Just another few days in the life of Doke...

My Irish Open main event went pretty much the same as almost every other time. You'd have thought that doubling the starting stack to 20k would have given me a fighting chance of at least making the first dinner break but no, shortly before it was scheduled I was taking the walk of shame trying to avoid contact with people who looked like they might want to ask "How are you getting on?" thinking the last thing I wanted was to be sitting down to dinner with a bunch of people still in. I almost made a clean escape but after stopping to commiserate with fellow busto Peter Barable I got hauled back to do an interview with Jesse May.

This at least provided a few lols. Jesse clearly had no notion who I was so was frantically typing my name into the Hendon Mob as the cameras got ready to roll. Struggling with a first name that can be spelled at least 4 different ways and a surname with at least three variants, and an apostrophe in there somewhere too, he was making little headway so I told him "just type Doke", which is the fastest way to get there. This seemed to tickle Jesse's fancy.

Jesse couldn't see the wood (or foreign flags) for the trees (Irish ones) so he decided to go with the "live grinder who has cashed a lot in Ireland" angle. I used to be quite cranky about this given that my record outside Ireland is roughly similar to that in Ireland in terms of number of cashes/number of tourneys entered but decided not to bother pointing out the 5 cashes at EPTs, 2 GUKPT main events, UKIPTs and Estrellas cashes. I did get a little cranky though when Jesse asked me if I felt like my type of player was being surpassed by the Internet players with their fancy 3 4 and 5 bets. Mainly because I've played at least 1000 times more tourneys online and made way more money than live and think of myself primarily as an online player. One factoid Jesse had been given to back up his hometown hero angle was that I've supposedly cashed in more tournaments in Ireland in the last 3 years than any other player. I don't know whether this is actually true but if it is I guess it's pretty cool.

For the record, my exit from the main was pretty standard. I opened tens utg, Johnny Weafer and Carmel Reynolds called behind, as did a blind. I flopped middle set and got it in on the turn against Carmel who had flopped top 2 and a backdoor flush draw. The backdoor closed to bring my Irish open challenge to a phut.

Back to the night job
The one advantage of busting early is I was home in time to do a bit of a Friday night grind. It was a pretty good one, highlight being a third place in the 40k on Party for 4k. I was a bit disappointed in the end as I lost a 40/60 to get headsup with a chiplead and then a 60/40 to exit and there was 11k for the win. Three tables out I was chipleader, with moorman (second in chips) to my immediate right. We had a lot of battles as I decided I needed to tackle him now that I had the artillery rather than let him run over the table into a big chiplead. He's pretty hard to play against but for the first time I think I at least held my own.

Who can resist a turbo?
The following evening I was back in the Burlo sitting down to the 300 turbo. I ran pretty well in this and ended up in a rather bizarre 9 way chop. Bizarre because I had less than 5% of the chips, and the guy who suggested the deal 40%. He took 7k and everyone else got 5k. Someone in the bar asked why I agreed to a chop as nobody in the country plays 10 bbs or less better, but I feel with 3 bbs any edge anyone might have is pretty small in real terms. 5 grand for a few hours of dogging people seemed like a decent enough return.

Before the turbo I met Jono and a bunch of his mates for dinner. These included Max (who came second in the Berlin EPT), Ricky (a valuehunter of the highest order: this man insisted on being allowed into the second softest WSOP event, the Ladies, and was toying with the idea of entering the Ladies event this weekend), Mickey "mementmori" Petersen and Todd Terry.

The highlight of the day was seeing three of my swaps or stakes survive through the bubble. Only Mick Mccloskey was well stacked: Jason and Rob were clinging on for dear life. Jason then ran queens into kings but at least it was the right side of the bubble. I probably didn't make things better when I pointed out to him that I got more for a few hours dogging people in the night's turbo than he got for 2 days of quality poker in the main event :)

Live multitabling. Why not?
I've gotten out of the habit of swapping with people since it became less crucial to reduce my variance in live events but I decided to swap with a select four to give myself a good chance of a sweat. Three of the four had made day 2, as well as three I'd bought stakes in. I swap good. You'd think this was good enough reason to go to the Burlo but like the eejit that I am I decided to try a new experiment: live multitabling So I ended up playing the 1k and the 200 turbo simultaneously. This turned out to be an even worse idea than it sounds: it just meant I spent a lot of time walking across the room missing hands on both tables and spewing equity on the double. I got a bit of a stack in the turbo only for it to disappear in 2 hands near the bubble. When I used to be the tightest player in Ireland, I always thought I was unlucky if I didn't win two pots where I got it in ahead. These days I think it's unlucky to lose two when I get it in behind both times. :)

Highlight of this day was doing another interview with Jesse who now knew who I was (fame at last). Dan Harrington of course didn't but it was pretty thrilling to be in the presence of the man whose books taught me how to play tournaments. Dan's a very nice guy in person.

Three becomes one
While I was busting two tournaments, missing two dinner breaks and talking to two American legends, the main event was slimming down to one table, and one of my horses was getting there. The previous night near the bubble Rob had come over to talk strategy as the bubble loomed. We both agreed that with Rob's stack at that point there was little point in taking any unnecessary risks. Some people believe you should always go mental on the bubble, but we've always been of the view that with a short or below average stack this isn't a great idea. You can't win a tournament with 60 left, and the equity you gain from a double up at that point is way less than what you lose if you bubble. So basically, don't gamble just for the sake of it. Now Robbie had ridden a below average stack the whole way to the final table. During the week he'd put up a post selling percentages more or less at face value. I jumped in for 5%, the highest I ever take in anyone (I prefer 1-2%), before deciding that buying one of the best live tourney players in Ireland at face value was just far too good a deal and went back to edit my post to 10%. Best edit ever.

I also did pretty well out of my perennial swapping partner, Mick McCloskey. Mick's consistency is phenomenal and while he'd like to have gone further he can be proud of another deep run that shows he can still challenge for the biggest prizes in poker even though he's now 97 years old:)

Taylor time!
Monday was going to be an exciting day given that I had 10% of a final tableist. In actual fact, the 10% was merely a nice bonus: even if I'd had nothing I'd have been giddy with excitement for Rob. Since I dogged him on my way to winning the European Deepstack three years ago, he's become my mentor, friend, roommate, co-commentator, travelling buddy. We've gone to EPTs, GUKPTs and WSOPs together, we spent a month together in a small Gold Coast hotel room in Vegas last summer without coming to blows, we've chopped some tournaments and knocked each other out of others, we've spent countless hours swapping bad beats and talking strategy and swapping intel and screaming at each other all in the name of poker. All of which meant I was more nervous than if it had been me on the final table. Mrs. Doke was shocked that I wasn't able to sleep, having watched me take my own final tables and big days in my stride as just another day at the office after a good night's sleep. But watching is harder than doing because you feel powerless.

I arrived in the Burlo a couple of hours before kickoff. Rob and I ran through the table draw, the stacks, what we knew about the other players and how we thought they'd play. Just like old times. After taking a break, this was Rob's first big live outing in about 6 months, and the break clearly did him good. The head had cleared, the old razor sharp mind was back, and I'd never seen him as upbeat and enthusiastic. As it started, I felt a knot in my stomach and crossed my fingers that this would be his day of days.

In the end, it wasn't to be. He didn't get the breaks he needed but he outlasted two to claim over 60k, his biggest ever live payday. He was carried out on his shield. Most people fundamentally misunderstand Rob's game seeing him as the ultimate nit. I went to eat with him and Cat immediately after, and Rob was happy that he'd gone out making a brave move to get a stack rather than blinding out or down to the point where a double up would merely prolong the agony.

While it would have been great to see him win, I pointed out that now he would always be a guy who had final tabled the Irish Open. He's proven he can compete at the highest level. The Rob Taylor story is far from over.

Livestreaming
I spent most of the rest of the day doing some unexpected commentary for the Internet livestream. Iain kept asking me to come back saying people were enjoying it. To be honest my read was he had to be lying but needed someone so Paul Marrow could take fag breaks, andd I was slightly worried about what the reaction would be as I was pretty tired and also a bit down after Rob's exit and trying to talk intelligently about what's happening on a table in the distance while out of the corner of your eye you see someone has typed "WHATS HE TALKING ABOUT? HE SHOULD HAVE SHOVED! THAT IDIOT KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT POKER" in response to your latest comment.

I can only imagine how tilting it must be to some to listen to me droning on about optimal game theory (luckily I'm the only person in Ireland who will never experience that) so I was very alarmed at this overdokage, and I'm not and never will be a professional commentator like Emmet or Bex so all I could do is basically say out loud what I was thinking about the poker. Much respect to Emmet or Bex: it's impossible to describe how difficult it is to keep talking on demand for hours on end. I felt my brain turning to mush towards the end of each 20 minute stint so I can't really imagine how they manage it for hours.

I was therefore very pleasantly surprised to find that the reaction to my commentary was on IPB, in the chatbox and in person and texts was overwhelmingly positive.

It was a very interesting and exciting (for me anyway) final table to comment on. Irish players like Rob Taylor, Seamus Cahill and Niall Smyth stepped up to the plate and all played brilliantly. There were very few clear mistakes and the overall standard was very high. Niall played brilliantly throughout and in my opinion totally outplayed Surinder headsup and was a most deserving winner. Seamus was magnificent and showed great character and temperament to keep coming back from the beats. Rob did everything he could and had he doubled up to 2 million would have mounted a serious challenge to Seamus and Niall.

I also had the thrill of co-commentating with Neil Channing, in my view the best expert analyst in the world on these things. Neil is also an absolute hoot and delight to co-commentate with. You're not going to get much mic time but as he rolls out the phrases like "between bankrolls" you're not going to mind as he has you in stitches. Hearing him say "when in doubt I feel the best strategy is to just agree with Doke" was also a highlight :)

Also credit to Iain for all the technical stuff. It's a tough and entirely thankless job but it's a great service to people watching at home and will go from strength to strength imo.

At one point I got a text from Jono asking me where I was. When I told him I was doing the livestreaming, he replied with his characteristic dry wit "Just another day in the life of doke", probably the best summation to a few days that includes a bit of everything - live and online, turbos and slow structures, talking about and to poker people - that makes up the organised chaos I currently call my life.

Goodbye to Bruce
I have come to the end of my tenure as a sponsored pro for Bruce. I have greatly enjoyed my time and association with Bruce, and no matter what happens in my future career in poker they'll always have a special place in my heart as the first to take a chance on me. I'd especially like to thank Chris Fitz who has been a gentleman and a pleasure to work with at all times, and a consummate professional.

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Grinder of the Tournament

I got to Berlin from Malaga via Dublin late Monday. I met Jason and Alan in terminal 2, and we ran into Dermot Blain, Isildur-tackler Seamus and Nick (Newport), all of whom were booked on the same flight. They were all playing day 1A, and the conversation centred around that being the better day to play (less travelling pros). I was down to play 1B and hadn't given it any real thought (other than wanting to give myself a full day's rest between Malaga and Berlin).

Romantic opportunities
I was rooming with Jason for this trip, and when we got to the Grand Hyatt, we found we'd been given a room with a double bed. I'd specifically requested a twin room so immediately rang reception.
"I booked a twin room but this one's a double".
"All the twin rooms are gone".
"Um, ok. Can we separate the beds at least?"
"No".

The receptionist obviously considered any further discussion of the matter to be futile because the next thing I heard was a click telling me he'd hung up. History teaches us that arguing with a German is not advisable unless you're prepared for a protracted and bloody ground war, so after informing Jason, we decided to let this one go. The bed was pretty big and a line of pillows down the middle seemed like the optimal play. Luckily, like myself, Jason is pretty easy going and doesn't tend to sweat the little things. Even more luckily, he's probably the world's quietest and stillest sleeper. Of course, I'm not as goodlooking as his other half Joy so he had every incentive to stick to his side of the pillow line.

R n R (rest and railing)
My day of rest was very restful, interrupted only by wandering over to the casino to see how the lads were getting on at breaks. Mostly they were flying: Derm and Seamus were up to 100K before you could say "Bob ist dein Onkel", Nick made steady progress throughout the day up past two starting stacks. Not much went right for Alan early but he knuckled down and also finished over double starting stack. No such luck for my roommate who lost the chance of a double stack early when he had aces busted by the kingers, and late in the day he was on the other side of a KK/AA cooler and didn't suck out. True pro that he is, after a short break to clear his head, he was back grinding at the cash tables. Jason is a phenomenally talented player who I expect to have a career in poker as long as he wants, due to his temperament and discipline. Jason is also entirely self taught, which I think is a huge long term advantage. In an era when the training sites are churning out legions of trained monkeys, being able to work things out for yourself from first principles is a big advantage, as the game keeps changing and evolving.

The year of the nit
Feargal Nealon has said to me on more than one occasion that 2011 is likely to be The Year of the Nit, and I'm kinda coming round to that way of thinking, at least in slow structured live tourneys like EPTs. In the second half of last year, buoyed by the success my LAG online game was having, I essentially tried to play a very similar game live. It's always hard to draw definitive conclusions live because sample size is so small, but in the run up to Galway, I started to think maybe I'd opened up a bit too much and crossed over into spewland. The EPTs create an interesting dynamic because you have such mixed fields. You have recreational players who are not used to playing deep stacks and slow structures, and are therefore liable to make horrible mistake either before the flop, like thinking it's ok to 8x AK and then shove 300 bigs when you get three bet (this actually happened!), or after, like getting the farm in with one pair. To take advantage of these players while they still have chips, the better young players are playing looser and more aggro than equilibrium strategy (game theory parlance for the optimal way to play if everyone else is playing optimal). This in turn makes them exploitable if you know what they're doing, adjust accordingly, and they don't readjust. Basically, the TAG game becomes very effective again so long as you choose your targets wisely (the aggro LAGs who are good enough to know they're supposed to fold if a TAG shows strength, but not good enough to realise they're being exploited).

That was basically my approach to day 1B, a day of card death where most of the chips I got came from the stealing from the better LAGs. As such, it was a pretty uneventful day, the highlight of which was having one of the top female chess players in the world, Almira Skripchenko, to my immediate left. I don't get star struck around poker players, if I was sitting between Phil Ivey and Patrik Antonius I'd just be thinking awful seat draw, but chess, well, that's different. Smart chicks kick ass.




The nit against the maniac
The most interesting hand of the day for me started with me minning to 400 utg with tens. The table maniac called behind, as did the BB. Flop came 954r and the maniac called my cbet. The turn was a ten, and I went for and got the check raise. The river was another 5 and I bet less than half the pot for a couple of reasons:
(1) To get value from weak one pair hands that would fold to any chunky sized bet
(2) Hoping my opponent would interpret it as a weak lead and raise if he had air.

Apparently my opponent did think I had some sort of weak one pair hand I could be pushed off because he immediately moved all in and my chips were in before his. He had KJo. Towards the end of the day, I tried to cash in on my image and any reluctance of other players to play big pots before the bags came out, but ended up getting a few raises snapped off.

That, and losing a chunk with KK v 44 on a ten high flop that also featured a 4, meant I ended day 1A with a bit more than starting stack, an acceptable outcome. Jude Ainsworth and Tom Finneran were the other two Irish playing 1B, and every time I spoke to them at a break they seemed to have at least twice as much as me, but stack envy is not particularly helpful in the early stages of a long tournament. As it happened, they both got done towards the end of the day while the nit squeaked through. At the dinner break we legged it over to the mall. I reminded Tom that the last time I ran into him was just before the IWF last year, and he was congratulating me on my year and saying he was having a bad one. Since then, he's gone on a real heater and has been the most successful and consistent Irish player on the international live circuit in the past 6 months. I hope it's not the case that every time we meet our fortunes flip, as if it does, that means I should be avoiding Tom like the plague, and he's a fun guy to spend time with. Thinking aloud, he reckoned none of us imagined we'd be making our living this way when we were studying for our Leaving Certs. He also told us he'd dug a ditch the previous week and on balance thought it might be an easier way to make a crust. I definitely agree with the first proposition, but I'm not sure about the second. We went for a cappucino in the Hyatt after and ran into Donnacha O'Dea, who told us he was over for the cash action, which was already mental by all accounts.

Back in the comfort zone
If there's one thing us online tourney bumhunters do well, it's playing stacks of 30 bbs or less. I started day 2 with 27 bbs, and apart from a brief surge on day 3, remained between 15 and 30 bbs for the rest of the tournament, picking my spots well and making the most of the few hands I did get to have the Poker News blogging team dubbing me "Grinder of the Tournament". Big stacks are more fun, and my record in rebuys online where the stacks are deeper is much better than my record in freezeouts where they're not, but I firmly believe that the true pro plays all stack sizes and structures well, which means being prepared to grind it out for long periods when you drop low rather than just flinging it in in an attempt to gamble your way to a big stack.

Payback with AK
AK was my scourge live all last year. If I'd folded it every time I'd have had a better year live. But day 2 was the day it repaid my faith in its charms. The day was another one of card death. The few hands I did get were AK though, and I generally doubled up with them.




Late in the day, I got moved to Nick Newport's table, a few from the bubble. A few hands later, he was dogged with AQ v the table chipleader's A5o, a cruel fate. Apparently he went out near the bubble of his last EPT too, but he's obviously doing something right getting to the bubble, and it's only a matter of time before he gets through one. It's a good sign too that the thought of blinding through the bubble never crossed his mind.


Bubble? What bubble?
A couple of hands later, just as the dealer was telling us that she once dealt a bubble that lasted over 3 hours, it was announced that we were on the bubble, but that there were all ins on three different tables. They played this out quite tortuously to heighten the drama, but I was pretty sure the bubble had effectively burst, as more often than not the short stacks are behind in these spots, and the chances of all three surviving seemed remote. In the event, one guy did (by chopping) but the other two didn't. I was glad the bubble didn't go on too long as with my stack (about half the average), there was little point in taking any unnecessary gambles with stacks that covered me. Playing for the win is all very nice and macho, but there are certain times when stack size and payout structure makes caution more prudent. With half the average stack and 120 players left, you're still a 100 to 1 shot at best ftw if you double up, and most of your equity resides in your chances of cashing. One such spot presented itself the hand before Nick's exit: utg opened. I covered him and he looked like the type of player who might be looking to exploit the bubble, so I had decided to ship AQs if folded to me in the BB (discretion may be the better part of valour near the bubble, but that won't stop me if I think I'm almost certainly ahead and can get it in first with fold equity). But then the chipleader reraised, meaning if I do ship it now, I'm doing so without fold equity. I may very well be ahead, or flipping, but I'd be risking a lot more equity if I lose than what I gain if I win, so I just folded without too much thought. The chipleader showed jacks after the other guy folded so I was well out of that.

Having made day 2 in my last 4 EPTs without a single cash, it did feel pretty good to be bagging up in the money.

Rollercoaster
Day 3 was the day I finally started getting cards. Still grinding a 20 something bb stack, I did drop perilously low early in the day until I found a spot. Previous EPT winner Joao Barbosa opened in early position playing not much more than me. I wasn't exactly fist pumping on the inside when I found tens in the BB because Joao was by far the tightest player on the table (I've played with him a few times before and he always is) so there was every chance I was crushed and little chance he was folding, but you can't be folding tens with 12 bigs and antes in play either, so I sucked it up and shoved. He didn't look happy but called with a dejected shrug and turned over eights. My tens held and I got another doubleup two hands later. French livewire Aurelien Gugliani opened the hijack and after briefly considering the smaller raise with AK on the button, I decided to make things simpler and just shoved, since the smaller raise commits me anyway (not that I'm ever folding AK with just over 20 bbs). This has the disadvantage of folding out most hands I crush (weaker kings and aces) but might fold out some hands I want to fold (small and medium pairs). My general rule of thumb is that if the shove adds 20% or more to my stack if it gets the fold then I prefer to shove.

Much to my horror, my neighbour to the left who after a brief attempt to run over the table at the start of the day had settled down immediately reshoved. Gugliani tank folded and once again I found myself racing with AK, this time against tens. My chances were greatly helped by the news from Gugliani that he had folded the other two tens (this actually makes me a 52% favourite rather than a 43% dog). It also meant when the king popped out on the turn I was home and hosed.

Suddenly I'm up to almost average stack with 60 odd left.

The plainclothes detective strikes again
I drifted back to 275k when the Big Hand arrived. It was last hand before the break and I minned at 4/8k on the button with KcJc. A very loose German reraised to 40K from the BB, playing 250k. I quickly ran through the options:
(1) Fold. I ruled this out because I think my hand is too strong to fold in this spot against a very loose player who rarely if ever folded his blinds. The fact that it's the last hand before the break makes it more likely he has nothing much (he might be trying to exploit any reluctance I have to play a big pot just before the break having recently doubled up twice). The fact that it's the first time I've raised his blind might make it more likely he had a hand (as he'll think I'm more likely to have one), but not necessarily (I know players like Carter Philips routinely test players with an atc reraise the first time they raise to see how they react to a 3 bet). It being the last hand before the break, he may think it's more likely I have spanners. Another reason for not folding is I figure the time had come to move up a gear or two to try and start putting together a final table stack. If I folded I'd have 23 bbs after the break, back in the sub 30 bbs zone where there's very little room for creativity. I therefore ruled out the fold.
(2) The 4 bet. The problem here is that even if I raise to only 80k, I'm pretty much committed against his stack. So if I 4 bet, I'm likely to fold out all hands I crush and be forced to get it in against everything that crushes me. I might fold out hands like 22 or KQ (or maybe not) that I want to fold, but on balance the 4 bet didn't look very appealing.
(3) By a process of elimination we're left with the call. This seemed the most sensible option with a position and a suited hand (the suitedness makes it more likely I'll pick up flush equity that makes it profitable to shove over his inevitable c-bet). So I called. It's less than 10% of the effective stack to call and folding on the flop if it comes horrible is ok I think.

The flop came QcTs2s and he led at it for 41K. I didn't think very long before shoving: tbh I think it's pretty standard (and the other Irish I talked to agreed). He doesn't have to fold very often for the move to be profitable given my open ended straight draw and backdoor flush draw. Once I announced all in, he looked pained, and I relaxed thinking he was definitely folding, or if I was called, I was in decent shape with 10 to 14 outs. He looked to be on the verge of folding a few times and I thought he was just Hollywooding, but he eventually found the call. I was pretty sick when I saw his hand: AK, an ace high hand I have fewer outs against than if he has a set. No 9 or ace or club appeared, and I was left with 3 bbs.

As we walked away from the table to the break, WPT winner Cornel Cimpan beside me commented "Brilliant shove, terrible call". I guess it's either a terrible call or a brilliant one: most of my range crushes AK there and with the board so draw heavy I'm also shoving all my made hands, but I guess he figured at the very least he had 15% equity with the gutter and he was getting 2 to 1 on the call. He also had a backdoor flush draw with the ace of spades.

I have no real regrets about the move. Even if it didn't work on this occasion, I think it would more often than not (and on another day I'd suck out), and as I said, I felt the time had come to kick it up a notch after grinding 20-30 bbs for 2 days.

Last Rites
I came back from the break thinking I had a round to get it in, but actually I only had one hand. Moved to a new table, I found myself pot committed in the BB with 76. The small blind shoved AKs and after an interesting 543 flop that gave me the nuts but him the nut flush draw, I doubled up. I needed one more double up to get back into the tournament properly but it wasn't to be. I got moved to another table which featured eventual winner Ben Wilinofsky (who apparently never shuts up at the table, but is an entertaining motormouth rather than an irritating one and carries himself with considerable class). After finding 42o in the BB and having to fold (I'm a 2 to 1 dog at best), I found 55 in the SB, good enough to call the utg shove from a guy with only slightly more than me. He turned over A7s so again I was racing for my life. The flop bricked out, but he caught running clubs to flush me out.

All in all, an oddly anticlimactic end. Having found myself in survival mode and thinking about the equity of money jumps for most of the day, after I hit 300k I stopped thinking about the money jumps as now most of my equity resided in the chance of the big score, only for it all to go quickly wrong. I usually feel devastated after exits but bounce back quickly: this one was kind of the opposite. Immediately afterwards, I felt kind of numb and not too disappointed as I was happy with how I'd played. Delayed reaction I guess cos I woke up the next morning feeling worse than I ever have the morning after. I guess it took the night for it to sink in how little the 12500 I got for 56th really was in comparison to what was on offer for the big prizes, and how rare these opportunities come along.

The show must go on
Still, no point brooding too much over what can't be changed, so I jumped straight into the 1K side event. I got off to a very good start: the general standard was quite shockingly bad. I was feeling very confident when one of those spots arose, you know, the heartbreaking ones where you do everything right to get the farm in as a 92% favourite but find it's the one time in 13 you're destined to lose. Cornel Cimpan opened utg to 500 at 100/200. I flatted behind with aces, as there was a bunch of trigger happy squeeze merchants yet to act. Sure enough, the kid in the BB ramps it up to 1850, Cornel calls, and I thought for a while trying to decide how much to raise to. In the end I went with 4200, chosen to make it look like I'm not yet committed and might fold to a shove. The kid was clearly having a hard time believing I could have a proper hand here and after spending a few minutes staring at me while I tried every reverse tell in the book, eventually shipped AK. The board ran out QTxJx to leave me with debris, and I never recovered.

The turbo king strikes again
The one advantage of the quick bust out in the 1K game meant I could play the 300 turbo. My only ever EPT side final table came in a turbo (I chopped one in Vilamoura last year) and I do very well in turbos online so I love to turbo. The key is to win your first all in, something I managed to do (with a flush against top pair) and I mowed through the field into the chiplead with 10 left. At that stage I had 35% of the chips. From there it was all downhill, as one of the most tilting players I've ever encountered took my stack in instalments.

Hand 1: 10 left, it's the final table bubble, and a short stack moves in for 5 bbs. The drunk old Russian calls in the sb, as do I, and after I bet the queen high flop he shoves and I find myself admiring his set of sixes. 25k goes east.

Hand 2: Early on the final table, the drunk Russian who was antagonising everyone even the dealers with his antics (playing so slowly he kept getting clock called on him and needing to be told to ante every hand, occasionally refusing to do so with a shrug and a "No understand English") raised the button playing 20 bbs. His steal stat was 100% (he'd already showed up with T5o utg after one such steal attempt) so ATs looked pretty big in the big blind. I shoved and found myself admiring his aces. Ship another 60K east.

Hand 3: Shortly afterwards I called a shorty shove for 30k with AQs and lost a race against sevens. I folded a bunch of 7 and 8 highs while I waited for the really short stacks to get blinded out, which left me with 30K and 5 bbs six handed. QJs seemed like a reasonable hand to shove over the Russian's range of atc. He called slowly and turned his cards over even more slowly after nodding and saying nice hand. This time I found myself admiring a pair of queens.

So out in 6th for 1450, which meant I'd made a profit of 20 euro on the day. Who says there's not good money to be made playing live tourney poker? :)

I played the other 330 turbo the next day. This time I didn't win the first all in, so I had an evening off.

The Great Berlin Robbery 2
Last year, the Berlin EPT made news all over the world by virtue of a daring daylight robbery by some guys in balaclavas. This year's daylight robbery was considerably less daring and is unlikely to make the news anywhere. Last year the robbers wore balaclavas: this year Spielbank employee uniforms. Let's just count some of the ways this robbery was perpetrated
(1) When you pay €20 reg in the Fitz for their monthly tournament, they give you free drinks all night and a three course slap up feed. When you pay €300 in Berlin, they give you, well, less than nothing. I say less than nothing because not only do you not get fed or watered or even a €10 voucher, they charge their captive clientele criminal prices for food and drink. Like €5.50 for a small bottle of water. The same bottle will cost you 11 cents in the supermarket across the road from the casino. So why doesn't everyone just buy the water across the road and carry it in to the casino? Ah, they've thought of that too. They simply don't allow you to bring any food or drink in from the outside, and the King Kong sized security men guarding the entrance to the casino seemed more concerned with stopping people sneaking cheap water into the casino than preventing a recurrence of last year's robbery.
(2) Exorbitant cash game rake meant I made no appearance at the cash tables in Berlin. While my attitude to live cash tends towards the "I'd rather be digging ditches", I had intended to play some this week given that the wifi connection in the Hyatt didn't inspire confidence. But as a matter of principle, I refuse to play in a game where most of the money is going to inevitably end in the rake slot.
(3) Most reprehensibly of all, they rob the dealers of their tips. As I was cashing out, there was the usual guilting "Would you like to leave a tip for the dealers?" inquiry. This always seems a little rich when you've just played for 3 days for double your money back, but on this occasion I was more than happy to leave a few hundred because the general standard of the dealing was excellent, and I personally know several of the English dealers and one Irish dealer and they're all good people and a few I'd even consider to be good friends. Several were wishing me good luck throughout the tournament and clearly rooting for me when I was all in so I'd have to be a real bastard not to want to tip them. Imagine my horror therefore on discovering from one of my dealer friends that they receive not a penny of the tip I or anyone else left. They worked very long shifts in trying conditions (poker players are a grumpy lot at the best of times and even more so when they're being asked to pay a 5000% rake on water) so keeping their tips is just taking the piss. Particularly when you consider that the dealers were by far the most professional aspect of the tournament: the Spielbank employees didn't do a great job of breaking tables properly, the clock was a joke (it kept disappearing and when it re-appeared was generally incorrect in terms of players left and average stack), and announcement of blind changes were unreliable (all the more important when for some bizarre reason most tables seemed to be positioned so the dealers had their backs to the clock).

My advice to poker players on tipping: ask a dealer first if they're actually going to see any of it. If not, buy them a drink or find some other way to show your appreciation.

State of the Nation
Last year I had extreme doubts over the wisdom of playing EPT main events, wondering how much of an edge anyone could have. This year, after a full year of concentrating on mtts online, I can see that the better online mtters (and I like to kid myself that I'm one of them) have quite an edge, so playing an EPT main event no longer needs to be justified purely as a chance to socialize or chase glory but is plus Ev. It also has to be said that pitting your wits against the best players and trying to think of new edges to exploit them as they try to exploit the live donks is a tremendous challenge beyond anything you'll have to deal with grinding the nightlies online or playing fast structured Sunday majors. While I'm much more confident in my ability to hold my own or better against the best these days, I don't think I'm optimal in every situation yet, but I have a good collective brains trust of poker peers and friends to run stuff by so I think I can continue to improve.

It's noticeable that the Irish are getting more numerous at these events and it's becoming less of a rarety for an Irishman to cash or go deep. In this EPT, about 30 from the bubble with only 20% of the field left, over half of the Irish who started (5 out of 9) remained. I was the only one lucky enough to cash, but I think it is evidence that more and more Irish are approaching these events properly and are all capable of running deep. When you see someone like Alan who just showed up at his first EPT with the game and the courage to go deep (and he went out shortly before the bubble in this one), it does suggest that we're finally becoming a force to be reckoned with.

When we went to dinner, Tom Finneran remarked on how much value there was in the field. Jude concurred, but qualified it by saying that once you got down to 60, there would be predominantly only good players left. With 60 left, I remembered Jude's words, and it did seem to be the case. That means that from that point on you mainly have to run good and but also be prepared to go for it (up the aggression or get run over). I think all the Irish playing EPTs regularly now are more than capable of doing that. I therefore expect us to keep getting into position regularly, and I firmly believe it's only a matter of time before one of us wins an EPT. A generation of predominantly live grinders is giving way to a new generation of players who honed their skills online and had played a thousand online tournaments and a million hands before they ever showed their face at an EPT. More are waiting in the wings.

Forwards and Backwards
The plan was that Berlin would be not only my only EPT before Vegas but my last trip abroad. Under pressure from Mrs. Doke to justify leaving the house when nearly all the profit seems to happen when I'm in the house, and not particularly enjoying the live grind, that seemed sensible. But after three winning away trips on the bounce and getting better at actually enjoying these trips, I may be going back to the Boss asking for permission to hit San Remo (by all accounts the softest EPT of them all) or even Madrid. Manchester was pretty grim but Malaga was a blast and a week spent in the capital of Europe's oldest civilisation and richest culture wasn't half bad either. Good food, good company, and a few very pleasant runs in the Tiergarten.

Before that though, it'll be back to the online grind after a 2 week break, and then the Irish Open. Having gotten the "never cashed in an EPT main event" monkey off my back, the next two monkeys to be tackled are a deep run in Ireland's premier tournament, and a WSOP event. The word in Berlin from the English camp is that very few of them will be travelling to the Burlington this year due to competing events that week, so the chances of a home victory are probably higher than in recent years. It would be nice for an Irish person to win the Irish Open this year. It would be even nicer if I was the Irish person :)

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I Don't Like Mondays...

This particular Monday is given over to getting from Estrellas Malaga to EPT Berlin via Dublin. Unfortunately I won't be in Dublin long enough to make it sensible to go home so it basically means a day spent in airports and planes. Still, it'd be churlish to complain about a bad Monday after a great Sunday, Saturday, Friday, Thursday and Wednesday.

My first trip to Spain was a qualified success (or maybe a score draw) on the poker front: played 4 tournaments, cashed in one (4th in the 300 side event). It was an unqualified success on every score: great hotel, great food, beautiful place, awesome company.

Mick Mccloskey was waiting for me in the airport with my friends Jono "gawa" Crute and Ger "JamieCarra" Harraghy. First laugh of the trip was Mick telling me that while he'd arranged to pick Ger up in Magharafelt, and had, he didn't want to go to the hassle of finding Ger's place so made him walk to a roundabout on the motorway about a mile and a half from his house. Mick defended himself by pointing out that "it's not my fault he lives on the wrong side of Magherafelt".

After checking in, we ventured out for room supplies and ran into TD Toby Stone. Toby lives over there now and is enjoying the beach lifestyle. It's always a relief to see Toby at events as he's the best in the business.

We mainly just wanted water in the supermarket. My line on water purchase is fairly standard: go in, and buy the required quantity for a price that looks reasonable. Mick's is slightly more optimal, but much more time consuming. Every time I thought the job was done and was wandering towards the checkout to pay, Mick's voice would pipe up from some obscure corner "Doke, put those back, I found cheaper ones". After a few such swaps, I put a halt to his gallop and called time on his search for the world's cheapest bottled water, insisting that we were settling for 20c a litre. Back in the hotel, we regged in the casino for the super satellite only to discover that one of the benefits was the casino left copious amounts of bottled water on tables.

One of the culture shocks in Spain is they do like their breaks. An hour into the supersat that started at 9, they sent us on a 1 hour dinner break (in the 300 side, we were sent on a 1 hour dinner break shortly before midnight). I got off to a decent start in the supersat but crapshooted badly to go out in 50thish (19 seats).

The main started at 4 the next day (the Spanish don't like early starts apparently). I didn't get the best of table draws: for one thing there were two other Irish at it, Irish Eyes sponsored pro Paul Lucey and Danny McHugh. I got off to a reasonable start but lost a biggish pot late in the day when I turned the nuts and improved on the river and still managed to lose the hand. That left me in push mode and I shoved an ace into two of them.

Before that we had the Stars barbeque where we ran into Jono's full crew, as well as Gary Clarke, Ciaran Cooney and Paul Lucey. Malaga is a nice place to just shoot the breeze with interesting characters.

Next day I got up and went for a run along the sea which was very pleasant, and hung with Gary for a while by the pool which was also good times. Gar's an interesting and thoughtful young guy.

We managed to round up a decent posse for a trip to an Argentian steakhouse on the marina that came well recommended. Jono's entire multinational crew of internet kids came along, as did Paul, Gary, Ger and Mick. Good craic unfortunately truncated by my decision to have already bought in to that night's side, a 150 turbo I had high hopes for. Mick, Ger and Paul headed back with me to join me in my attempt to put a Spanish flag on my Hendon mob while the others went on to a night of Schnapps fuelled ribaldry.

I got off to a cracking start in that. The standard was particularly awful so no great achievement there. Unfortunately it all went in two hands near the bubble: I shoved KQo because all the stacks behind were 10 bbs or less. I got called by AJ and TT so it wasn't the worst situation in the world with a king or a queen likely to propel me to a giant stack. Unfortunately this was live poker (online, the KKQ flop is odds on) so neither appeared. Next hand I decided to shove J7s as I didn't want the blinds to go through without shoving and ran into aces.

Saturday was quite a surreal day in which I was recognised twice by people I'd never met before, both of whom referred to me by different nicknames. First I went out for a run after breakfast. I ran to the marina and around it a bit and was starting to head home when I was passed by a small guy in his 50s. His running style suggested he was an ultra runner so I caught up with him and asked him. My read was spot on. I ran around with him for a while at a pace much faster than is comfortable for me these days. His English wasn't great but I did find out he was "just below international class" (which probably means he'd walk into most national sides: the Spaniards are one of the giants at ultrarunning). When I told him I used to do a bit of ultrarunning and told him my name, he laughed and exclaimed "Infirmo!", the name the Spanish contingent gave me after I ran myself quite literally into a wheelchair in Quebec in the summer of 2007 at the World 24 Hour Running championships. It's nice to be remembered, even if only for a feat of lunacy.

By the time I headed back to the hotel I'd run a lot farther and faster than I have in a while in the midday sun so I was feeling pretty shattered. I hung with Gar again at the pool for a few hours and worked on my sunburn before heading for an excellent Chinese with him and Mick. A rather lovely waitress did everything she could (including cutting and rolling my food for me) to make the meal memorable, but the highlight was when she asked Mick if we wanted a schnapps. Mick had acqueiesced to all other dessert and coffee extras til now but apparently suffering from a sudden POTULB syndrome (Paranoia Of The Unexpectedly Large Bill) he vehemently passed on the schnapps until the waitress said the magic words: on the house. Me and Gar had a good laugh at the sudden change on Mick's face from the grinch to a kid at Christmas: his eyes literally lit up at the prospect of free drink.

We also ran into Bomber Nolan who told us he'd seen Gary stumbling into the casino around 4 the previous night after the night out with Jono's crew ("and you'd want to see the head on him but....big bleedin pair of yellow sunglasses, bigger than his head they were"). Unfortunately photo evidence has yet to emerge of Gar's fall to Elton John world of novelty sunglasses.

At the pool, I ran into an English guy who said "I know who you are", ominous enough but it was "Granite" Neil, one of the 3x specialists who has suffered a SlowDoke bad beat or two. Interesting character who has been through a number of careers including actor that I look forward to spending more time with at future live events.

A pretty full day meant I was feeling and looking very tired as we headed into the last side event (a 330 2 dayer), something Mick commented on. I'd also taken a little bit too much sun and Mick turned harbinger of doom suggesting I looked like I had sun stroke. Not exactly auspicious for the side and I got off to a terrible start failing to win a pot for the first few levels. Quite frustrating as the locals were still horrific. Jono's German friend Marco, the Schnapps king, was beside me and we were literally agog at some of the stuff they were doing. Eventually I got a hand in the nick of time. Playing 12 bbs, a Scandi kid opened. I elected to flat, effectively turning my hand face up against him but hoping to induce a squeeze from a member of the clown college yet to act. In the event, only one of them flatted, and I got it in on the flop against the Scandi's massive draw and held. Before I turned my hand over he said "Aces, ja?".

That got me back to starting stack and after another period of card death my patience and discipline was rewarded late in the day with two doubleups courtesy of a flip and a 70/30. That meant coming back the next day a bit shy of average with 20 bigs. I finally managed to get a bit of live run good going. I won a few small pots, then a local kid not much more than minned out of the sb when it was folded to him. This seems to be all the rage online now but I'm not sure I like it much: I prefer a slightly bigger raise than normal and a tighter range of hands with which to do so. In any case, I'm happy to defend against it with a fairly wide range and A5s is in that range. The flop came A54 and after he checked I checked behind. If he's trapping with a big ace I think I can get him in on a later street, and if he has a pocket pair I think I get more out of him by checking the flop. The turn was gin: another five and he came out betting. His bet was quite small so I decided to go for a small inducing raise rather than risk him being able to get away with some of his stack if I wait til the river to show strength. He duly shipped his AQ.

I motored from there up to 90K, then got moved to Mick's table near the bubble. Low point of the trip was knocking my roommate out on the bubble. I raised with AK from the small blind and Mick shoved in. Mick's been a very good friend to me through thick and thin and I really didn't want to knock him out but I can't fold either. There's no point in playing if you can't be ruthless at the table where there are no friends as they say. He had AQ and I held.

During the break I headed up to Jono's room where the Sunday grind was in full swing. You really get an idea how quick Jono's mind works when you see him multitabling, checking a few forums, on Facebook, chatting on Skype, watching video footage of his night out, and talking to you at the same time.

I hit the final table with a decent stack, 3rd or 4th in chips. I was pretty card dead for the entire duration unfortunately. I stayed out of trouble and managed to avoid the spew that is so tempting when the cards or spots aren't coming so by dinner break there were 5 left and I was still more or less average. By now though, the blinds and antes were hefty and as I walked back from dinner I remarked to Mick that if you folded 15 hands you'd have done half your stack, so you have to go with any decent hand or spot. Unfortunately I did end up having to fold 15 hands so that 4 handed and the blinds about to rise 97s becomes a shove. I ran into AJs (same suit) behind and failed to suck out. A disappointing end but at least I got 3k for my efforts and perhaps more importantly a Spanish flag on my Hendon mob :)

A few drinks with Mick and it was back to the room to pack in the early hours. Jono and the two German lads Marco and Tim showed up, laptops in tow. Their plans to hit Molly Malones were sadly thwarted by Jono's continuing presence depend in a 55 on Stars. Ever the grinder pro Jono was unable to bring himself to just fling it in even though he reckoned it was minus happiness Ev even if he won the tourney and was rooting to be coolered. He was coming to the end of a 5 figure day: you have to admire the kid's ability to do that after a week of partying hard, and not just chuck the last game so you can go to the pub with your mates to celebrate. Mick eventually chucked them out as he likes his kip almost as much as his free drink. Jono went on to finish second in the tourney, sick little pup that he is. Respect.

A couple of hours kip and then it was taxi to the airport time to draw my favourite poker trip ever to a close. I'd like to thank the Irish contingent for great company and support, especially Mick: despite taking the piss out of him relentlessly in this blog, he's one of my favourite poker people. I just hope he didn't drop Ger off at the roundabout on the way home.

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