Bubble in Paradise

By Amy Calistri

It was a joke at the time, but when I look back on my email to Canadian Poker Player's editor Dave Scharf, it's pretty hard to conjure up a laugh. "I leave for Tunica on Tuesday and I have my heart set on being bubble girl in the first Omaha/8 event." And like Babe Ruth pointing to the outfield and popping one over the fence, I deliver on my promise. This is not the first time I've played this bubble joke on myself, but I vow it will be my last.

Paradise, for this Texas gal, is playing any Omaha/8 game in Tunica, Mississippi. It only gets better if it's a tournament directed by Jimmy Sommerfeld. I knew all my heart's desires would be met as I headed out to the Mid-America Poker Classic to play in the $300 Omaha/8 event. In the US, there is probably no other venue where poker players get treated better than Tunica. The comps are incredible, the games are juicy, friendly and competent folks staff the poker rooms, and the accommodations are a bargain. And Sommerfeld is poetry in motion. I know I am not the first who will claim you can set your watch by a Sommerfeld tournament start time. And of course everyone knows Omaha/8 is better than sex.

Fourplay:
I'm a little concerned about the 800T starting chip count. I usually play a patient game, but I know I need to open it up a little with 215 players and a small stack. It's a rocky start as the first hand I play is AAQQ double suited in the small blind to a raise. I'm ready to dump it on a low board, but my aces flop a set. Unfortunately I have to let it go on the river to an obvious flush. Over the next half-hour, I claw my way back to even. Correctly reading the other players for low, I get paid off for a truly marginal high hand. I capture the blinds with a blatant button steal.

At my next table, the boys are mixing it up and no hand is seen for less than two pre-flop raises. And I go totally card dead. By the time I get moved to another table it's with a short stack of 400T. I sit through a round of blinds before I limp with A2Q9 double suited in late position. The last thing I want to do is discourage callers with a raise. I need chips. The flop of K3T gets checked around. The turn brings a 9, but gives me a nut flush draw along with my Broadway gutshot. It is checked around to me. If I catch on the river, it is unlikely I will be paid off. I realize my only option is to get my money in on the turn. Two players call my 200T. The river delivers my nut flush and both players call my 75T all-in bet. I am up to 1375T, which is still shy of average, with about 120 players left.

Size Matters:
I never build up any momentum and then get quartered on an ugly hand with about 60 players left. With 50 players left, I only have enough for the blinds, which are fast approaching. I look for any marginally playable hand I can see with protection. I have to wait until my big blind with an early raiser to get all my chips in with 24Q9. His stunning double suited A2KK is no match for my rivered wheel. And so it goes. I keep picking my spots, going down to the felt, and staying alive. When we go hand-for-hand with 28 left, I'm pretty sure I'm out of miracles. There are three players with stacks as short as mine, but I will hit the blinds first. I am lucky to get heads up in my big blind. He flops two pair, I turn the flush, and he rivers the boat. And I am bubble girl.

When I stand up to leave, I congratulate the field and get a round of applause. Of course most of this is self-congratulatory on their part as they have all just made the money. But people shout out some nice comments and I am remembered throughout the week, albeit, for my bubble martyrdom.

Bursting My Bubble:
After the tournament, I head straight for the bar and replay my decisions. I'm not disappointed. I never really caught a bad beat. I played a short stack well, which I acknowledge is a dubious skill as it has probably developed from too much practice. I gave myself the opportunity to catch a big hand early, which didn't quite work out, but I still feel was worth the risk.

If you can't get within spitting distance of the money, you have to accept that you have either chosen an expensive hobby or should consider finding a new one. If you consistently make the money, it becomes almost a calling. But the bubble yields a strange karma. What is its message?

And then I hear it. The band is playing an old Steely Dan song. The chorus comes, and I know what the bubble means. "You go back Jack do it again." I have to keep trying, even if my fate is to end up in that translucent sphere, once again.