Michael Craig Blog

“I am just myself at all times.”

- Gavin Smith, Pro Chat

By now, practically everyone in the poker world knows that Gavin Smith won his first World Series of Poker bracelet last Saturday night, in the $2,500 Mixed Hold’em. This is, therefore, not so much a news report as a reflection.

Gavin Smith and I have one of those wonderful poker friendships, the kind that couldn’t conceivably exist anywhere but inside poker. We’ve never socialized. We’ve met only once outside of a casino and that was on poker business. Yet we greet each other like old friends and, for me at least, the feeling is genuine.

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BluffMagazine.com contains only a portion of Gavin Smith by Himself and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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Less than two days before, at 5 PM on Wednesday, June 16, 2010, I started the event with high hopes and excitement over an enjoyable table draw. When you become an experienced tournament poker player, familiar faces at your table are a mixed blessing. If you recognize them, it is likely because they are successful players. But if they are friendly people, it means the early hours of the tournament will be punctuated by jokes, stories, and lively conversation.

That’s how it is in poker: the only people you can befriend on the job are those you have to trample to succeed. Even though I didn’t appreciate that there was some quality players at my table, I knew there would be some fun times along the way.

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BluffMagazine.com contains only a portion of “Leave the HORSE, Take the Stromboli”, Part II – Enter Sugar Bear and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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History will remember the $3,000 HORSE at the 2010 World Series of Poker as the event in which Phil Ivey won his eighth championship bracelet. Relatively speaking, Ian Gordon’s hard-fought win the $10,000 HORSE Championship four days later is relegated to a footnote. So what are we to make of Konstantin Puchkov’s victory in the $1,500 HORSE just a week before – almost to the minute – of Gordon’s achievement? A preface? A footnote to the footnote?

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BluffMagazine.com contains only a portion of “Leave the HORSE, Take the Stromboli”, Part I – Losing, and Dealing with Losing and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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OR, JOHN JUANDA, THE ONE-MAN WRECKING CREW

While walking among the tables in the Amazon Room during the first night of the Omaha-8 Championship, Daniel Negreanu stood up and asked me if I had any action on the WSOP Fight Club. (I assume he noticed me lurking in the shadows the night I was spying on the WSOP Fight Club draft.)

“Just a small prop bet,” I told him. “I was at the draft mostly as a voyeur.” On a couple of occasions that I had written something about Daniel, he acknowledged it in a way suggesting someone was sending him links or (not always accurate) descriptions.

He seemed vaguely irritated. “Do you think I drafted a good team? Did you criticize my draft?”

He somehow mixed me up with someone else or someone fed him erroneous information. I don’t think I criticized anyone’s picks – okay, I about Chau’s selection methods, but I think he wanted to give that impression, and his actual picks were solid. I assured him I thought he had a great draft, and especially remembered him picking up Pat Pezzin with his last dollar and how Pezzin is quietly having a great series.

“I have been doing this my whole life. People criticizing me have probably never done this before. They have no idea what they are talking about. I have John Juanda on my team. JOHN JUANDA! Juanda has twice as many points as any other team.”

He then sat back down in his Omaha seat and turned over Ac-2c-Th-Jh and got in all his chips after a flop with two low clubs. He never made a low, or a flush, or even pair. As he walked away from the tournament, he seemed more emotional about the possibility that someone would criticize his fantasy-league skills than taking a bad beat on a terrific hand and busting out early in a $10,000 buy-in event.

So it goes with WSOP Fight Club.

I recently obtained statistics for the Club through 23 events. I also have a prop bet with a reader of the blog, Brad, that my team of undrafted players will outperform Howard Lederer’s team. I was certain when I took this bet that I was an underdog, especially because the Players Championship had concluded and one of his horses, David Oppenheim, nearly won it.

I asked Lederer after the draft how he thought a team of undrafted players would do against the eleven teams and he said, “About eighth.” Howard is currently in second place and I am one point behind Andy Bloch who is in eleventh (last) and far underperforming expectations.

Recall the composition of the teams. (See also the whiteboards photographed at the end of this post.) Through 23 events, these were the team standings, with the point totals of some notable performers in parenthesis:

1. Daniel Negreanu – 235 points (Juanda 206, Pat Pezzin a great pick for $1 with 27)

2. Howard Lederer – 115 points (Oppenheim 82, Kravchenko 23, 7 of his 8 have cashed, the only non-performer being Ashton Griffon who Lederer admitted he knew nothing about)

3. Barry Greenstein – 96 points (Robert Mizrachi 62, part-owner Sorel Mizzi 29)

4. Chau Giang – 82 points (all his points are from Jennifer Harman, who final tabled the Stud-8 Championship)

5. Joe Cassidy – 80 points (Tom Dwan 71)

6. Mori Estandani – 59 points (6 of 8 have cashed but 53 points came from Erik Seidel)

7. Eli Elezra – 56 points (Joe Cassidy 52)

8. Eric Lindgren – 49 points (six of eight have cashed but 42 of the points are from Daniel Alaei)

9. Rafe Furst & Daniel Horowitz – 44 points (6 of 8 have cashed but 37 of the points belong to David Chu)

10. Phil Galfond – 37 points (DarioMinieri 33)

11. Andy Bloch – 12 points (9 cashes but no final tables, Bloch 4, Phil Ivey just 1)

As Daniel Negreanu clearly put it, these guys now what they’re doing. My team of eight excellent undrafted players (Roland deWolfe, Annie Duke, Joe Heshem, Greg Raymer, Ted Forrest, Lane Flack, Bill Gazes, and Robert Williamson III) has a total of 3 cashes and 0 final tables for 3 points. Even to meet Howard Lederer’s theoretical guess that someone could pick a team that could finish eighth, I still have 46 points to go to catch Eric Lindgren, whose team is currently in eighth place.

Here’s a list of the top performers, with the amount of points they’ve generated and, in parenthesis, their cost to acquire:

1. John Juanda 206 ($58)

2. David Oppenheim 82 ($11)

3. Jennifer Harman 82 ($18)

4. Tom Dwan 71 ($50)

5. Robert Mizrachi 62 ($27)

5. Erik Seidel 53 ($60)

6. Joe Cassidy 52 ($13)

7. Daniel Alaei 42 ($53)

8. David Chiu 37 ($31)

9. Dario Minieri 33 ($1)

10. Sorel Mizzi 29 ($51)

11. Pat Pezzin 27 ($1)

12. Alex Kravchenko 23 ($5)

Here’s a list of the fifteen most expensive players ion the draft and the points they’ve generated:

1. Phil Ivey $102 – 1 point

2. Barry Greenstein $86 – 0 points

3. Daniel Negreanu $80 – 2 points

4. Justin Smith $66 – 1 point

5. Jeffery Lasandro $65 – 1 point

6. Chris Ferguson $63 – 1 point

7. Erik Seidel $60 – 53 points

8. Eric Lindgren $60 – 1 point

10. John Juanda $58 – 206 points

11. Phil Hellmuth $55 – 2 points

12. Daniel Alaei $53 – 42 points

13. Allen Cunningham $52 – 0 points

14. Sorel Mizzi $51 – 29 points

15. Justin Bonomo $51 – 1 point

16. Tom Dwan $50 – 71 points

Just so Daniel (or any of these other guys) doesn’t get in my face about it, the difference between hero and zero on this list is going deep in one event. With eleven top players putting up $25,000 and bidding competitively, the top prices were probably a more efficient way to rank the players than even a year of WSOP results. (Note: at a certain point, limited assets of bidders could have affected the prices, which is why I’m focusing on the players going for top prices. Auction bidding is an excellent way to measure value, but rules and constraints have the potential to skew results.)

By the way, I’m getting killed in my prop bet with Brad over my team of eight undrafted pros against Howard Lederer. Not only is Lederer second in the standings, but my team is in trouble. Robert Williamson III has cashed twice, but no final tables, Ted Forrest has played all the big events but has cashed once, Roland de Wolfe, I heard, has played just one event, but is hitting the Baccarat tables hard at the Wynn; he has zero points. Annie Duke arrived late but has played the last several events and has zero points. I’ve seen Joe Heshem, Greg Raymer, and Bill Gazes but they haven’t cashed. I have no idea what’s up with Lane Flack; I haven’t seen him.

Postscript: This was through 23 events, which was how many had been completed when I started writing it. Through 25 events, the standards are nearly the same, with one exception. On the strength of Abe Mosseri’s finish in the Omaha-8 Championship, Andy Bloch has rocketed from 12 points to 46, passing Phil Galfond pushing Phil into the cellar. Like I said, one good finish is all it takes to shake things up.

BluffMagazine.com contains WSOP Fight Club Update – Daniel Negreanu, in a Fighting Mood and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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That time in the suite when I tried to talk Annette Obrestad into letting me teach her to drive is only one example of when I’ve called Shauna out of the blue with some far-fetched idea. (Actually, this picture, which Shauna used for the Daily Tilt earlier in the Series, was part of another. Annette mentioned that she needed to get a U.S. cell phone. I put Shauna on the case, both to do a favor for a nice person – and so we’d always be sure to have Annette Obrestad’s contact information.)

Looking at our joint to-do list in Shauna’s absence, it seems full of improbable plans. At the time, these things all seemed reasonable, even necessary. In the cold light of day, however, especially with my paranoia rising without my trusty assistant to watch my back, some of them seem a little … odd.

For instance, one item is “find out about renting radar detector – speed of cards on felt at WSOP?” Another says “buy super-accurate thermostat – find the coldest places in the Amazon Room/Pavilion Room.”

Assuming Full Tilt never approves a budget for such things, or it turns out that you can’t measure playing-card speed with a radar detector, here is what I had in mind. As I mentioned during the first event I played at the World Series of Poker[link], the felt on the tables is super-fast. I think, throwing/spinning a playing card into it like skipping a stone, you could build up some serious speed and, perhaps, distance. If a radar detector could measure that, how fast would “fast felt” allow you to throw a playing card? How much faster than that is “regular felt”? For this, I imagined enlisting Chris Ferguson to help conduct tests.

If you’ve read much about the conduct of the Series this year – or within the last five years – you know how cold they keep the Amazon Room during the tournament. From my perspective, this is generally not a criticism. With the summer heat bearing down on Las Vegas, it’s a relief to know that, in Harrah’s, we don’t have a Series operator telling us it’s our imagination that we’re sweltering, or that it’s just a “dry heat.” And I’ve always found it easier keeping warm in a cool place (especially indoors) than figuring out how to stop sweating when someone is stingy with the air conditioning.

But it seems to get colder in the Amazon Room every year. Now that the Series has also expanded into the even-larger Pavilion Room – again, generally a very positive development – this new room seems even colder than Amazon. For the $1,500 NLHE-6, I was wearing a heavy, long-sleeved button-down shirt (heavy enough that I got it on sale at Dillard’s because no one in their right mind would wear something so heavy in Vegas during the summer) and a pair of heavy cotton pants.

Compared with everyone else at my Pavilion Room table, I was decked out in a Speedo. Everyone else wore hooded sweatshirts – hoods deployed – or winter coats. So I want Shauna to find some state-of-the-art thermostat/hygrometer so we can go through the Amazon and Pavilion Rooms and take some reading.

Shauna has a bunch of responsibilities with me, plus a lot of others directly with Full Tilt, so I recognize these aren’t her highest priorities. But she’s non-judgmental, she listens, and she actually follows up on my cockamamie brainstorms. From now until Sunday, however, it’s just me and her little dog Shvivie. He whines for her nightly and, with each day that passes, I go outside less and less and the place feels more and more like a fortress.

Coming soon: my role as part-time pimp for Shauna’s growing legion of admirers, Romeos, and love-struck suitors.

BluffMagazine.com contains Driving Miss Obrestad Crazy, and Other Bright Ideas, Part II and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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I miss my assistant Shauna. She is attending the wedding of a close friend and is, therefore, away for a few days. She’s still working: posting the Daily Tilt, reminding me about projects I’ve promised to do, handling all the administrative work Full Tilt asks of her during the Series. But we’ve been working together for a year-and-a-half, and I never realized how much I rely on her just to keep the blog running smoothly. It’s only because of Shauna that I can even imagine a scheme like becoming Annette Obrestad’s driving instructor – much less try to making it happen.

I got to meet Annette during the first week of the World Series and, like most people who meet her, I was instantly smitten. She is smart and kind and funny and completely unaffected by the expectations of everyone she meets or the chaos she inspires in the media and, sometimes, other poker players.

For example, when I went through official Full Tilt channels to contact Annette, I was given the e-mail address of her manager, Per. Per, in turn, informed us that the national television network of Norway would be documenting Annette’s every move during the Series. I imagined this wall around her, guarded by television cameras and competing media. When I saw her in the Full Tilt suite, she didn’t have a problem talking about whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted.

Another example: the Rio Convention Center is plastered with huge posters of the latest cover of BLUFF. The cover features a picture of Obrestad, hands on hips, impenetrable in giant shades, behind a giant headline, “ANNETTE INVADES.” Her reaction? I overheard her chatting with some friends who came by to visit, giggling “I wish they would have warned me before I got here. It’s freaky seeing giant pictures of yourself everywhere.”

As far as I can tell, all Annette aspires to do is play good poker and be a good person. When I pointed out to her the positive response my blog received about her FTOPS pro chat, she was gratified and told me, “I wanted it to be the longest chat by any Full Tilt pro.” How can you not like someone so anxious to please?

For some reason, during our conversation, I had this image of Annette Obrestad speeding along the Strip in a white BMW 335 convertible. Did I read somewhere that she owned one? Or was it just the subliminal effect of the BLUFF cover?

I shared with Annette one of my brilliant/crazy ideas: Full Tilt Motors. The idea is that Full Tilt runs a promotion ending in some giant freeroll tournaments where the prizes are cars actually owned by Full Tilt pros. To advertise the promotion, I post video blogs approaching pros about donating their cars. You would see me getting the brush-off from Phil Ivey – or maybe even his bodyguard – as I tried to explain why it was a good idea to give me his Bentley. I would beg Chris Ferguson for his 2000 Acura with 101,000 miles, his only purchase after winning the Main Event in 2000.

And what better way to kick off the ads than by asking Annette, clearly a good sport with a sense of fun, to part with her ride?

Unfortunately, she stopped me in my tracks. “I don’t have a car. I don’t even have a driver’s license.”

“But don’t you want one?” I asked. “I understand your being busy with poker, traveling internationally, and all your obligations, but poker players always have cool cars.”

“Not really. I don’t mind having someone else drive. I guess maybe it would be good to have a driver’s license, but I don’t have any desire to drive.”

That was all the opening I needed. Good-bye (for now – I’m still waiting to hear from Uncle Tilty about that promotion) Full Tilt Motors. Hello Full Tilt Driving Academy!

“Annette, I have a great idea,” I told her enthusiastically. “I’m going to help you get your driver’s license.”

She smiled, probably not sure if I was serious – or why. “That’s okay. I really don’t need to get one right now.”

“But you just said it would be good to have one. We’ll have plenty of days at the Series waiting for 5 PM events, or after we’re done playing, or on days off. I’m going to give you driving lessons and get you a Nevada driver’s license.”

Before she could respond, I got on the phone to Shauna, who I had asked that morning to help me track Obrestad down. “Shauna. I’ve got Annette Obrestad with me right now …. Yeah, she’s great. Listen, she wants me to help her get a Nevada driver’s license.” I pushed my arm out toward Annette to silence her protest. “She’s not a Nevada resident, though. She’s from Sweden –“

“Norway,” Obrestad interjected.

“-Norway, whatever. She doesn’t have a license there but can we do something to get her a Nevada license anyway?”

Annette was probably wondering what she got herself into. I know I would. While Shauna looked it up online, I noticed Obrestad scanning the suite with her eyes, probably for trap-door exits. She was rescued by some friends who came to visit, and quickly engaged them in conversation.

It turns out we can’t get Annette a Nevada driver’s license, which is probably a relief to her. But as a warning to readers and Annette: she’s not completely off the hook. We also talked about her once winning a $4-MTT SnG playing blind, with a post-it note covering her cards. She promised me if we got the chance, we’d get together with a couple of computers and she would repeat the experiment, helping me describe what you can learn by playing blind sometime.

That would be a blast, and I’ll try to hold her to it. Considering that the alternative could have been taking driving lessons from me in the middle of the night in the Rio Convention Center parking lot, she should be anxious to comply.

BluffMagazine.com contains Driving Miss Obrestad Crazy, and Other Bright Ideas, Part I and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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NOT WRITTEN BY HIM – BOOSTED BY HIM

This is going to sound like bragging, and it sort of is, but it’s such a cool feeling that I have to share it. There are some really smart, super-successful young players out there who experienced The Professor, the Banker, and the Suicide King the same way I experienced Catcher in the Rye, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and In Cold Blood. I’m not getting a swelled head about this – believe me, there is plenty going on in my world DAILY to humble me – but it tickles me when it happens.

I met Justin “Boosted J” Smith at this World Series. Of course, like everyone who follows poker, I knew him by reputation. But we had never spoken and, invariably, with top young players, I wonder whether they know who I am and whether they can form a connection with someone twice their age that mostly writes about poker and plays enough to consider losing $1,000 online in a day catastrophic.

Justin immediately put me at ease. “The Professor, the Banker, and the Suicide King is one of my favorite books. I read it when I was 17 and now it’s unbelievable that I’m friends with guys like Ted Forrest.”

Several young players have told me the book was a rite of passage: an irresistible world that seemed infinitely far away from their experience with small online games and high school or college. But 5 years, 10,000 hours, and millions of dollars later, here they are, ready to be written into the continuing story of big-time poker.

It’s fortuitous that Smith uses Forrest as an example. Ted Forrest was just one of many compelling poker players featured in the book but I see them a cut from the same cloth, even though Ted is, by any definition, “an original.” Justin Smith, like Ted Forrest years ago, appears to the casual observer as nothing more than a nice young man: neat, intelligent, polite, well spoken. Unremarkable.

But once you get to know Justin, even a little bit, it’s clear that (a) he is an extremely skilled, one of the best in the world in an incredibly competitive profession, and (b) he, like Ted, never has an ordinary day. In fact, he could be Ted Forrest’s spiritual brother – no, wait, that’s Huck Seed. Or his spiritual son or at least nephew.

For example, Justin has gotten himself into the Forrest - Matusow weight-loss-bet vortex. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, if you’re reading this blog, please consider this: Ted Forrest and Mike Matusow are good friends of mine. I have vouched for the character of both. But I’m not sure if they are proper playmates for a 22 year-old. I think you should have to be at least 30 to be running buddies with guys like that – it might even be a Nevada Gaming regulation.

Nevertheless, Justin is no babe in the woods. Talking about his losses from the Russ Hamilton-Ultimate Bet days, he remarked without irony or humor, “There were times when I’d lose a hundred thousand on UB, then tilt off another hundred thousand on Full Tilt. And that was back when losing $100,000 in a day meant something.”

Having already heard from Ted and Mike about the weight-loss bet, this meeting gave me the opportunity to hear Justin’s perspective. Specifically, was he concerned – either financially or for Ted Forrest’s health – that Ted would resort to something drastic (like Oz Juice) to win the bet?

Smith took the matter seriously, but dismissed it. “Ted promised me, as a friend, that he wouldn’t do anything that will kill him. He did stipulate, though, that if he loses consciousness, he wants me to put his body on a scale and weigh it.”

Spoken like a committed gambler – both of them.

BluffMagazine.com contains Boosted by Justin Smith and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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Why can’t I ever just GO some place like everybody else? It seems every time I come to Las Vegas there has to be some kind of incident. I swear, someone dropped off a turnip truck in Istanbul has, on average, an easier time than I do crossing the Arizona-Nevada border even though I’ve done it hundreds times. Every year brings a different crisis.

Last year, because I rented a condo just 3 days before the Series, I shipped the landlady $4,000 in rent without seeing the place. “When you get to Vegas,” she told me, “just call me and I’ll give you the pass code for the front door to get in.” But then, after spending all morning driving in the blazing heat to Las Vegas, I was unable to reach her by phone. That day turned into a heat-dazed nightmare.

I vowed that this year would be different. First, the day after they announced the schedule for the World Series of Poker I began my search for a condominium. Second, I lined up the condo months in advance (and paid in months in advance). Third, just to be safe I made a gratuitous call to my landlord about once a week. No matter how trivial, I always found some excuse to call him, just to make sure I could reach him at any hour of the day or night. (“Sorry for calling but could you tell me the color of the carpet in the master bedroom? I’m purchasing a duvet and dust ruffle and I want to make sure they match your décor.”) Fourth, and most important, he gave me the pass code two days before I drove to Vegas.

When I arrived in Las Vegas on May 27^th, I was confident that I had covered every possibility and there would be no surprises waiting. I had the address of the condo programmed into my navigation system, into my iPad, and I was also carrying a sheaf of papers containing directions from MapQuest, Google Maps, and WhereTheHellAmI.com.

I found the place with no problem . . . except there was a dirty white van parked in the driveway and two people leaning on it. I squeezed my car past to the other half of the driveway and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. I was pretty sure there wasn’t supposed to be anyone waiting for me when I arrived.

So who were they and what were they doing there? When I got out, one of them, a Hispanic woman, asked, “Are you renting this condo?” Warily, I nodded. She introduced herself as Maria and said that she was part of the cleaning service that had just finished tidying the place up.

Then there was an awkward silence. I said, “thank you,” and stood frozen next to my car on the driveway, hoping they would just sort of disappear from the scene.

Even if “Maria” was telling the truth, why were they just standing around there? It was hot outside – desert hot – and these people had nothing better to do than wait outside their van in the middle of the afternoon? And for what? I began to suspect something.

Maria – if that was her real name – then asked, “Do you have the entry code to get in the door?”

A-ha! So that was their game. They somehow knew this was a rental and that a new tenant would be coming by. They would then pretend to be the cleaning crew, ask me for the door code, and then rob the place, knowing that I would either (a) not care because it wasn’t my stuff or (b) be the one on the hook for the landlord’s missing stuff because I let them in.

At this point I noticed the other person leaning against the van. A Hispanic man, a teenager or slightly older. Tall, wiry – maybe desperate. I know Arizona gets a bad rap for its controversial new immigration policy, but I was starting to thank my lucky stars our government had the decency to warn us about such dangers. These banditos may have found easy pickings among the clueless citizens of Nevada – or wherever the renters came from – but they were messing with a guy from the Wrong State.

I considered making a citizens arrest, but I didn’t know exactly how that worked. Besides, there were two of them, and, though I thought I could take Maria (the brains of the operation), her menacing-looking accomplice was another matter. Only if I was still in Arizona; I know I could have at least pressured them for some identification.

Instead, I gathered my courage and answered, “Yeah, I have the door code. What’s it to you?”

Maria mumbled something that ended with “. . . just wanted to make sure you had it.” To my relief, they started slowly getting into the van. “Thanks, I’m cool. Nice to see you, bye.” I then took the first thing I could find out of my backpack, “accidentally” dropped it on the ground, and took a long time picking it up. (Unfortunately, it was my iPad.) It seemed like it took them an awfully long time to pull the van out of the driveway and drive down the street. I waited until they got into traffic at the corner before starting for the door. I wanted to make completely sure they didn’t somehow double up behind me and beat me over the head, ransacking the place after I opened the coded door lock.

Once the threat had passed, I proceeded to punch the code into the door and open it. It wouldn’t open. I tried again, no luck. I thought perhaps I had transposed a couple of the digits so I tried as many combinations of the four digits that I could think of. Not only did that fail to work, but also after one set of numbers, the locking device made some sort of grinding sound followed by an audible “BEEEEEEP.” After that nothing registered when I tried pushing buttons on the door code.

Panicked, I called the landlord. Fortunately, he answered the phone. I told him that I was unable to get the door opened and that there was a problem with the code. He said, “Didn’t Maria give you the new code?”

“Who?”

He repeated it. “I change the code every time new people come in and I specifically asked Maria and her nephew to wait there for you and give you the new code.”

“Uh – no,” I stammered, “It was no problem. You see, there was a misunderstanding. Yeah, Maria asked if I had the code and I had the OLD code. So she thought I had it and I thought I had it, but I didn’t have it.”

He gave me the new code and the new code worked fine.

I can assure you of one thing. On Tuesdays, when Maria comes to clean, I am awake at the crack of dawn and out the door, to exercise or run errands or go to the Rio or just to sit in my car in the Target parking lot. If I ever saw her or her nephew again, I wouldn’t know whether to apologize for flee, so I just try to avoid making an awkward situation worse.

BluffMagazine.com contains When an Arizona Boy Goes Bad in Vegas and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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I never realized my good fortune, three hours into my first event at the 2010 World Series of Poker, when I saw that guy, banned forever from the World Series of Poker , being led from the Amazon from by a posse of security guards. It was the start of one of those remarkable sequences of events that seem routine in poker and keep me interested in writing about it long after I thought I’d give up this beat for something new. Good news: I tripped over some more good stories about how Harrah’s has been handling bad behavior during the Series, in similarly serendipitous fashion.

In Banned Forever, I described how the “ejectee” got himself banned from the WSOP forever, by making a nifty move (caught on camera) in which he took a stack of his neighbor’s chips. This led to several lucky events from my perspective. First, WSOP Tournament Director Jack Effel walked by just as this was going down. Second, another player who knew Jack well asked about it in just the right way. Third, he told the story, not noticing me writing it down at the table. We are very friendly, but while Michael Craig the poker player got the first hand account, Michael Craig the accredited media representative would have been left out in the cold.

I didn’t really consider this until, during the $1,500 LHE, I heard several stories about warnings and penalties and sent Effel an e-mail asking for comment. He wrote back, “Our policy is not to comment on players who have been disciplined.” He did give me some more information (which I will share later) but I am certain I got the story because I was a player at the table when, in the heat of the moment, he answered another player’s question about it. As a member of the media, I’d have gotten a big, fat “no comment.”

Banned Forever is probably my most popular post in my three-and-a-half year history with the blog and definitely up there with “Chris Ferguson and the Art of Bankroll Maintenance”, and “The Cleavage Monster that Swallowed the Amazon Room”.

What these posts have in common, to some degree, is exclusivity. On the one hand, I completely understand Harrah’s wanting to keep that information private. On the other, it’s ridiculously unreasonable.

THAT SOUND YOU DON’T HEAR IS THE HAMMER FALLING

In the case of warnings and penalties at the World Series of Poker, Harrah’s is in the position of prosecutor, judge, and jury. There are no appeals or formal hearings. They can do that because the WSOP is a private function and they can include or exclude anyone they want, for whatever reason. No one has a right to play in the World Series of Poker, even if they’ve been wrongly banned. But saying publically, “Cheaty McAngle stole another player’s chips and is banned for life from the World Series of Poker,” has other consequences and complications.

Cheaty can complain that he was framed, that the evidence doesn’t prove it, and even that Harrah’s has defamed him publically. He can sue Harrah’s, which is no fun for Harrah’s, but, more important, it puts Harrah’s in a defensive position, potentially all the time.

If McAngle has a good lawyer or media representative, someone is going to respond to McAngle’s public outcry or lawsuit, “Let’s see the tape.” Harrah’s has nothing to gain by showing it but it they don’t show it, the public may wonder, “What’s Harrah’s hiding?”

“Stackgate” then escalates into inquiries into every questionable call and gaming issue involving Harrah’s an its far-flung enterprises over a number of years, looking for a “pattern.”

Harrah’s can “fix” this by creating a procedure involving players suspected of infractions: a hearing supervised by someone unaffiliated with Harrah’s, allowing evidence and representation by counsel, and decisions and penalties coming from the non-Harrah’s adjudicator. But that’s time-consuming and expensive – that’s the kind of environment in which someone in Harrah’s position starts sweeping violations under the rug rather than go through the hassle and repercussions. It addition, Harrah’s has to give up control over its rules for a purely private function.

If it was accused of abusing its power, we’d all be saying, “Quit railroading players out of the World Series! Be fair!” But no one is suggesting that – merely enforcing the rules and publicizing them takes Harrah’s down that road. So I get it when they refuse to comment on individual cases.

On the other hand, a body of enforcement actions would help players understand what is and is not allowed. Granted, taking chips off another player’s stack is hardly a “gray area” requiring rules interpretation, but hearing the rules implemented can have both a clarifying and deterrent effect.

DONKEY SANCTUARY

In the $1500 LHE, I sat down to hear two players talking about my “Banned Forever” post. Maybe it’s something about the old-school crowd in the 5pm events, but rules infractions seemed very much on everyone’s mind that night.

Before the end of the first level, another player approached our table and said, “I heard they just gave a warning to a player for calling someone at his table a ‘donkey.’” The table’s attitude was initially skeptical, but only for a moment. In the information void, the mood quickly shifted from “I don’t believe it” to “How could they do that?” But there were believers. A player to my left, started working out a code of insult names to replace “donkey” that would allow him to vent his frustration without others knowing about it. I didn’t get the details – that was the idea, that it would be private to him – but it involved tagging different criticisms of opponents with the names of characters from the classic Fox sitcom Married with Children.

RIP/TORN

After the first break, a friend of Seat 1 came by to tell us he had been penalized for ripping his cards. He was hanging around the Amazon Room, which suggested he had to sit out a certain period, but several at the table said they were pretty sure the penalty for ripping the cards was disqualification from the event.

Later, a dealer from that guy’s table moved to our table and weighed in. “It didn’t happen on my down but I could tell he was about to go off. He was losing hand after hand and he was saying, ‘I think I am just going to rip these cards.’”

HAND-BREAKER

In the midst of these discussions, somebody piped up, “Did you hear about the guy that won the $1,500 Omaha-8-or-Better the last two years? He was barred from the Series for 2010 for breaking a dealer’s hand.”

I have to issue several caveats here: (1) I think that OEOB player used to be a dealer, so I am initially skeptical; (2) There were reports on poker news sites and discussion groups about an incident involving the player in a cash game near the end of last year’s Series, where, as the story is variously told, he thought the dealer was about to kill his winning cards, so he slammed his hand down on his cards; (3) According to these playground-quality sources, the incident was (a) accidental; (b) part of a brewing animosity between dealer and player; (c) intentional; and/or (d) one of several times such a thing has happened with the OEOB champ.

For the record I emailed WSOP Tournament Director Jack Effel, with whom I have a good, friendly relationship. I wrote asking for confirmation or information about three things:

“1. Was [last year’s OEOB bracelet winner] barred/suspended/whatever from the 2010 World Series of Poker? Something related to breaking a dealer’s hand? 2. A player from a nearby table came by, mentioning that he drew a penalty for ripping his cards in half. It was unclear but I thought he was disqualified from the event. Was that correct? 3. Someone approached a friend at my table and told him that someone got a warning or penalty for calling another player ‘donkey’. Did that happen? Could it?”

Considering the gazillion things that Jack Effel has to do running the World Series of Poker, not to mention that Saturday was probably the busiest day of the Series, I appreciated the prompt response. It wasn’t especially helpful though, like I said, I understand very well the reasons for Harrah’s policy. This is what Jack said:

“Our policy is not to comment on players who have been disciplined. I can tell you that: 1- We have not disqualified anyone for tearing up cards, but we did issue a penalty to a player who damaged two cards. 2- Calling a player a ‘donkey’ doesn’t necessarily warrant a penalty unless we feel someone is using that sort of language in an abusive manner to another.”

So it appears that we are at a standoff on the specifics of these latest stories of bad behavior at the Series. But I do know three things: (1) Effel and Harrah’s definitely take seriously both their responsibility for keeping the tournament fair and orderly as well as the potential fallout and backlash against disciplining players. (2) I was in the right place at the right time for the “Banned Forever” story when that ruling was made. (3) For spending so much time obsessing over it, we are all, according to the player in Seat 6, “a bunch of Kelly Bundys.”

BluffMagazine.com contains Banned Forever, Part II – Further Tales About Bad Behavior at the WSOP and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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When Andy Bloch received twenty-four huge, lavishly decorated cupcakes at his table in the Pavilion room as a forty-first birthday gift last week, Howard Lederer couldn’t resist a bet. He and Erik Seidel offered Andy $25,000 if he could eat all the cupcakes at the table in the next ninety minutes. Unfortunately for Andy, the Full Tilt suite was already filled with other birthday cupcakes and he had eaten a pair of those just a minutes before. Still, it was a freeroll – no loss, other than to his digestive tract, if he failed – and what gambler can turn down a $25,000 free-roll?

The story of Andy Bloch’s gustatory attempt at the 25 dimes has already made the rounds. I specifically held off telling it in this blog, even though I was just a few tables away playing in the same event, the $5,000 NLHE Shootout – and playing it on Bloch’s bankroll due to our weight-loss bet – until I had a better context than all the other accounts.

David Grey provided it for me.

One of the great things about poker players getting together telling stories is that, no matter how good a story one player tells, someone else will be able to top it. I don’t know if it is the competitiveness of gamblers or the richness of the details of their lives, but it’s inevitable. It just so happens that I found the perfect time to hear the story from Andy himself, and the perfect setting for that story to set off a round of competing stories.

On June 3, two days after the Shootout and Andy’s birthday, on a break from the Seven-Card Stud Championship, I found Bloch seated in the Full Tilt suite as David Grey came into greet him. “So tell me the story about cupcake bet,” Grey said. Andy explained how the cupcakes arrived, how they offered him the bet, and how eating another pair of cupcakes had handicapped him. “I tried. But I had to stop. The frosting was getting to me.” Andy made it clear that he didn’t really want to take the bet, but because it was a freeroll, he felt he had no choice.

David understood. “Howard’s still holding that damn $10,000 cheeseburger over my head and that was 16 years ago.”

For those of you who haven’t read SUICIDE KING or the other sources of gambling lore on such subjects, the $10,000 cheeseburger was a freeroll that David offered Howard Lederer when they were playing a game at the Mirage in 1994. Lederer had years earlier become a vegetarian and didn’t want to take the bet – even asked Grey to withdraw it – but declared he would do it because it was a freeroll. He ate the cheeseburger, and had delivered with it a small dish of black olives. Knowing David Grey’s aversion to black olives he handed over the dish, along with two $5,000 chips.

But Grey told him, “Unlike you Howard, my dietary habits aren’t for sale.” It is apparently, however, a lifetime bet so David knows, according to Howard, “if he ever finds himself on zero street, he knows where he can get ten dimes.”

Even though Howard seems like a super-low-key guy and a straight arrow, he seems to know how to get under people’s skin in these situations. According to Andy, “When I gave up, they kept trying to make it easier for me. They gave me to the end of the dinner break if I stayed in the tournament. Then they made me offers to eat twenty cupcakes. Or fifteen cupcakes.” Eventually, they even offered him a portion of the money if he could get someone else to eat the rest of the cupcakes. As he played in the Deuce to Seven Triple Draw that night he apparently found a taker in Andy Black, but Black gave up just after one cupcake. (These were really, really rich cupcakes. I could barely stand to look at them and Shauna told me she tried, without success, to finish a single one.)

But here’s the good part. David Grey is a great storyteller and naturally felt that he had to compliment Andy’s story by offering one of his own.

“I still remember Ira the Whale, from New Jersey. When I was nineteen years old, at Green Acres Bowl, after he finished bowling about eight games, someone bet Ira that he couldn’t eat eighty White Castle hamburgers. That was for $400 or $500. I had no money in those days; I was a $30 or $40 bettor, but I bet all I had on Ira. When I saw him order the first twenty with a milkshake, I knew he was a lock. And I’ll never forget, when he ordered the last twenty, he also ordered another sixty to go, ‘for Mrs. Whale.’ You have to understand, it was four o’clock in the morning. I never met Mrs. Whale, but I often wondered about her, a woman who, at five o’clock in the morning, was a threat to eat sixty White Castle hamburgers.”

Needless to say, Ira the Whale won the bet and David Grey, who has a long history of getting in his money good, showed he was on the right track for the long haul as a gambler.

BluffMagazine.com contains Appetite for Compensation and only a few other Michael Craig blog posts. To read the blog in its entirety, visit http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/

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