32Red Poker Blog

Yesterday, I finished in fifth place in the GUKPT Grand Final at the Vic, cashing for £36,900.

Today, I woke up, and the crazy mix of emotions that poker brings was running through my head. Delighted to have had a good result in a big one; beating myself up about the final hand; gutted to have had the chip lead and seen it disappear; happy for my friend Pab to have taken it down. Wow, I thought, this poker malarkey is emotional.

It’s a funny game with play, and it’s only ever going to produce two clear emotions. To win a comp (it’s been two years for me!)- delight. To finish outside the cash- disappointment. But the third comes with any other position inside the cash, and it’s a strangely confusing mixture of emotions. I’ve realised that one of the crucial skills of playing these things to be able to deal with those emotions well. It’s a beautiful game we play, it really is worth trying to stay strong.

And of this crazy mix of emotions, I’ll start with the low- the final hand. I sat with 480,000 in chips as Eric Svanes, a talented Norweigan player, raised to 40k on the button with me slightly covered. I made the call with KQ offsuit, and we saw a good flop of K54 rainbow. I checked, Eric bet 65k, and I moved in for 375k more. The Norweigan snapped the bet, and the AK that he tabled had me outkicked, and held up to win the pot. I stood in a daze for a couple of minutes as we counted the stacks, but confirmation came that he had me covered. The cruel instantness of poker had struck again, and I was gone.

And what of the pot? It looks like a cooler really- button against big blind five-handed, and two aggressive players. This is what I told myself for a few minutes, but I knew that something was bugging me. I try to be nothing but completely honest on this blog, and the same to myself. The front of my mind was still putting up a defence, but the back of my mind knew that this was not a spot where I should have lost all my chips. There just is no value in this big over shove- 375k into 230k after my call, and I could easily have called the action two streets, and passed on the third.

It hurt for a while, but I soon thought- forget it, just forgive yourself. There is a real value to being honest with yourself in this game, as it makes it much easier to have a happy outlook on things. I’d played OK for the first two days, and the final table had actually gone really well before this.

 Often the hardest person to forgive is yourself, but I decided to. The near three days of poker had been such fun, and such a memorable time. The experience maybe proved to me that I’m not ready yet; just maybe capatalising on the chip lead to take it down was one step too far. The most infuriating aspect of the hand was that I thought I had a tell on the Norweigan. This tell was repeated as his bet his ace-king on the flop,  but maybe it proves that the bridge between noticing these things and capatalising on them is one I have yet to cross.

So, that was the lowest moment, but there were alot of highs. The tournament was played out in such a fun and friendly way, despite being so challenging for the whole three days. My mate Pab, who emerged the winner, was, amongst others, a pleasure to play with, and it does count for a lot for such a good guy and talented player to come out on top. He told me as I left that on the hand before I busted he had in fact rivered a full house. This meant alot, as I otherwise would have agonised over my pass on the river, after I had called two barrels on a board that came 884K3 (Pab’s pocket threes hit that innocuous looking river card.)

The final table had started like a dream. Fats forwarding to seven left, Stuart Nash moved in from the cut-off for 110k, and I made an instant call from the small blind with pocket jacks. He tabled the king of clubs and ten of diamonds, and I watched in horror as the board on the turn came 10c9c4cQd. He seemed to have every out in the book, but the river came a merciful four of hearts to give me the 230k pot. I’m not superstitious at all, but after a year of seeming to lose all these encounters, it gave me a massive confidence boost after all the nerves at the start of this major final table.

With six left, I was buzzing with confidence, and the other major reason was a pot I played against Surinder Sunar. I had massive respect for the former WPT winner, and something about him scared me throughout. His play was so methodical and sometimes SO slow that I knew that it would be a tough thing to pull a bluff against him. However, he had played very tight in the early stages, particularly in one sceanrio against Duvall where he hesitated for ages about calling a smallish all-in bet with KJ on a king high flop, and so the move I pulled against him was pretty much marked:

 Surinder raised to 26k on the button, leaving himself a stack of 125k. I knew his all-in calling range would be very tight, and so made it 70k with the 75 of diamonds. It really shouldn’t be possible in this scenario, but I knew he might flat-call. He did, and almost bizarrely had just 81k in front of him, in a pot of 165k going to the flop. The flop was a complete miss for me (not too much of a surprise!), but offered some hope as it came a dry K93. I decided upon a comically small bet of 30k, intending to pass if Surinder moved in for the rest.

Then followed the five most agonising moments I have ever had in poker, as I sat with seven high and the old-school pro shuffled chips, thought, moved chips forward, thought again, moved them back, and thought again. Jeff Duvall took the mercy on me of calling for the clock, and by five seconds left, Surinder had still not said a word. I tried so hard to keep my cool the whole time, but if Surinder had looked at me on about 3 seconds, he might just have got it. I suddenly felt my heart refuse to take the tension any more, and send a surge of blood through my neck. By the count of “zero,” there had still been no words from Surinder, and I had got it through!

These two pots saw me go into the dinner break with a 838k chip lead, one third of the chips in play. I was trying so hard not to think about the scenario so as not to lose focus, but in reality I was buzzing inside. Just after the dinner break, Jeff Duvall made a big re-steal all-in, and I snapped him with AsQs. He tabled KdJd, for what would be a near 500k pot. I knew if I could just dodge it one time, have 1.1 million and a four-handed game, what a spot it would be. A 232 flop looked great, but I’ll never forget the feeling of the jack of clubs on the turn. Minutes later, Pab had made a full house against me, and just a few after that, I had butchered king-queen and was walking.

What a wierd game we play. How can it produce all the lows of turned jacks and beating yourself up about king-high flops, and still be such a beautiful game?