Bubble Trouble
On Tuesday I finally got the opportunity to head down to The Gutshot, a recently opened cardroom in London, about which I've been hearing rave reviews. There was a £5 Pot-Limit Holdem Tournament aimed at "beginners" on at 8pm and at 5:45, when plans for the evening fell though, I realised I had just about enough time to make it.
So I crammed a my shades and Hendon Mob Cap into a bag and for a card-protector (which can be used to cover your cards once you've memorized them to prevent them from being confused with discarded or mucked ones) I chose Lance, the nodding Kiwi, whom my brother gave me on his return from New Zealand:
I jumped on my bike and zoomed to the bus stop for the coach to London. I arrived just as it was pulling away but some frantic arm-waving and dancing in the middle of the road persuaded it to stop again just up the road, for which I was most grateful. I eventually made it to the Gutshot in the nick of time managing both to fill in a mambership form and register for the tournament in the last 5 minutes before 8pm.
The Gushot is a great venue in itself. The majority of the poker happens downstairs in the basement, but it's not at all seedy and there's no smoking at the tables. The ground floor consists of a decent sized bar/restaurant, with sofas and big-screens which where showing Italy's fall from Euro 2004.
[I started this post yesterday evening - it's now friday morning - before a certain Swiss Robbery in the quarter-finals of Euro 2004. I shall now attempt to complete it, although I can't promise any coherancy (or ability to spell)]
77 people had registered for the tournament and for the first hour if you got knocked out you could buy back in again (and again and again if necessary) for another £5. A couple of the tables had dealers but for the majority of us it was self-dealt. I sat myself down with my 500 in chips at my allocated seat between two middle aged men. One was a stereotypically fat london cabby the other a stereotypically skinny london cabby. Neither could have been more cockney if he'd tried. The fat cabby (to my right) was obviously quite an experienced player so I'm not quite sure what he was doing at a "beginners" tournament, but it was useful to have someone to clear up any confusion and sort out any side pots even if he was a bit full of himself in an aggressive-cabby kind of way. One woman was clearly very new to poker but fortunately for her there was a very kind, more experienced lady sitting next to her who absorbed as much of the impatience as she could that oozed from Fat Cabby's every comment.
As would be expected in a low buy-in tournament with unlimited rebuys the play for the first hour was pretty loose and I found my self calling for more chips of a number of occasions. Fortunately I caught a reasonable hand and doubled up with about 10 minutes left of rebuys. At the end of the hour I topped up with another 500 to give myself about 1800 chips going into the serious stuff. There had been one hell of a lot of rebuys (about an average of 2 per person) so there was a nice sized prize pool, but also a fair few big stacks. The kind experienced woman was chip leader on our table with over 10,000 and Fat Cabby had about 5,000.
For the majority of the rest of the tournament I was pretty happy with my play. I made a few good steals and I was particularly happy with this lay-down: I was in the big blind and Fat Cabby to my right was in the small blind. Everyone folds round to us and he only calls. Sitting with J5, I check and the flop came A J 7 (rainbow). Fat Cabby checks to me and I bet the pot knowing that if he had an Ace he would almost certainly have raised pre-flop. But then he raises all-in and I start doing some serious thinking. So serious in fact that Fat Cabby eventually calls for a time limit. I'm either putting him on a high pocket pair which he decided to slow play pre-flop or a better Jack than me, with the former being less likely. Of course he could be bluffing, but since the rebuy's finished he's been playing a pretty tight game. So I fold and show him my J5 and he has the decency to show me J8, phew!
That pot bet took a nasty chunk out of my stack and I was going to be treading a fine line from here on. Shortly after that our table was broken up but I still ended up with Fat Cabby. I was only at this table long enough to be blinded a couple of times before we were moved again. A few carefully timed steals ensured that my life line was extended a bit, but I wasn't getting anything in the way of decent cards. However, before a knew it we were being moved again and I realised I'd made it to the final two tables (the top 18). The top 9 would get paid. £500 for first place down to £26 for ninth.
It was here that my luck finally came good. I doubled and then trippled through in quick succession. About to get blinded down to a point of no return I reraised all-in before the flop with KT. Only the original raiser called with 88 - I had a chance. At this point it was about a 50-50 with him having a marginal advantage, with the pair already made. The King came on the flop and Lance and I duly thanked the poker gods. Almost immediately after that I was dealt TT. The short stack at the table went all in and the guy to my right called. At this stage I quite possibly should have folded, but I had both of them outchipped so I decided to re-raise and I put the guy to the left all-in. This left me with just about enough to survive if I lost this hand, but it would be another struggle. I was relieved when neither of them had higher pairs than I - the short stack showed A8 and the other guy KJ - but with three overcards that could beat me (two of those being crippling), I was pretty nervous. However, not only was there no A, K or J, a T came on the river! I'd just sent two people packing!
This put me in serious contention for the final table. I had about 18,000 which was probably about the average. There were 11 of us left at this stage - only two people had to go before I was in the money. The worst thing you want to see at this stage of a tournament is a marginal hand - a hand that's strong (but not a monster) and that you would probably play under most other conditions and that you'd probably even raise with if there hadn't been any action before you. Well sure enough I get delt the two black Jacks. I look down and know that if the action gets folded round to me I can probably put in a raise and safely pick up the blinds (all the bigs stacks happened to be at the ohter table). But then the guy to my right does exactly that - he raises the pot. Shit! Decsision time! He had me slightly outchipped and it's a clear case of wither fold or reraise and the only meaningful raise I can put in now is to go all-in. Having replayed this hand over and over again, I should have folded without question. JJ is too vunerable. AA, KK, QQ are all definate possiblities and the only other hands that might bring about a riase at this stage would be AK and AQ and against thosew I've only got a marginal advantage. Still, my inexpierience and the heat of the moment, along with Lance's ever nodding head made me re-rasie him all in. Everyone else folded and he duly called (with the ammount he'd already invested in the pot, the only way he wouldn't call is if he were on a steal) and flipped over QQ.
After last night, it's a mere drop in the ocean, but I seem to remeber feeling pretty gutted at the time! What makes going out on the bubble even worse is that there's hardly any time left to play in any side action to try and make up one's losses. However, I wasn't coming all this way to dissapear with my tail between my legs just like that so I joined in with a £25 PL Holdem ring game that was going on. My cards there were even colder and after an hour and a half of seeing only three flops I picked my drooping eyelids off the felt and headed back to the bus stop.
Next time, huh.
So I crammed a my shades and Hendon Mob Cap into a bag and for a card-protector (which can be used to cover your cards once you've memorized them to prevent them from being confused with discarded or mucked ones) I chose Lance, the nodding Kiwi, whom my brother gave me on his return from New Zealand:
I jumped on my bike and zoomed to the bus stop for the coach to London. I arrived just as it was pulling away but some frantic arm-waving and dancing in the middle of the road persuaded it to stop again just up the road, for which I was most grateful. I eventually made it to the Gutshot in the nick of time managing both to fill in a mambership form and register for the tournament in the last 5 minutes before 8pm.
The Gushot is a great venue in itself. The majority of the poker happens downstairs in the basement, but it's not at all seedy and there's no smoking at the tables. The ground floor consists of a decent sized bar/restaurant, with sofas and big-screens which where showing Italy's fall from Euro 2004.
[I started this post yesterday evening - it's now friday morning - before a certain Swiss Robbery in the quarter-finals of Euro 2004. I shall now attempt to complete it, although I can't promise any coherancy (or ability to spell)]
77 people had registered for the tournament and for the first hour if you got knocked out you could buy back in again (and again and again if necessary) for another £5. A couple of the tables had dealers but for the majority of us it was self-dealt. I sat myself down with my 500 in chips at my allocated seat between two middle aged men. One was a stereotypically fat london cabby the other a stereotypically skinny london cabby. Neither could have been more cockney if he'd tried. The fat cabby (to my right) was obviously quite an experienced player so I'm not quite sure what he was doing at a "beginners" tournament, but it was useful to have someone to clear up any confusion and sort out any side pots even if he was a bit full of himself in an aggressive-cabby kind of way. One woman was clearly very new to poker but fortunately for her there was a very kind, more experienced lady sitting next to her who absorbed as much of the impatience as she could that oozed from Fat Cabby's every comment.
As would be expected in a low buy-in tournament with unlimited rebuys the play for the first hour was pretty loose and I found my self calling for more chips of a number of occasions. Fortunately I caught a reasonable hand and doubled up with about 10 minutes left of rebuys. At the end of the hour I topped up with another 500 to give myself about 1800 chips going into the serious stuff. There had been one hell of a lot of rebuys (about an average of 2 per person) so there was a nice sized prize pool, but also a fair few big stacks. The kind experienced woman was chip leader on our table with over 10,000 and Fat Cabby had about 5,000.
For the majority of the rest of the tournament I was pretty happy with my play. I made a few good steals and I was particularly happy with this lay-down: I was in the big blind and Fat Cabby to my right was in the small blind. Everyone folds round to us and he only calls. Sitting with J5, I check and the flop came A J 7 (rainbow). Fat Cabby checks to me and I bet the pot knowing that if he had an Ace he would almost certainly have raised pre-flop. But then he raises all-in and I start doing some serious thinking. So serious in fact that Fat Cabby eventually calls for a time limit. I'm either putting him on a high pocket pair which he decided to slow play pre-flop or a better Jack than me, with the former being less likely. Of course he could be bluffing, but since the rebuy's finished he's been playing a pretty tight game. So I fold and show him my J5 and he has the decency to show me J8, phew!
That pot bet took a nasty chunk out of my stack and I was going to be treading a fine line from here on. Shortly after that our table was broken up but I still ended up with Fat Cabby. I was only at this table long enough to be blinded a couple of times before we were moved again. A few carefully timed steals ensured that my life line was extended a bit, but I wasn't getting anything in the way of decent cards. However, before a knew it we were being moved again and I realised I'd made it to the final two tables (the top 18). The top 9 would get paid. £500 for first place down to £26 for ninth.
It was here that my luck finally came good. I doubled and then trippled through in quick succession. About to get blinded down to a point of no return I reraised all-in before the flop with KT. Only the original raiser called with 88 - I had a chance. At this point it was about a 50-50 with him having a marginal advantage, with the pair already made. The King came on the flop and Lance and I duly thanked the poker gods. Almost immediately after that I was dealt TT. The short stack at the table went all in and the guy to my right called. At this stage I quite possibly should have folded, but I had both of them outchipped so I decided to re-raise and I put the guy to the left all-in. This left me with just about enough to survive if I lost this hand, but it would be another struggle. I was relieved when neither of them had higher pairs than I - the short stack showed A8 and the other guy KJ - but with three overcards that could beat me (two of those being crippling), I was pretty nervous. However, not only was there no A, K or J, a T came on the river! I'd just sent two people packing!
This put me in serious contention for the final table. I had about 18,000 which was probably about the average. There were 11 of us left at this stage - only two people had to go before I was in the money. The worst thing you want to see at this stage of a tournament is a marginal hand - a hand that's strong (but not a monster) and that you would probably play under most other conditions and that you'd probably even raise with if there hadn't been any action before you. Well sure enough I get delt the two black Jacks. I look down and know that if the action gets folded round to me I can probably put in a raise and safely pick up the blinds (all the bigs stacks happened to be at the ohter table). But then the guy to my right does exactly that - he raises the pot. Shit! Decsision time! He had me slightly outchipped and it's a clear case of wither fold or reraise and the only meaningful raise I can put in now is to go all-in. Having replayed this hand over and over again, I should have folded without question. JJ is too vunerable. AA, KK, QQ are all definate possiblities and the only other hands that might bring about a riase at this stage would be AK and AQ and against thosew I've only got a marginal advantage. Still, my inexpierience and the heat of the moment, along with Lance's ever nodding head made me re-rasie him all in. Everyone else folded and he duly called (with the ammount he'd already invested in the pot, the only way he wouldn't call is if he were on a steal) and flipped over QQ.
After last night, it's a mere drop in the ocean, but I seem to remeber feeling pretty gutted at the time! What makes going out on the bubble even worse is that there's hardly any time left to play in any side action to try and make up one's losses. However, I wasn't coming all this way to dissapear with my tail between my legs just like that so I joined in with a £25 PL Holdem ring game that was going on. My cards there were even colder and after an hour and a half of seeing only three flops I picked my drooping eyelids off the felt and headed back to the bus stop.
Next time, huh.
posted by Pinky @ 4:49 PM
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