Playing the satellites: Foxwoods Poker Classic Part 1
In today's poker universe, there is a $10,000 main event tournament taking place somewhere in the world nearly every two weeks. As rabid poker fans, we follow the progress of our favorite players to discover who survived Day 1 and who are among the up-to-the-minute chip leaders.
For the majority of amateur players, just participating in one of these main events would be the thrill of a lifetime. This was my feeling, way back in November 2004, when I played in my first main event at the World Poker Finals (a World Poker Tour event) at Foxwoods Resort and Casino. There was no way I could afford to pay the $10,000 entry fee (nor would my wife let me). In order to play, I would have to do what numerous other players had done: qualify via a satellite.
Poker satellites allow players to pay far less than the actual buy-in price by competing in a preliminary tournament with the prizes being seats at a main event. Although satellites had been played for years, in 1983, Tom McEvoy put the concept on the map when he became the first satellite qualifier to win the World Series of Poker main event. Of course, the most famous satellite winner in history is currently Chris Moneymaker, the 2003 WSOP main event champion, who qualified for the $10,000 main event via a $39 online satellite. Today, satellites are commonplace at brick-and-mortar casinos and, more recently, online poker sites. By bringing in hundreds of more players and thousands of more dollars into each tournament, satellites have significantly contributed to the current poker boom.
In the coming weeks, I will highlight for you some of my experiences as I journey through the world of satellite tournament poker. Welcome to the World Satellite Tour.
Before we get going, you might be wondering, "Who is this guy anyway?"
Last summer, at the 2005 WSOP main event in Las Vegas, I finished 13th out of 5,619 players. You may remember me as "the guy who kisses the picture of his kids and wife before each round." Yes, that is me! Before the main event, I was one of many players who qualified for the 2005 WSOP main event online via PokerStars -- a "Frequent Player Point" entrant in my case. The rest, as they say, is history.
Since the telecast last October and November on ESPN (and subsequent rebroadcasts), people actually have asked me questions about my poker life and my family. Here are some short answers:
1. My kids are great -- my son just turned 3 and my daughter turns 1 this week. The new picture I kiss can be seen at the right side of this page.
2. My wife is well. Thank you all for your kind words and support. Fortunately, there have been no complications after her surgery. She continues to be "cautiously supportive" of my poker exploits.
3. I have played in a few main events since the WSOP. I am happy to say that I survived Day 1 in each event -- meaning I was able to make it past a large portion of each field. Unfortunately, each Day 2 brought bad beats or bad cards. For 2006, I started the year out on a positive note, cashing at the PokerStars Caribbean Adventure.
4. No, taxes were not taken out of the WSOP prize money when I received the money. So I recently wrote a hefty check to Uncle Sam.
5. I used my prize money to pay off my home equity loan, make a few home improvements, plan a little trip with my wife (our 10th wedding anniversary is this year), and save for the kids' college fund.
Now, for me, it's back to the satellite route if I want to play in future main events. So just like last year, I will try to qualify for big events, including the bigger than ever 2006 World Series of Poker, via smaller satellites.
Before I attempted to qualify for this year's WSOP, I wanted to play in the Foxwoods Poker Classic, which took place in April 2006. Having played at Foxwoods since it opened its doors in 1992, I have a great affinity for this casino. I gathered much of my live tournament experience at Foxwoods -- it feels kind of like my "home" casino. Additionally, no casino operates satellites like Foxwoods. There, satellites run daily for months prior to a main event.
In this adventure, I'm getting a late start. I have only a little over a month left before this main event. Hopefully, I will be able to qualify. I hadn't been to Foxwoods since last year's World Poker Finals, where I missed the money by just a few spots -- a devastating day, and a whole other story. I was looking forward to seeing familiar faces and trying to get back into another main event. I was welcomed by the symphony of poker chips resonating throughout the room -- part of the audible experience I miss when playing online.
In the Act III (Foxwoods' version of a super satellite where one out of every 10 players get a seat and any additional funds are paid out in buy-ins into another Act III or cash) blinds increase every 20 minutes. You begin with 4,000 in chips with blinds at 25 and 50.
Tonight, 81 players had joined the fray. The prizes were eight main event seats as well as $1,000 for the ninth player. After an uneventful first round, I looked down to see two red cowboys to start the second round (blinds 50 and 100). Sitting in early position, I decided to make the standard four times the big blind raise to 400. The player to my immediate left looked at me and decided to call. Earlier he had admitted to me that it was his first live tournament. He seemed very nervous. Don't worry, rookie! I'll take care of you … and your chips. After everyone else folded, the flop came 10-10-9 rainbow. After I led out with a pot-sized bet (approximately) of 900, the "rookie" thought for a moment, but eventually called. Could his inexperience rear its ugly head?
I doubted he was doing anything fancy, so I did not put him on a 10. But a nine, another pair or a straight draw were definitely possibilities. When the turn brought an 8, my mystery was soon solved. After I led out with 1400 in chips, the "rookie" silently pushed forward about 1800 chips. Then, with his right hand shaking, he tried to grab additional chips to raise. Ugh! He has Q-J. Immediately, I alerted the dealer of the string raise and he disallowed the additional bet. Confirming his "rookie" status, he had no idea what he had done and began to get mad. We called over the floorman, who explained and confirmed the string raise was not allowed. All of this just assured me that he had Q-J. So without a K or 10 on the river, I would be dead. When the 3 hit on the river, I checked. Before he could finish his "all-in," I mucked my hand. "Q-J huh? Nice hand." He was shocked that I knew exactly what he had. I told him I had mucked kings -- one even flashed as I threw it into the muck.
Welcome back to Foxwoods, Bernard -- what a way to start. Nevertheless, even though I was down to under 1,200 in chips, I just looked at the picture of my kids and felt a little hope. The good news is I'm a pretty decent short-stack player. The bad news is, unfortunately, I have a good amount of practice with it. But if the WSOP taught me anything, it is to never give up. I told myself to just sit tight, get a big hand and hope that someone would pay me off.
During the next few rounds, I got on a roll. During the third round, I doubled up with K-K vs. 10-10. Then, late in Round 4, I was in the big blind and looked down to see 10-10. After a fairly aggressive player in late position raised, I decided to test him by reraising him. After a slight pause, he called the bet. Since he did not reraise me all-in, I figured him for two overcards or a lower pair. When the flop brought 5-3-5, I trusted my initial read and pushed all-in. After a few seconds, he folded and I was right back in this tournament with almost 6,000 in chips. In Round 6, I exacted some revenge on the "rookie" as my Q-J took down a sizable pot when a flop of K-Q-J took down his 7-7. Picking up several more blinds and antes along the way, I built my chip stack nicely. By the end of Round 9, I had accumulated about 13,500 in chips. As we headed off to our second break, there were only 25 players remaining.
When we returned to the tables, the pace became feverish as player after player began pushing all-in. After only 2½ rounds, we were down to our last 10 players and redrew for seats at the final table (I got seat No. 1). As we began Round 13 (blinds 2,000 and 4,000, antes 500), I had about 18,000, but the average chip stack was 32,400. However, after back-to-back A-Q, I picked up enough blinds and antes to propel myself over an average stack. But I have played in enough of these satellites to know that you can't ever feel 100 percent comfortable because the blinds and antes are so large and increase every 20 minutes. During this round, it would cost 11,000 chips per round and the next would increase to 14,000!
Midway through Round 13, it looked like we were going to see our 10th-place finisher -- the true "bubble boy" of this satellite, who would collect nothing for his troubles. After the short stack pushed all-in, he was immediately called by a big stack. Flipping over A-6 vs. 10-10 respectively, the big stack was about a 70-30 favorite. The flop (Q-10-7) delivered a set for the big stack and all but sealed the deal. Needing runner-runner, the short stack remained alive when a jack came on the turn. A king and a king only would save his tournament. As the river was turned over, I could see a black face card … king of clubs! Unbelievable!
As we began Round 14 (blinds 3,000 and 6,000, antes 500), the short stacks were on life support, while the average stacks were playing extremely cautiously. The key to eliminating a player would be checking down a short stack versus several other players. Then, my pivotal hand occurred, which was seemingly favorable, yet ultimately crippling. After posting his big blind, another short stack had only 1,000 in chips remaining. Sitting in mid-late position, I looked down to see J-J. Focusing on eliminating the player, I just doubled the big blind. "How much is the raise?" asked the player directly to my left, who held an average stack. After realizing he would not be crippled if he lost, he reluctantly called. Now, it was two versus one. As the board showed K-10-3 with two diamonds, we checked it down to the river, where my "partner" caught his flush beating my jacks. Although I was pleased that we just eliminated player No. 10, I suddenly realized that my 11,000 in chips had become one of the short stacks at the table. The blinds and antes, which were five hands away, would blind me out first. Finally, a few hands later while I was under the gun, I went all-in with J-10 suited. Three "conspirators" called my all-in and would obviously check it down to the river. When a jack or 10 did not come on the board, one player turned over 8-8 and my tournament was over.
Is there any worse feeling in poker than being bubble boy? Trust me, there isn't. It also happened to me at the New England Poker Classic in April 2005, when I finished 36th. For those of you who haven't had the "pleasure," imagine getting sucker punched in the stomach and having your heart ripped out at the same time. Although you're not really playing for money, it sometimes feels worse when you just miss in a satellite since all the other players basically get the first prize -- a seat in the main event. As the regulars at Foxwoods consoled me (thanks Frank, Mike, Lenny), I took solace that at least I wasn't the true bubble boy. My parting gift was $1,000, but I should have been able to win tonight!
As I drove home, I replayed all the critical hands in my head, second-guessing myself on the ones I lost, especially the jacks at the final table. In retrospect, I should have moved all-in, which would have pushed my neighbor off the hand, resulting in raking in a solid pot and assuring myself a main event seat. But in reality, if any one of those hands goes my way, I survive. I guess you could also say that any earlier hand goes against me, I don't even make the final table. Well, that's poker. I'll be back to try again!
Bernard Lee finished thirteenth in the 2005 World Series of Poker and is the weekly poker columnist for the Boston Herald.
