When I first played the World Series of Poker Main Event in 2008, all of the professional players I knew warned me that the day I got eliminated would be one of the most devastating days of the year.
On Day 1 I had a short stack and took a few days off before Day 2. During this break, my brother Sean (who was also my mentor) and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out my shove ranges from various positions and how my strategy would change if I doubled. Eventually, I decided to shove with A9s from the Under the Gun position; however, the Big Blind had Jacks and won the hand.
As I strolled away feeling a bit dazed, it certainly seemed like the most awful day of the year.
I had my biggest chip stack ever in the tournament when I got into a raising battle with the other big stack at the table on Day 3 of the event. After I shoved all in on the sixth bet, he called without hesitation and revealed two Queens. Another player from Ireland at the table across from me stared at the cards in shock before saying, "The most painful bust out."
Do you have a strong hand of cards?
I nodded and tabled them, not wanting to watch the runout. This was something I often did in situations with a high amount of pressure and equity, as I didn't want to feel an emotional rollercoaster that could affect the next hand, if there was one. My close friend and roommate that year, Daragh Davey, was sitting next to me.
When Daragh winced and looked very sad upon seeing the turn card, I knew a Queen had been revealed, even if the people on the rail screaming "Queen! Queen! Queen!" wasn't enough of an indication. On that particular occasion, there wasn't much else to be done but watch in disbelief as the crowd continued to cheer and celebrate after the river card was revealed.
It was not only an extremely bad day for me in the past twelve months; it felt like it was the most disastrous day of my whole professional life.
I have gradually become more accepting of the disappointment of not succeeding in my endeavors over time. Though it still hurts, I seem to be able to handle it better each year, as I return to my usual stoic attitude.
There may be several causes, both within and beyond our control, for why the more we do something, the less special it feels. As we get older, we become more tolerant of things we cannot change. In my case, I have only ever been eliminated from games due to unlucky flips or bad beats; if I ever make a major error that leads to my downfall, I'm sure it will hurt a lot.
Main Event bracelets are probably my best bet to promote literacy.
The Main Event is no longer the last or even the last bracelet event, which was the case when I first started playing. This means that there are still more chances to win a bracelet and it's important to stay focused and not get caught up in regrets. I believe that my best chances of winning a bracelet come after the Main Event, when I can play at my best while other players are feeling disappointed and the field size is decreasing.
This year's Main Event was very similar to what it was for me in 2022.
On Day 1, spending hours and hours playing card games resulted in me winning little more than my starting stack. This left me feeling like I should have done what I did two years ago, which was to max out my late registration on Day 2.
I had a feeling that I was going to do well in the tournament, which was reinforced when I barely won a pot on Day 2. However, when I shoved my AQ into Kings and didn't get the win, I had to pass the last of the max later reg line waiting to enter the tournament as I left.
I had been feeling down since the bust in the Main Event, so I had tried different ways to lift my spirits. I had slept, ate ice cream, drank alcohol, watched bad TV, took part in a tiny daily tournament, and gone to the movies. This year, I decided to do something different – laundry. I was still in the middle of my WSOP campaign but had run out of clean clothes. Fortunately, a friend with an apartment near the Aria offered to help me out, so I packed my bags and walked over.
A car rushed past us, barely missing us by inches.
I'm halfway to my destination and I'm currently stopped at the traffic lights outside of Paris, waiting for them to change. Seeing no cars coming, I contemplate jaywalking until I look to my right and see cars turning quickly from the opposite side of Las Vegas Boulevard. The woman standing next to me seems to have the same idea, but she doesn't spot the cars now approaching us in her blind spot. As she steps off the sidewalk, I realize that I don't have time to do anything other than take a chance and pull her back onto the sidewalk from behind.
I brace myself for her response, but I am relieved to find that her male companion has seen and comprehended what just happened as a car narrowly passed us. He says to her, "This guy just saved your life, honey," and then turns to me and repeatedly exclaims, "You're an angel!"
As I continued on my way to my friend's apartment, I realized that even though I was far from busting a poker tournament as prestigious as the WSOP Main Event, it didn't seem that big of a deal.
