Our story begins in Vermont, as I prepare for my assault on the Las Vegas poker tables. My friend Joe Verga, an astute businessman, told me I must follow my instincts: “Listening to your instincts means knowing how and when to play the player and knowing when to take your winnings and quit.”
Armed with this advice, and with my bankroll, I travel back to Las Vegas and hook up with another friend; let’s call him Mr. Clean.
Mr. Clean and I go to Boulder Station—an excellent place to play low and middle stakes limit and no-limit poker—on Wednesday evening. Mr. Clean goes to the slots, while I sit down to a $4-$8 limit hold’em game.
I drink only coffee or water, no alcohol, no heavy meal. My mind is clear, my body feels good, but by two o’clock in the morning the game starts running bad and slim. I’m up over $180. Time to leave and enjoy my winnings.
The next day, to celebrate last night’s win, I treat Mr. Clean to the casino breakfast buffet. Stuffed to the gills with eggs, bacon, fruit, coffee and other goodies, I sit down, groggily, to a newly started $4-$8 limit hold’em game. (Instinct Violation One: my instinct tells me, don’t eat a heavy meal before playing. I did … ooops!) I lose about $100 and decide I need more sleep and a dip in the pool.
I have a cool coupon for $60 in chips for a $50 dollar buy-in for the Golden Nugget. It’s Friday night, and Mr. Clean is with me. Since I’m making $10 on the $50 with the coupon, I give Mr. Clean $10 to play slots.
A new $3-$6 game with a kill, is starting; the table is stampeded by $2-$4 players waiting for it to begin. I sit down in Seat No. 3 and watch more capping than I’ve ever seen. Well and good, but with my limited bankroll and now down another $50, I decide to switch to the $2-$4. Here the play is more even-tempered. There’s no cursing, no slamming the table, no slow rolling, no show-boating, and no drunks.
I’m now even from the start of the evening. Mr. Clean shows up with a $72 slots winning ticket, orders a drink and convinces me to join him in celebrating his winnings. So I order a double martini with four olives. I slog it down and think maybe I should be satisfied with being even, and not having lost.
I try to convince Mr. Clean it’s time to get going. He counters, “No, stay! You can win, you’re a winner; you can do it! Remember when you were practically down to the felt yesterday, and made a $180 comeback!” (Instinct Violation Two: my instinct said, don’t drink and play. I did … oooops!)
With a new sense of bravado—or was it the second double martini?—I go back into the game, ready to win the WSOP bracelet. (Instinct Violation Three: Get up when that inner voice says get up. I did not, I listened to someone else, and ooooops, that’s strike three).
Four hours and one more double martini later, and after switching tables again, twice, I’ve lost the entire bankroll, save $60. Mr. Clean arrives with his tail between his legs, no winning ticket, and everything is done for the night.
Next morning, suffering from a poker blues-over, I decide to go back to the Golden Nugget, lose $20, then bounce over to Binion’s and lose the last $40. Now I’m busted out and totally broke.
To make a long story short, after three weeks in a homeless shelter, I finally get the wherewithal to return to Los Angeles. Obviously, I am back to square one, raising a new $500 bankroll to continue the Poker Challenge.
I invite you to take the $500 Poker Challenge with me and report your results!
Contact “The Scientist” at highstakespoker@hotmail.com.
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