Player's Stories

Trip Report - SARGE
(As related to Poker God)

By Ed Barrett

My appointment with Poker God was at 9 AM on the day after my return from SARGE. It's something we do after each of my poker ventures. I tell Poker God all about my trip and he offers advice, admonishes me, or pats me on the back for my performance. Poker God insists that I show up fifteen minutes early for our appointments. It's his way of letting me know who's in charge. At precisely 9 AM, I heard the waiting room loud speaker click on.

"Come on in, Barrett."

I quickly jumped to my feet and waited in front of the sliding door which Poker God opened from inside. His San Antonio branch office is in the Casino Office Park in the high rent Medical Center area. The door slid open and I entered the office, trying to remember how many times I've been there.

"Forty seven times," he said.

Damn it! He even knows my thoughts. Why do we have to go through this when he already knows everything, I thought.

"It's sort of like confession," he said. "The big guy up there knows how you did, but he wants you to tell me. Get it off y our chest, so to speak… catharsis is the word, I think."

I decided to let my mind go blank. Get him to make the next move.

"It won't do you any good to block me out. I can see everything that happened. So let's get on with it."

"Where do I start?"

"The nervous, red faced guy who sat down next to you at the airport, then placed two bags on the floor, got up and started to walk quickly down the terminal hallway. What? Did you think he had a bomb in one of the bags?"

I wasn't sure really. But I watched to see where he was going. If he had walked past the restroom, I was out of there! Fortunately, he went in to the men's room so I dismissed the idea that he had a bomb in one of the bags. He returned a few minutes later.

"Just being cautious," I said.

Poker God gave me a knowing smile and made a brief notation in his record book..."The crowded plane. That seemed to bother you."

There he goes again. Telling me what happened then making me talk about it.

"They were short flights, but it was a little cramped in the two mini-jets that I had to take to Memphis via Dallas.

"What did you expect for $115 round trip? Wouldn't you do it again?

I didn't comment. The next time I'd make sure I had an aisle seat.

"OK. So despite the discomfort, you got to Memphis without any problems. What about this Steve Jewett guy? Making all those runs to the airport to pick people up. Wasn't that a little bit above and beyond the call of duty?"

Finally getting to the positives. "Yes…way above the call of duty. And not one word of complaint. He even went out of his way on the way back to the airport on Sunday morning to show Graceland to Joan Hadley and me."

"We need more like him and that Randy Collack guy who runs these shows," Poker God said. He leafed through his book of records and made another brief notation, then pasted one of his gold stars on the page. I'm sure it was on Steve Jewett's page.

Poker God turned back to my page and sat quietly for at least thirty seconds. I couldn't stand it.

"I didn't play very well on this trip," I blurted out.

Poker God smiled. "That was the next issue I wanted to cover, but I wanted you to bring it up."

"Well, I did make a few good plays," I said.

"Whoa…back up, Barrett. We're going to talk about the bad stuff. You can throw in the good stuff later if it makes you feel better."

More silence. I was having trouble trying to recall all my stupid moves. Poker God was getting impatient.

"Let's talk about the satellite." Poker God finally broke the silence.

I liked this. "I won the satellite," I said.

"You split it with Tom Valentino."

"Well. A bird in the hand…" I said.

Poker God made another notation in my record, this time not covering what he was writing. I clearly saw the word in capital letters. 'WIMP.'

"Does the name Joe Zatti come to mind?" Poker God asked.

"It's Joe Zatto!" I said with a smile on my face. Poker God had made a mistake.

Poker God shook his head. "Don't you think I know that. I was testing your memory and focus."

"What's wrong with my memory and focus?" I asked.

"We'll get to that in a minute. Let's deal with Joe first.

"Joe plays a really good game." I said.

"And?"

I knew that Poker God knew the mistake I'd made, and he knew that I knew. I sighed and began to relate the incident.

"I raised with King Jack suited pre-flop and Joe defended from the big blind," I said.

"And the flop was Ace, Ace, Queen."

"Right."

"I know I'm right. That's not the point." Poker God tapped his metal military type desk with his long fingernails waiting for me to reply. Despite the cold weather, he'd turned the air conditioning on and the out of sync overhead fan was running on high speed. "Joe was the chip leader at the table?"

I was freezing and wanted to get this over with. "By a wide margin," I said.

"And you pushed all in on the flop…you were trying to bluff him out. You must have been watching the overhead television when he defended against that last two players who tried to push him off his hand."

I had seen him defend. Poker God knew this. "But I had a read on him," I said.

"A read?"

"I was sure he didn't have an ace and would fold," I said confidently.

"How much of his stack was at risk?" Poker God wanted to know.

"About 40%" I said.

Poker God leafed through his notes. "22.5%," he said.

"He still didn't have an ace." I replied quickly.

"What about a queen?"

I slinked down in my chair. That was exactly what Joe had. With a five kicker. He called my raise and had me drawing dead to a king or ten to stay in the tournament.

"I suppose you knew that you were going to catch the miracle ten on the river?" Poker God leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"OK. So I made a bad play and survived. Everyone gets lucky in tournaments. Poker God sighed and made another notation in my record.

"My records show that you came back with more money than you took to Tunica. Everything considered, that's a small miracle."

"I played well in the 15-30 game. And my 10-20 play showed a small profit. And then there was the 5th place finish in the no limit hold'em tournament.

"The 15-30 play was flawless. The 10-20? You needed a miracle rush at midnight of the final night of your stay to avoid a catastrophe. We've already alluded to your luck in the no limit. But overall, your play was passable in the tournament."

I'd made some huge mistakes in the last 10-20 game and was $500 down that night, but then I countered with two pretty nice moves when I finally went into a zone.

"The local player who put you on tilt in the game in the pit. Let's talk about him." Poker God said.

"Horrible player; raising with J-4 off and 9-3 suited from early position."

"And he beat your pocket kings and pocket aces."

"Right. OK…OK. I know that you know that. And it did put me on tilt. I was just waiting for a chance to trap him.

"And the opportunity came when you played A9 suited in late position and the flop was Ace, nine, deuce."

"Right. I check-raised him and he called. And then an eight came on the turn. I had him cold and took him to four bets."

"And about the time the five of hearts came on the river you noticed that the eight on the turn was the third club on board."

I cringed. "And he showed me the 9-7 of clubs."

Poker God sighed. "Next," he said.

"That was my last big mistake," I said.

Total silence. It must have been three minutes before I broke down.

"The low ball and c-horse games weren't my best efforts."

"You were card dead in c-horse. Minus $190 in two hours wasn't bad."

I couldn't believe that Poker God was giving me a small concession. It didn't last.

"The three draw low-ball. Minus $260 in 4 hours. What was that all about?"

"Well. We were all friends and everyone was playing loose, so I joined in."

"Are you aware that the only games you've lost money at in the last two SARGE events you've attended were in games against 'friends?' Any more mistakes?" he wanted to know.

I was painfully aware that my ring game losses were against other SARGE players...More silence. Poker God stood up and walked to the lone window in his office and opened it. The cold breeze prompted my memory.

"The final table," I said. "I did make a small error, but I'm not sure it was my fault."

"And?"

"I'm going to take my Mulligan," I said. Poker God allowed me skip one issue per session.

"OK. You can have that one. But it was really poor focus on your part. Any idea why you made the mistake?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I was tired."

"What about aging?"

"My mind's as sharp as it was thirty years ago," I said.

"I'll give you about a 90% on the memory part of your mind, but your focus comes in a country mile behind."

He was right. Especially in the early part of the tournament I was having trouble concentrating. The four AM quitting time on the low ball game the night before didn't help. And the mistake at the final table. That was a focus problem.

"I read your last thoughts," Poker God said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," I said quickly.

"OK. Here's a few suggestions. No late night games the night before a tournament; stay in your room and meditate until fifteen minutes before tournament start time, and don't eat a heavy meal before playing."

I'd violated all three of Poker God's suggestions. The late night low ball game, the big breakfast at the buffet and going directly to the poker room at 10 AM for a noon tournament. Guilty on all counts.

"Next issue. What about the other players at SARGE? Anything to report?

As was always the case, the average SARGE player was way above the average player in the casino we were visiting inmy opinion.

"Wes Tilley, John Werthwein, and Joan Hadley stand out in my mind," I said. "The other pros already know they're good and don't need mention here."

"Joan Hadley? I didn't think a woman would get much respect. Why is she special?"

More than anything, it was the focus that I didn't have that impressed me most about Joan. She was totally involved in every hand, whether she was in the hand or not. Something we should all strive to do.

"She's always smiling," I said.

"And that's bad?"

"It makes it almost impossible to get a read on her. In the local no limit tournament I watched her smile down a non-SARGE player in a key hand. I thought he was going to crawl under the table."

Poker God turned to an unused page and started a file on Joan.

"What about your son Rich? Didn't he have a really strong showing in the final tournament?"

I hadn't forgotten about Rich's gigantic comeback in the no limit tournament. I just wanted Poker God to bring him up. Otherwise, he'd of brought up the nepotism thing.

"Yes. Rich came back from $125 out of his original $3,000 stack to win the no limit tournament."

"And you're very proud of his accomplishment?"

It was Rich's second SARGE tournament win. He'd won the Omaha-8 at MARGE a few years ago.

"Of course I'm proud of him," I said, and then added, "But he had a good teacher."

"You taught him everything he knows about poker?"

"Most of it."

Poker God stared at me. I'd forgotten that he knows everything.

"I did get him to switch from 7-stud to hold'em," I said.

"And you taught him how to play?"

Not true. Rich lives in Colorado; I'm in Texas.

"I loaned him a book on poker once. Next issue," I said. It was time to get tough with Poker God.

He laughed out loud. "Anything else?" He asked.

"Yes. As usual, Jimmy Sommerfield and his entire staff treated us as though they really enjoyed our company and were happy that we returned for SARGE 2. This means a lot to me and the other SARGE attendees."

Poker God nodded. "Summarize the whole trip," he said with a note of finality in his voice.

"I had a great time meeting with some old friends, meeting new friends and playing some very enjoyable games. Even in the games that didn't prove to be profitable."

"And you'll be back next year."

"Without a doubt."

Poker God closed the record book, got up and moved toward the door. It was my cue to leave. I'd survived visit number 48.