Event #41 Runner Up - Trip Report (Day 1) (VERY long)

[AtlasRaised]

TRIP REPORT – Event #41 Runner Up


Saturday August 5 – 8:00 AM: Wake up pumped. I have been anxiously waiting for this day for about a week, ever since I registered for World Series of Poker Event #41, a $1500 buy in No-Limit tournament, for a huge cash prize and some nice jewelry…a World Series of Poker bracelet.

This was, without question, the most expensive buy-in and largest tournament I had ever participated in. But despite my lack of high buy-in tourney experience, I felt confident and more than capable of a good showing.


First, a little background info:


I have been playing poker for over 5 years. The first three of those years I was a decent, but more or less break even player. I split my time between online play and the Indian casinos surrounding San Diego, where I was attending law school.

My game didn’t ramp up until after I moved to Vegas a little over a year ago. As soon as I got here I realized just how much money moved around live poker tournaments in town, and I wanted a piece of it. I had read a couple books before, but never really took the game that seriously, remaining firmly rooted in the “it all comes down to your cards” camp.

I realized I had to take it up another level, so I basically went out and bought the entire poker library and began to pick it apart. Results were almost immediate. My constant reading combined with significant live play experience and testing out new moves at low limit cash games helped refine my game pretty quickly, and before I knew it I was routinely cashing in many of the daily multi table tournaments around Vegas. A couple big wins and chops at the Caesar’s and Aladdin tournaments earlier in the year and I was hooked. My success continued throughout the year, but never at a level where I would consider leaving my job as a lawyer and taking on poker for my primary income. I loved the game and all its nuances, but it was still just a hobby. A profitable hobby.

The entire month of July I was treating the WSOP single table satellite tournaments as a second job. I would leave work and head straight to the Rio, where I would play one or two $175 - $225 single table tournaments. As others have mentioned, these things were soft…..S…O…F…T. In fact, my cash rate was just under 50%. Not shabby considering the miniscule 1000 chip starting stacks and turbo 15 minute levels. Plus, they were usually over within 1 or 2 hours, so the time commitment wasn’t an issue and the hourly rate was huge.

Usually, the final 2 or 3 people (most often the only players left with a clue) at the table would agree to a chop, where each of us received 1 or 2 $500 buy-in chips, which I would then sell at face value to anyone about to register for an official event.

After building a nice little bankroll selling these buy-in chips, I had a couple big final table payouts at the Mirage daily $230 multi-table, and a nice 1st place at the Harrah’s $100 multi-table. All in all, an excellent July for a part-time player. The World Series being in town just seemed to quadruple the already large amount of dead money in Vegas poker rooms. I took advantage.

But I wasn’t done. One more goal. I had to play in an official event. I figured I was already profiting on the corporate monster the WSOP had become, so why not try to parlay my good month into something huge?

Bit the bullet. Of course I wanted to play the $10,000 Main Event, and I might have been able to afford it, but the large stakes and the huge hit to my bankroll would have affected my judgment and my play….so no go. Plus, my firm wouldn’t have been too happy about a 9-day “poker vacation” in the middle of August. So…after scanning the schedule for a good weekend start date, and selling off most of my buy-in chips, I took my last 3 and plunked them on the counter of the registration booth.

“Event 41 please.”

“Good luck sir.”

Grabbed my ticket. I was in.


Saturday August 5 –

9:45 AM: Driving to the Rio. Day of the tournament. Still pumped. I have my I-pod charged, headphones ready, and my laptop case filled with the HOH books and various other random crap that I thought I might need. Over prepared? Maybe. But who cares. I was playing for a bracelet and a lot of money.

10:15 AM: Park and walk into the convention center. The place felt like home to me already from my month of constant single-table WSOP tournaments. This turned out to be a big advantage, as I was already familiar and comfortable with the Amazon room and the circus atmosphere of the whole deal. My plan was to go in, eat breakfast, drink coffee, relax, and read up on a few hands out of HOH 3. I would start the tournament focused, well-fed, and ready to go.

10:30 AM: My plan has failed. After walking up to the Rio breakfast buffet, I casually touch the automated screen, to order a buffet for one person.

“please insert your credit card”

I reach for my wallet.

“oh $*&^%.”

My wallet, including my mandatory photo ID, was back at home. Despite my “over-prepared” case full of crap, I forget to bring the only thing that mattered besides my entry ticket. Yes, I am an idiot.

10:40 AM: Sprinting back to the tournament area. My plan was to find a director and plead with him to allow my ticket plus my WSOP players card to count as sufficient ID. Found one quickly.

“Sir, I have my entry ticket for event 41, my receipt, and my WSOP card…but I don’t have my ID. I live about half an hour away and don’t have time to get it. Will this be a problem?”

“Son, yer gonna need to get yerself a picture ID.”

“%$&*. Do these things generally start on time, or is there some delay?”

“11:00 on the dot, but don’t worry…yer already registered, so ya don’t even have to be there on time.”

10:45 AM: Running out the door of the convention center, I’m blasted by the 110 degree heat as I race through the parking lot. I take little comfort in the fact that I don’t need to be there for the start of the tournament…since we start VERY short-stacked (T-1500), and even missing a couple rounds of blinds can put me at a disadvantage. Plus, I’m not Phil Hellmuth. I want to be there on time.

10:50 AM: I develop an ingenious plan. I think my passport might be at my office, which is just down the street from the Rio. Passport = photo I.D. Ahh, brilliant! Race to my building, up the elevator, burst into my office, look at my desk.

No passport. “%&*$#!” (for the third time)

11:15 AM: After several near death experiences on the way from my office to my house, I am finally on my way back to the Rio, wallet included.

11:25 AM: I rush into the Amazon room, maneuver around the crowds, find my table among the 1007 seated players, and take my seat (Table 59, seat 9) just as the dealer is passing out a hand…I’m frazzled, sweating, hungry, and definitely NOT focused or relaxed. I try to calm down and catch my bearings. I look around and notice each of the only 3 players to win 10 WSOP bracelets, Johnny Chan, Phil Helmuth, and Doyle Brunson, each sitting within 2 or 3 tables of me. Right away I feel better, as I knew this was going to be a great experience, win or lose.

Then I look down and see a full starting stack.

I look up at the player to my right…a young Asian kid.

“How many hands did I miss?”

“Only about 5. We started late.”

“No blinds?”

“No blinds.”

In fact, I’m under the gun when I sit down. I take a deep breath to try and compose myself and look down at my first (or sixth, actually) hand.

KK.

This might not be such a bad start to the morning after all.

12:30 PM: A bad start to the morning after all. After my KK (which was folded back to me), I tread water and then take a brutal smack.

Qh Jh on the button, 25/50 blinds. I’m at about 1750.

4 callers, I call.

Flop comes 4 8 Q rainbow. Checks to the caller in the cutoff, who bets 100 into a pot of 275. I raise to 300 with the plan of mucking to a re-raise. Cutoff flat calls. Turn is a J. Nice. Check to me, and the cutoff (a weak calling station) looks a bit nervous. I don’t want to push him out, so I value bet my top two pair for 400. Cutoff calls (of course). River is a 9. Cutoff fires out 400.

Ouch….not fun times, and I silently kick myself for not betting more on the turn. I strongly suspect this guy has a 10, but with a pot of over 2000 it’s an easy call, and at 5-1 pot odds it’s a call I have to make early in a tournament of this size.

Sure enough, he flips over Q 10, for the straight. I muck my top two and look down at my pitiful 600 chip stack. The blinds are about to go up to 50/100 after the first break, which will leave me with 4 orbits. Reluctantly, I accept the fact I am already in push-bot mode, which is exactly where I did NOT want to be.

12:45 PM: Right before the first break I am entering the red zone, and I become Mr. Aggro Push-bot McGee. I decided I needed more chips to gain any momentum, and I wasn’t going to wait around for them. It was a small goal of mine just to MAKE the first break of a WSOP tournament, but I’m not playing this thing for a moral victory. I need chips. If I went home I went home, but I was going to open push any two decent cards from any decent position.

This worked like a charm (thank you 2+2), and I chipped my way back up to around 1100 in no time.

The table looked at me like I was crazy every time I shoved (even with an M around 5, mind you), with one mini-stack young kid (t-250) getting extremely pissed. He started berating my play and whining about my shoves, and I was loving every minute of it. Within 10 minutes of his tirade he had call-check-folded 3 flops in a row, and was all in on his next big blind. Adios…poor guy.

Only one player at the table, a small Asian woman, seemed to know exactly what I was doing, and kept shooting me knowing glances and smirks. Throughout the morning, I had kept an eye on her play, and had pegged her as the strongest player at the table. No one else seemed to pay her much mind since she was relatively short stacked (one tough-decision fold after an all-in reraise on her pot-size flop bet), but I knew not to tangle with her unless necessary. She was quietly doing the same thing I was…sizing up the table, picking her spots, playing tight-aggressive poker. Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed when she revealed her “coach,” who was pretty well known throughout the Amazon room. It turns out this innocuous looking Asian female was actually Barry Greenstein’s wife, and a hell of a player.

Greenstein was playing one table over from her end (seat 2), and began coming over every orbit or so to see how she was doing and give her advice

“Excuse me sir, no coaching at the table,” I joke.

“Who, me? Oh don’t worry, she never listens to me anyway.” The table laughs.

I love this game.

12:59 PM: Last hand before the first break. One of the four or five most memorable hands of the tournament occurred…

I’m in the big blind with Ks 10c. blinds 50/100, I’m at about 1200. 2 callers.

Flop comes 4s 7s 10s. I check, first caller checks, and the cutoff (yes, the same guy that beat me with Q 10) fires out 400.

This is decision time. And it is a tough one for me. Rightly or wrongly, I decide flat calling here is out of question. If he fires out another bet on the turn after a spade does not fall, any call will essentially put me all in anyway. With top pair and a king high flush draw, my only play is a fold or a push. The only hands I am absolutely dreading are a made A high flush (which seems incredibly unlikely from the size of his bet), or a 10x As. Any other made flush, set, or two pair would be bad, but not the worst thing in the world to see. After a 2 or 3 minute tank, I push, and he immediately calls and flips over Qs 8s. The turn is the Ah and I grab my case and start to stand up. Playing in this tournament was a great experience, and I had a lot of fun during my 3 hours of play.

End of report? Not even close.

The river is the absolutely beautiful 2s, and I retake my seat with a stack right around the average. I’m back. Poker is awesome. (yes I’m a luckbox….blah blah blah).

1:45 PM: After the first break I really start to hit my stride. I have chips to work with, and the field is still big and incredibly weak/tight. I move to a new table and feel great. I am able to pick up a general read on the new group rather quickly, and it serves me well. Aggression is key here, as most players who have doubled up to stay alive don’t know what to do with the larger stacks they have accumulated. Just from stealing blinds and small pots, I work my way to well above tournament average and the chip lead at the table. At one point I was pre-flop raising about 1 out of 4 hands and generally taking it down uncontested. Once in a while I would get called, sometimes I would have to muck to a re-raise, but even a half-pot bet on the flop seemed to take it down over 75% of the time. One flustered looking European to my right did not seem to like my aggressive style (shocker) and re-popped my UTG pre-flop raise for a decent percent of his stack. I happened to have QQ, and I happen to have him well covered……sorry sir, but I’m all in. He mucked in disgust and got up to pace around the table. I’m up to 7500 chips at the second break. Average is under 6000.

I love this game.

3:20 PM: We are back from the second break and almost 75% of the field has been eliminated, including Johnny Chan, Doyle Brunson, Men the Master, Greenstein, etc. This is unreal, and I decide that I will not be disappointed no matter what happens, as the experience has already been well worth $1500.

I am immediately moved to a new table, table 88, and the first controversy of the day starts brewing….

I sit down in seat 10 with my 7500. Jennifer Tilly is in seat 2, very shorstacked, listening to headphones, and looking somewhat bored. As I have already sat with or been near several pros and celebrities throughout the day, I wasn’t too impressed. (I’m such a big shot). I am about 3rd in chips at the table but the leaders are not too far in front of me. The button is in seat 7, so I will act UTG. Everything seems fine, the dealer begins to shuffle, and seat 9 speaks up.

Seat 9 - “Hold on a second, seat 7 isn’t the button. I was big blind last hand.”

Seat 7 – “No pal, you were under the gun last time. I was small blind last hand.”

Seat 1 – “I agree with 9.”

Seat 4 – “I agree with 7.”

Seat 8 – “Actually neither of you are right, the button is really at seat 9, because I was the button last hand.”

Confusion ensues. As I am new to the table, I have no clue what is going on, but I like the idea of coming in UTG as opposed to coming in to a big blind. After a huge commotion and ten minutes of argument (while the clock is running, mind you), the floorman decides to leave the button at seat 7. I remain UTG and peek at my cards.

A.A. Thank you Mr. Floorman.

I make a standard 3X raise and wait to see what happens. First hand at the table, so no reads on anyone. It folds around to seat 6, who with very little hesitation shoves for about 3500. A Q. Have a nice afternoon sir.

3:45 PM: I am now about even with the table chip leader at over 12000 chips, and in high spirits. I start to settle into another groove at the table, picking up on the table weak spots and ramping up the pre-flop aggressiveness. Goes well for awhile until a wrench is thrown in my game plan.

By far the chip leader of the entire tournament, a young Ecuadorian with over 35000 chips, settles into seat number 4 at my table. 2 floormen help carry rack after rack of chips to his new seat, and he takes about 10 minutes to form them into an impressive array.

As soon as his stack is set up, he becomes an absolute maniac…redefining the word “aggressive.” This guy is open raising 5 or 6 big blinds on almost every single hand pre-flop, without even counting out the chips. He just grabs a huge stack and throws them out there. Being an aggressive player myself, I admire the style…and wish I had a stack to make this kind of move…but I also hate the guy because he is making it difficult for me to play my normal game.

I manage to pick up a few pots by raising pre-flop on the rare occasions Mr. Maniac does not. He gets a pretty decent chunk of his monster stack chopped out when he runs into rockets, held by an older woman with an English accent…a very solid player who I’ve seen on TV quite a bit playing WPT events. This seems to anger Mr. Maniac. Does he slow down at all with his slightly smaller stack? Nope. Raise, raise, raise.

Then….jackpot. It’s my big blind and I am absolutely positive he is going to raise me, just from the way he is looking at me from across the table. Folds to him in MP, and sure enough, Mr. Maniac fires out a 5X raise. At this point, I put him on an unlimited range. It wouldn’t even matter if he looked at his cards or not. Folds around to me, and I look down at AsKs.

Decision time. Here the blinds are at 200/400 with a 25 ante and I am sitting on about 12000. Maniac raised it to about 2000. At this point, I don’t like calling…as I will be playing a huge pot, out of position, against a crazy LAG….not the best scenario. A push might be the correct mathematical option here, but for some reason I don’t like it. My fold equity is questionable no matter what the raise amount, so a standard raise might chase him out just as easily. And even though the guy is maniacally aggressive, he is not stupid. I have seen him make decent laydowns when he runs into an obvious premium. He would only re-pop me again after a raise if he had a legitimate hand.

After thinking a bit, I min-raise him to 4000, and expect to hear the words “all in” in a heavy Spanish accent. I don’t know if I could have folded to a push, but it would have been a very very close call. Instead, I hear…

“Call.” Hmm……

Flop time. And it is beautiful one. A, blank, blank. There is no question on my play here with an almost 9000 chip pot and only 8000 left in my stack, but I hesitate for about 10 seconds just for show, before shoving my stack into the middle.

Mr. Maniac calls without hesitation and flips up A, 10. turn = blank, river = blank, and the dealer pushes a massive mountain at me worth about 25000. Houston…we have a new chip leader.

Just as I am raking in this gorgeous scoop, the floorman comes over and breaks our table. I look at my new seat card, Table 86, seat 3. The floor glances down at my unorganized mass of blacks, greens and purples.

“Nice hit there man.”

“Thank you.”

“Need us to help with those racks?”

“Yeah…it looks like I’m gonna need it.”

I love this game.


4:30 PM: I walk up to my new table with about 4 or 5 racks of various colored chips, and sit down directly to the right of 2005 WSOP Main Event runner-up Steve Danneman. One of the friendliest guys I’ve ever met at a poker table. Just like we were old buddies, we immediately start chatting.

“Hey there Steve.”

“Hey there! That’s quit a pile you got there cowboy!”

“Well, I asked my last table for all their chips so I could have an easier time knocking you out.”

Steve found this (rather unfunny) comment to be absolutely hilarious, and he let out a huge laugh and slapped my back.

I settle in, organize my chips into a massive pyramid, check out the lay of the table, and get ready to play some cards. I feel I have a big advantage over the table with a huge stack (duh), and although I am not as crazy as Mr. Maniac from the last table, I plan to throw some chips around and start to bully.

Everything goes as planned, and by the 5:45 dinner break I have won tons of small pots and gathered just over 30,000 chips.

6:00 PM: It’s dinner time and I am so excited I don’t have much of an appetite, even with my missed-breakfast fiasco from earlier this morning. With about 140 players remaining, I am now about 40 spots from the bubble and a stack nearly three times the average. Rather than sit back and coast to the money, I realize my chip-lead came at the perfect time, giving me an opportunity to make a run at the final table, as many of the small stacks will tighten up like clams after dinner in an attempt to sneak into the top 100 and a guaranteed payday.

I force myself to finish a slice of bad pizza and a Milwaukee’s Best Light (ugh) from the “Poker Kitchen,” and I focus on my bubble strategy.

It’s going to be a fun night.

Did I mention I love this game?

7:15 PM: We are back from dinner and cards are in the air. I retake my seat next to Danneman, who has two Corona’s in front of him. They won’t be his last. As level 7 progresses Mr. “I’m the third best player in my home game” becomes more and more intoxicated, and more and more annoying. I’m sure a lot of it was all part of the act, but our friendly back and forth chat and jokes for the past few hours were turning into more:

“Whoa! Check out the rack on that one! Is it cold in here or WHAT?!?!”

“That’s great Steve.”

“No I mean seriously! Check those things out!”

“Steve…the action is on you buddy.”

I can’t complain about him. He is a friendly guy and kept me entertained for hours. But I will say that he is far from a strong card player. Is he decent? Sure. But he is very weak/tight, and doesn’t like to get involved with anything short of a near-lock. Having him directly to my left with a good sized stack for over 4 hours turned out to be phenomenal for my chip count. It also didn’t hurt that he kept insisting we were “buddies” and that he “liked my game.” I literally raised his big blind 100% of the time it was folded to me in the small blind. It led to some exchanges like this:

“This guy is going to raise my big blind AGAIN! Come on buddy! I thought we were buddies! I bought you a Corona!”

“I can’t help when I get the cards man. And you bought yourself a Corona, not me.”

“Well, god, I guess I can’t call with my 9 7! God damn, you raising son of a bitch!” (He mucks 9 7 suited face-up)

“Good laydown Steve.” (I muck 2 4 offsuit face-down)


8:00 PM: Cruising along. Money is about 20 spots away. People are tightening up, and the game is moving much slower. One key moment:

Phil Helmuth is playing one table behind me and to my right. Mike Matusow is playing one table behind me and to my left. Hellmuth came over once and asked how many chips I had. Matusow stopped by to chat with Danneman, looked down at my massive chip pyramid, and jokingly said….

“You keepin’ those chips warm for me?”

“Sure, they should be nice and warm for your starting stack in tomorrow’s event.”

“We’ll see brotha, we’ll see.”

I am officially having the time of my life.

And if that wasn’t good enough….the following story is fantastic:

I notice some commotion over at Phil’s table, and the railbirds all gawk and mutter. Phil stands up and walks up to another player at the table,

“I know exactly what you’re doing! You are moving all-in on me because I’m Phil Hellmuth! You are bluffing me! Just because everyone wants to say they bluffed the greatest player in the world! Well guess what! I’m the greatest player in the world!”

All play at my table stops. Even the dealer stops. This is just too good.

Phil paces and mutters for a couple minutes, then sits back down and mucks his hand. The all-in player turns over a complete bluff. The rail goes wild, and Phil jumps up in disbelief. Freaks out for a minute, then calms down. (other reports say he kicked over some chairs, but I didn’t see it).

That’s not the best part.

Matusow starts chiming in for the next 20 minutes straight, just a constant barrage of abuse from one table over…

---"Hey...Hey Phil!...Hey 'Greatest Player in the World?' What happened? Did someone not remember how f'ing awesome you are?" (side note - the Mouth did not recieve a penalty for this word, even though it was heard by about 50 people)

---"Hey greatest player in the world! How many bracelets do you have again? Have you been counting? Has anyone been counting? Does anyone care?"

---"Hey Philly Boy! Hey Greatest player ever! What's the matter? Did you tell everyone how great you are and what ingenious laydowns you make as you muck a pair of queens after a re-raise with threes?"

Everyone was rolling. Great times.

8:30 PM: Big hand. I’m UTG (still with a huge chip lead) and throw in a 3X raise with KdQd to 1200. Semi-short stack goes all in for about 4000. Another stack in the cutoff shoves for about 5300. And the small blind, mini stacked at 1300, also complies with a push. I know I’m well behind here but my pot-odds are astronomical, and my call was a no-brainer.

When the cards are all flipped over I’m in great shape:

Push 1: 77
Push 2: JJ
Push 3: 88

Flop: QQBlank
Thank you all for playing. Stack well over 40k.

9:00 PM: We are at the 4th break and the bubble is under 10 spots away. I have taken a couple of hits from small stacks that didn’t want to comply with my “bubble bullying.” But I still can’t complain. I’m around 36k with the average at 13k. A couple monster all-in pot winners have overtaken me as the all out leaders. A known pro and 2006 bracelet winner Raphael Perry has over 65k. You will hear much more about Mr. Perry later.

9:40 PM: Bubble bursts, and some cheers go up from the players and the railbirds. Announcer comes on the mike:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we would like to congratulate Mr. Phil Helmuth, who has just set a World Series of Poker Record by cashing in seven bracelet events this year. Let’s give him a round of applause.”

I don’t particularly like the guy…but this is an amazing accomplishment and worthy of respect. I stand up along with the rest of the room and clap. Even the remaining Main Event players seem to take notice on the other end of the Amazon room, and give some props from across the floor.

Phil, still one table behind me, seems genuinely moved.

It was a cool moment.

10:00 PM: One table to my left Matsusow busts, loudly, when a strange looking bearded man sucks out on Matusows AQ with an A10. You will hear MUCH more about this bearded man later……..maybe……if I don’t stop writing in disgust. (but I digress….)

10:40 PM: Blinds are getting huge and fatigue is starting to noticeably set in on the faces of many players. Knock-outs are happening at a much faster clip as players just happy to make the money begin taking –EV gambles. Even Danneman looks bored and tired, and his Corona intake level has not dropped off a bit.

Due to a constant stream of red bulls and the force of sheer determination, I fight the fatigue and manage to stay alert…since I realize this is an amazing opportunity to take out smaller stacks. Plus, its pretty hard for me to stay bored or unfocused when I realize I will more than likely be playing on Sunday (we play through level 11, and we are on 9) for a shot at a bracelet.

Game plan executed well, and I’m up to around 70k.

11:10 PM: My table with Danneman breaks around this time and I move from my very favorable position to a seat at a table full of much larger stacks, and from my general impression, much better players.

I am still probably the chip leader at this table, but not by a huge margin.

11:25 PM: I take an early hit when my KK runs into an A high board post-flop, and my half pot flop bet is immediately re-raised all in by seat 9, a nice guy from Arizona with a stack just under my own. There is no reason not to put him on a big ace….I hadn’t noticed anything too sneaky about his game, plus he flat called my 5X BB bet pre-flop. I sigh and muck without much thought.

Happens.

12:05 AM: We start winding down a long, grueling, and thrilling day of poker. The tournament directors inform the remaining 5 or 6 tables that we will not keep playing past 1:00 AM. This is a huge relief, as I’m starting to notice myself slacking off a bit. My normal aggression is starting to soften, and I’m passing up a lot of opportunities to steal easy blinds and antes….which is too bad since the pots at this 800/1600/200 level have over 4000 chips before the flop even hits.

I get whittled down to about 48,000 during this level. Still above average but well below my high water mark. Then…my last big hand of the night.

Seat 1 in middle position raises my big blind by throwing out 7 yellow 1000 chips. He mumbles an amount that is inaudible. He doesn’t look happy about the whole situation, and I believe him. This has been a very nice guy. Friendly, talkative, with a picture of his family in front of him at all times. He is a decent, tight card player…but fairly predictable.

The dealer says… “raise to 7000”

“No, I said 6000, I declared a raise to 6000.”

“Well sir, you threw 7 chips out there.”

“It doesn’t matter maam, I declared a raise of 6000 so I should be allowed to take one back.”

As this discussion is going on, I immediately commit to re-raising strong with any decent hand. His little argument would be too much of an oscar-worthy act for a made hand. Eventually, he agrees to leave the 7 chips out there and he is visually fuming about it. It is folded around to me. I look down at AsQs. Bingo. Normally I would consider folding in this position against this particular guy, but under the circumstances this is more than I could hope for.

I contemplate the size of my raise. 20,000 seemed about right, almost a little under three times his actual raise but a little over three times his contemplated raise. I reach for a stack of yellows, then realize this amount would be putting over 40% of my stack in the pot…..hmmm…..plus I have him covered (barely)……..hmmmm……

I shove. Might be a wrong move, risking basically my whole tournament on what could very well be a dominated hand…but I’m tired…plus, I know this guy. This guy is folding.

I start to get worried as he leans back, puts his hands behind his head, and stares into my soul for a good 3 or 4 minutes. Oops. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. He obviously has a tough decision to make here.

I put my sunglasses on for the first time all day, not wanting to give anything away.

“I think you might be trying to put a move on me with something like Ace Jack,” he says. Immediately I get the feeling I haven’t given this guy enough credit.

Someone at the table calls a clock, the floorman comes over, but before the countdown begins he mucks AcKc face up.

“I didn’t feel like racing with you just yet”

“Good laydown,” I reply as I scoop up the pot and let out a big inner sigh of relief.

1:10 AM: The end of day 1, World Series of Poker Event #41. As the floormen are passing out big plastic bags to secure our chips for Day 2, I look around and take it all in.

It has been a crazy, long, exhilarating day…and I have already surpassed my expectations.

There are 48 players left.

I am in 5th place in chips with 58,700.

Phil Hellmuth is in 42nd place with under 16,000.

Tomorrow, we will be playing for a bracelet and a top prize of about a third of a million dollars.

I love this game.

(Day 2 and final table report to come within the next couple days...)

[restrikt]

Great report.

[riverrchic]

Great report - awesome writing. I loved reading it & am very much looking forward to Day 2....

[bigscore]

yeah this is really great, don't forget to post the second half

[Bakes]

That AKs hand is horrendous.

[Pocono Drew]

Nice report. I had the pleasure of playing with Danemann in a 5-10 cash game at the Taj last year. You're right, he's not that good and is a bit of a goofball.

Looking forward to part 2.

[ClonexxSA]

Awesome report man, makes me wish I could make one of the smaller buyin events....I'm just nowhere near good enough to have a fair shot yet.

Look forward to part 2.

[mornelth]

It is through reports like this (and Foucalt's and others) I vicariously "participate in WSOP"...

Keep 'em coming, looking forward to part 2...

[Beachman42]

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That AKs hand is horrendous.

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Yeah. Put that with the set of 4s fold from Fourcalt's report and I'm thinking that thw WSOP fields are pretty donktastic.

[AtlasRaised]

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That AKs hand is horrendous.

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which one? toward the middle (my hand) or toward the end (opponent hand)?

I'm assuming you meant the middle hand where my opponent called my AKs raise and all-in with A10. Yes, his line on this hand was pretty bad...but all in all he was not a bad player. He had played in 10 events up to that point and cashed in a few, and his plan was to either go into day 2 with an absolute monster stack or go home. He actually DID make it to Day 2, and the final table...and I played with him for several hours on Sunday. His play was much much different without the chiplead...rightly or wrongly. He played tight, almost too tight, at the final table and ended up getting blinded off in 8th.