Fire and Ice

I cashed 13 of 30 poker tournaments, with 9 final tables. Then I lost 12 in a row.

In March 2023, I found myself at the final table of a one-day $1k at Bally’s Black Hawk. With eight players left I was the shortest stack, in the big blind with around ten BBs. It folded to the small blind, who put me all-in. I looked down at king-nine suited. My ICM understanding was hazier than it is now, so it took me a moment to call. That was the moment when a firestorm enveloped my cards. The K9s held against a queen high of some sort, and thirty hands later the tournament was over: I caught an incendiary run of cards, won about 25 of those 30 hands and eliminated every remaining opponent.

The firestorm would last another sixteen months. I cashed thirteen of thirty poker tournaments, with nine final tables. I won one the aforementioned $1k outright, chopped another heads-up, and another four-handed. I finished third in one and fourth in another. All but three of them had more than 100 entrants. All paid less than 15% of the field. I finished in the top percentile six times. Every buy-in was between $1k and $2500 except for two $10k WSOP Main Events. I use “tournament” synonymously with “bullet” in this case: I made thirty entries.

80% of the way through this hot streak, I chose to return to professional poker. I was highly aware of how hot I was running, knowing this sort of success is not sustainable in tournament poker (even in Black Hawk, where 26 of the 30 tournaments took place). Certainly, I was artificially buoyed by these results. But truly, I was more encouraged by the mistakes I saw watching high buy-in WSOP final tables in June.

My first tournament as a second-time professional was the WSOP Main Event. The very first hand, I lost a fairly large pot to knock my stack down. I spent the rest of the day short-stacked and ended it with half a starting stack.

On day two, I won my first all-in, then played my best single day of poker of sixteen times playing the WSOP Main. I lost some annoying hands on day three and soon found myself desperate again. I sucked out with KQ against AQ, which looked especially bleak after a 4-3-2 flop. I spent the rest of the day siphoning off chips and winning preflop all-ins. Day four I folded into the money, won another preflop race and went uncalled on a dozen or so all-ins before shoving a suited king from the SB into the BB’s jacks. I finally lost and busted out in 628th place of 10,112 entrants.

All told I won six all-ins during the WSOP Main:

• JJ vs A8hh on 932hh6 (72.73%)

• KQ vs AQ all-in preflop (25.76%)

• AT vs QJ on 964T (68.18%)

• AJ vs 77 aipf (45.09%)

• AA vs AK aipf (93.2%)

• AK vs TT aipf (43.32%)

Multiplying these chances, we get a 2.33% chance of survival.

It’s depressing to consider this 2.33% chance. It could well be the hottest all-in run I ever get in the world’s largest poker tournament. I’d like to think an outlier all-in performance like this would coincide with a super-deep, top-100, big score sort of outcome, not a 3x return. Obviously, I was extremely lucky to survive those six all-in confrontations.

Yet I don’t believe I was extremely lucky in the tournament. Besides the all-ins and some bluffs on day two, I won very few hands. I believe I misplayed only two or three. Otherwise, I bled chips in numerous small encounters: comfortably check-folding to opponents with healthy range advantages. It was almost comical how icy my flops were - except the ones I needed to survive.

Overall I was content with my performance. It wasn’t a no-hitter, but emerging from the Main with one handful of mistakes in four days is tolerable for a newfangled pro. I was left with a swell of satisfaction. It felt exhilarating to recommit to this endeavor, to mentally and physically prepare myself for months in advance, then execute for the benefit of my family. I left Las Vegas confident in my renewed livelihood.

The next tournament I played was an $1110 MSPT in Black Hawk. My wife’s car had reached its last wheels and I declared we’d buy a new one if I final-tabled this tournament. I fired three bullets day one, patiently riding a prolonged short stack through the night on the third. I caught heat on day two, destroying a maniac who’d tormented my day one table. I cruised to the final table.

Early on there I took a beat, casting me into an ICM cage. I was pleased with my inward and outward reaction to the beat. I leaned on the stoicism I’ve studied the past few years, instantly putting it behind me and focusing on the present. I properly executed several close ICM decisions and laddered to a satisfying 4th place finish. Overall I believe this was cleanest poker tournament I’ve played over my two careers. And the new Hyundai Ioniq we leased is fantastic.

I knew regression would eventually arrive. It has in the form of twelve straight entries without a cash. I was disappointed with my bustout hand in the twelfth and further disappointed with how I left the table: striding off without a nod to any of my friends at the table. I do believe I am one of the luckiest people in the history of the earth, certainly one of the luckiest to sit in that poker room. I should never forget that.

It’s now been a few weeks since I’ve played. I’m going back to Las Vegas next week for the NAPT, highlighted by a $5300 Main Event. I’m feeling a mix of excitement, curiousity and trepidation. I fear the tougher competition I may encounter could discourage this renewed endeavor. At the same time, I’m excited to compete against stiffer competition. I’ve studied hard for that opportunity. And I’m inspired to provide for my family. In my first go-round I believed financial pressure was problematic for poker players. Now I believe the motivation to provide for my family gives me an advantageous verve. LFG.