Bond18 - Around the World in 90 Days: Day 49

You’d think with the stress and anticipation of making a final table, I might have trouble sleeping. Instead, the exhaustion of playing so long for so many days straight puts me out like a light and I sleep like a baby. In the morning, Tom gives me a ride to the Rio and the traffic on the I-15 is quite bad, making me nervous about being late for the 2PM start. When we pull up to the back entrance of the Rio, I sprint out of the car toward the poker room even though Tom assured me they’ll start a final table late.

Tom was right. Not only is the final table starting late due to the normal bullshit reasons, but apparently one of the floormen told John Phan we were playing in the ESPN center and won’t be starting until 3PM. They’ve called him on his cell and he’s on his way back, but we’re still looking at a considerable delay.

Phan gets back about 20 minutes later and all the stacks are set up and ready to go. Cards get in the air rather suddenly and without much warning, we are playing. During the first hand, David Singer asks the floorman why the blue 500 chips haven’t been colored up and taken off the felt yet. After that, Phan asks why we weren’t given any introductions as is the standard with a WSOP final table, especially given the considerable crowd formed around the table. The floorman apologizes for the way things were run last night and promises to try and make things run as smoothly as possible from here on out.

Only a few hands into play our short stack is eliminated taking us to eight players and guaranteeing me about 20,000 more dollars. Not long after, I get involved for my first time:

My stack: ~320K, David Singer: ~330K, blinds 8,000/16,000 with 2,000 ante. I hold Ah-Kd in MP2.

Pre-flop: Folds to me, I raise to 40,000, folds to Singer on the button, Singer thinks it over and calls, both blinds fold.

How awkward, especially given the stack sizes. I guess I should be betting here because of my tight image and the fact that David calls pre-flop and limps so much. I fire out 55,000. David goes into the tank for a while then raises to 155,000. I fold.

I pay an orbits worth of blinds and antes and my stack slips down to the 10 BB area. Plattsburgh has been the most aggressive player early and is increasing his chip lead, and has been quite active in general. I soon get involved with him:

My stack: 160K, Platts: 1.2 million, blinds 8,000/16,000 with 2,000 ante. I hold Kd-Kh in MP1.

Pre-flop: Plattsburgh raises to 40,000 UTG, folds to me in MP1, I raise all in for 160,000 total, folds back to Plattsburgh. He thinks it over, asks for the money to be taken in, then counts out what would be necessary to call. After a brief time thinking he throws in the money and turns over 9c-8c. That is really not the hand I wanted to see.

And that’s all there is. I shake hands with Schwah and Plattsburgh, and tell everyone good luck. My eighth-place finish will wind up netting me $54,344 and taking a major chunk out of my make up.

It seems like making a final table and taking a beat like this might be the kind of thing people expect me to be angry or resentful about. The truth is, it’s the complete opposite. When that J hit the turn I didn’t so much as bat an eye or feel the slightest bit of anger or annoyance. Just having made it to the final table and not having something awful or disgusting (or more likely, my fucking up very hard) happen leading up to that point feels good enough. I feel great about the experience as a whole and am, for the most part (but not entirely), happy with the decisions and plays I made during the tournament. After so much failure for so long and so many close finishes I finally have something to point to and say “Well at least it wasn’t all for nothing.” Perhaps that is results-oriented thinking, but having something to point to as proof that I’m not a total live donk feels pretty damn good.

I spend the rest of my day swimming in my pool, screwing around, and grilling out. Boo yah!

Afterword: John Phan and Schwah got heads up for the bracelet. Phan did so much time wasting and fake tanking during the heads-up match that it lasted for six hours (no, that’s not a joke or exaggeration.) The players made a deal and wound up shoving all-in blind every hand. In the end, Phan won the bracelet and a lot of people called Schwah an idiot for flipping blind for the bracelet. I think it was a mix of bad-assery and total absurdity.