Author’s Note

After yesterday’s fiasco in Phoenix, my closest friends quickly determined I was a threat to myself and others and checked me in to UCLA’s psych ward pursuant to section 5150 of the California code. My recollection of the actual events is still sketchy, but the security report said that sometime around 6:50p PST, I flew into an uncontrolled rage at the Mirage Super Bowl party, pelting anyone wearing Giants attire with barbecued chicken wings and soft pretzels and threatening to “rid the world of that surly chimp Coughlin and the entire Manning clan” and to “burn the Meadowlands to the ground.” Apparently, I then pounded my own head against a beer cart until “it [the cart] was no longer suitable for use.”

According to the LVPD report, my friends “reacted quickly and professionally”, secured my hands and feet with waitress garters and party wristbands and wheeled me from the Mirage on a bellman’s cart. The Mirage staff referenced me “lunging toward other guests in the taxi line” and shrieking something about my own ability to “hit a 49-yard field goal in a dome” and that “any idiot who’s played Madden ’04 could beat those crazies with screen passes.” I’ve no recollection of said incident(s), but I can’t in good conscience deny them given the barbecue sauce and mustard stains on my Patriots hat and Bud Light logo bruised into my forehead. That my friends got my through airport security and the 45-minute flight to LA without third-party notification of the FAA is a testament to their diplomatic skills and resourcefulness under duress.

In any event, as of 9 am this morning, the ward staff has determined that supervised visits with immediate family and limited communication with friends might help speed my return to the mainstream. All pens and other sharp objects are still prohibited from my room until further notice and my mouth guard is still in place, but I’ve been cleared to use a fixed keyboard for periods “not to exceed one hour.” Hence, this quick update with a 10-pound cat in my lap and wife chattering in the background.


Super Bowl weekend



As I mentioned in the previous post, every year my friends and I head to Las Vegas for the Super Bowl. In my opinion, Las Vegas is a better play than attending in person—more intensity (see also, LVPD report), better food and easy access to fishy poker tables. My first time in LV for the Super Bowl was in 2001 with a Patriots cheerleader in tow and that worked out well enough to block out the first week of February ad infinitum. That relationship was a predictable bust but the Pats have been steady contenders ever since and my degenerate friends provide just enough blackjack and craps action to warrant invitation for six to attend a party each year. My poker earn has also improved dramatically since 2001. Ergo, we go.

We flew into town Saturday morning and it struck me that the airport was kind of a ghost town given the weekend. The LAX-Las Vegas flight was a third empty, the terminal in LV pretty subdued and the taxi line less than a 5-minute wait. Super Bowl weekend is a popular weekend in Vegas, but as of Saturday morning, Bellagio was offering internet deals on room for Saturday and Sunday night at a discount from their regular weekend rate. It’ll be interesting to see how the retrenchment of the American consumer shows up in the casino year-to-year comp numbers.


The Mirage

We headed for Carnegie Deli at the Mirage to refuel and establish a game plan for the week-end. The offensive coordinators thought the right line was check-in, gym, gambol and steak dinner to establish a rhythm, segue to a post-dinner NL session to wear down the defense and then run out the clock with the Super Bowl party on Sunday. We all agreed the plan made sense and broke on “Pats in a blowout!”



I headed down to the spa to hook up for a quick workout and possible massage. I managed my expectations as I approached the girl at the front desk. Walk-in massage availability on the Saturday of Super Bowl weekend? In prior years, the desk staff would laugh me into the steam room but this year, no problem. Four o’clock ok? Sure, sure. See you then. After my workout/massage, I hunted down my friends who had positioned at a craps table at TI.


”I can’t look!”

I’m not a big gambler by shaundeeb et al. standards, but a little craps session is always good for some laughs. Besides, one of the guys with us who makes mid-high six figures and is eerily comfortable at $10/20 NL, turns into a little old lady with $200+ on a craps table. I figured I’d have some fun forcing him to put his max odds bets down and joined the group. As it was, he didn’t disappoint, turning away from the table like he’d seen his dog run into traffic every time the dice were in the air. Good comedy.

I finished the session up $800 courtesy of once-in-a-lifetime roll by a craps newbie. This 6’4” bruiser had no idea what he was doing but was up 4x on his money with other people howling about his godlike skills throughout his 45-minute roll. He was clearly pleased with his newfound talent and anxious for the dice to find their way to his paw again. I colored up and left before witnessing the certain awkwardness of a 240-lb man sobbing in the presence of total strangers.

We headed back to the Mirage and I re-invested my winnings in two bottles of Dominus for the group. Steak, seafood and good cabernet are an excellent pre-game meal for any NL session so by 10p I was ready to hit the Mirage poker room.


The pokers

The Mirage was full but not packed and we were immediately seated in a $2/5 NL game, usually the biggest NL game in the room.



My friends and I each bought in for the maximum so there was a nice overlay of $250 for each of the other six players. We each managed to pull a few hundred from the game and got on a list for a $115 sit-n-go. I recorded specifics on the hands I played but somehow deleted the files. Here’s what I have from memory.


Hand 1

I’m in the big blind with AKo, four players limped to me and I made it $25 to go. I got two callers including the button. I whiffed the 553 flop but fired $50 into the $100 pot anyway. The button, a young guy with roughly $500 in front, called. Oh nice, float me. Why not?

Turn was an A and I checked, knowing he’d bet into the grey-haired guy scared of the ace. He accommodated me with a $115 bet and I bumped it to $230. He thought for a minute and called. When the river blanked, I shoved the river and immediately kicked myself for not letting him bluff again. He folded, of course, and I stacked a nice pot. I should note that to the delight of my friends, I spilled chips everywhere with the flop check-raise. Whatever, I took the pot.


Hand 2

An orbit or two later I was in the small blind with jacks. One of my friends made in $20 to go and I called. I prefer to re-raise there and narrow the field, but I wasn’t paying close attention and headed to the flop four-way, out-of-position with JJ. Cool.

Fortunately, the flop was a lovely JTx.

I checked my top set and the table checked back to my friend who bet $40. Back to me, I contemplated a slow play but didn’t like that draw-heavy board 4-way. I begged the gods to let my friend have a real hand here and moved $120 into the pot. Bah! He (and everyone else) folded and later told me he had AK.


Hand 3

The last hand I pulled any dough with was A5 in the small blind. Limped to me, I completed and saw a 243 flop. I bet out with my wheel and got one caller. I continued on the blank turn and took the $60-ish pot.


Dude, that’s nasty.

It was shortly after midnight and I was getting bored, so I got up from the table and checked the sit-n-go lists to see if anything was close to seating. They immediately called for a $115 but several guys on the waitlist didn’t show. I waved my friends over.

The Mirage $115 sit-n-go runs with 1500 chips and 15 minute levels and pays two spots. About six of us put on a last longer and we were off. For the most part, the field comprised the usual “some guys knowing what they’re doing but most not” competition. Among others, there was a talkative but likable guy to my right that seemed to know what he was doing, an aggressive guy to his right in hip-hop gear, an Israeli guy who seemed better suited to a kibbutz than a sit-n-go, my friends and a redneck to my left chewing tobacco and spitting at the table.

The Mirage has a rule against chew at the table and I initially thought this dude had some sort of tooth problem, but when he started filling a cup with spit, it all came disgusting clear. When my friend moved in on his late limp with Kx and busted his AA with a KKx flop, I celebrated inside. Dude, take that back to Alabama where it belongs.

That same friend and I ended up chopping the tournament for $475 each (net of dealer tip and not counting the last longer). Some critical hands at the end…

My friend’s K2o > AA.

My K5o short stack push > A8s when the 5 hit the flop.

My A5o > K2o, ATo > A6o and AQo > T6o, in rapid succession to knock out the #3 player (the aggressive player to my right) who had been chip leader throughout.

We chopped around 2:00a and I called it a night.


Good fold!

On Sunday, I got up, met my friends for a quick breakfast (no line at the Café either) and headed off to the poker table to collect a few bets and load up on the Patriots less the points.

The table was uneventful other than one guy who kept betting his good hands hard and flipping them up each time his opponents folded, congratulating them on their “Good fold.” Why on Earth anyone would provide free information and ongoing validation about good decision-making is beyond me, but I mentally thanked him for myself and my buddies. I ended up down $30 courtesy of a bet/min-check raise/fold at the river with AT on a AKxKx three heart board and a pair of pocket kings that held three-way to a Axx flop.

I racked up and hit the gym for an hour or so before the party. I’ll be honest—while watching the pre-game show and Hall-of-Famers offering sycophantic praise to Tom Brady, I began to get a bad feeling about the game. I’m all for confidence in any aspect of life, but for some reason, these Patriots didn’t look as singularly focused and relentless as in years past. I shook it off to pre-game jitters and finished the workout with a quick steam and shower.


And now for the fun…

After the workout, I hunted down my friends. We picked up our entry wristbands and headed over to the party for gluttony and glory. To assist with the former, the Mirage sets up several huge buffet lines and multiple bars in a series of connected ballrooms. For the latter, there are flat screen monitors everywhere you turn and the main ballroom has 15-20 huge projection screens and a fully-synchronized sound system. Just to keep things light, a number of beverage vendors scatter talented cocktail waitresses throughout the event to defend their market share. I picked up turkey sandwich, flagged down a Corona girl and settled in for the Patriots 2008 victory lap…

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