Trip Report
by Edward Pizzarello
ATLARGE Trip Report (long, with many bad beats)
First of all, thanks to Goldie for preparing and planning another great ARG event.
In the immortal words of North Shore Mike, I don’t actually claim that everything contained herein is true, but it sure seems to be the way I SAW it.
My trip from Virginia started on Friday morning at 10:15. Driving up with StefSeahawk, we somehow manage to get on the road 15 minutes early. Somewhere in Maryland, we stop for a quick bite to eat. Stef buys lunch, and I’m *UP* for the trip. Don’t worry, this didn’t last long. The radar detection gods are kind, and we arrive in the City of Stale Urine shortly before 2 pm. $4 to park in the Taj garage, I might still be *UP* for the trip, but it’s close.
Check in to the Taj, get upgraded to slightly nicer room with fridge. Number 3232, not a *horrible* hand if you’re an Omaha player (which I’m not). So far, good omens.
I’ve made the decision to play in the Borgata $100 + $20 rebuy event, so we head over. This being my first time in the Borgata, I walk in like it was my first time in Vegas, staring, ooo-ing and ahh-ing like the tourist-a I am. Make way to poker room, see Russell Rosenblum in a NL ring game (max $300 buy-in), make my way to the registration table, and I get seat 1, table 10. Looks like it’ll be a nice sized field. What’s this? I hear someone whispering there are only 9 tables. I find a floorman and ask if we’re going 11 handed. His reply, “Oh, at least.” Twelve handed is a possibility. “Yes.” OK, 12 handed it is. It’s a bit snug, but it’ll do just fine. Sufficient grinding keeps me above the initial buy-in until the add-on period, at which I take my double add-on. Some more grinding, and then my Kings get cracked by Jacks. I cry a bit, and quickly get moved to another table, sitting beside the Tick. Chris has a decent mountain of chips. Not Mount Vesuvius, or Everest, but definitely a good rendition of the Appalachians. He begrudgingly gives me some on blatant steal attempts, but I’m still fairly short-stacked. As we head into the break, half my table is getting up for a much needed run to the men’s room. I look down at K9suited, and decide since 4 or 5 players are getting up, I can justify this as a middle to late-position steal. Soooo, I raise from seat 8, making it 1800 on 300/600 blinds. Now I’ll just sit back and wait for my pot.
But wait, the conservative guy in seat 2 with 6000 in chips throws out 1800. OK, time to rethink. Wait???? The guy in seat 4 that hasn’t played a hand since I moved to the table makes it 6000, moving all-in. And then the chip leader at our table immediately to his left just calls him, with well over 10K behind. WTF? I read the re-raiser as very strong based on his manner and the fact that he hasn’t played any hands since I’ve been there. I fold my K9 meekly and start to rise from the table. The guy in seat two openly folds two tens, and the reraiser turns over KJ, while the big stack shows JJ. Great, I made the right decision! The flop comes K59, and I can’t help feel a pit in my stomach. I know, results oriented thinking is the best way to go! After the break, I have trouble building my stack. Soon after I find myself on the rail in time enough to see Russell’s KK get cracked by A4. The flop comes down blank-blank-5, with a 3 on the turn. I mumble, “Well, he only has aces and deuces as outs.” It’s then that the dealer turns over the black 2. Russell tries to rebuild his stack again, but we are soon on our way to dinner at Ombra, the wine bar in the basement of Borgata.
When we get to the hostess stand, both a male and female manager are looking down at the book. The male manager nudges the female manager, who looks up at us. “2 please”. “Do you have a reservation?” “Well, we can seat you in about an hour and a half.” Suffering another bad beat, we decide to walk over and sit at the wine bar and dine. Food and wine are both very good, and about an hour later, the hostess bounds over to ask if we’d like a table for dinner now. My, she’s being quite flirtatious. We ask for a table the following night at 8. She makes the reservation for 4 people. Time to head back to the Taj, where I alternately watch the pot-limit game and one of the newbies from my home game play the tightest 2-4 game I’ve ever seen.
Fast forward to Saturday morning, and I come down to find out who’s at my table for NL. But first, the s00per-sekrit gift! Goldie breaks out gray fleece vests with the ATLARGE logo on them for all of the attendees. Way cool! Props to Goldie again. I look at my table assignment, figuring with so many newbies, I have a good chance of getting a good draw. Uh, no. Mitch, Tiger, Joan, Jerrod. Is there anybody at my table that I don’t know? Sigh. Goldie asks me if I can run to the slot cage and get $1500 in slot tokens. Chic and I take the walk down. As it turns out, $1500 in slot tokens weighs more than me. I feel a wincing pain, and then something drops and rolls around on the floor. I don’t think it was a slot token. As I hand out bounty coins to each table, my sharply honed math skills allow me to give some players 2 coins while I give others none, and the math still adds up. No, really. I’m more of a feel player. I’m running back and forth to my table trying to make sure I don’t miss a hand. I’ve decided to try wearing sunglasses for the first time. This works out nicely, except for the fact that since they aren’t prescription sunglasses, I can’t really see the rest of the poker room. Even Jerrod looks fuzzy ALLL the way down the other end of the table. That’s okay, because shortly thereafter, Jerrod takes his AK against Mitch’s KK, and now I can’t see him at all.
**Quick note, Goldie has placed a $100 bounty on my head for the NL tournament, as I am the 100th person to register for ATLARGE this year. Need to be really early or late next year.
Fairly early on, seat ten flat calls preflop, and I look down to 78s. I call, and Tiger checks his BB. The flop comes 784, all clubs. It’s checked around, and an offsuit J falls on the turn. I bet, Tiger doubles my bet quickly, and we lose seat ten. A fourth club on the end gets both of us to check, and tiger turns over AJ. MY 78 holds up! I’m now the chip leader at the table, and I point out that I can’t be busted for my $100 bounty in one hand by anyone. This is said mostly for Joan’s sake, as she has been greedily eyeing my bounty. Shortly thereafter, Mitch dispatches Jerrod, and I am no longer the big stack at the table. But wait, is this pocket Kings I find? The pot is unraised, so I make a decent raise, and Joan decides to go all-in from three seats to my left. I started the hand with T1200, and calling Joan’s bet brings me down to roughly 800. She turns over AKs00ted, and I’m on my way to a big stack again. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure everyone at the table hears me gulp when the ace hits on the turn, and I’ve now done my part to put Joan back in the game. As it turns out, today is Joan’s birthday. No, really. It’s her birthday. Happy freakin’ birthday! My present to her is the expression on my face watching Kings get cracked for the second time in less than 24 hours. She is WAAAY too happy.
I never really recover from this hand, but the blinds seem to keep going up. I’m nearing my death, when I pick up K8off in the cutoff, which means it’s Joan’s big blind. Well, of course I can steal Joan’s big blind. I make it 3 times the big blind, and Joan quickly calls. The flop comes K59 of hearts. Joan thinks for a minute, and asks me for a chip count. I have 475 left. She makes it 300 instead of pushing me all-in. I push my remaining chips in valiantly along with my bounty, and watch Joan turn over KQ offsuit. I stand up and sigh, knowing Joan has beaten me and taken all of my chips. I decide to cheer for an 8 just for giggles, and then realize neither of us has any hearts in our hand.
I then proceed to achieve the most monumental suckout in my recent memory. The turn is the 3 of hearts. I start screaming at the top of my lungs for an 8 or a heart, and the gods smile kindly on me, revealing a fifth heart. Chop! I’ve never felt so gloriously good about a chop. It’s not as good as an eight, but it sure tilts Joan. J She starts ranting about making sure I describe this hand in my trip report. And so, just for you Joan, here it is. Hugs and kisses, sweetie! Happy Birthday.
For three hours, Jerrod is the only player to bust out on our table, so we essentially trade chips while the rest of the tournament builds up mountain ranges. In short order, we bust three players from our table, including both of the people to my right and left. Incoming! Matt Matros and a guy named Reggie take the seats to my right and left, respectfully. Both of them bring their chips in racks, as if to scorn our puny stacks. I have enough to post the blinds at $100-$200 just about twice, and then my dance is over. Very shortly, I’m posting the big blind with a puny stack behind. The guy to my left flat calls from under the gun. We get no more callers until Matt throws in another 100 from the small blind, and awaaaay we go. But wait, is that AK I see in the big blind??? In a flurry, I push my mountain in the center, declaring myself all-in for another 325. I add my $5 and $100 bounty to the pot. The guy to my left calls quickly, and then Matt looks at the pot like there’s a worm crawling through the chips. “What’s that?”, he asks. “Uh, that’s my $100 bounty.” “Oh, F***. I forgot about your bounty. I’m all-in”. The guy to my left folds. In fairness to Matt, he says he would have called anyway without the bounty, which is true. He turns over A3 of hearts. Whew, I can finally get back to a real stack and triple through. The flop is all black, eliminating his flush draw.
WHAAAATTTT?? What the F*** is a 3 doing out there. I vividly remember slamming my fist against the wall while Matt pounds the table, screaming, “Yeah, baby. I’m up $100.”
I’ve had three premium hands in 24 hours, all of which have been busted.
After donating money to the 5-10 game at the Taj, it’s time for dinner at Ombra with Russell and Matt. We get there a bit early and see our hostess friend. Russell greases her palm, and she is honestly surprised we are tipping her. This seems odd for an establishment as nice as Borgata. She tells us to let her know when we’re ready to sit down. A few minutes later, we decide to sit down. “Well, it’s going to be about 30 minutes for your table.” So much for having a reservation. Or maybe it was the size of our tip that surprised her? 30 minutes pass, and a mere 15 minutes after that, we’re sitting down to enjoy a good dinner.
The trip went by way too fast. Looking forward to seeing most of you at NEPC or Barge.
Regards,
Edward Pizzarello
