Player's Stories

New Boat, New Game, Very New Players

By Randy Glover (rggator)

Ever have one of those school kid dreams? It's test day, the bell rings and there you are alone in the hallway, dripping with sweat, smelling of fear--because you have no idea where your classroom is.

Well there I am, in a long corridor on the largest casino ship in the world, 20 minutes before tournament time, trying to find out where the poker room is. I am sweating because it is summer in Florida: 90-plus degrees outside and 90-plus percent humidity.

I ask several crewmembers and am directed "that away," where the "poker-like" games are.

Hmmm, not very promising.

Finally I see a suit with a badge, a finely tailored black suit, worn by a middle-aged guy with slicked-backed hair who looks like he just stepped off a Hollywood set where they are filming the movie Casino. I think, this guy knows stuff...a lot of stuff. I ask. He says, "There is no poker room on the Sterling."

Ok, this is gospel.

What to do? I have 20 minutes. I try to decide if I can hustle back to my car, drive to a different cruise terminal, get a boarding pass for the Sun Cruz Casino, sign up for the tournament, board the ship....

I do.

Before boarding I see a friendly face. A former local news cameraman turned poker dealer, Manny. He signs me up for the tournament, tells me I am an alternate. There are 119 entrants thus far and only 117 seats. "Don't worry," Manny says, "They bust early."

Back in the old days (about 18 months ago) some nights we were lucky to get 40 entrants. Has ESPN and the WPT changed things that much? I am about to find out.

The poker room is roughly triple the size of the old one. It has its own ½ deck on this new 4-deck ship. I am told that the poker room is under new management, which actually I had heard about last year at the Mid-American Classic in Tunica.

I run into my friend (and former student) who gave me the info that the tournament was on the Sterling. He says he was equally surprised when he and his buddies pulled up to the Sun Cruz. He had thought it was the Sterling until that moment. "No problem," I tell him.

While waiting for the ship to leave port I talk to Manny. I talk to Manny for what turns out to be a very long time.

I wonder if it was the not-so-secret military satellite they are launching that night, restricting boat traffic so no terrorists could launch a Stinger Missile from a gambling ship and all that. No, it went off right on time, a few minutes before our scheduled sailing time. Then I look over the rail and I see the reason for the delay.

50 or 60 middle-aged people hurrying up the boarding ramp. If you looked in the dictionary for the antonym to terrorists, these would be it. A whole busload of eager sheep, ready to hit it big. No way could the ship have left them.

We sail from the Port Canaveral cruise terminal 40 minutes late. We navigate to some random spot 3 miles offshore: in Florida, that is where casino gambling begins.

I catch glimpses of conversations while we sail out. "Ok, they have 2 blinds...Yeah, the blinds keep going up." "If you show your cards to anyone, that's it, your hand is dead." "Only play big cards."

It's a new world out there.

I don't have to wait for my alternate status. There are a couple of no shows and I am seated before the start of the tournament. I hand over my $115.

It turns out the new management is ready for the new players. A list of a dozen no-nos is read to us: "Don't talk about your hand while action is still live." "Don't speculate on others' hands while action is live." "Don't expose your cards while there is still action, or your hand is dead." "Don't cross the chalk line with your chips or that is the amount of your bet." "Don't, Don't, Don't."

People DON'T listen. All of these rules are violated over and over during the night. Once by me, although I still think I did the right thing.

Anyway, to the action. Blinds start at $100/$200 and go up every 15 minutes. It is about a 3 hour and 15 minute cruise. By the time the tournament ends blinds will be at $30,000/$50,000. No rebuys, so I play conservatively until the blinds are worth playing for.

Besides seeing the flop for free once or twice from my big blind, I play 5 hands during the course of the cruise. Hand number one for me was AK suited versus a loose raiser ($1400 raise) and a cold call. The caller had not played a hand yet, but I failed to pick up on this. I fold to a flop of T25, a big bet from the original raiser and an all in reraise from the caller. The reraiser had AA, the original raiser had that powerhouse you hate to see: Ten, 2 off suit. Oh my.

Somewhere in all of this, a very drunk, drugged, whatever, player tries to tip the dealer a black tournament chip. The dealer nicely explains that that is not necessary during a tournament and besides, the chips are worth exactly $0. The drunk guy plays exactly like they are worth zero, calling off all his chips by playing 90% of his hands. He is gone in the first ½ hour.

I limp for $500 a bit later with JJ under the gun and get a call, an all in (for only $500 more), then 2 calls of the $1000. I shove all in, figuring I have the best hand and don't want to see a flop with 3 active players.

I get the glares. Why did I limp they wonder? Well I limped because 10,2o was to my immediate left and I figured he would call any raise less than all in. And I did not want to risk my entire stack of $8K for blinds of $800. Slowly the folds come and I am up against an A5o of the all in. No Ace hits. I rake in a $4K pot.

Two hands in a row a player grabs a big stack of chips in one hand and shoves them across the line, intending to bet only some of these chips. Both times he is told, "That is your bet." The 1st time he admits to having AA, the 2nd AK.

I am moved for the 1st of 3 times. I get quite efficient with the moves. Tournament chips in left hand, ginger ale in right and my bottle of water between my right elbow and ribs. I last long enough at the second table to post the blinds and run into 2 familiar faces: Dealer Mary and Player Peter. I reintroduce myself.

We are in the middle of a hand when the order "Follow me" comes from the tournament director, George. Specifically he says, "Come with me unless you are involved in a hand," in a thick accent. I knew what he was saying because I just knew. To the novice however, what he said may have come out like what your pet hears. One word may be recognizable-"Come," the rest: "Blah, blah, blah." (Note, no offense to the tournament director, George ran a very efficient tournament. But he does have a thick accent).

I fold, but the player to my left, an obvious novice who followed me from the last table, looks confused; she lifts up her cards like she is going to muck without even looking at her hand. I tell her that she is still in the hand if she wants to be. I start to explain the table move to her and the dealer tells me nicely, "Enough." I shut up.

Ms. Novice follows me after the hand to the next table. One of the first hands out I look down to what I perceive to be K6o in the BB. I get a free look at the flop. I check to the 2 limpers when the flop comes 873 rainbow. There is a minimum bet (from a nice guy named Mike, more about him later), and a call: the limits are $1,000/$2000 and I have maybe $9,000 left. I glance at my cards just to make sure; I find I don't have K6, I have K8. Ooops. The other 2 players must have over cards, some kind of draw, or middle pair. I figure my top pair, decent kicker is good and push in. I get the glares. But they fold. I wish I could act this convincingly when I did know I had something.

Ms. Novice limps into the pot next hand. The flop comes T86 or something. She is first to act. She lifts her cards to eye level and says, "Can I fold now?"

Oh my. The dealer explains to her that this would be improper. The other two players (one of whom is Mike) are deciding who wants to bet first to get her off the hand. It turns out to be Mike, but he waits until the turn. He picks up a decent pot. After the hand, Ms. Novice explained that all the cards on the flop were over cards, and why would she want to stay in. One of the players asks the required question, "Then why did you call to begin with?" Ms. Novice says, "It was 24 of clubs." There you go.

Soon after I get my 2nd warning of the night. A young guy walks up to the table asking if he can sit in. I explain this is a tournament and he says. "Oh I didn't know, I've never played live." The player to my left suggests he go down to Barnes and Noble and buy a book first. The kid says, confidently, "I've played on the internet-a lot." I suggest he play in a tournament his first time out, just to get a feel for live action. This was the same advice given to me in Las Vegas when I asked a dealer how to learn to play Hold em. The tournament director sees us talking and tells us we cannot speak to any one not seated at the table. Fair enough rule, and nicely enough explained to us. Still, don't you hate being told what to do, when all you were doing was trying to help someone?

I am dealt a hand, but before glancing down at it, I see the tournament director lead the kid to a ring game table.

The hand is a good one. I move all in to get $9000 in blinds with AKs. Again I get the stares. I am up to around $24,000. Unfortunately the blinds soon move up as well--to $5,000/$10,000. And I am on the move again. I grab my stack with my left hand and play Follow the Tournament Director.

My only complaint comes from this move. We are at a stud table (it seats 8). There are 9 of us. So we are crowded to begin with. But it is the chairs that are the problem, they are slot machine chairs. It is like having Papa Bear Chairs at Baby Bears' Table. You can barely reach down to look at your cards. To avoid anyone else catching a glimpse of them, you have to either hold them up to your face or bend over precariously and risk toppling off your high chair. Anyhow, the discomfort ends soon.

My Big Blind eats up $10,000 and after I post my SB I have $9,000 left. Under the gun, a big stack, limps. Everyone else folds. I look down to see A8 of hearts. I've got to hope he has KQ-type hand or a small pocket pair, and I am a slight favorite or a coin toss. Mike, who followed me from the last table, has maybe $6,000 left after posts his BB. I push in, knowing I am likely to get called in 2 spots. I feel I have to do it. My $9,000 is getting me a chance at $38,000, assuming the BB calls. He does. We flip over our cards. I am not in good shape. UTG has ATo and the Mike has 22. A ten on the flop wipes out all hope and a 2 on the river gives Mike a $40,000 pot. He will get hugely lucky once more (runner, runner straight, when his flopped Ace/Ten meets Ace/King) to amass a big stack; very lucky a couple of times after that; but all in all he uses his big stack well to win the tournament.

I leave the tournament 36 out of 138.

The tournament director and card room manager (Dan) have a nice flair for the dramatic as they do not disburse the prize money until all gambling is over and the ship is returning to port. They assemble the final table players and announce their name and hometown and give them some kind of nickname as they hand over the prize money in black $100 chips. The "Daytona Beach Destroyer" or some such silliness. It is all quite effective. It gives the winners their 5 minutes of fame, and most are all smiles at the awards ceremony.

And well they should be: 10th paid $500, going up to $1,250 for 3rd, $2,500 for 2nd and $5,000 for first. First place also got a Plexiglas-type trophy shaped like a prism that was actually very classy looking.

Oh, one thing that hasn't changed: Bad Beats. I saw dozens of them this night-just none against me.