Madness and desperation

Since some of you enjoy reports from my past trips, here’s one that goes back further than most. But in order to explain the circumstances behind this and further subsequent trips, I need to detail just a little history. I guess it’s also important to help understand the madness of it all.

I don’t remember the exact year, perhaps 1998 or 1999. Either way, it was one the times in my life when the I looked to escape from an unhealthy marriage and a business that had drained me both mentally and physically. Although on this occasion, I never quite managed to be gone and stay gone as Marsellus Wallace put it in Pulp Fiction. However, I did eventually overcome the guilt associated with such a drastic move and stayed gone in the summer 2000. BTW, it‘s now six years since, and I still don’t know what the deciding factor was to my walking away. But that’s another story. Back to this one….

In the desire for my wife to keep the rewards of our hard labor, I always seemed to leave with nothing more than pocket money. In my mind, she fully deserved the security that she so craved for. Obviously, this was never for Peter. In fact, the four or five times that I did try and leave in this manner, I found myself in spots that brought mental torture and despair. But it also created stories that live long in the memory. Some good, some not so good. It was through such times that an old friend of mine named me Houdini.

Frankie Knight is an old-timer that has been around the poker scene longer than most. He is a great friend that just so happened to share a lot my experiences. We sometimes look back at them and can’t help but smile at some of the escapes. Sadly, this story does not feature Frankie, but perhaps the next one will. Anyhow, back to this one again….

Irrespective of all the escapes, it was still such a tall order to survive under such circumstances. Furthermore, the guilt of leaving my wife to cope with the business, always became greater than the guilt I had for staying in the marriage. It was a topsy-turvy roller-coaster ride that can drive a person insane. I would therefore return each time with my tail between my legs and a promise to try harder. But when something is beyond repair, all the effort in the world just cannot fix it. And so when the pressure built beyond the stage of endurance, I would take our second car, my suitcase, whatever pocket money I had, and head towards who knows where.

In 98-99, it was to be Los Angeles. I always thought that in my case, it should have been Lost Angeles. For I was truly lost and confused by a life that had no resemblance to the one I dreamed about in my youth. But at least America was part of those dreams!

From my bankroll of $1000, I pay in advance for my cheap room at a hotel that a friend had suggested. With the remainder, I try to grind out a living by playing $3-$6 Limit. Even now, I shake my head in disbelief as I write this. But sometimes, desperate situations require desperate measures. Obviously, there was no way I could survive this. By the end of the two weeks, on the eve of my return, the $3 in my pocket was a testimony to the initial madness in taking such a trip. Wait a sec, the story doesn’t end there….

With limited funds (can you call $3 funds?), I make my way to the Hustler Casino for a final visit to a friend who was a dealer there. I had met Jack Corrigan during better times at the WSOP. That was in the days when I used to go and park myself for days in the sit&go section. Back then, I couldn’t be bothered with tournaments and trying to beat what seemed to be massive fields of 250 players. I was used to kicking butt in fields of 50 and 60 in Notts. No… this was not for me. Anyway, Jack and I had met back then and then bumped into each other at the Hustler. To Jack‘s credit, he remembered dealing to me many times. In fact, it must have made an impression on him as he offered to back me during my stay in LA. However, the expenses made it difficult to make any headway from such small limits. But his gesture was greatly appreciated and never forgotten.

Waiting for Jack to take a break from work, I see another old face from the WSOP. Patty flashes a smile and calls me over. She then asks if I was playing the freeroll that day at the Hustler. Unsure what a freeroll was back then, Patty explains that it‘s for the Hustler locals who played a certain amount of hours over the month. She then asks if I had a card for my play. Seeing the confusion in face, she begins to stamp a card and hands it to me. Suddenly, I was going to be playing poker that day!

Hunger begins to take a grip while waiting for the event to begin. The embracement of the situation ensures that I stay hungry. Another friend who had brought me to the Hustler was also beginning to feel the hunger pangs. He looks at the payout structure and takes note of the first target. 36th place pays $37 and a chance to eat. The hunger becomes my friend for the day as I take my seat. Then the bad news hits; this $5K freeroll was LIMIT Holdem. Slightly dejected by the news, I try to keep an open mind; no room for any negatives here.

I don’t recall much about the event. But when bubble time came and went, and I was still there with my short-stack, it became a contest of smiles between myself and my friend Charlie. We both knew that food would be waiting as soon as I got busted. The wait was somehow prolonged as I kept hanging in there. Just one to go before we have a final. I post my BB and the SB. With my stack just enough for four big bets, the relief of the button is short-lived. A redraw is now required for the final. Wow! I am now guaranteed of $90 for tenth place - I felt rich again!

Would you Adam and Eve it, lowest stack and I draw the BB again. Oh well, it‘s been fun. Both BB and SB blinds are posted without either hand being playable. The next three or four hands go by uncontested as they all wait for the blinds to come around to me again. And no wonder! Ninth place pays $180. I make some cocky remark about how I was going to win this and that they should start playing. The size of the smiles reflect that of the BS that I just handed out. But sometimes, every now and then, BS works. I don’t remember much about how I eventually found myself heads-up, or even how I won it. But Jim Miller who was tournament director at the time (he later became tournament director for the WSOP when held at Binions), asked me where I had learnt to play Limit. When I explained that it was at the Hustler, he seemed confused. Searching his memory banks, he remarked that he did not recollect my face. He smiled when I explained that this was my first event at the Hustler.

If ever $1200 felt like a $1m, then it was that day. Even after taking care of Patty and the dealers, the $800 was enough for me to forget about going home the next day. And so the madness and stories continued as I extended my stay for another two months. They include the time when I met a crazy guy who wanted to commit suicide outside the Hollywood Park Casino. With little choice but to help, I finally make him see sense by convincing him that life is about overcoming challenges. Little did I know that one day we would want to kill me instead of himself. But that’s another story…. .

Footnote.

I must tell you about Jack. In late 2003 when I joined Truepoker, I remembered Jack. He had by then been forced to quit dealing and moved back to Canada. Struggling without a job, I encouraged him to play on Truepoker. I started him off with $500. Within a week, Jack transferred that back to me. He then increased his play to cover many of the online sites. Within a year, he turned his winnings into $135K. Now that’s a great story!