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Here we go again! Once again I have
a ton of chips ($512,000) in the
championship event of Taj Mahal’s
U.S. Poker Championship; this
time it’s 2003. There’s major déjà
vu here, because I had more than 50
percent of the chips in 1997 with
three players left, but couldn’t
close the deal against Ken “Skyhawk”
Flaton and Surinder Sunar.
In fact, in 1997 with $900,000 in
chips in play, we had Skyhawk down
to $17,000 and all in with 10-8
against my A-2. Skyhawk ended up
winning that small pot, and then he
came all the way back to win the
tournament.
Now, in 2003, I’m at full power
(“full power” is the phrase I use to
describe my “A” game to the boys),
and ready to win this thing. With
Toto Leonidas in seat No. 1, Erik
Seidel in seat No. 2, and me in seat
No. 3, it’s feeling eerily similar
to the $3,000 World Series of
Poker no-limit hold’em event in
May, in which Erik was in seat No. 2
and I was in seat No. 3. I won that
one!
With five players left, Toto opens
for $35,000 from up front, and I
decide to make it $95,000 more, or
$130,000 total, with my A-K. Toto
studies awhile, and then moves all
in for $355,000 more. Immediately, I
eliminate A-Q and A-J from the
possible hands he could have. I
decide there is no way Toto would
risk going out in fifth place with a
weak hand, so I fold my A-K.
I fold it faceup, and Toto says,
“Phew,” as he shows me A-Q. I am
stunned that he would risk going out
in fifth place with one of the worst
no-limit hands out there. I mutter
to myself, “What is this guy doing?”
Then, I remember some of the very
weak hands he has played against me
in the past. He is a maniac player
(“maniac” means someone who moves in
weak a lot; being a maniac isn’t a
bad thing lots of times), and I had
forgotten that — my mistake.
Still, I don’t mind this laydown,
because I know Toto will give me all
of his chips in the next hour or two
when making another reckless play.
One hour later, we are threehanded
when Toto opens for $55,000 from the
button. I look down at Q-Q in the
big blind, and decide very quickly
to just call. A quick call shows
that I’m trying to pretend I’m
strong; I’m selling weakness here.
Perhaps I should have raised him
right here, right now, and maybe he
moves all in on me with his Q-J
offsuit and I bust him; this is the
kind of 20/20 hindsight we use when
we lose a key pot! In any case, the
flop comes down 8 7 2, and I check.
Toto bets $70,000, and I put him on
a very weak hand: In my mind, he has
K-J offsuit. So, I just call the
$70,000.
Lots of players would have raised
Toto here, but I had a sense that
Toto was ready to give me all of his
chips with nothing, so I just called
him. Now, the problem card hits on
the turn — a king. I check, Toto
studies for a long time, and then
bets $200,000. It has happened just
like I knew it would. Toto cannot
let go of a hand, and now I get to
bust him. He has Q-J and I have Q-Q;
it’s over for Toto!
However, I keep thinking of the K-J
hand that I put him on in my mind.
If he does have a king, I’m dead. I
pride myself on making great reads.
I have been making great reads
throughout the three-day tournament,
but now I have to study awhile. I
have a sense of dread that I’m
supposed to call, but on the other
hand I feel that Toto will give me
all of his chips in a better
situation soon, if I just wait for
it. I fold!
Looking back, I know Toto would bet
any pair, including 5-5, 6-6, 7-7,
8-8, 9-9, 10-10, and J-J. I fold
faceup, showing Q-Q, and Toto shows
me Q-J offsuit. “OK,” I tell myself,
“it’s 100 percent that Toto will
give me his chips if I just hang in
there and remain strong emotionally.
Don’t start fretting about a bad
laydown. Just wait, and Toto will
move all in weak one more time.”
Thirty minutes later I’m still in
there, and lord help them if I get
my chips doubled up, because now I
have both their plays dialed in. I’m
locked, loaded, and ready to fire.
Now, Toto opens from the button for
$55,000 and I call him with Q-J
offsuit in the big blind. The flop
is Q-8-7, and I check. Toto shuffles
his chips, makes lots of awkward
motions, and finally says, “I’m all
in.”
What? There is only $120,000 in the
pot, and he has bet my last
$236,000. What the heck is going on
here? I know Toto, and I consider
all the possibilities: He might have
K-Q (this is the only hand I’m
worried about). Toto never bets big
with his big hands; he always tries
to milk them. Thus, he can’t have a
big pair, A-Q, or even K-Q; in my
mind, he must have A-8.
Toto is starting to look very, very
weak as I study him. I think he
knows that I have a queen by now,
and I think he knows I’m going to
call him. He looks like a man who
wishes he could take his money back,
but now he is committed. Finally, I
say, “I call,” and push all of my
chips into the middle of the pot.
This is the first time in the entire
tournament that I am all in, which
is remarkable, and a real source of
pride for me.
The crowd cheers wildly as I call,
and Toto flips up A-7! I smile and
think, “Nice call, Phil; it looks
like Toto will be short on chips if
he loses this pot.” Now, the cameras
are adjusted, the hands are
announced to the standing-room-only
crowd, and the turn card is dealt;
it’s a 6. OK, the last card is a
mere formality now. No way is Toto
hitting an ace or a 7 here; I’m an
8-to-1 favorite at this point.
However, incredibly, the last card
is a 7, and the final evidence that
I lost the hand is hearing Toto
screaming very loudly, “Yes!” As he
is pumping his fists in triumph, I
think to myself, “You’re actually
proud of that garbage play?”
Immediately, I find myself falling
backward like someone punched me. I
take four steps back and literally
flop on my backside — on the payoff
stage — and lie there motionless
staring up at nothing, muttering to
myself.
I guess it will make for very good,
dramatic TV! In any case, I can’t
console myself. I walk around
muttering to myself while they call
me to the stage to pay me my
$116,000 for third place. I’m
feeling like I just lost $272,000
(first place was $388,000). I stew,
I mutter, I cannot believe Toto got
away with it! I’m mad, I’m sad, and
I’m inconsolable for a while.
Finally, after making a dramatic
jackass of myself, I gather myself
and try to recover what little
dignity I have left.
Do I deserve to lose to a guy who
tried to give me all of his chips
three times? What does deserving
have to do with it, anyway? For that
matter, do I deserve to have the
ability to make any final table in
any tournament on any given day?
I begin to feel guilty that I’m so
upset and acting badly, when deep
down inside I know I’m as blessed as
anyone. Later that night I finally
realize that I am truly blessed —
period. It is OK to get bummed out,
but I need to control myself much
better when I get unlucky in a big
hand!
I like Toto (he’s a very nice guy)
and Erik (he’s been a great guy for
15 years); congrats to them both.
Besides, so what if Toto hit a card
on me; I should have called him with
my Q-Q and had more than one million
in chips. If I had made that great
call, I believe I would have won.
That Q-Q is just another hand I’ll
torture myself over for the next 10
years …
I hope you enjoyed this Hand of the
Week. Good luck playing your hands
this week.
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