the luck of the draw...
my sunday poker friends sometimes email articles, explanations of pot odds, or first perspective accounts of winning low stakes tournament. well, once the 411 that low stakes tourneys existed came to light, social engineer extraordinaire aaron started a research rampage, and sure enough found a few winners, namely a 55 dollar entry at the tropicana in atlantic city. we usually only play for ten bucks, so this seemed a nudge above our level, but not so much as to dull this need in all of us to test our skills against a large group of people we have never met, our mettle on the skillet, malleable or strong we would soon see.
with yawning mouths and slept on hair only five of us (our sunday weekly has a mailing list of almost 15, though really just about 6 or 7 regulars) packed into aaron’s explorer, tired from night’s out and the theft of an hour from D.S.T. A foggy gray day with menacing clouds overhead did not bode well as harbinger of results to come. With ipods mixing our music and map quest directing us safely to our destination, we tried to slumber but mostly failed. I know I could not fend off the excitement of a true blue no limit hold ‘em experience, in a deliciously sinning local: the modern day casino.
Parking, we wade through a sci-fi tunnel strung with xmas lights, the matrix like rows and rows of slots with the old “living in a dream” people energizing the whole complex, and the neon lights blinding us in an attempt to make us not see our money sail out our wallets. Finally, we reach our mecca, our end of the rainbow: the shabby low class pokeroom of the Tropicana. The tables reek of age, the players fill out a hodgepodge of middle-to-lower-class misfits and eccentrics, and the dealers monotonously shuffle deal and call through hours of hands. Everything is business, business business. And just seeing the official chaos and large oval tables gets my blood pumping.
We stand in line to sign up for the tourney when we realize we must first get a poker club card. When we find the office to do that, it turns out we either need our initials or a nick name. I’m not feeling too creative at this hour so I go for the initials, only to be rebuked by rutty rutkoff to just think of something. In my haze I go with “the dibbs.” I know, not the best, but it will have to do. Derek picks the winner with “old west,” althea stays with “coppertown” which she got in our very first game when she had tons of pennies. Aaron rounds it out with “sammy” and ethan goes with the middle of the road “deacon.” Cards in hand we pay our 55, get a receipt seat and table assignments, and begin a two hour wait of pure xmas eve joy.
We also sadly earn about rebuys and add ons. For the first ninety minutes if your stack is less than 1000 chips, you can buy another thousand for 40 smackeroos. After that, for another 40 you can buy 2000 top off, then, finally, the money train stops and the losers stay lost. So the sad news drops that instead of a medium heft 55, we will probably put down 135. Well, we rode all the way up here, right?
After a bad deli lunch, the game finally starts. We all sit our tables. I am one fo the first at mine. The dealer hands me two red and green, 25 and one hundred.
Well, i swear i meant to come back and finish this great story at some point, but unfortunately, time flew and i never did. Rereading this start, i was going for a full out well written account of all the ups and downs, and now, six months later, i cannot recreate the magic of that fateful sunday. In the end, out of one hundred people, i came in fifth for a glorious 1,000 win. Derek came in 9th for $300 or so. My ego was on cloud nine.
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