My little book, which wraps up my year in poker through hand histories, analysis, and stories has arrived! Please grab one for yourself, or for the poker player on your shopping list.
Happy Holidays!
I’ve got a short book on the way! It’s called TWENTY-THREE NLHE TOURNAMENT HANDS FROM 2023: Review, Analysis, & Stories, it’s about 70 pages, and I hope it’s fun, cheap, and informative.
Fingers crossed, we’ll have a cover reveal and links to purchase soon (still dotting the letters that need dots, also changing my mind about certain hands at the last minute—the usual!). Fingers also crossed, I’d like to make this an annual release for as long as I’m playing poker: a relatively short year in review from a learning standpoint. Good, right?
But it’s not available yet. It should (I hope) be available as a holiday gift for the poker player in your life. For now, consider giving the gift of private poker lessons for yourself or others! I have availability, and it’s never too early to start prepping for WSOP.
Finally, I do have some actual content for you all. Please enjoy the Introduction to TWENTY-THREE NLHE HANDS below. It may end up changing slightly in the published version. If so, you can say you had an early look behind the scenes.
Happy Thanksgiving, and good luck with the rest of your poker in 2023!
I used to love talking poker hands. Talking shop. Throwing out different ideas, no matter how silly they sounded. Listening to opinions wildly divergent from my own. Getting exposed to nonstandard approaches to the game. Questioning whether all those other players out there were really doing it right.
Were we really supposed to be open-raising to three times the blind every time? Was it really right to only exercise your option from the big blind with a premium hand? Could it really be OK to flat against an opening raise rather than three-bet?
These questions have long been decided by the community at large (the answers, of course, are no, no, and yes, respectively), but those of us who figured out how to buck the conventional playing style in advance enjoyed a significant edge back then. The same can be true now.
While fundamental errors in basic strategy are rare these days, there are still plenty of places where the average tournament player consistently makes mistakes. For me, talking through real-world hands is still the very best way to recognize these opportunities and later put them into practice.
Plus, it’s fun! No one wants to hear your bad beat story, but everyone wants to hear about the time you overbet bluffed, or the time you called the river check-raise with third pair and won, or the time you attempted to bluff your opponent off a full house because of “blockers.”
That hand narratives are both fun and instructive is not a coincidence. I hate staring at charts and solver outputs, as necessary as that process is in this day and age. I still love talking hands. And any teacher will tell you that it’s a million times easier to learn something if you’re actually, actively enjoying yourself.
All the hands in this book are actual NLHE tournament hands I played over the past year. Most (but not all) are from online events, since that’s still where I log the majority of my play. All were chosen because I found them interesting and insightful. I hope you do too.
I considered presenting the hands chronologically, thinking that we could all observe some kind of evolution in my play. But jumping around from one entirely different context to another proved too cumbersome.
Instead, I’ve grouped the hands thematically, so now there’s at least some logic as to why one hand follows another in the story of my poker year. To that end, I’ve placed the hands in five sections:
1) Range versus Range.
The idea that you’re not just playing your hand against your opponent’s hand, but your range against your opponent’s range, is crucial to a modern understanding of our game. I’ve started with a couple hands that illustrate that concept, to make sure we’ve all got our poker brains attached correctly before we really dive in.
2) Blockers.
Blockers are a wildly popular topic among even casual poker players these days, yet I find that many of my students still have a poor understanding of exactly how and where they apply. I’ve included some hands to help nail down the concept, and hopefully make it more accessible to those who might have found it too intimidating to dive into.
3) The Bubble.
Strategy changes drastically on the bubble, to the point where if you’re only thinking about maximizing your chip stack, you’re potentially leaving a lot of money on the table. I’ll look at some bubble hands I played this year, and show the kind of dramatic adjustments they require.
4) Anatomy of a Victory.
These hands aren’t as closely related as the ones in the other groups—but they’re from a tournament I won so I took some liberties! I do think it’s instructive to see how a tournament win comes together, and how luck and skill can interact every once in a while to justify the long droughts we inevitably go through. Also, you’ll see that you don’t have to win every big pot to win a tournament.
5) Table Dynamics.
This is the shortest section, containing only one hand (well, two if you count the set-up), as in-game adjustments based on table dynamics aren’t a major part of my overall strategy. But when the opportunity presents itself I want to be able to take advantage of it. And I want you to do the same.
The central aim of my last book, The Poker Brain, was to explain some advanced theoretical concepts in an understandable way, and show how they applied in actual play at the table. I think I did a decent job (and please check out that book if you haven’t already!), but the work of converting theory into practice is unending, and there are fresh applications every day.
With this new project, I set out to write something fun and instructive that continues the mission I started with The Poker Brain. I also wanted to do something scalable. My idea is to put out a similar short book (booklet? pamphlet? missive? almanac?) every year that goes through my hands and analyzes how concepts and real-world play interact. Crazy? Only time will tell.
For now, please enjoy this first edition, as you take a ride with me through my year in NLHE tournaments. The variance of playing a year’s worth of events is huge, but the variance of reading about them is, thankfully, zero.
inute—the usual!). Fingers also crossed, I’d like to make this an annual release for as long as I’m playing poker: a relatively short year in review from a learning standpoint. Good, right?
But it’s not available yet. It should (I hope) be available as a holiday gift for the poker player in your life. For now, consider giving the gift of private poker lessons for yourself or others! I have availability, and it’s never too early to start prepping for WSOP.
Finally, I do have some actual content for you all. Please enjoy the Introduction to TWENTY-THREE NLHE HANDS below. It may end up changing slightly in the published version. If so, you can say you had an early look behind the scenes.
Happy Thanksgiving, and good luck with the rest of your poker in 2023!
I used to love talking poker hands. Talking shop. Throwing out different ideas, no matter how silly they sounded. Listening to opinions wildly divergent from my own. Getting exposed to nonstandard approaches to the game. Questioning whether all those other players out there were really doing it right.
Were we really supposed to be open-raising to three times the blind every time? Was it really right to only exercise your option from the big blind with a premium hand? Could it really be OK to flat against an opening raise rather than three-bet?
These questions have long been decided by the community at large (the answers, of course, are no, no, and yes, respectively), but those of us who figured out how to buck the conventional playing style in advance enjoyed a significant edge back then. The same can be true now.
While fundamental errors in basic strategy are rare these days, there are still plenty of places where the average tournament player consistently makes mistakes. For me, talking through real-world hands is still the very best way to recognize these opportunities and later put them into practice.
Plus, it’s fun! No one wants to hear your bad beat story, but everyone wants to hear about the time you overbet bluffed, or the time you called the river check-raise with third pair and won, or the time you attempted to bluff your opponent off a full house because of “blockers.”
That hand narratives are both fun and instructive is not a coincidence. I hate staring at charts and solver outputs, as necessary as that process is in this day and age. I still love talking hands. And any teacher will tell you that it’s a million times easier to learn something if you’re actually, actively enjoying yourself.
All the hands in this book are actual NLHE tournament hands I played over the past year. Most (but not all) are from online events, since that’s still where I log the majority of my play. All were chosen because I found them interesting and insightful. I hope you do too.
I considered presenting the hands chronologically, thinking that we could all observe some kind of evolution in my play. But jumping around from one entirely different context to another proved too cumbersome.
Instead, I’ve grouped the hands thematically, so now there’s at least some logic as to why one hand follows another in the story of my poker year. To that end, I’ve placed the hands in five sections:
1) Range versus Range.
The idea that you’re not just playing your hand against your opponent’s hand, but your range against your opponent’s range, is crucial to a modern understanding of our game. I’ve started with a couple hands that illustrate that concept, to make sure we’ve all got our poker brains attached correctly before we really dive in.
2) Blockers.
Blockers are a wildly popular topic among even casual poker players these days, yet I find that many of my students still have a poor understanding of exactly how and where they apply. I’ve included some hands to help nail down the concept, and hopefully make it more accessible to those who might have found it too intimidating to dive into.
3) The Bubble.
Strategy changes drastically on the bubble, to the point where if you’re only thinking about maximizing your chip stack, you’re potentially leaving a lot of money on the table. I’ll look at some bubble hands I played this year, and show the kind of dramatic adjustments they require.
4) Anatomy of a Victory.
These hands aren’t as closely related as the ones in the other groups—but they’re from a tournament I won so I took some liberties! I do think it’s instructive to see how a tournament win comes together, and how luck and skill can interact every once in a while to justify the long droughts we inevitably go through. Also, you’ll see that you don’t have to win every big pot to win a tournament.
5) Table Dynamics.
This is the shortest section, containing only one hand (well, two if you count the set-up), as in-game adjustments based on table dynamics aren’t a major part of my overall strategy. But when the opportunity presents itself I want to be able to take advantage of it. And I want you to do the same.
The central aim of my last book, The Poker Brain, was to explain some advanced theoretical concepts in an understandable way, and show how they applied in actual play at the table. I think I did a decent job (and please check out that book if you haven’t already!), but the work of converting theory into practice is unending, and there are fresh applications every day.
With this new project, I set out to write something fun and instructive that continues the mission I started with The Poker Brain. I also wanted to do something scalable. My idea is to put out a similar short book (booklet? pamphlet? missive? almanac?) every year that goes through my hands and analyzes how concepts and real-world play interact. Crazy? Only time will tell.
For now, please enjoy this first edition, as you take a ride with me through my year in NLHE tournaments. The variance of playing a year’s worth of events is huge, but the variance of reading about them is, thankfully, zero.
I was back at it last weekend for the $2,200 buy-in PokerStars US Summer Series event at Philadelphia Live!
Like many modern tournaments, this event featured three Day Ones—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday—with the surviving field returning for Day Two on Sunday. Only those returning players would make the money.
In the wee hours late on Friday night, I had an interesting situation come up on the stone bubble. I’ll include as much relevant information as I can, so you can decide what you would’ve done in my spot.
1.) Twelve (12) players had advanced from Thursday.
2.) There were eighteen (18) players remaining from my start day, with 17 advancing, and we were playing hand-for-hand.
3.) Saturday was expected to be the biggest field. I was guessing 30-35 players would advance from Saturday.
4.) Average stack was about 380,000.
5.) Blinds were 4,000-8,000 with a big blind ante.
6.) The shortest stack was about 50,000—enough for two orbits—but that player was not at my table.
7.) The next shortest stack had 109,000.
8.) I was the third-shortest stack.
9.) Exact pay structure was unknown, but we assumed a typical min-cash of 1.5-1.8 times the buy-in.
Got all that? OK, here’s the hand.
It folds to the button—the second-shortest stack in the tournament, and a strong player—who shoves for 109k.
After anteing 8k, I have 175k including the 8k I’ve posted for the big blind.
The small blind folds.
What do I call with? Specifically, I’m interested in how far down I should go with my Ax offsuit. Think about this situation for a second and respond to the poll before reading on.
An important skill in poker is knowing what’s important. There are a million factors at play in spots like this—how can our brains figure out which ones take precedence in real time at the table? (This question is the focus of my book The Poker Brain, hint hint!)
In a spot like this, it’s crucial that I have the button covered by enough that even if I call and lose, I still have a reasonable chance of cashing. In that scenario, I would basically be fighting it out with the short stack at the other table for the final money spot. If the stack sizes were reversed, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t call here even with AKs. (Running a quick sim—yeah, it looks like only QQ or better can call in that spot!)
But since I do cover my opponent by a reasonable amount, I know I can at least consider calling with some good-but-not-premium hands. How far to take it, though?
The next factor to consider here is an underrated one by most tournament players. In case you haven’t guessed by the title of this post, that factor is field size.
With a borderline hand, would you rather call on the stone bubble with 27 players left, or 227? Again, if you don’t know this answer already, think about it a bit before reading on.
A good way to work through the above question is to ask, “what do I gain by calling and winning?” This framing helps clarify the problem a bit better than the negative perspective of, “in which case would bubbling feel worse?”
With 227 players left, the upside of calling and winning is that you still have to get through hundreds of players before you see meaningful pay jumps and reach the final table. With 27 players left, the upside of calling and winning is that you’ve already made the final three tables, and you’re in position to make a run at the final table quite soon.
Additionally, the upside of folding is greater in a very large field, where you’re likely to reach the money in just a couple of additional hands. In a short field, it’s reasonable to expect to remain on the bubble for a while. You could fold, and then still be battling on the bubble hours later.
Clearly then, you should be more inclined to take a risk on the bubble in a short field than in a big one. The effect is actually quite dramatic.
Running ICMizer for an 18-person bubble with a standardish pay structure, I’m supposed to call here with 66+, AT+, A9s, KQs.
Change it to a 180-person bubble, and suddenly the calling range tightens all the way up to TT+, AQ+, AJs.
My situation was somewhere between these two, although it’s impossible to say where exactly, since the ultimate number of players cashing was unknown.
Running the numbers for a 63-person bubble, my calling range is supposed to be 99+, AJ+. In practice, I think I can call a tiny bit looser than this, since we wouldn’t expect to reach the money as soon as we would in an actual 63-person field if I folded.
One key takeaway here is, regardless of the specifics, you simply can’t get very loose when you’re relatively short-stacked on the bubble. Any ace worse than AT is just asking for trouble in almost every scenario. If you never called off on the bubble with worse than AT when short-stacked, that strategy would likely serve you quite well.
In the actual hand, I had AJo, which felt right on the border to me in-game. Glad to see the computer overlords back me up! If the button had been a typical bubble short stack—which is to say, a nit—I would’ve folded fairly comfortably. As it was, I thought there were too many hands I was beating, and that I would have just enough chips left if I lost to justify calling. Still, I’m pretty sure I would’ve folded ATo.
The happy ending is that the button had ATo himself, and play finished for the night after I busted him.
I ended up finishing 40th in the tournament on Sunday, which is a story for another post.
If you enjoyed this analysis, please consider becoming a paid subscriber to Matt Matros’s Poker Brain! I’ve got some stuff planned for paid subscribers in the coming months, and your subscriptions help keep all the content coming more regularly regardless.
Good luck at the tables this week! Unless you’re against me in the online Bracelet events…
an interesting situation come up on the stone bubble. I’ll include as much relevant information as I can, so you can decide what you would’ve done in my spot.
1.) Twelve (12) players had advanced from Thursday.
2.) There were eighteen (18) players remaining from my start day, with 17 advancing, and we were playing hand-for-hand.
3.) Saturday was expected to be the biggest field. I was guessing 30-35 players would advance from Saturday.
4.) Average stack was about 380,000.
5.) Blinds were 4,000-8,000 with a big blind ante.
6.) The shortest stack was about 50,000—enough for two orbits—but that player was not at my table.
7.) The next shortest stack had 109,000.
8.) I was the third-shortest stack.
9.) Exact pay structure was unknown, but we assumed a typical min-cash of 1.5-1.8 times the buy-in.
Got all that? OK, here’s the hand.
It folds to the button—the second-shortest stack in the tournament, and a strong player—who shoves for 109k.
After anteing 8k, I have 175k including the 8k I’ve posted for the big blind.
The small blind folds.
What do I call with? Specifically, I’m interested in how far down I should go with my Ax offsuit. Think about this situation for a second and respond to the poll before reading on.
An important skill in poker is knowing what’s important. There are a million factors at play in spots like this—how can our brains figure out which ones take precedence in real time at the table? (This question is the focus of my book The Poker Brain, hint hint!)
In a spot like this, it’s crucial that I have the button covered by enough that even if I call and lose, I still have a reasonable chance of cashing. In that scenario, I would basically be fighting it out with the short stack at the other table for the final money spot. If the stack sizes were reversed, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t call here even with AKs. (Running a quick sim—yeah, it looks like only QQ or better can call in that spot!)
But since I do cover my opponent by a reasonable amount, I know I can at least consider calling with some good-but-not-premium hands. How far to take it, though?
The next factor to consider here is an underrated one by most tournament players. In case you haven’t guessed by the title of this post, that factor is field size.
With a borderline hand, would you rather call on the stone bubble with 27 players left, or 227? Again, if you don’t know this answer already, think about it a bit before reading on.
A good way to work through the above question is to ask, “what do I gain by calling and winning?” This framing helps clarify the problem a bit better than the negative perspective of, “in which case would bubbling feel worse?”
With 227 players left, the upside of calling and winning is that you still have to get through hundreds of players before you see meaningful pay jumps and reach the final table. With 27 players left, the upside of calling and winning is that you’ve already made the final three tables, and you’re in position to make a run at the final table quite soon.
Additionally, the upside of folding is greater in a very large field, where you’re likely to reach the money in just a couple of additional hands. In a short field, it’s reasonable to expect to remain on the bubble for a while. You could fold, and then still be battling on the bubble hours later.
Clearly then, you should be more inclined to take a risk on the bubble in a short field than in a big one. The effect is actually quite dramatic.
Running ICMizer for an 18-person bubble with a standardish pay structure, I’m supposed to call here with 66+, AT+, A9s, KQs.
Change it to a 180-person bubble, and suddenly the calling range tightens all the way up to TT+, AQ+, AJs.
My situation was somewhere between these two, although it’s impossible to say where exactly, since the ultimate number of players cashing was unknown.
Running the numbers for a 63-person bubble, my calling range is supposed to be 99+, AJ+. In practice, I think I can call a tiny bit looser than this, since we wouldn’t expect to reach the money as soon as we would in an actual 63-person field if I folded.
One key takeaway here is, regardless of the specifics, you simply can’t get very loose when you’re relatively short-stacked on the bubble. Any ace worse than AT is just asking for trouble in almost every scenario. If you never called off on the bubble with worse than AT when short-stacked, that strategy would likely serve you quite well.
In the actual hand, I had AJo, which felt right on the border to me in-game. Glad to see the computer overlords back me up! If the button had been a typical bubble short stack—which is to say, a nit—I would’ve folded fairly comfortably. As it was, I thought there were too many hands I was beating, and that I would have just enough chips left if I lost to justify calling. Still, I’m pretty sure I would’ve folded ATo.
The happy ending is that the button had ATo himself, and play finished for the night after I busted him.
I ended up finishing 40th in the tournament on Sunday, which is a story for another post.
If you enjoyed this analysis, please consider becoming a paid subscriber to Matt Matros’s Poker Brain! I’ve got some stuff planned for paid subscribers in the coming months, and your subscriptions help keep all the content coming more regularly regardless.
Good luck at the tables this week! Unless you’re against me in the online Bracelet events…
Last weekend I played the $1,100 buy-in PokerStars US Summer Series event at Philadelphia Live! (exclamation theirs). It was great to be back on the felt for the first time since Vegas! (exclamation mine)
I ran up an OK stack, only to bust when I got 40 blinds in with JTs vs KTo on a board of ATT7.
Along the way, I played three hands that I was particularly happy with.
Hand One: I open UTG1 with AcJh and get called by an excellent player in the big blind. The flop comes 3s3h2d and I continue for a min-bet. My opponent calls. The turn is the Qd and we both check. The river is the Qc and my opponent leads out for 1.6 times the pot. I fold.
Hand Two: The UTG1 player opens, and the Lojack three-bets off a 50 BB stack. From the BB, I four-bet to 13 BB with AdQd. The initial raiser folds, the three-bettor jams, I fold. (The jammer shows AcKc.)
Hand Three: The same excellent player from Hand One opens from the HJ. I three-bet to about 3x off a 50BB stack on the button with Th8h. The HJ four-bets to about twice the size of my three-bet. I fold.
Why was I happy with all these hands that I lost? Because after the tournament, I learned that the solver approves all these lines.
In Hand One I thought I probably had a min-bet with my entire range on that flop. The solver mostly agrees, although it mixes between a min-bet and a 2BB bet, with a slight preference for the 2BB bet. Still, I clearly had the right idea.
Then on that turn, I knew I was supposed to barrel with most of my range, but I thought I had one of the rare hands I could check back. And the solver agrees!
Finally, on the river, the solver does indeed have some big overbets in its range as the big blind. (As I said, my opponent was a very strong player.) My reasoning at the table was that I would’ve checked back the turn with JJ and my weaker queens, so I could call (or raise) the river with those, and safely fold my ace-high hands. And this is exactly the solver’s plan facing an overbet.
In Hand Two, the solver purely 4-bets AQs in my spot, and purely folds to the jam. For a long time I wouldn’t ever put in a quarter of my stack and fold to a shove, but I’ve looked at enough spots now to know there’s a time and place for it. I thought this was one such time, and the solver is with me.
The solver mixes between flatting and three-betting in Hand Three, so I’m definitely fine taking the more aggressive approach against a tough opponent, and trying to take down the pot right there. The solver purely folds even against a relatively small four-bet.
Now, of course, lining up with the solver’s play isn’t always the most desirable solution. In fact, as anyone who has read my latest book knows, I often deviate from what I consider optimal play to try to exploit the opposition.
But in this case, going against a very tough opponent in Hands 1 and 3, I’m mostly trying to play as optimally as possible. I’m therefore delighted that my plays were solver approved.
In Hand Two, my conscious thought process at the table was that the LJ was probably three-betting a bit wide, but would never play against my cold 4-bet without a hand. I actually wasn’t sure what the solver would think of my fold versus his shove, but I thought it was close enough to optimal, and I definitely thought it was the right play against this particular opponent. That it turns out to be the right play even against a tough opponent is just icing on the cake.
Am I happy I lost all these hands? No. But I’m happy with how I played them, and that’s of course the only thing that matters.
It never feels good to keep folding in key spots. Obviously. That’s why it’s so important to focus on the process instead of the results, to keep yourself from being miserable. Do that, and the results will eventually come.
rly happy with.
Hand One: I open UTG1 with AcJh and get called by an excellent player in the big blind. The flop comes 3s3h2d and I continue for a min-bet. My opponent calls. The turn is the Qd and we both check. The river is the Qc and my opponent leads out for 1.6 times the pot. I fold.
Hand Two: The UTG1 player opens, and the Lojack three-bets off a 50 BB stack. From the BB, I four-bet to 13 BB with AdQd. The initial raiser folds, the three-bettor jams, I fold. (The jammer shows AcKc.)
Hand Three: The same excellent player from Hand One opens from the HJ. I three-bet to about 3x off a 50BB stack on the button with Th8h. The HJ four-bets to about twice the size of my three-bet. I fold.
Why was I happy with all these hands that I lost? Because after the tournament, I learned that the solver approves all these lines.
In Hand One I thought I probably had a min-bet with my entire range on that flop. The solver mostly agrees, although it mixes between a min-bet and a 2BB bet, with a slight preference for the 2BB bet. Still, I clearly had the right idea.
Then on that turn, I knew I was supposed to barrel with most of my range, but I thought I had one of the rare hands I could check back. And the solver agrees!
Finally, on the river, the solver does indeed have some big overbets in its range as the big blind. (As I said, my opponent was a very strong player.) My reasoning at the table was that I would’ve checked back the turn with JJ and my weaker queens, so I could call (or raise) the river with those, and safely fold my ace-high hands. And this is exactly the solver’s plan facing an overbet.
In Hand Two, the solver purely 4-bets AQs in my spot, and purely folds to the jam. For a long time I wouldn’t ever put in a quarter of my stack and fold to a shove, but I’ve looked at enough spots now to know there’s a time and place for it. I thought this was one such time, and the solver is with me.
The solver mixes between flatting and three-betting in Hand Three, so I’m definitely fine taking the more aggressive approach against a tough opponent, and trying to take down the pot right there. The solver purely folds even against a relatively small four-bet.
Now, of course, lining up with the solver’s play isn’t always the most desirable solution. In fact, as anyone who has read my latest book knows, I often deviate from what I consider optimal play to try to exploit the opposition.
But in this case, going against a very tough opponent in Hands 1 and 3, I’m mostly trying to play as optimally as possible. I’m therefore delighted that my plays were solver approved.
In Hand Two, my conscious thought process at the table was that the LJ was probably three-betting a bit wide, but would never play against my cold 4-bet without a hand. I actually wasn’t sure what the solver would think of my fold versus his shove, but I thought it was close enough to optimal, and I definitely thought it was the right play against this particular opponent. That it turns out to be the right play even against a tough opponent is just icing on the cake.
Am I happy I lost all these hands? No. But I’m happy with how I played them, and that’s of course the only thing that matters.
It never feels good to keep folding in key spots. Obviously. That’s why it’s so important to focus on the process instead of the results, to keep yourself from being miserable. Do that, and the results will eventually come.
I got up the morning of Monday July 3, rested, ready, and psyched to play my first Main Event since 2016. In my last attempt I’d seen a relatively deep run cut short when I lost consecutive coin flips in completely mandatory spots and ended up with a min-cash. It didn’t occur to me then that it would be seven years until my next Main, but parenthood and pandemic intervened and here we were. Now the wait was finally over!
I had breakfast at the coffee shop in my hotel, just down the street from the WSOP action. “Just down the street” takes on a different meaning when it’s 112 degrees outside. As I was starting to feel sorry for myself trudging along in the desert heat to get to the tournament, I passed a group of unhoused Las Vegans gathering in the shade of a bus stop. They were discussing the best strategies for getting a stranger to drop a 20-dollar bill on them. If any encounter could’ve better illustrated the absurdity of worrying about a poker tournament, I can’t imagine what it would’ve been.
Soon after arriving at the Horseshoe, I learned that I’d be sharing a table with 2006 Main Event champion Jamie Gold. Fun!
Early on I raised Tc9c UTG and got called by the big blind, a young Brazilian player who seemed to have a pretty good idea what he was doing. The flop came Js8d2c, the big blind checked, I bet 700 (about 2/3 pot), and my opponent put in a large check-raise to 3,800. I figured he probably had a big hand do be doing this so early in the tournament, but what an opportunity to win a pot if I should hit! I called. Alas, the turn paired the 8, and after a long think, the BB made a near pot-sized bet of 8,000. Knowing I was likely drawing dead, I folded immediately. The big blind, who henceforth will be known as my nemesis, had the courtesy to show J8o.
Things didn’t get a whole lot better from there. I three-bet a loose opener with AQo. He called, and the flop came down QJ5. My opponent checked and called. The turn brought a king and we both checked. We ended up chopping when the river came ten (no possible flush) and I got shown the A5o.
As if chopping a pot where my opponent had two outs wasn’t bad enough, I soon played a pot where I raised with AT, got several callers, and the flop came AT5. I bet, and only the player to my left called. The Jc on the turn brought a backdoor flush draw, and now I was behind if my opponent happened to have AJ or KQ. But I was still ahead of Ax, A5, JT, and all the other gutshots that could’ve called the flop, so I bet for value and was called again. The small club on the river completed the backdoor flush, but it was pretty unlikely my opponent had peeled the flop with two random clubs, given that the Ac was on board. Furthermore, if he’d had KQ he very likely would’ve raised the turn, so I thought I was beating pretty much everything except AJ, and therefore I bet 6k (a little more than half pot) for value again. I got called by AJ.
A few hands later, the UTG player raised and Jamie Gold three-bet to 2,100. Gold had been playing a ton of hands, but this was literally the first time he had three-bet. He’d been very content to flat up until then. I was 90% sure Gold had a big pair, so when I looked down at JJ in the small blind, I simply folded my hand. I suppose I could’ve flatted and pinky promised myself to check and fold on a 942 flop, but would I have really done that? Plus even if I were to flop a set, I couldn’t play it aggressively unless it was top set, given my preflop read. Hence, my fold. Of course UTG called (no one except me was folding to three bets at this table), the flop came J42, UTG check-folded, and Gold showed QQ. I hate being right all the time!
At some point during level 2 it was announced that we’d be moved to the YouTube streaming table for level 3. I didn’t really mind, as I’ve had plenty of experience playing on streams—my last two bracelet wins were streamed, as were three other WSOP final tables of mine, plus my televised WPT appearance from way back in 2004. I’ve learned (the hard way) to just play my game and shut out the other stuff with the cameras around.
Level 3 arrived, and after getting miced up I found myself getting quite a few playable hands. I opened QJo, A5s, J9s, and KTo, only to fold to three-bets/squeezes. If my opponents were intimidated by the hole card cameras, they certainly weren’t showing it! (It turned out that in three of these cases, I simply ran into big hands.)
Finally I had a hand to four-bet with when I opened AKo and got three-bet yet again by my opponent to my immediate left. Did I want to four-bet, though? My opponent had been rock solid to that point, and had already flatted me with AJ earlier. I just didn’t see AQ or medium pair type hands making up much of his range, if any. Also, I had an awkward stack size of 85 blinds or so. Both 4-betting and planning to call it off, and 4-betting planning to fold to a shove seemed less than ideal. So I just flatted.
The flop came T96 with two hearts and my opponent bet a little more than half the pot. Now I was almost certain he had an overpair. He’d bet 3600 or so (I know I could look up the exact number—I don’t want to) into a 7k pot, and I had 30k in my stack to work with. If I wanted to represent a set, two pair, or straight (all of which I could have), I would probably need to check-raise flop and shove the turn. If my opponent had QQ (his most likely hand given the ace and king in my hand), I would also have six outs for my troubles. I was very tempted to give this a shot. On a board this scary, many players would give up their overpairs on Day One of the Main Event.
In the end, I reasoned that of all the hands in my range, AK was way down on the list of potential semibluffs. I had gutshots, openenders, pairs with overcards, or even simply AK with a backdoor flush draw in my range, any of which would’ve worked better. The only real benefit to having AK was that it blocked my opponent’s most likely call down hands of AA and KK. That didn’t seem enough reason to attempt an aggressive play. So I simply folded. Given my read, I’m almost sure I would’ve tried to make a run at this pot if we were playing 150-blind stacks or more. But with only enough chips to fire on two streets, I didn’t think it worth the risk. It turns out my opponent had AA (obviously).
Just a few minutes later, Jamie Gold opened in the cutoff for 1,100, and my nemesis to my right made it 4,700 in the small blind. Gold was opening, I would guess, 40-50% of his cutoff hands to that point, and therefore my nemesis, who seemed to play pretty well, wouldn’t need much of a hand to try to isolate him. I looked down at pocket queens in the big blind. Pretty nice spot!
I didn’t really consider flat-calling, as Gold would’ve called behind me closing the action with pretty much his whole range, and I really didn’t want to let him see a flop in position. He would surely get it in whenever he could beat an overpair, and with the pot having grown so much preflop I wouldn’t have been able to fold. Nor did I want to give the small blind a free shot to outflop me.
Four-betting was definitely the move, then. The only question was sizing. I could’ve gone for a super cute click-back style four bet to 10k, leaving myself 20k behind. But I didn’t really want to induce a shove from AK, and I didn’t really want to give my opponent a good price to call to see the flop, with my hand more or less face-up. Shoving—a typical idea when a normal sized raise commits even a quarter of your stack, let alone a third—seemed to make the most sense. The vast majority of the time I would pick up the 6,800 currently in the pot, and increase my stack size by more than 20 percent without having to show any cards. A very good result. The small blind could also decide to call with JJ or TT or worse pairs if he (rightly) suspected that I might shove here often with big aces. The small blind could decide to fold AK, which I’d be happy for him to do when I’m such a small favorite. The only thing I would be fading is one of my opponents waking up with aces or kings, which given how wide Gold was opening I’d put the chances of that at 6-8% or so.
You probably know how this story ends. I shoved, Gold folded, but the small blind was quite happy to call with his aces. I didn’t improve, and that was the end of my tournament.
I wanted a lot more from this Main Event, obviously, but the cards didn’t cooperate in the slightest. That’s how this game goes sometimes. At least I got home in time to see the fireworks with my family. On to the next one!
pandemic intervened and here we were. Now the wait was finally over!
I had breakfast at the coffee shop in my hotel, just down the street from the WSOP action. “Just down the street” takes on a different meaning when it’s 112 degrees outside. As I was starting to feel sorry for myself trudging along in the desert heat to get to the tournament, I passed a group of unhoused Las Vegans gathering in the shade of a bus stop. They were discussing the best strategies for getting a stranger to drop a 20-dollar bill on them. If any encounter could’ve better illustrated the absurdity of worrying about a poker tournament, I can’t imagine what it would’ve been.
Soon after arriving at the Horseshoe, I learned that I’d be sharing a table with 2006 Main Event champion Jamie Gold. Fun!
Early on I raised Tc9c UTG and got called by the big blind, a young Brazilian player who seemed to have a pretty good idea what he was doing. The flop came Js8d2c, the big blind checked, I bet 700 (about 2/3 pot), and my opponent put in a large check-raise to 3,800. I figured he probably had a big hand do be doing this so early in the tournament, but what an opportunity to win a pot if I should hit! I called. Alas, the turn paired the 8, and after a long think, the BB made a near pot-sized bet of 8,000. Knowing I was likely drawing dead, I folded immediately. The big blind, who henceforth will be known as my nemesis, had the courtesy to show J8o.
Things didn’t get a whole lot better from there. I three-bet a loose opener with AQo. He called, and the flop came down QJ5. My opponent checked and called. The turn brought a king and we both checked. We ended up chopping when the river came ten (no possible flush) and I got shown the A5o.
As if chopping a pot where my opponent had two outs wasn’t bad enough, I soon played a pot where I raised with AT, got several callers, and the flop came AT5. I bet, and only the player to my left called. The Jc on the turn brought a backdoor flush draw, and now I was behind if my opponent happened to have AJ or KQ. But I was still ahead of Ax, A5, JT, and all the other gutshots that could’ve called the flop, so I bet for value and was called again. The small club on the river completed the backdoor flush, but it was pretty unlikely my opponent had peeled the flop with two random clubs, given that the Ac was on board. Furthermore, if he’d had KQ he very likely would’ve raised the turn, so I thought I was beating pretty much everything except AJ, and therefore I bet 6k (a little more than half pot) for value again. I got called by AJ.
A few hands later, the UTG player raised and Jamie Gold three-bet to 2,100. Gold had been playing a ton of hands, but this was literally the first time he had three-bet. He’d been very content to flat up until then. I was 90% sure Gold had a big pair, so when I looked down at JJ in the small blind, I simply folded my hand. I suppose I could’ve flatted and pinky promised myself to check and fold on a 942 flop, but would I have really done that? Plus even if I were to flop a set, I couldn’t play it aggressively unless it was top set, given my preflop read. Hence, my fold. Of course UTG called (no one except me was folding to three bets at this table), the flop came J42, UTG check-folded, and Gold showed QQ. I hate being right all the time!
At some point during level 2 it was announced that we’d be moved to the YouTube streaming table for level 3. I didn’t really mind, as I’ve had plenty of experience playing on streams—my last two bracelet wins were streamed, as were three other WSOP final tables of mine, plus my televised WPT appearance from way back in 2004. I’ve learned (the hard way) to just play my game and shut out the other stuff with the cameras around.
Level 3 arrived, and after getting miced up I found myself getting quite a few playable hands. I opened QJo, A5s, J9s, and KTo, only to fold to three-bets/squeezes. If my opponents were intimidated by the hole card cameras, they certainly weren’t showing it! (It turned out that in three of these cases, I simply ran into big hands.)
Finally I had a hand to four-bet with when I opened AKo and got three-bet yet again by my opponent to my immediate left. Did I want to four-bet, though? My opponent had been rock solid to that point, and had already flatted me with AJ earlier. I just didn’t see AQ or medium pair type hands making up much of his range, if any. Also, I had an awkward stack size of 85 blinds or so. Both 4-betting and planning to call it off, and 4-betting planning to fold to a shove seemed less than ideal. So I just flatted.
The flop came T96 with two hearts and my opponent bet a little more than half the pot. Now I was almost certain he had an overpair. He’d bet 3600 or so (I know I could look up the exact number—I don’t want to) into a 7k pot, and I had 30k in my stack to work with. If I wanted to represent a set, two pair, or straight (all of which I could have), I would probably need to check-raise flop and shove the turn. If my opponent had QQ (his most likely hand given the ace and king in my hand), I would also have six outs for my troubles. I was very tempted to give this a shot. On a board this scary, many players would give up their overpairs on Day One of the Main Event.
In the end, I reasoned that of all the hands in my range, AK was way down on the list of potential semibluffs. I had gutshots, openenders, pairs with overcards, or even simply AK with a backdoor flush draw in my range, any of which would’ve worked better. The only real benefit to having AK was that it blocked my opponent’s most likely call down hands of AA and KK. That didn’t seem enough reason to attempt an aggressive play. So I simply folded. Given my read, I’m almost sure I would’ve tried to make a run at this pot if we were playing 150-blind stacks or more. But with only enough chips to fire on two streets, I didn’t think it worth the risk. It turns out my opponent had AA (obviously).
Just a few minutes later, Jamie Gold opened in the cutoff for 1,100, and my nemesis to my right made it 4,700 in the small blind. Gold was opening, I would guess, 40-50% of his cutoff hands to that point, and therefore my nemesis, who seemed to play pretty well, wouldn’t need much of a hand to try to isolate him. I looked down at pocket queens in the big blind. Pretty nice spot!
I didn’t really consider flat-calling, as Gold would’ve called behind me closing the action with pretty much his whole range, and I really didn’t want to let him see a flop in position. He would surely get it in whenever he could beat an overpair, and with the pot having grown so much preflop I wouldn’t have been able to fold. Nor did I want to give the small blind a free shot to outflop me.
Four-betting was definitely the move, then. The only question was sizing. I could’ve gone for a super cute click-back style four bet to 10k, leaving myself 20k behind. But I didn’t really want to induce a shove from AK, and I didn’t really want to give my opponent a good price to call to see the flop, with my hand more or less face-up. Shoving—a typical idea when a normal sized raise commits even a quarter of your stack, let alone a third—seemed to make the most sense. The vast majority of the time I would pick up the 6,800 currently in the pot, and increase my stack size by more than 20 percent without having to show any cards. A very good result. The small blind could also decide to call with JJ or TT or worse pairs if he (rightly) suspected that I might shove here often with big aces. The small blind could decide to fold AK, which I’d be happy for him to do when I’m such a small favorite. The only thing I would be fading is one of my opponents waking up with aces or kings, which given how wide Gold was opening I’d put the chances of that at 6-8% or so.
You probably know how this story ends. I shoved, Gold folded, but the small blind was quite happy to call with his aces. I didn’t improve, and that was the end of my tournament.
I wanted a lot more from this Main Event, obviously, but the cards didn’t cooperate in the slightest. That’s how this game goes sometimes. At least I got home in time to see the fireworks with my family. On to the next one!
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