The Q♥ rolls off on the river and Daniel Negreanu's pair of aces holds up against David Williams' kings on KJ6J board, after a quick chip count and an explosive fist-pump Negreanu is crowned his first World Poker Tour title.
I witnessed this on another Saturday night up late watching a new 'reality' show, imagine 14 year old awkward-teen-boy phase. I didn't understand girls, couldn't work out why school was important, wasn't invited to any cool parties and was too tired to get off the couch after the Saturday action-flick. So I stumbled upon this show that portrayed gambling as a sport and seemed interesting enough, especially after hearing they were playing for over a million dollars in prize money, though probably anything is more interesting when a million is thrown in the mix.
It wouldn't be the only WPT title Negreanu won that year, he went on to take down the Bellagio's Five Diamond World Poker Classic in Las Vegas for another $1.7mill, and I watched him pave his way to 2004 Player-of-the-Year and quickly he became my poker idol. At age 18 he dropped out of high school to play as a rounder finding underground illegal games in his home city of Toronto before moving out to Las Vegas when he was 21. As one of the youngest rounders in the game at the time, Negreanu would soon be known by the wider poker community as 'Kid Poker', a name that became synonymous with his progressive and savy new approach to the game of which he crushed and made his fortune.
It doesn't take much to see the the immediate magnetic attraction I had to this, previously unknown, profession. You mean to tell me there are people dropping out of high school, playing a game for a living and making a shit-ton of money simply by outsmarting people? Yep, in my eyes these pro-players (Phil Ivey - 'The Tiger Woods of Poker', Gus Hansen 'The Great Dane' and Doyle Brunson 'The Godfather of Poker') were kings among men. Naturally, the rollercoaster lifestyle of gambling profession (which I'd learn much about about years on) was absent from the glossy sheen of these TV pros, but at this time all I saw were cards, sick bluffs and mountains of cash. God, life must be good right?
Though it would be years before I could catch a taste of what the life of a grinder would be. Throughout high school my friends and I would play $20 home games, I lost most of the time and it wasn't until after school in 2009 that I took the time to learn the math, game theory and effective strategies of poker all of which, at least in theory, came quite easy for me. I translated my new found poker knowledge into grinding online micro stakes tournaments, and found I could turn a small profit. In 2011 life had finally presented a scenario where I had an opportunity to play live casino cash games for a living, I had an accumulated bankroll and no job but buckets of passion. It was a chance to rise above the 9-5, escape that predictable monotonous rat-race in an attempt at something great. Something the school guidance counsellor didn't advise, something that made my parent's uncomfortable, the TAX-man sweat and that made me feel alive.
So I dove straight in, and whilst my game was sound the one thing I hadn't factored into the equation was my inexperience with Tilt* and bankroll variance - which is a fancy way to say losing. In poker short term gains/losses are not indicative of a player's capacity to turn a profit - similar to a company having a quarterly deficit but turn an overall profit for the year, and although I understood this I would easily Tilt at the onset of any losing session. I had proven though to have grinded a consistent living over the months I played however my losing sessions would send me spiralling into doubt and anxiety of my game, the money and the notion that I had in fact made a mistake in my decision to play full-time. Subsequently, I returned to the work force at the end of that year, eagerly anticipating the warm comfort of a fortnightly paycheck.
Not even a month back into the real-world I immediately began to regret my decision. I missed not having to set an alarm clock. I missed paying my rent in $100 bills. I missed the felt under my palms and the chips between my fingers. But most of all I missed the feeling of freedom it gave me, the sense of accomplishment from day to day and the fact that I worked for Me. And, like the apple on Newton's head, it hit me instantly that I wouldn't rest until I'd fist-pumped my first major championship title, poker glory and a shot at living out my dream that started 7 years ago in my parent's basement.
So, now my goal was clear, be a professional poker player and put everything I have into making it a reality, and if I still happen to fail after that I would know that I'd done all I could do to realise my dream. And here I am, sitting and typing on Delta flight VA6552 (Sydney to Los Angeles) on route to Las Vegas to be a part of the 43rd Annual World Series of Poker. I'll use this blog to chronicle my thoughts, feelings, experiences, chip counts (poker updates) and hand histories of my time in Vegas. I'll make a point though that I think this will be the only post to be of this prolific style, so if you've fallen asleep reading my introductory post stay tuned for the next.
I'll make a promise of big shiny lights, wads of cash, lines of cokes of a hooker's breast and whatever else Vegas inspires.
*Tilt = The loss of one's ability to make clear and accurate decisions in poker. Often brought upon by any (or all) of the following: losing, fear of losing, consumption of alcohol, personal problems away from the table, emotional instability.
No comments:
Post a Comment