Ironman of Poker 2009: “Make it FOUR!”—Part Deux

We now rejoin our trip report, already in progress …

Feb. 28, 9:00pm: After grinding all afternoon at random cash games, it is finally time for the offical IMOP Dinner, this year held at Samba in the Mirage. This event always marks the wearing of the ugly jackets. Grange has won this contest three years running, and sadly he would run away with this one too. Some good efforts were put in with Lucky wearing a purple-velvety number with a tie that had kids all over it and a lapel pin that said something about “saving the children”, Sahara had a very nice pale blue western stitched number, and I managed to find a 1979 vintage full on white suit with the texture of burlap (Jack Nicklaus signature no less). However, Grange managed to find a royal blue/pale blue/khaki paisley (giant paisleys, mind you) number. It was so garish that it was almost hip; he actually got numerous compliments on that eyesore! [NOTE: Grange will post pictures of the jackets in the comments].

The Samba dinner was outstanding. Everyone opted for the all-you-can-eat-meat and they just kept bringing out these swords of beef, chicken, ribs, wings, sausage and other assorted flame grilled delicacies. We were pretty much acting like cavemen while eating all of this. That is when DIA (having had more than his share of the pitchers of caipirinhas) came up with this beauty of a prop bet we like to call the “Meat Tank”. Details to follow soon, but let’s just say Barbie never backs down from a good prop bet!

Feb. 28, 11:00pm: For those who have read the IMOP 2008 trip report (Part 1, Part B, and Part III (w/ IMOP dinner)), we duplicated our new tradition of showing up in our ugly jacket regalia at TI for a nice (lol) game of 1/3NL. As Sahara accurately observed, everyone in the room was lining up to get on our table. As he also observed, one by one they kept busting out and leaving the table shaking their heads in bewilderment. Sahara, DIA, and I went on massive rushes and took our $300 buy-ins to over a grand each fairly quickly. Grange prop bet drunken DIA—normally so tight he squeaks—to straddle to $15. DIA took the prop bet and actually straddled, then raised to $45 with 8/9 suited and took a big bite out of Lucky’s stack. He then managed to felt Barbie playing a similar holding and started Barbie toward a path of self destruction.

However, Barbie was not so tilted that he couldn’t pull off the Meat Tank. After getting tangled up in a hand with Sahara, Barbie pushes all-in … and promptly reaches into his jacket and pulls out … a grilled pork rib left over from dinner!! To the horror of the non-Ironmen at the table as well as the dealer and the floor, Barbie begins to eat the rib and is making faces that cannot be duplicated. For those wondering, that rib had been in his jacket for about 2 hours at that point. Little bits of meat were flying everywhere, and at one point Barbie asks, “Do I have to swallow?”, which produced tears from everyone within earshot. In fact, I don’t even remember what happened in the hand. I just remember Barbie finally taking off the jacket and tossing it in a nearby garbage can (more on that later…).

After his inevitable bust out at the feature table, Barbie moves to another 1/3NL table and re-buys. Grange was running cold and moved over to Barbie’s table to avoid the Ironman juggernaut, and to break up the “Chesterfield West” home game. Barbie is joking around with his new best friends, a couple of young guys from Georgia (let’s call them Bo and Luke Duke), and pretty much running over the table with his maniac play. Eventually, Barbie gets into a monster pot with Bo Duke. Barbie pushed all-in on the river, in a pot that was already over $300. It will cost Bo roughly $300 more to call, and he is clearly torn between calling what smells like a classic Barbie bluff, and giving away his whole stack on what is likely a marginal hand. Bo agonizes a bit, and Barbie gives him some good-natured needling. Finally, Bo Duke makes the following proposal: “How about we chop the pot, and you can kick me in the nuts?” WTF?!?! Even the pros running it twice ala’ High Stakes Poker don’t go to these extremes! Barbie jokingly considers the proposal, but finally declines. Turns out to be a poor choice as Bo eventually calls and Barbie shows a pure bluff. Hmm, if someone offers a chop and a clean nut-kick, and you’re bluffing, I think the +EV play is to take the offer …

March 1, 3:00am: One by one the Ironmen started racking up and heading for naps. Sahara, Barbie, and I decided we needed a late night Casino Royale craps experience. It was a strong one with all three of us booking modest profits, while swilling several more cocktails. At one point, I mention that I’m tired of my drink and need something different, to which Barbie shrieks, “Bring this man a Jaeger-coffee!”. Luckily we racked before they could bring that one …

March 1, High Noon : The last of our official IMOP tournaments would be the noon Venetian tournament. This is a great tournament with a nice structure. Lucky couldn’t make it as he was attending a work conference (WTF?), and Barbie and Grange went out early. At one point DIA, Sahara, and I were at the same table with two of the biggest luckboxes we had ever seen, but couldn’t seem to get in a hand with them. When we got down to three tables, DIA and Sahara ran out of time and busted out. I, on the other hand, seemed to get big hands and callers just in the nick of time on three different occasions, and made the final table after knocking out one of the luckboxes who finally came back to earth. Once at the final table, we chip-chopped and I wound up fifth. Ship it, HOLLA!

Little did I know that while I was on my way to glory, Barbie found himself in yet another odd situation. The “Russian Nazis” (who knew???) as he called them, were at his 1/2NL table at the Venetian. As the game went on and the cocktails started to flow, the “Nazis” started in on the state of our nation, and share among other thoughts that the homeless choose to be that way so they will get free health care by walking in to hospital ERs. They also felt that drugs should be legalized, and that if someone can’t handle it and OD’s, then just let them die. Uh, yikes …

Grange eventually joins Barbie’s table, where he found himself torn between getting free premium booze and treating his head cold. He finally opted for a series of hot green teas with honey … and Patron. Interesting new cocktail … Barbie took a pot from Grange when he flopped a straight against Grange’s two pair. On the river, Barbie made a value bet and Grange said, “You’re a jerk. I call.” Grange got his revenge later by repeatedly calling the clock on Barbie anytime he paused to think about calling a preflop raise (pure showboating—of course he’s going to call!).

March 1, 7:30pm: I went over to TI to catch up with Grange and Barbie, who were playing the headhunter tournament there. As I later learned, when Barbie walked into the room at TI, one of the staff there exclaimed happily, “Oh, sir, we found your jacket near the trash last night so we saved it for you.” As usual, the TI Poker Room staff brings a high level of customer service! Barbie, knowing the meaty contents of that jacket, told them to go ahead and keep the jacket, and make sure it actually got into the trash this time.

I had sat down in a 1/3NL game when an avalanche of texts from DIA—the normally squeaky tight, straight laced accountant—started coming in. Among them: “Where you @ homey? I’m getting my drink on!” and “U bought a ho didn’t you?” and “We’re down wit dat homes”. Tupac he ain’t. As it turns out, DIA was definitely getting his drink on because: a) he was chattering away non-stop at his table at the V, and b) he tipped a dealer $15 after winning a $3 pot!

March 1, 10:00pm: Dos Caminos at the Palazzo was tonight’s dinner choice. We got seated in a mostly empty restaurant and attacked the chips, salsa and guacamole like a pack of starved dogs. After ordering came the little matter of settling up on who would be the winner of our “Daily Pick 6” college basketball competition. Basically, I concocted a parlay sheet with 6 picks each day for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Each guy threw in $5 per day and picked the games. You had to go 6 for 6 to win the pot or else it carried over. If the last day carried over, the idea was for us to play our favorite kitchen poker game of Kings and Little Ones (renamed Kings and Luckys by Grange). However, Grange forgot the cards and I was forced to come up with a different solution. I made each guy pick as many numbers (between 1 and 100) as he had total correct picks. Then, we had the waiter pick one number and whoever was closest won the pot. I’m happy to report that despite doing the worst in the picks and picking my numbers last, lucky number 13 was mine and I was winner, winner chicken dinner. Ship it, HOLLA!

Our waiter wanted to get in on the fun as well, so he prop bet us a round of Don Julio shots that we couldn’t figure out what football position he played in college. Not only did we guess that he was probably a quarterback, we also suspected he might have been a tight end. We were correct on both counts! Ship it, HOLLA and pass the tequila! The meal concluded with the usual drunken discussion of the bill. DIA, our accountant, is worthless in these matters without a spreadsheet. However, he still stared at the bill for several minutes to figure out his share; as he said so eloquently: “I don’t mind sticking Santa with the bill. I just don’t want to overpay.”

March 2, 1:00am: After finishing dinner we wandered back up the Strip. Grange and I wanted to slum it for awhile in one of the random smaller casinos, but had a hard time convincing some of the group (Sahara in particular) that it would be more fun to donk it up at the IP than sit in luxury at Bellagio. Pansies. Anyhow, Grange, DIA and I went to Bally’s to feed the fish, even though DIA and I were nearly passing out at the table. Surprisingly, super-dealer Rick remembered us from last year. Even more surprising, Grange was not tackled by a drunken Englishman, although Rick reminisced with us about the events from the prior year’s IMOP. DIA didn’t last long after breaking his Bally’s cherry with a series of horrific, yet completely foreseeable, bad beats and suck outs.

March 2, 3:00am: Finding ourselves to be feeding the Bally’s “sharks”, we packed up and headed back to Bellagio. I headed to bed, and Grange headed down to grind a few last hours of cards. Grange first found himself at DIA’s table, where the guy next to DIA literally passed out each and every hand, and had to be awoken for each action. Later, Grange moved to Barbie’s 2/5 table, where Barbie texted him to warn him that he was playing “tight” and had a “DIA-like image”. In fact, Grange actually observed Barbie fold 3 hands in a row on several occasions—preflop! Holy cow! Grange also got in one last sarcastic comment before heading out. He gets it all-in with a middle-aged lady who turns over her cards, sees she is behind, and blurts out, “Help me Jesus!” The river is harmless and Grange, while raking the pot, says, “Jesus must have been busy at the pot limit Omaha game.” The Church Lady makes a very un-Christian face and storms out of the room.

Even though we were at the end of the trip, there would, of course, be one final Barbie story. At 3:39am, I receive a text from him: “In an insane 2/5 game here…up $350 and channeling my inner DIA”. Things were going well when 30 minutes later I get this text: “Just doubled up to $900 with a set against AK top pair top kicker. Ship it! Holla!”. Sadly, but predictably it wouldn’t hold. In less than 5 minutes in back to back hands, Barbie’s stack was gone. He first got it all-in with AA against KK and a guy spikes a king. Very next hand, he pushes another overpair to the flop and the same guy now has AA which holds up and our man is on the felt … ouch! Tough way to end a trip.

March 2, 9:00am: By this time, both Grange and Sahara were on their flights back home after wading through hordes of NASCAR fans at the airport. After a short morning session at Bellagio, Lucky, DIA and I headed over to Todai for lunch and to tally the sheets to determine the IMOP winner. We tried to track Barbie down to join us, but he was trying desperately to get back to even by playing blackjack and skipped out. The three of us assembled piles of crumpled sheets, random notes and everything else and determined that I had actually won—but not by much.

By the time I sent out the official results to everyone the next day with the spreadsheet summarizing the detailed tallies, we had missed so much and there was so much confusion about who won what events, bets, etc., etc. that I had to redo the scoresheets FOUR different times. The good news is, I was still the winner and remotely tilted Barbie one last time as he came in second by just a few points!

Ship it! Holla! And we’ll see you next year for IMOP 2010—“High FIIIIIVEE!!!!”