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I’m not sure how many different B&Bs it took before I started to become bothered by the widely adopted "leave your key at reception when you go out" system. They always tie the key to a larger than usual key fob to stop you running off with it and yesterday’s blue plastic tag was eight inches long, not much less subtle than a breeze block. When I returned, it was a different receptionist to the one who checked me in, so I was hoping she’d want me to say a little more than just "room one" to let me back in. But no.
This was Thursday night, and I’d been to Gutshot for the tournament but stayed for the live action after busting out very early. I played the hand that crippled me dreadfully, check-calling on the river for most of my stack with just an eight-high flush on a paired board. I was out of position and any hand I could beat would have been silly to not check behind. After much palaver over whether one player should deal for everyone – in theory to keep things moving more quickly – but then finding that he was not really that great (beginning with a misdeal on the first hand, and not really improving) we’d reverted back to self-deal just in time for me to bust myself with 22 against AT for what few chips I had left.
So by 8.45pm I was in the £25/50 game. Played for nearly 3 hours, came away with £99 profit. Yes, triple digits would have been a nice achievement but I wasn’t going to chase it, especially as I wanted to catch the last tube. I started off buying in for £60 because I didn’t have any tenners, and that’s OK apparently when one of the regulars already bent the rules, topping up a few minutes earlier to £100 because "there’s a lot of money on the table".
I got lucky with QQ early on, turning a set and doubling up, funding some of my future donkishness. I still have too much of a limit hold’em thinking, but at least I’m recognising that, even if I’m not doing enough about it when it matters. For example, calling a river bet after the turn was checked through, holding just AJ on a board A7472 with three hearts. Just because it wasn’t a pot-sized bet doesn’t make it worth the call, like it does in the fabulous $2/$4 games in Vegas.
There’s only really one winning hand worth relating. It earned me two players’ stacks, as well as plenty of abuse from Goscars "Best Moody" winner Feroz, who had delighted us all with a bad beat story before even sitting down. I was happy to give him another. "What a fish. I hate bad players. How could you think you were winning?". After taking his stack, I took great pleasure in simply telling him, "I didn’t".
I have Ace Ten in spades in the small blind, but it’s £1/£1 blinds so it doesn’t even cost half a bet to play. After four limpers, I just check and the big blind raises the pot – five quid more. A passive player trapped in middle position calls, so the pot is £21 and it’s £5 to me. It’s worth seeing the flop for sure.
Ace Seven Four. Top pair for me, but there’s no spades so I don’t have any redraw and I probably need help already. The big blind bets £10 after I check, and the middle player calls. I’m facing £10 for a pot of £41, and though I’m probably not ahead I figure the "worst call I ever saw" is actually worth it here for a combination of reasons.
There is a small a chance I’m actually ahead, against some combinations of pocket pairs, aces with poorer kickers or even worse. A pocket pair 88-KK for the big blind is very possible, and so I’m more concerned about whether the caller slowplaying something much stronger, or just coming along for the ride with any pair. I also have a chance to improve to a hand that’s most likely a winner. It’s only 3 outs at best (assuming nobody flopped a set) but it will make top two pair which should get me paid off by a big ace or a worse two pair. My call closes the action, and it gives me enough information to tell me how to proceed. The original raiser would have to suicidal to bet out again with any hand worse than a pair of aces after facing two calls with an ace on board, and I’d have to respect any bet from the middle player. I can easily fold on the turn without losing sleep if I’m facing a bet, so I think it’s £10 well spent.
The turn does brings a lovely – some might say miracle – ten though, and the big blind moves all in for £24, out of turn and without even looking at the next card. Really, what does this achieve here, except letting me make the easiest trap-check ever? The other player calls, which worries me a bit, but not enough. I’m ahead more often than not here, and the pot is huge. I push for another £27 and get called, they both table Ace King and don’t improve on the river. The small flop bet and middle player’s smooth call cost them both the pot – it was just cheap enough for me to get a little bit fishy, so I did.
I make it £160 to me and £8 in "donations" to the club. Everyone’s a winner. Nearly. 🙂
It occurred to me after walking back to my hotel from a night at Gutshot that one of the major differences between playing poker in London and playing Las Vegas is that in Vegas you will never, ever be walking back to a hotel room that is numbered with a single digit. Yesterday, I was in room 4. I also hit the trifecta – a working TV with all five channels, a kettle and a fridge. Luxury indeed.
I was a bit worried about how my luck would hold up, after having to walk from the office in a horrible February drizzle and leaving my umbrella up to dry in the ensuite whilst I went out. Is that unlucky? I really don’t know.
I did crash out of the tournament early, and in spectacular fashion. With T6 in the big blind and no raise, I was pretty happy to see a flop of 789, then two players getting their chips in the middle after I checked. However a two pair 78 became a full house on the turn and I was done. This was a freeroll WSOP satellite with £10 rebuys, but I wasn’t particularly bothered about playing in the first place, let alone rebuying. The £25-£50 table I was on had broken up just before it started, when the dealer announced "Right, it’s my last hand, I’m off to play the tournament". We did get our voluntary donation table fees back though.
I was back in the action straight away after busting. This table was proper dealer-dealt and I learned that if the dealer wears a Gutshot top, the voluntary contribution is a rake from each pot rather than a time charge. Nobody didn’t volunteer. From next month, there will be a compulsory daily membership fee introduced – £2 from noon to 6pm, £5 from 6pm to close. Not yet sure how this will affect donations, but it’s good to see they have a plan to keep the club running.
"What’s that funny looking chip in your stack there?" someone yelled across the table after I took down my first pot. I flipped the El Cortez 50c chip I’d been using as a card protector across to him. A few seconds later it came flying back. "Nice colour", he said, implying "gay colour" I’m sure. It’s pink, what bits of it you can see through the lovely downtown grime.
I finished the night up £38 and change after about 5 hours. Gives me a little confidence, considering it was a pretty solid game all night. I still have the change in the form of three 25p chips. They have an endeering home made quality to them. Presumably for such a low value chip it wasn’t worth having any specially made (the £1 and higher are Chipco style chips) but the quarters – that sounds so wrong when talking about English money – look like a set off eBay with some custom stickers. The tell tale sign is the "Las Vegas Nevada" edge marking. If I ever get to play poker at the El Cortez with Jackie Gaughan – which might even trump Claire’s game with Oklahoma Johnny last summer – this will be the cheap and nasty chip I use for a card cap.
As I was working in London yesterday and it was somehow easier and cheaper to stay the night and get a train back saturday morning, I decided to take a look at how Gutshot was doing after the court case, and take my first crack at the cash tables there. Something I decided I had to do before it’s too late, if there’s any chance the club won’t survive much longer. It took me a good half an hour to get a seat. I was third on the list for the £25-£50 game (that’s the range of allowable buy-ins, not the blinds) and I saw about three hundred people come up the stairs whilst I was waiting but never heard a seat called. Turns out the waiting list doesn’t actually mean a whole lot, and the more practical way to get into a game is to ask one of your mates already at a table to throw a chip at a seat as soon as somebody leaves, and then it’s OK to jump the queue.
The tournament arena in the building next door has been closed down – a real shame – so space is at a premium. The new arrangement is for cash tables to run around the clock (as late as the players want to stay) and tournaments go upstairs in the bar area on circular self-dealt tables. I’d only played in the "old" club a couple of times before, and once was a £5 pack-em-in-get-em-out rebuy, which was horrible. Rebuy tournaments are off the menu now, on account of the new "donation" policy. Since Derek Kelly was found guilty of charging a levy on gambling activities, the club runs rake-free and any money you wish to contribute towards the facilities when you play is optional. For freezeout tournaments, the suggested donation is be ten percent of the buy-in, just like the old registration fee. In rebuys they used to take a percentage out of the pot instead, so the easiest thing was just to stop them.
In the case of the £25-50 game, the suggested donation was £3 every hour. A somewhat bizarre way to collect a very reasonable (it’s that phrase again) service charge. I only saw one person opt out all night, and he didn’t get any grief about it from the players or staff. But he did have aces cracked brutally in a large pot and then steam off another couple of buy-ins before leaving. Funny how things turn out.
Although the hourly charge is decent, tipping the dealers was also expected. It’s illegal in a casino, but perfectly fine in an illegal card room. Half the dealers working were there for tips only, which wasn’t a bad gig really (I’d love to do it!) but they only got to work one hour on, one hour off which slices your pay in half and leaves you hanging around in the bar for long stretches.
You have to sign a sheet of paper to say that you agree to make the voluntary donations, and the very presence of paper on the table let to an outbreak of players attempting to remember the fantastic paper folding skills they had when they were younger. One guy did manage to construct a paper cube, then wrote "fold", "call", "raise" and "re-raise" on four of the sides. The other two sides stayed blank, depsite calls for "trap check" and "check-raise" to be added from players who hadn’t quite thought it through. Of course I managed to get involved in the first hand where he decided to use this.
With a straddle and 3 callers, I find AJs in the blind and raise the pot to £10. The dice’s creator rolls a "fold" and throws his cards away. The next player rolls a "call", chuckles and throws in another £8. The next player throws a "re-raise" and bets the pot. £36 more to me, and what can I do? I could push for the remaining £70-odd I have left. However I doubt I can make him fold anything now, and I’m either slightly ahead or way behind. Do I believe he really just did what the dice said? Or I can call and play out of position against two players, with not enough left to make a pot-sized bet, so I have to hit the flop. Is folding here mandatory, or just weak? I folded, he showed 9Ts and I started plotting to destroy the dice the next time it came near me.
The players were pretty solid on the whole, but I did manage to spot some value in this game – mostly it’s the habitual straddlers that provide it. There were usually four of five straddles each round. The dealers encouraged it with cries of "small blind £1, big blind £1… its £2 if you want to straddle". Obviously bigger pots mean bigger tips, so who can blame them. But straddling is one of the worst moves in poker. You’re paying a big premium to see a flop with random cards out of position, and I figured that having £10 of almost dead money in the middle for every £2 I paid in blinds was a pretty good deal.
Anyway, the result of my six and a half hour session was an overall profit of £17. Which is not a great hourly rate, but at least it’s profit. Although this really sounds more impressive than it actually was. I only stopped from going bust, in for £120, after I got a three-way all in with QQ against KK and AT, and hit the miracle queen on the flop. I’m back down on Thursday, think I’ll try again!
Whether or not the Gutshot verdict will spell the end for Europe’s Busiest Card Room remains to be seen. Following the trial, Derek Kelly announced, "There will be poker played at the Gutshot tonight – but we may have to change the way we do it". He went on to finish in the money in a £5 rebuy game of chance and skill.
Clearly many Gutshot regulars, as well as other keen poker players throughout the UK, are disappointed by the guilty verdict. Amongst the comments of appreciation, sympathy, disbelief and outrage on their forum are calls to arms – write to your MP, or let’s start a petition and see what we can do. Even if there is no court appeal, there is still a fight to be fought, and it will be fought by more than just one gallant Irishman.
Boycotting Grosvenor Casinos is another suggestion. This is the organisation that commissioned the investigation that ultimately led to Derek’s prosecution, after the police were uninterested in taking matters any further. They have, effectively, outlawed private poker clubs (except for clubs that can somehow cover their costs by charging the 60 pence per player per day allowed by law) whilst also hiking their own charges earlier this year. It is only an interpretation of the Gaming Act that allows them to call their a registration fee a "session charge" and charge more than the permitted 10%. The Gambling Commission approves of this loophole, however, and I cannot see it being tested in court.
We eagerly await a formal statement from Gutshot to see just how they intend to proceed.
Edit: There will be an appeal.
Apparently. So far reported by two unregistered posters on Gutshot forum, and a call from someone who knows a guy who says he was there.
A few minutes later, the BBC agree:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/6267603.stm
I don’t mean to be overly dramatic, but this will change everything, one way or another.
Gutshot’s trial kicked off this morning at Snaresbrook Crown Court. Although quickly adjourned because of some kind of legal thing that I won’t pretend to understand, it’s still very much game on for the CPS and the UK casino industry vs a bunch people who just want to play cards. No more delays – this is all expected to be settled, one way or another, in eight days.
Derek Kelly, who is facing criminal charges under the 1968 Gaming Act, published an article on Gutshot.com this morning, confidently looking forward to the challenge ahead whilst also taking time to reflect on how things had come to be this way. In a week’s time, it may be looked on as the first eulogy for what was once Europe’s busiest card club. Meantime, this along with the expected daily updates is essential reading for anyone who gives a shit about poker in the UK, not just the twenty thousand registered Gutshot members.
I still can’t see any result being a good result. If Gutshot win, it’s also an easy victory for all of the imitators that have been springing up around the country playing the "if they can do it, so can we" card. Unlicensed, unregulated, law-unto-themselves card clubs will spring up almost as fast as Subways (can you believe that even Stoke – surely the only city in the world still without any kind of franchise coffee house – has five Subways that I’m aware of, probably more, and another is apparently opening opposite the train station soon). It’s difficult to see whether that’s much better – not taking into account, of course, the consequences for Mr Kelly – than if they lose. The game – for those not wishing to play bingo poker at the major casino chains and pay a 25% rake – simply becomes underground, unlicensed and unregulated.
New Year sucks. Christmas is over (well, actually that’s not such a a bad thing). You’ve run out of turkey recipes, and still have half a bird left. It’s starting to smell a bit, too. You can, if you wish, queue for hours in the freezing cold to stand a small chance of picking up a genuine bargain in the sales. Although I’m sure it won’t be as bad as the insanity and violence of the PlayStation 3 queues in America last month. This year, I’m spending midnight at New Year’s Eve on a plane. I know I won’t care.
Oh, and all new for 2007 – the price of poker is going up again. All around the country this time, too.
Grosvenor Casinos have announced a new schedule of “session charges”. Whilst they’ve had the sense to tier the fees so you pay less for a cheaper tournament, the attempt to justify it as the “true reflection of running costs of cardrooms” is unconvincing. I’m quite pleased that I managed to delete the word “bullshit” just then, very disciplined of me.
It’s a £2 charge on a £5 tournament, but £5 on £20. Does one game really cost two and a half times as much to run as the other?
It’s actually great for the game that the major casinos are finally starting to treat it as a game in its own right, and not simply something in the same league as £5 in free slot play or a complimentary drink. If they have to charge a little extra to do justice to their tournaments and keep the guys upstairs happy, then so be it. But c’mon, call a spade a spade. Call a service charge a rake (unless you’re not allowed to). And acknowledge this session fee what it is – a way for casinos to begin making money from poker directly, rather just using it to try to bring in pit game suckers.
I’ve never bought or traded a percentage in another player before, but now I have ten percent of David Buckle in next year’s WSOP Main Event. Not a big name player, I grant you, but it’s got to be better to walk away from a tournament with a lottery ticket than a big fat zero. So that’s what I did.
Last night was the £150 WSOP super satellite at Gutshot that I won entry into last week. With 33 players and a handful of rebuys, the prize pool just topped the £6500 mark – just enough to award one Main Event seat with flights and accomodation.
The complete prize structure looked like this:
1st: £6500 package
2nd: £115
Somewhat top heavy. With one buy in less in the prize pool, we’d have been playing for three packages with a $1000 super-satellite at the Rio and some spare change for 4th place. Despite almost everyone in the tournament preferring to play for three places, the prize structure stood and we weren’t able to chop the package. The final add-on was actually taken by someone who wanted to play all-or-nothing for the big one, knowing that paying the extra £150 would be enough to create the seat. And that was that.
So with twenty-something players remaining and just one prize greater than the price of a buy-in to play for, I wasn’t going to hang around. Looking down at AK and having a below average stack, I figure I have to take a shot, even facing a raise and a reraise that already covers my chips. I’m hoping to run against two smaller pairs, or one smaller pair and a worse ace. In either of those spots, I’m about one-in-three to triple up and that’s plenty good enough. In fact, I end up drawing a bit thinner, against QQ and KK. When the KK is slowrolled after seeing both the other hands, karma kicks in and sticks a queen on the flop right up his arse. There’s a jack too, so I’m calling for a ten to make a winning straight, and the turn card dutifully obliges.
I should have tripled up here, but somehow I got stiffed on the pot. I moved in for 3200, but ended up with 7300. It should have been virtually 10k, but thanks to the excitement of actually still being in the tournament, I didn’t notice until half way through the next hand. All I can think is that my side pot was only awarded the first player’s original raise; whatever happened it was too late to do anything and I had to try to convince myself that it wasn’t going to matter that much.
Actually, it was about as insignificant as you could hope for. From that point on, I only committed all my chips twice; once defending my blind with A2s (my reraise was called after an eternity by 35s, and I still don’t understand why but it made breathing difficult for a while) and then when I was actually eliminated in fourth place, with my AJ losing to K9.
With four players remaining and the cardroom still unwilling to chop up the prize the best we could come up with was for the winner to give 10% of any World Series winings to each of the other three. We hastily scribbled an agreement which the club are keeping in their safe; far from perfect but even a forum post is more than anyone claiming to have a piece of this year’s winner had. Even though the deal really probably isn’t worth much (although, of course, it could be worth 10% of $12m…) it no longer felt like I’d been playing for six hours with still a chance of going home with nothing.
I was pleased with my performance, and definitely got more out of this tournament than I expected. Most importantly, I got a lot of high-pressure final table experience. The stakes were way out of my comfort zone (my seat was worth over £1700 before I busted, and I couldn’t lock in any of that equity) but I didn’t choke. I stayed patient and made good decisions. I’d built a table image that I could take advantage of. I always believed it when I told myself I had as good a chance as any other player to take first place.
I was also very pleased that I managed to walk directly back to my hotel without passing any places that I’d only ever seen on Monopoly squares! This is a first for me, and although it’s nice to see London by foot, it’s not ideal when you’re alone at 3am and are a little unsure of the way. Plus, I was disappointed last week when I discovered, by accident, that The Angel Islington was just another Wetherspoons.
I’ve left it a bit late to write up the tournament I played at Gutshot on Monday, but I did win… so I think I should still make the effort to recount my moments of greatness. 🙂
Clearly I rock. I picked up pocket aces three times in the first hour. Bad players just can’t do that, it’s the reason they suck. This was an unlimited rebuy tournament, so I didn’t even need to find opponents with much of a hand to get action. It’s a satellite into the WSOP qualifier next Monday (a £150 ticket), and actually a freeroll. You start with 500 chips for absolutely nothing. Then every time you need more, £10 gets you an extra 1000 and there’s an add-on after an hour where your tenner gets you 2000 more chips. 148 rebuys and add-ons created 10 seats; in fact the cardroom added £20 to the pot rather than create a cash prize for 10th. ty.
Aces #1: There’s an all-in from early position by a player who has made it quite clear he isn’t going to rebuy. He’s been playing it, well, like a freeroll. His bet is called by the player to my right who had taken one rebuy to start with 1500 (as had I) but now has a little less than that remaining. I move all-in over the top – no point being fancy here, and there’s no real downside to showing strength now. If the guy stuck in the middle likes his hand, he’ll call. If he doesn’t, we have a chunk of dead money and a better chance of winning. I’m not letting anyone else into this pot for cheap. Turns out he did like his hand: 9Ts. The freerolling maniac flips up AJ and I take it down. One player rebuys, the other makes his way downstairs.
I’d been sitting tight for a good 20 minutes. Usually not even worth thinking about, but in this game chips were flying and dudes and dudettes were gambling. Everyone except me, that is. I feared I may have too much respect, so when I looked down and saw the Gutshot Powerhouse, I thought I’d check my table image. I raise, and all fold to the big blind who thinks for an age and eventually passes. I throw the mighty five-high face up, and nobody looks impressed. Yet when someone folds the same hand face up from a blind later in the tournament there is much talk about how they were way ahead, it never loses, how can they fold that, etc. I’m dealing that hand, so I cheekily rabbit hunt and make him a one card, five high flush to beat the raiser’s pocket tens. Ahead the whole time, indeed.
It couldn’t get more perfect when the very next hand …
Aces #2: Kerching. AA. Let’s see how much respect I have now. Hopefully none. Blinds are up to 50/100 so I open with a raise to 300. A newly rebought 1000 chips comes over the top and my hand holds up against another AJ. Rebuy in seat.. well, who knows what number the seat is in these self-dealt games…?
I’m then moved to another table, and having lost one small pot and a couple of rounds of blinds I am sitting behind a stack on 3300 when the last three hands for rebuys is announced. Two hands pass uneventfully. Last hand before the break, and wouldn’t you know it…
Aces #3: Woohoo. There are two limpers ahead of me, and I make it 300 to go from the button. I haven’t needed to rebuy yet and I’m feeling a bit frisky, hence the small raise. I’d like some action please Bob. It’s not very often you’ll see me trying to build a pot with one pair, but right now I can still pay £20 if it all goes wrong and be back to 3000 chips, roughtly where I started. The blinds quickly fold and the two limpers call. These two limpers had history. The guy in early position had been frustrated by the girl in between us twice since I’d been here, with her moving all in over the top after he bet. Both times he folded a medium strong hand face up (whereas she showed nothing and just grinned), and though he was probably correct both times he was clearly getting rattled. So with me last to act behind these two, I have to hold my breath when there’s a bet of 500 and an immediate all-in on a Q-high, fairly raggy board. Had she not seen me here? I don’t think the other guy had, as he announced "call" before I had chance to do anything. Two nits at the table convinced him that the call stood because I had ever so slightly less chips than the raiser. Which I think is correct, but instead of calling for a ruling he just threw in his remaining 500 with bottom pair (45s) and started berating the nits for getting involved once his hand did not improve (compulsory call for him though anyway in that spot). QJ also did not improve, and I’m up to about 10,000 at the break after I take the add-on.
The girl does not return, so there’s 125 chips with no owner at the table when we come back from break. The table gets broken quickly and I have no idea where those chips end up. Surely they won’t have reseated her with a dead stack for three or four hands? Wasn’t at my table anyway…
The streak continues at my new table. I get one customer when I raise with AQ, the flop comes Q-high and he check-calls all in on the flop with 66. Not exactly pot-committed (the bet was about the size of the pot) but he must not have believed me. Doesn’t he know how powerfbloody lucky I am tonight?
From then on it did get harder. Can you believe I didn’t see aces again all night? Sometimes that really makes you question how good you are… I was glad to have the big chip advantage because the blinds got silly pretty quick. I’m still not convinced by the 250/500 and 350/700 levels. They are uncomfortable numbers, and really just serve to skip three levels for the price of two. About half the players were pot committed on every hand they played, so I mostly just stayed out of trouble. No need to win this one, top ten will do fine. I manage to maintain and creep my stack up a bit to 16k before we are down to two tables.
Playing some great push/fold, crapshooty, throw-it-all-away-on-one-hand poker, I see AJ and have to move in from the cut-off. The small blind likes his hand. He thinks for a while and says "I have a pair". Bad small blind – if he calls and shows a pair, he can’t win this pot. They only recently allowed any speech play at all at Gutshot, but you still can’t talk about your hand whilst there are other players to act. Heads up it seems you can do what the hell you like… So do I actually want him to call, then yell for the floor and let them decide whether I just get his blind or the whole pot? Or do I say something now, and make him pass whilst also letting the other player still in the hand know that I’m not particularly keen on getting action here? I decide to keep quiet and fortunately he folds what he says is a pair of sixes.
From then on the remaining players dropped like flies. I still had to take a 50/50 with my 55 against AT to ensure safety, but I stayed lucky and didn’t finish 13th. Two simultaneous bustos, one on each table, took ten of us into the next round. One winner even got all the way without paying a penny. Living the dream baby!
The £150 satellite is next Monday. It’s costing me £88 on the train (they just got expensive for Christmas) and £34 for a hotel (and yes, you get what you pay for) to be there. With my £20 investment, I guess I’m about £8 up…
I keep finding three chips in my pocket that I came away with from The Vic last week. A reminder to actually write down what happened on my first visit there, I suppose.
I usually play the 1 rebuy tournament at Gutshot if I’m in London on a Wednesday but the last week in each month is now the Team Gutshot satellite. I didn’t qualify for any bonus chips (awarded for playing regularly or finishing on a final table) so essentially I’d be starting with a crippled stack
So last Wednesday I went to the Vic and played their £30+£3 freezeout. I handed over two twenty pound notes and got a £5 and two £1 chips as change. Naturally, I never cashed these in before I left.
Although I did actually forget I had them after I busted out, I may well have bottled it anyway for the sake of £7, hoping that I’d go again soon, get more change in chips and eventually have something resembling an amount worth cashing in. Not that I’d feel quite right about even bothering to cash in £7 of chips there. It’s a very swanky joint, considering it basically occupies the attic above Woolworths on a street of tower blocks. Too much for me – I ran straight back outside after registering and found a nice cosy McDonalds.
With their scratchcard promo I won a McChicken Sandwich for next time. You have to scratch off two panels from four to win (a 1 in 6 chance of winning, assuming there are only two symbols the same). The card I won with had the matching symbols behind boxes 3 and 4, as did another I lost on. I’ve since seen another three scratchcards which all had their winning symbols behind doors 3 and 4, but have just decided to try to lose a stone before Vegas (let’s see how long it lasts this time) so probably won’t get chance to see whether this is always the case. I make it 1295-1 to find five out of five with the winning symbols all in the same position. I’m sure Claire will correct my maths if I’m wrong…
Back to The Vic. Back through the revolving door, and God forbid you push the door round yourself – they have someone to do that for you (this place is wasted on me – all I could think is how much they would save by investing in a door motor). Back upstairs to try and find the other half of the cardroom. The one I’d found, and registered at, had tables with numbers nowhere close to the one I was meant to be sitting at. It turns out there’s more tables on the second floor, where I’d accidentally stumbled earlier to be greeted with stares of "you don’t really know where you’re going, do you?" from someone in some kind of uniform at the top of the stairs. Ha! Turns out I was meant to be there after all.
Regular tournaments are limited to 72 players. That’s 8 tables of 9. The worst way I can think of to describe the shape of the tables is like a 50p coin, but with two more sides. The correct word, I always thought, was nonagon, although I’ve since discovered that enneagon is also acceptable. I’d never heard that word before, and I’ve also never seen a poker table like these. Not only were they an unusual polygon, they also had chip racks embedded in which everyone was using. Stacking and riffling chips was possible, but I didn’t want to be the only one doing it.
The tournament kicked off very slowly, with 1500 chips each and 25/25 blinds, moving to 25/50 and 50/100 after 20 minutes. Then it went mental, taking nearly ten minutes to remove all the 25 chips (I nearly said "green chips" instinctively, but of course they were some other colour that I can’t remember, but probably different to anywhere else) without stopping the clock and jumping straight to 100/200 for the remaining half a level then on to 200/400.
Double, double, double them blinds. And so the crap shoot began, and I stayed lucky long enough to make it down to the last two tables, along the way apparently forcing 99 to fold on a very low board when I moved in with my pocket 8s. KQo called me with his overcards though. Can’t ask for much more.
Then with blinds at 600/1200, rising to 800/1600 within a couple of hands, and a stack that had dwindled to 4900 after a couple of rounds with no opportunities, I felt I needed to push with any two cards when it was folded around to my small blind. For Harrington fans, my M is less than 3, and with 14 players remaining, the average stack of 7,700 was still in the red zone. I ended up in very bad shape with my Q2 racing against QT and not finding the miracle it needed. The poker in this tournament was long gone, and I didn’t quite get lucky enough.
And they’re still looking after another seven quid of mine.
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