It was Sunday at noon at the Gilpin Poker Room in Blackhawk Colorado. I signed up for the $70 no-limit hold'em tournament that was just starting with 47 players at four tables. Everybody started with $7,000 in tournament chips. The payout would be to the final five players I was sitting in the No. 10 seat and started in the small blind. There was little action the first time around the table. However, then I picked up A-Q of diamonds in the cut-off position.
Players in the first, fourth, and fifth positions had just called the $50 blind. I raised to $600, the player in the first position hummed and hawed before raising $600 more. I decided to see the flop. The flop was three babies with two diamonds. He checked. I moved all-in, thinking he had A-K or worse, and checked when he missed the flop.
He called instantly and flipped over both black aces. I was going to be broke unless I caught a diamond on the turn or river. I caught the seven of diamonds on the river. Since I had slightly more chips than he did, the slow-playing trapper was gone in a flash-so fast that I don't think I could have recognized him in a lineup.
The next four hours I combined some good play, luck, and prescient bluffing-betting with the worst hand and not getting called-to make the final table. Then we went from ten down to six. Three players had big stacks, two players had small-medium stacks, and I had the smallest stack at $19,000. I was on the small blind $3,000 and sitting somewhat squeezed up against the dealer.
The critical hand was dealt. There had been little calling and a lot of "raise and take the blinds" since we got down to ten players. Thus it was a little surprising when the cut-off and button both called in front of me. I looked down at A-Q of diamonds, my lucky hand from earlier in the tournament.
I decided there were three reasonable ways to play the hand. First, I could fold and hope that the two callers and possibly the big-blind-who was yet to act-might get involved in a hand and I could slip into the money through the back door. Second, I could also go all-in, hoping everyone would fold. But that was unlikely with my stack size. Third, I could just call for three thousand and hope to hit a flop. Having bubble boy phobia, I decided to just call. To my surprise, the big blind went all-in. The cut-off and button folded.
My strategic options were now two. Fold or call. Since I had to beat only one hand and I might have the best hand, I decided to call all-in. I turned over my hand and my opponent turned over A-K of spades. He had me dominated but the flop came three babies with two diamonds.
I was thinking of the famous line by Yogi Berra, that this could be déjà vu all over again when the guy in the ten-seat suddenly stood up and said, "This could be déjà vu all over again." I only then realized that this was the same guy who had the two black aces and lost to my A-Q of diamonds earlier in the tournament. He had reentered, not re-bought, by paying for one of the three seats not sold at the beginning of the tournament. But this time the turn and river brought two black cards and I was the bubble boy out in sixth place.
I told myself that it was not all bad news. Now I could make it home in time to see my Rockies play game four of the World Series.
