World Series Main Event Day 6As you can imagine, there are a range of emotions still leaving their mark on me a few hours after an unimproved
vs
left me departing in 59th place; Disappointment, happiness, and just a sheer tiredness that hid for six days, only to suddenly hit without mercy when the adrenalin stopped.
However, what I did not imagine is that the strongest emotion by far is just what a whole lot of fun it was. As the days went on, it felt more like a group of people sharing a journey, than it did a competitive contest. It was actually the sense of fun that I had to block out most when at the table. At the point in day five where just a 30,000 big blind represented a player in the tournament and their crushed dream, you realised just how important each single decision was. This was no time to let the fun take over too much.
The other thing to block out was of course the enormity of what days of good luck had allowed, and just what was at stake. Strangely, this did not become harder with time. It peaked during the twenty minute wait to be all-in on the bubble, and thereafter, kindly subsided. By about dinner break on day five, a surrealness takes over. There is no no need any more to remind yourself that you are just playing poker, and can only do your best. For reasons I don't quite know, that feeling naturally kicks in. My heart rate could not have risen any more anyway since that bubble moment, but it surprised me how easily it slowed.
Only the tournament breaks are cruel; twenty minutes, and with a dwindling number of friends still around, nothing to do but think. Thinking on day six of the main event is not to be advised. You take in what is happening, and the fact that the poker decisions you are about to make will be the most important ones you ever have done. I generally took my seat about 8 minutes before I needed to; back to the fun, less of the thinking.
The mercy of today was that there just weren't many decisions to make. Nothing to dwell on for months to come, nothing to have to forgive myself for. Day six was the day when poker reality struck, and a more familiar tournament experience reappeared. Completely card dead (I was of course due that kind of day), and even a lack of spots to try to forge chips without cards. The bad news started with the table draw. Everyone was young, confident, and bred from the internet.
After that, it was unfortunately a case of death by ante. The young Spaniard Andoni Larrabe was playing too many hands and threw in a slight hesitation before raising, and so I three-bet him cutoff vs hijack with
. That was my only real success of 3 hours of play. I myself was 3-bet twice, and decided to give up. I don't think I missed any opportunities to turn things round; I hope not.
Down to 600,000 after the first hour, the true move-in or fold began. At that point, I picked up two cards almost every time that would have made for a great start in the deuce to seven event, but made things tough now. It felt painful to blind down, but at the same time, a lack of hands wasn't enough of an excuse to open up ranges in some kind of desperation. Soon, hope arose. I found ace-king, and a caller. Sadly, he also had ace-king. Then, the dearth continued, and by the break I was down to 270,000.
We came back to 30,000-60,000(10,000), and I entered the red zone when in the big blind. Down to 240,000, I would have the odds to call off with alot of hands, and felt I did do with
when the hi-jack opened. He had
; I had hope, but that hope was decimated as the flop fell
. A five on the turn meant that I was shaking hands before the river card was dealt. For five minutes, I felt devastated. I maybe wasn't too far away from a little tear. I can't imagine how the guy who finishes in tenth will feel.
However, things changed after five minutes. The fun was over, but the happy memories kicked in. They will last for a long time.
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