Recent Reads

Thought I’d take a post today to pass along some interesting poker-related reads from the last few days.

Last week over on BLUFF there appeared a lengthy, entertaining feature by Will O’Connor describing “The Last Hours of the Taj Mahal Poker Room” that’s worth a look.

Late last year it appeared as though the Trump Taj Mahal would become the fifth Atlantic City casino to close in 2014, though it managed to remain open after declaring bankruptcy in September, then settling a major dispute with employees over the paying of benefits, then getting a $20 million loan from a creditor in late December to help keep the doors open.

The poker room -- the one Mike and Worm take a trip to in Rounders and a one-time focal point of east coast poker -- closed down just before midnight on February 15th, and the feature describes in detail the scene during those final hours. Word is there are intentions to reopen the room this summer, although that plan (like the future of the Trump Taj Mahal) is uncertain.

Late last week another longish -- not entirely unrelated -- piece went up over on Rob’s Vegas and Poker Blog titled “Dominick Muzio and the State of Poker Today.”

Readers of this blog have likely found Rob’s blog over the last three-plus years since he started it to share interesting stories of his own low-limit adventures among many other items of poker-related interest. In this post he speaks at length with Muzio, a dealer in LV since 2009 who also works as a floor/shift supervisor at Treasure Island.

The theme of the conversation concerns why live poker has become less fun (and less popular) of late, and Muzio shares a number of thoughts to help explain that trend while also proposing ideas for reversing it. Some topics covered include math-versus-feel players, the dominance of no-limit hold’em, payout schedules for tournaments, the (relative) lack of online poker, and the social aspect of the game.

Check it out, and for an addendum adding other thoughts on the same issue see Grange95’s post “Making Poker Fun Again.”

Finally, you probably heard about the Bitcoin-based Seals With Clubs site going down a couple of weeks ago, and now apparently for good. You might also have heard how Bryan Micon, the best-known face of the site, had his Las Vegas home raided by gun-toting agents serving a warrant from the Nevada Gaming Commission.

Giovanni Angioni spoke with Micon for PokerNews and the interview appears amid a feature explaining what happened with the site and the raid titled “Seals With Clubs Chairman Bryan Micon: ‘The Police Raid Was Completely Unnecessary.’”

Micon talks about the history and final demise of Seals With Clubs, his hasty move to Antigua, and plans for the impending launch of SwC 2.0. Kind of a wild, confusing story, and thus another intriguing read.

2013 WSOP, Day 28: The Old Timers’ Game

I said yesterday how I was hoping to gather some color to report, having found myself with a day off after a week’s worth of 15-hour days reporting from the World Series of Poker.

Part of the plan also was to catch up on sleep, as I’d probably been averaging around 3-4 hours most nights during that first week. Unfortunately after finally hitting the sack around 4 a.m. Tuesday morning, the hotel phone was ringing promptly at 8 a.m. with some applesauce about the bill going forward not being paid.

“No, this room isn’t paid for,” insisted the person the other end, soon forcing me into full consciousness. Soon I was dressed and talking in person with my accuser, and while eventually all was settled (they were mistaken) I’d lost my chance to sleep away the morning.

Ended up doing some work in the room, then by early afternoon had enough energy to do some errands, including on a whim deciding to visit the Palms just to see what the poker room looked like now that they’ve moved it to a new location.

The room remains quite modest with only a few tables, although the ambience is better than it was previously. Instead of a closed in, smallish space, it now sits on the edge of the sportsbook which now features an amazing wrap-around screen that extends nearly 180 degrees left to right, positioned high on the wall overlooking the bettors (see above). Rather than being a series of connected screens, it’s one continuous one with all the games, races, and wagering opportunities on display.

It being the early afternoon, there were just a couple of $2-$4 low limit tables going, and I decided to sit down for a short while. The new screen was the initial topic of conversation, with a dealer opining that it would be fun to show the Super Bowl on it with a long, continuous, wide shot of the entire field end-to-end. I agreed it would be an interesting way to see a game.

The old timers were at the table, and I soon realized I was about to pick up some of that color I was looking for. Most played there frequently, perhaps every day, with many referring to each other and the dealers by their first names. One gregarious fellow kept starting conversations with people by asking them how old they were, which brought the whole idea of aging to the foreground as a kind of theme.

He’d bet and raise a lot, too, regardless of his hand, and the first couple of times I’d three-bet him he referred to me as “big shot” as he called my reraise. It was only after I saw him betting into a fellow on the river who’d already tabled his better hand that I realized he’d entered into the still-functioning-but-no-longer-comprehending stage of drunkenness.

At one point he was quizzing the fellow to my left about his age. “What year were you born?” he asked. “1953,” came the reply. “What month were you born in?” “September... I’ll be 60 in a couple of months.”

The interviewer was interrupted as he had to be reminded the action was on him. He folded, then continued. “September you say?! What day?” “September 21st,” was the answer.

“Ah, okay okay.” He leaned back, suddenly looking tired. “I ask because my father was born in September, too... September 8, 1932.” He’d pronounced the year like it had much more significance than anyone realized, enunciating carefully so as not to slur. Nine.. teen.. thirty... TWO!

It was evolving into the most trivial conversation ever had until my neighbor said something about wanting 20 more years to live. At that the drunken questioner perked up.

“Why?” he asked. There was a pause suggesting my neighbor hadn’t expected the question. “Twenty more years to play poker,” he said, the inflection of his voice making it sound like he was shrugging even if he weren’t.

“Ah well that’s all right then,” was the verbalized judgment, although the questioner didn’t sound too convinced. He’d already established that he, too, was 60, and he added something that sounded like he thought that was enough life to live, although I didn’t quite catch what he’d said precisely.

It wasn’t a competitive game, and without even picking up too many hands I managed to win a dozen big bets’ worth without much trouble. One of the ladies at the other end of the table said something like “I have a rule... no set, no bet,” indicating the general passivity of all. There were various promotions -- “aces cracked,” “high hand,” etc. -- occupying everyone’s attentions at least as much as the hands being played. One Asian woman made a straight flush and got a bonus for that, putting a lasting smile on her face and faint ones on the others, too.

At another point I found myself sitting between two other elderly Asian men. The one on my left was asking the one on my right the name of a female dealer sitting at another table. He knew her, but couldn’t remember her name. The fellow on my right was the oldest of the bunch, and the most feeble, too, and had difficulty understanding what exactly he was being asked.

Finally he figured out what the question was, and eventually the pair got a floorperson to supply the missing name. A moment later, the older man on my right leaned forward to ask a question of his own.

“What... do you wanna f*ck with her?”

The one on my left acted like he didn’t hear the question. As did I, although if anyone were watching me my widened eyes might’ve given away that I had.

I thought about the dealers a little, all of whom were fine at managing the game and amiable custodians of the little social club of retirees. They knew several of these players, too, and I suppose some of these people have become somewhat significant supporting cast in their lives as well.

On the one hand, the game exhibited a desperate seeming pointlessness that’s hard to ignore, the kind of thing that made the idea of “twenty more years to play poker” a decidedly less than attractive fate to consider. But there’s also something meaningful going on, too, in the time these people share together sitting around a table hoping to pick up aces and lose with them.

In any event, was interesting to sit in on the old timers’ game for a short while. I’d like to play more serious poker while I’m here, especially after having had some success early in the trip, but as the old guys kind of helped point out, time is limited.

I left after an hour, stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few items, then headed back to the home-away-from-home with an intention to do more work. But I was too tired to do much of anything. Got a decent night’s sleep this time, and am extra energized as Vera Valmore arrives for her visit today.

I’d like to take her over to Red Rock Canyon to see what I got to see last summer when F-Train and I visited there. But the temps appear unfavorable for hiking, so we may just drive through and enjoy the sights from within the comfort of an air-conditioned automobile. We might try to got to Penn & Teller tonight, too, one of those shows we’ve thought about seeing every summer but never have.

Whatever we do, I’ll be greatly valuing our time we get to spend together. ’Cos that’s where the meaning comes from in this life, I think -- the getting together -- as we each otherwise individually play our hands.

Tar Heel Poker

I began this blog by identifying myself as an online poker player, something I continue to do in that header up top even though my online play has been reduced dramatically over the last 15 months since Black Friday.

One reason why I identified as an online player was because, well, live poker was not really an option here in North Carolina. Not legally, anyhow.

The only casino in the state is Harrah’s Cherokee, located way the hell over in the mountains near the Tennessee border. It opened in 1997, although the only poker offered for many years was of the video poker variety.

A few years back PokerTek, makers of electronic poker tables, struck a deal with Harrah’s Cherokee to place a few of its tables on the casino floor. PokerTek just happens to be located here in North Carolina as well, in Matthews (close to Charlotte).

Just last month five more PokerTek tables were added at Cherokee, bringing the overall number to 15. While I have never played them, my understanding is most of the tables are of the NLHE variety ($1/$2 and $2/$5). There’s also an LHE one ($3/$6, I think), and they sometimes have Omaha, too.

In other Cherokee news, the governor, Bev Purdue, signed a compact with the tribe back in November 2011 to allow for live table games. At the time I was a bit cynical about it all, knowing that legislators would still have to agree to allow for live poker to be spread. But in May such legislation was passed, and on June 13 the governor signed into law permission for live table games.

Immediately came reports of a plan to start offering games by the Fourth of July weekend, although that didn’t happen. I called over this morning and learned that as of right now they are targeting next month (August) as a start date for offering live poker.

Also of note, yesterday the new WSOP Circuit schedule was announced, with Cherokee included among the 20 stops -- the most ever for the tour. The WSOP-C Cherokee event will happen in April 2013.

Have to say this is all very interesting to follow, and I imagine if I don’t get there beforehand, I may have to get out to Cherokee next spring to get a look at what’s happening.

I’m also intrigued about PokerTek, mainly because it is located so close to me. There was an article in the paper just the other day about the company, which apparently has struggled since its founding in 2003 but currently is doing okay supplying tables to cruise ships and casinos, including in the U.S. and France. Last year they started making blackjack tables, and have plans for baccarat.

In other words, while for a long time I’ve mostly thought of poker as something that essentially happens elsewhere, I might just have to start paying more attention to Tar Heel poker.

Meanwhile, I wonder if I could swing a field trip to Cherokee for my Poker in American Film and Culture class...?

2012 WSOP, Day 24: Easing In

As I mentioned at the end of yesterday’s post, Tuesday was a day of errands and trying to set up shop here at the home-away-from-home. Got some groceries. Unpacked (finally). Settled in.

I did swing by the Rio for a quick visit to say hello to folks and see what was happening. Phil Ivey was busy making another final table. He’s currently seventh in chips among the final nine in Event No. 35, the $2,500 mixed hold’em event.

That’s Ivey’s sixth cash so far this year, and fifth final table. At those other final tables he finished seventh, fifth, third, and second.

A little bit of buzz this morning about Ivey being more “aloof” than usual this year. See, for example, this CardPlayer article on the subject. Also note this interesting post about Ivey and Brian Hastings by Donnie Peters from the coverage yesterday, which Jessie May juxtaposed with the CP piece in a tweet late last night.

Keeping a low profile is tough when making so many deep runs. In fact, Ivey’s success this summer is adding to that impression that he’s not being as involved with the media or even other players as some would like -- after all, it’s seems like he’s been playing on the main stage in the “mothership” at a final table every other night.

I know with Ivey there’s this added sense that he somehow “owes” others something, especially after his declaration last summer that he wasn’t playing in the WSOP because other players had money still tied up on Full Tilt Poker, the site he had represented. (Still the case, of course.)

While I’m one to appreciate players making themselves available and doing what they can to support the game and the community surrounding it, I’ve never thought players should be made to feel as though they “owe” others anything along these lines.

I remember writing something way, way back in 2006 to that effect after Jamie Gold won the WSOP Main Event and everyone wondered whether he’d follow the “ambassador” model set by the most recent champs. “He needn’t feel it necessary to live up to the ‘standard’ established by Moneymaker, Raymer, and Hachem,” I said of Gold. “Nor should his actions over the next year be regarded as any ‘standard’ for future winners to follow.”

It would be different if this were a game (or “sport,” as some would have it) in which the players weren’t themselves providing the prize money. That is to say, it seems reasonable to me that -- for example -- the NBA makes LeBron James, Kevin Durant, and others answer questions from the media following NBA finals games.

But for poker players, that sort of thing should be their own choice. Even the socializing and engaging with other players is optional. Like tipping dealers, the players can decide for themselves how much they want to give.

I did get a chance to play a little poker myself yesterday. Late in the afternoon I wandered over to the MGM where I had ideas I might play the weekly $120 H.O.R.S.E. tournament they have each Tuesday. Kevmath had arrived in Vegas earlier in the day and he and I had talked about playing it, although by the time I went over he was saying he might be late and/or might not make it at all.

I decided to kill time at a 2-4 LHE table while deciding whether or not to stick around for the evening tourney. I walked through the MGM to the spot where the poker room used to be to find the space emptied out. Signs pointing to another room across from the buffet led me around the slot machines and to the room’s current, temporary location. I’d ask later and was told the original space was being renovated, with plans to move back this fall.

The new location was just fine, I thought (that is a picture of it up above). In fact, the new spot was much quieter and more pleasant for playing. Before there had always been this loud cacophony erupting every half-hour near the poker room that I think involved some sort of Coyote Ugly-type dancing on a bar or something. Was never very pleasant given how it made hearing each other or anything else impossible for the few minutes it lasted.

It turned out to be a fun session in which I came away with what amounted to a modest hourly rate for a profit. A few grins per hour, too.

A woman sitting to my left lasted approximately 45 minutes, leaving $50 down and three vodka tonics up. A young Englishman from near Manchester, Ian, took her seat, and over the course of the next couple of hours he and I had enjoyable conversation, made more so by the fact that we were both steadily chipping up.

One other character who’d initially sat on my left then moved to my right introduced himself to me as Doc. He’d moved in order to see the board better, claiming he was half-blind despite pulling out a paperback to read between hands and asking for the Red Sox game on one of the television screens.

Doc definitely had trouble seeing the board, though, as was proven to me early when he lost a hand to me after claiming to be chasing a flush draw that wasn’t there. Another hand developed shortly thereafter between Doc and Bob who sat across from us in which Doc made the same mistake, although that one ended a bit more dramatically.

I’m pretty sure Bob raised and got a few callers who all saw a flop come something like . Bob bet the flop and I believe only Doc called. The turn was the , and when Bob bet this time Doc quickly raised and Bob called. The river was the and Bob decided to lead out once more, with Doc again raising without much hesitation.

Bob called again, and Doc somewhat confusingly called out “all black” before tabling his for a rivered wheel. Bob shook his head and with a wry grin turned over his . He’d flopped top set, but Doc had made runner-runner to make his straight.

As the dealer pushed him the chips, Doc took a closer look at the board and began apologizing -- he’d thought he flopped a club flush draw, then hit it on the turn, which explained his play.

Doc was kind of a character, it turned out, tossing out various one-liners here and there. “My wife calls me a prince among men,” he said. “Only she spells prince with a ‘k’. Might be missing a couple of other letters, too.”

On our end of the table we were calling the bad beat Doc had delivered to Bob “hand of the day” until another arose to challenge it, one which also involved a flopped set getting undermined by a runner-runner comeback.

In that one a player straddled from UTG, and sitting a couple of seats over I looked down at . I made it three bets, a short-stacked elderly gentleman in the cutoff cold-called, the woman in the big blind called, and the straddler called as well.

There were four of us, then, to see the flop come . It checked to me and I bet, and the cutoff and big blind called. The turn was the , I bet again and both called, putting the man in the cutoff seat all in. The river brought a fourth heart, the , and when my lone remaining opponent checked to me I ventured one more bet which she called.

The woman in the big blind turned over her hole cards, one of which was the . I showed my king-high flush to beat hers. Then the all-in player in the cutoff turned over his -- !

Was something like a $60 pot in the end, a little bit of which I did get back thanks to the fact that the winner had run out of chips on the turn. Afterwards I thought to myself how if I’d won the hand I’d have been approaching the buy-in for the $120 tourney (no shinola), not something I necessarily had anticipated being able to pull off at a 2-4 table. Also thought how on a hand with a straddle -- actually the only time anyone had done so the entire session -- pocket kings and pocket aces had been dealt.

I ended up bailing, another exchange of messages with Kevmath making it seem like he wasn’t going to make it. He did, ultimately, as did a few others I knew, which made me later wish I’d stuck around. But in truth I was feeling a little fatigued and had some other work to take care of. Besides, I liked leaving the poker room with more cabbage than I’d had when I entered.

Today it appears I’ll head back to the Rio, probably joining with the PokerNews coverage for a couple of hours before I start in earnest tomorrow with a full shift. You know, starting slow. Easing in.

Live Poker: Caesars Atlantic City, Atlantic City, NJ

Mentioned yesterday I managed to play some at Caesars Atlantic City before leaving. Since the WSOP-C Main Event final table ended early, I was able to sneak in some hands of low LHE before grabbing a late dinner and hitting the sack. Hadn’t planned to play at all, but figured I might as well, if only to say I’d done so.

And today, of all days, I just had to write about playing at Caesars, right? Beware the Ides of March! And/or playing low limit hold’em.

Was only there about an hour-and-a-half, I think. I emerged from the game relatively unscathed -- almost exactly even, in fact -- despite only hitting a few hands. Was your typical no-fold’em hold’em game in most respects, although there was one aspect that made it marginally more intriguing for your humble gumshoe.

I was in the seat to the immediate right of the dealer. During the short time I was there, the game constantly fluctuated between as few as six and as many as 10 players. Soon after sitting down I realized the fellow to my left was doing a lot of talking, including cursing, both to himself and to others at the table. And, as it soon became apparent, a lot of drinking, too, as he seemed to order something -- usually Heinekens, sometimes liquor -- at least once per orbit. He was playing round for round, you might say.

He was also playing very aggressively, rarely limping (the typical play at the table, natch), almost always betting when checked to after flop, three-betting and check-raising, and so forth. And he would fold now and then, too, thus giving an initial impression that there was some method involved. He won a few pots, too, during that first stretch, furthering that notion that perhaps he wasn’t as out of his mind as he seemed.

Soon, though, he’d lost whatever he’d won and was rebuying. Again. And again. No, the guy wasn’t good. He was blotto. And playing like it was lotto.

He kept rebuying for $20 at a time, ending up all in by the turn on most hands in which he got involved, then usually rebuying again for the next hand, which slowed the game a bit. In fact, one dealer even allowed him to play cash during hands -- i.e., to rebuy even after running out of chips before a hand had completed -- which also complicated things not insignificantly. (This obviously shouldn’t have been allowed, and the next dealer put an end to that applesauce right away.)

Adding to the madness, he kept trying to toss out the two Bally’s chips he had in his possession, mixing them in with his bets, with the dealers having to sift those out and return them to him. He was also becoming increasingly belligerent, even upsetting a couple of players with his actions and language. One actually left muttering something about being on tilt, although I think his mood was soured as much by his having lost a lot as by the inebriated antics of our tablemate.

Perhaps on another day I’d have been upset, too, but I found myself feeling very stoic about everything. Maybe I was just too tired to get worked up, having averaged only 3-4 hours of sleep the previous couple of nights. But it was as though I were a detached observer gathering from the experience various details about human behavior, like some sort of anthropologist or something. And despite (or maybe because of) our close proximity, the dude hadn’t specifically directed any of his vitriol toward me.

So I didn’t leave. Then I realized something else that was making the situation more interesting -- that was perhaps even a reason to stay longer.

I could see every single hand my drunken neighbor was playing.

Anyone whose played live enough has experienced something similar, I imagine. When first dealt his hand, he’d hold up his cards in front of him in such a way that I had to make a conscious effort not to see them. In fact, he’d usually utter some sort of judgment on the quality of the cards, too, letting me know not only what he held, but how he liked (or disliked) his hand as well. Then on each subsequent street he’d flash them again, again making it very hard for me not to catch a glimpse.

It crossed my mind that I now enjoyed what could well be a significant advantage in the game. Ultimately, though, I never utilized it. I could claim some personal sense of integrity prevented me from doing so, but that wouldn’t be entirely honest. More accurate to say no circumstance arose in which the added info mattered. Might’ve been deterred also by a vision of the drunk suddenly catching me seeing his hand and responding with a barrage of profanity. Or bottles.

Like I say, though, it did make the whole scene more interesting than it might have been otherwise, such as in one hand in which I’d joined a family pot from late position with 8-7-suited, then saw a flop come Q-A-8 rainbow. There’d been a bet and a raise before my action, so I let my bottom pair go. The turn was a five and again someone in early position bet, a couple called, and when the drunk raised everyone stayed in.

The river brought another eight, making the board Q-A-8-5-8. I knew it to be the case eight. Why? Because I’d folded one. And my neighbor -- with K-8 -- had the other. He took the big pot, much to the dismay of the young woman who’d come in second with ace-queen, though he donated it back soon enough.

I left the game shortly thereafter, thinking randomly about how strange a species we are, wondering why we do the things we do. And no, I wasn’t really focusing on the drunk. I was thinking about myself.

Secret (and Not-So-Secret) Identities in Poker

The flesh-and-blood appearance of the young Swedish player Viktor Blom at the World Series of Poker Europe a few weeks back caused something of a stir in the poker world. That was because Blom, of course, is the player most believe to be “Isildur1,” he of the multimillion-dollar swings over on Full Tilt Poker that captured everyone’s attention during the latter months of 2009.

While the prize pools at the WSOPE pale in comparison to the stakes Isildur1 was playing a little under a year ago -- remember that $1,356,946.50 pot he lost to Patrik Antonius?! -- Blom had what some might consider a successful series, highlighted by a 16th-place finish in the WSOPE Main Event.

The £33,582 Blom won for that achievement (the equivalent about $52,000) would not have even gotten him to the flop in that big hand against Antonius last November. But still, his deep run got a lot of attention, especially when he and Phil Ivey -- one of Isildur1’s many big-name Full Tilt opponents -- were sitting one-two in chips at one point on Day 2.

This wasn’t the first time Blom has appeared at a live tourney. He was at the 2009 WSOPE as well as the 2010 EPT Grand Final in Monaco. He did bail at the last minute from playing in the televised Party Poker IV Big Game last spring, but has been out and about enough to become a recognizable figure (and the subject of a hilarious photoshop thread on Two Plus Two, from which comes that picture below).

That said, Blom had never before drawn as much attention as he did at the 2010 WSOPE. It was highly interesting to see how those reporting on Blom handled the issue of whether or not to identify him as Isildur1.

As far as I know, Blom still hasn’t publicly acknowledged that he is Isildur1. In fact, when asked directly by Bluff Europe back in December 2009, Blom denied it altogether. “I am not the one you are looking for,” said Blom to the magazine. “Keep looking.”

Thus are most commentators continuing to choose their words carefully whenever connecting Blom to his apparent online identity. It’s an awkward situation, but it’s also a very familiar one in the world of online poker. I’ve had the chance to report on both live and online events, and in either venue there is always some awareness of -- and varying levels of pressure or need either to refer to or not to refer to -- that other “world” in which the same actors are known to operate.

Sometimes the connection between a player’s “real” self and his or her online identity is wholly unambiguous and without controversy. Tom Dwan is durrrr. Daniel Negreanu is Kid Poker. Greg Raymer is Fossilman. The names are almost interchangeable, recognizable to nearly everyone.

Other times, there are legitimate doubts about whether this or that person can be linked to a particular username. Or not-so-clearly-defined guidelines not to “out” someone who doesn’t wish to be identified.

It’s that latter issue that is especially curious when it comes to poker.

The internet inherently introduces all sorts of challenges when it comes to identity, insofar as it all but requires us to create “virtual” selves in order to communicate. So part of what we’re talking about here isn’t specific to poker at all, but just part of what it means to interact on these here interwebs.

But when it comes to poker, “identity” is actually part of the game. Who I am -- or even better, who you think I am -- is of great relevance to how you are going to play against me. And vice-versa.

Thus might a player’s desire not to be “outed” become significant to the reporter, then, because to do so could be construed as influencing the game on which one is reporting -- something which no conscientious reporter ever wants to have happen. Even if the player hasn’t made such a desire known, I think most reporters are at least aware that it is probably best to exercise some prudence when publicizing such connections.

The Blom-Isildur1 case is obviously special. No one reporting on the WSOPE and referring to Blom as Isildur1 was passing along some previously unknown revelation that could be said to change the way Blom’s opponents approached him. (Although there was that one, odd story from the Main Event in which Ivey apparently was overheard asking someone -- perhaps with tongue in cheek -- “Who’s Isildur?”)

Is interesting, though, to consider how in professional poker -- now that the online game has grown so considerably -- we are almost always thinking in terms of these two distinct worlds, with nearly everyone, it seems, having one foot in each.

2010 WSOP, Day 45: Tournies & Trophies, Gin & Juice

Yesterday was a day off for the WSOP, a chance to recharge, let loose, unwind, what have you. It is a day for parties, tourneys, and other fun stuff to which some of us look forward all summer.

I had the opportunity to play in a couple of different freeroll tourneys yesterday, the WSOP Media event and the one put on by PokerNews. The Media Event started at noon over at the Rio, while PokerNews one was scheduled for 2:30 p.m. at the Hard Rock, although it didn’t really get going until after 3. My original plan was to try to play both, which I knew should be possible barring a deep run in the first one.

About 130 started the WSOP Media event. Only the top nine spots won anything, although I wasn’t sure about any of the prizes other than that the winner would get an iPad and there were trophies for the first one out as well as for the top three finishers.

The structure was fast, as is usually the case at these things, although we did start with 10,000 chips and 100/200 blinds. And in fact I felt like I did get to play some postflop poker for the first couple of hours or so, which was a lot of fun. Felt like I played pretty well during that stretch, although I never seemed to build too big of a stack, always hovering around average or a little below.

Got to the first break at which point the field had been cut in half. Then played another hour-and-half and we were down to 30 or so. Finally there came a point about 3 p.m. where I knew I was either going to have to bust right then to make the PokerNews tourney, or double up and try to hang on to the final table.

I’d gotten down to about five big blinds or so and was in middle position when I picked up the hammer, 7-2-offsuit. In went the chips, and I ended up getting one caller who held A-4. I hit a seven and doubled up. “All skill,” I said as I ordered my suddenly comfortable-sized stack. A little later managed a more-than-double-up with pocket sevens, and somehow weaseled my way to the ten-handed final table.

Nolan Dalla and Seth Palansky (both of whom had played) were there and Dalla had each of the final ten say something about themselves in a microphone over the Rio’s PA. One item we were supposed to share was our “goal in life,” which I said was “to try somehow not to bubble this.”

I took a look at the stacks at the table and saw there were only a couple of players with fewer chips than me, one of whom was AlCantHang. The first hand was dealt, and I was in the big blind. A player who had me covered pushed all in from middle position, and it folded to me. I looked down and saw pocket kings and made the call. He tabled A-Q, and my kings held up. Soon the unlucky player whom I’d beaten in that hand was eliminated, and just like that I’d achieved my goal in life.

With only a couple of exceptions here and there, it was pretty much all-in-or-fold poker from that point forward, and while I didn’t get much in the way of cards after those kings, I did stay out of harm’s way long enough to get down to the final three. I was the shorty then, but very nearly made it to heads-up if it weren’t for a lucky river card for one of my opponents. I finally busted with the mighty , though I was ahead until the river on my last hand, too.

I ended up with a gift bag full of t-shirts, caps, and other items (including more Jack Link’s beef jerky), a WSOP chip set, and a trophy. Best of all, though, was the five hours of fun I got to have. Big thanks to the WSOP staff for putting on the sucker.

I then cabbed it over to the Hard Rock. I had missed my chance to play in that one, of course, but nevertheless enjoyed watching them play out the final table. Tim Duckworth took it down, the key hand being one in which he used deuce-four to crush Chip Bitch’s pocket kings. (Poker Grump, take note.)

Rested up a short while after, then it was over to the Palms for the PokerStars party. A tough life, I know.

We got there about 9 p.m. and I enjoyed seeing and hanging out with various folks during the course of the evening. I’d been to this event back in 2008, but skipped it last year when Nelly performed. This year they’d gotten tha Doggfather himself, Snoop Dogg. Just about everyone was pretty hyped to see the iconic figure, even those of us who didn’t know much beyond “What’s My Name” and “Gin & Juice” (if that).

Don’t have time to run down all of the details of the evening, but fun was had by all, fo shizzle. Snoop -- appearing about an hour later than most thought he was to come on -- definitely delivered. (That pic via Pauly, as none of the ones I took came out very well.)

By the time Snoop Dogg came on after midnight, I was with Danafish and Snoopy, both of whom cracked me up time and again. I think Snoopy was forever changed last night after hearing his name chanted repeatedly by hundreds of drunken revelers.

Hopefully everyone got enough rest for today’s Day 3, which promises to be a doozy. Today is when the different flights from the first two days consolidate into one. It looks like a total of 2,557 players from the starting field of 7,319 are still with chips, and all will be there in both the Amazon and Pavilion rooms today. As you follow the action today, stop by PokerNews’ live reporting page where I’ll be helping with the coverage.

Live Poker: Palm Beach Kennel Club, West Palm Beach, FL

Last week I accompanied Vera Valmore to West Palm Beach, Florida in order to watch some top-level dressage at the Palm Beach Dressage Derby. And since Florida is one of those states that offers live poker, I thought I’d take the opportunity to play some while there.

As far as the Derby went, it was cold and windy the first day, but the weather turned quite pleasant afterwards, with highs in the low 70s. Thus did Vera and I enjoy relatively nice conditions for watching the rides, some by Olympians and others with high achievements in dressage on both the national and international level.

One very sad note -- a top rider, Courtney King-Dye, suffered a serious head injury while schooling one of her horses the day before the show began. The young horse she was riding apparently slipped, causing King-Dye -- who wasn’t wearing a helmet at the time -- to fall. She remains in a coma, though her condition is stable. The wearing of helmets either in practice rides or during competitions is a big issue in dressage, and the accident has brought new attention to the importance of taking safety precautions.

After that first day at Horse Park at White Fences Equestrian Estates in Loxahatchee, Florida, Vera and I decided to take a quick trip over to see the Palm Beach Kennel Club, located near the airport and not too far from the hotel where we were staying. I’d heard the guys on the Florida-based poker podcast Ante Up! refer to the PBKC frequently, and was curious to see just what they had to offer. It was early evening. If any limit hold’em tables were going, I would sit down for a short while, then we would try to find some place to eat.

The PBKC has a long history, with folks having come there to bet on the greyhounds since way back in the 1930s. The poker room -- actually two rooms, one larger one on the lower level, and a smaller room for tourneys upstairs -- came much, much later, probably in the late 1990s when parimutuel facilities were first allowed to offer poker. The club boasts that with the addition of the upstairs room a couple of years ago it now has the most tables (60 total) of any place in the entire state.

I knew through Ante Up! that live poker had experienced something of a resurgence in Florida over the last few years, thanks largely to a bill that went into effect in 2007 allowing for the addition of no-limit games (though with a $100-max. buy-in). The new terms also meant the maximum bet in limit games was raised -- but just to $5. Another bill was proposed last year that would remove the caps on buy-ins for NL games, take away maximum bet limits in limit games, and also allow for extended hours, although various machinations between the Florida legislature and the Seminole tribe have prevented that from being implemented just yet.

I spoke with Scott Long of Ante Up! (who co-hosts the show with Chris Cosenza) just to make sure I was clear on what the current laws were. Indeed, the $100 max-buy in remains in place for NL games, as does the $5 limit on bets in limit games. The maximum buy-in for tourneys is $800 or thereabouts (Long says some places have managed to find a way to finagle up to $1,000 buy-ins somehow). Long shared with me the comparison he and Cosenza often make when highlighting the present absurdity of the poker-gambling situation in Florida.

“I can go down to the Kennel Club and bet $50,000 on a dog running around the track, but can’t buy in for more than $100 to play poker,” explained Long. He added how the motorcycle-riding thrill-seeker Evel Knievel, who lived his latter years in Florida prior to his death a couple of years ago, apparently used to go place $10,000 bets on the greyhounds from time to time, screwing up the odds considerably when he did.

It does sound as though the law to remove caps and betting limits has a good chance of going through this summer, though, and so perhaps the situation will be different in Florida soon.

Vera and I found the PBKC without too much difficulty, although figuring out how to enter the place was less obvious. After a half-minute of wandering around the front, someone directed us to the turnstiles, through which we went and then entered the building from the back.

There appeared to be a lot of activity, with perhaps 20-25 tables going (of the 40 in the downstairs room). Most tables were spreading $1-$2 and $2-$5 NLHE, with three $2-$4 LHE games going. (Long told me that was what you mostly find as far as limit hold’em goes, with a few $1-$5 or $2-$5 spread limit games here and there.) I grabbed a seat at a LHE table, though I knew I wouldn’t be playing for long as there didn’t seem very much for Vera to do while she waited.

I took a seat at a full table, noticing a lot of trash underneath the table and unclaimed bottles and napkins everywhere. In the end, I’d probably play no more than 40 minutes or so -- like 20-25 hands at most -- and thanks to some ridiculously good cards walked away up a surprising $90. What happened? I caught cards, made hands, and got paid. Not too complicated.

After losing the first hand with pocket jacks, I began collecting chips in rapid fashion starting with a hand in which I got in the small blind, flopped two pair, then turned a boat. Followed that with another hand in which I limped in with the rest of the table with A-6-suited to see a flop come 8-6-6. Two of us made it to the river on that one, with my opponent angrily showing the case six (with a lesser kicker, presumably). He left soon afterwards, grumbling to a friend about his misfortune and/or the quality of play.

A few hands later I picked up pocket treys in late position and limped along with about six others. Flop 6-3-3. Whoa. Some nice cards they be dealing here, I thought. Afterwards I thought of Mike Fasso, who used to appear on Ante Up! now and then as a guest host, and one time when he memorably exclaimed “I never flopped quads in my life.... IN MY LIFE!”

Well, I’d done it. And even better, there was a bet and call before it got to me. I called, as did two more. The turn brought another six. It checked to me, I bet, and two just called. Couldn’t quite figure why neither would raise there (assuming at least one had to have had a six). River was a face card, I bet again, and just the older fellow called. Indeed, he had a six, and was just calling down his sixes full.

The ridiculous run good continued, as the very next hand I picked up two black aces. There was a raise before me, I three-bet, and ultimately there were two callers. Flop . It checked to me, I bet, and both called. Turn was the . This time the preflop raiser bet, I raised, and the early position player called the two bets, which signaled he probably couldn’t have the straight. The preflop raiser -- whom I thought might have K-K or Q-Q -- called as well. The river brought the , and when the preflop raiser again bet I just called, a little wary the EP player might have chased down his flush. But he just called, too, and we showed our cards.

The early position player had pocket sevens -- he’d flopped a lesser set. And the preflop raiser had -- he’d flopped two pair. Definitely a cooler for both, although it could’ve been even worse for them had the turn and river not coordinated the board like that.

Thus the big win. Much more luck than skill, for sure. I cashed out, grabbed Vera, and we were out of there. As I said, there wasn’t really much for Vera to do there. I mentioned the trash laying about. The felt on the table was worn down, too, adding a little to the sordid atmosphere. The dealers were competent and friendly, though, and aside from the one grumbler the players were cordial, too. After my quads hand, the dealer had passed me a slip to fill out to enter the high-hand jackpot, to be awarded on Saturday.

I ended up returning on Saturday for another session and to see if I might have won the jackpot. There were multiple drawings throughout the day, starting at 1 p.m. (when the place opened). Got there early and explored the place a little more, checking out the theater-style seating upstairs from which to view the races as well as wandering outside at the track a bit. Many folks -- including a lot of old-timers -- were there early studying the day’s races and settling on their picks. A line formed outside the poker room, too, which opened at 12:30 p.m. Probably 30 tables were filled with players by the time the first hands of the day were dealt.

The early drawings were for $1,000, and one had to be present to win. While there I again played, this time for an hour-and-a-half or so. As I (mostly) folded hands, I listened hopefully for my name to be called. Alas, it was not, although I would pick up another $49 before I left. Wasn’t so much good cards this time as bad, loose, passive play by others. If I had stuck around until the evening, I’d have learned if I’d won the larger $5,000 jackpot, but I wasn’t going to be spending the entire day and night there.

Again, I’ll say the dealers were fine and all of the staff with whom I interacted were pleasant. Getting a cocktail waitress did appear to be a bit of a struggle for others at times. I cashed out, grabbed a copy of Ante Up! magazine, and made my way back around the building and out to the rental car. Vera and I ended up that night in City Place -- a nice, pedestrian-friendly downtown area in West Palm Beach with lots of stores, restaurants, and live music. All made extra fun by my being able to pay our way with poker profits.

Will be interesting to see what happens in Florida once the caps and limits are lifted and places like the Palm Beach Kennel Club possibly become more of a targeted destination for serious poker players. Imposing those limits doesn’t much affect a recreational type like me, but I know many are anxious to see “real” poker start to be offered.

I’d had no time at all to play while covering the NAPT Venetian the week before, so it was good to get to play, even for just a couple of short sessions. And especially good to flop quads, even at $2/$4.