Thursday night and that would be fun to play. And why does Jo Anne’s birthday have to fall on the same day as the crucial $1,500 LHE event?

I’m still a half-dozen blogs behind and I didn’t get to see Andy Bloch or Chris Ferguson play their final tables.

Coming soon, if I can help it:

“Love Letters to Andy Bloch”

“Mike Matusow is Light”

“Phil Ivey and the Secret of Life”

“No Sucker I Can Find”