Each daily tournament starts at noon and plays down until there are eight (stud) and nine (holdem-omaha) players remaining. They leave for the night and return the following day to play off for the championship. They really aren’t leaving for the night. They play until three to four a.m. and even later. Makes for a hellerly long day for them and the tournament directors, and (sob, cry, sniff) me. I can barely keep my eyes open to post the events after the stats are faxed to me by the poker office. So please…if you find an error in name spelling, amounts, anything, on the Bellagio Tournament info, please notify me in an email.

Monday night found me dealing all live games, no tournament or satellite. My first game was a $60-$120 with a 1/4 Kill Omaha 8 or Better game. J.C.P. was in the 4s.

He lost the first few hands and made his standard comments, “I’m sure saving a lot of $$$. I’ll never tip another dealer!”

Add a little bit of Southern drawl to that so it comes out ‘Ah’ll’ instead of ‘I’ll’, swirl it with disgusting whining, throw in big handfuls of hatred popping out of the eyes, and you have what’s known as the J.C.P. Trill.

A few hands later, J.C.P. scooped a big pot. I gently pushed the stacks over to him and danced around more of the J.C.P. Trill.

He continued to lose. I listened to more Trilling. Does this make me happy? No! I’m not concerned with any player’s win or loss unless I make a mistake and cause the problem. You’re on your own when I’m dealing, it’s your choice to be there. I didn’t drag you in and force you to play.

The final hand of my down was multi-way action. J.C.P. got quartered, he held a low. The 6s won the high and held the same low as J.C.P. The 6s was also left of the button, meaning he would get any odd chip when it came to the low or high half of the pot.

The chips were separated in four even stacks leaving three chips, one chip went to the low and one chip went to the high, leaving one odd chip. It went to the high. Of course the odd chip made the high half stacks even. Although the stacks were set up, side by side, and everyone could clearly see how they were split, as soon as I started to push the high half to the 6s, J.C.P. bluster, flustered, “Now bring them back and do it right.”

I pulled them back, side by side again, displayed the odd chip, and Mark G. told J.C.P. the pot was right. I pushed the high half to the 6s and split the low, giving the odd chip to the 6s. J.C.P. was still trilling. I was getting pushed and Mark explained to J.C.P. that he was out of position to receive any odd chip. I mouthed a ‘thank you’ at Mark.

I’ve posted many times about J.C.P.’s attitude towards dealers and the disgusting comments he makes to dealers, and my attitude towards him. Of course I have no win with him. That’s not meant in the ‘tip zone’. I just have no win with him. But then again, he has none with me.

I refuse to act like an idiot and slam the pot at him when he wins, or change the speed of my deal and game handling, just because he’s in the game. But he is a blight on the horizon when I’m approaching a table that he’s in. I’ve even walked through the room and happened to see him staring buckets of hate at me. Of course if I continue to stare back at him, he’ll look away.

He really should give up poker. He had a heart attack last year and in general looks like his health is poor. His blood pressure must sky rocket as soon as he enters the poker room and definitely as soon as he loses his first pot with any dealer.

He is a lesson to me. I don’t want to be like him when I grow up.

My attitude is gone. It slid into the underbelly of the flat black, stagnant pools of self erosion.

Caught in the deadly grip of IDGAS, (translated into I don’t give a shit) I tried to resurrect and restructure my attitude by searching the pools for any form of intelligent, reasoning thought.

I bumped into despair as it tried to dance into my arms.

I stepped on pity and it tried to cling to my shoe.

Hatred blew up in my face and I jumped out of the way of a scorching jolt aimed at dragging me
into its core.

I covered my ears to escape the continuous drone of whining.

I vaulted over a river of ego as it bubbled and erupted, calling me…inviting me to take a dip.

I wandered through myriads of self righteous thoughts and reasons to stay.

Then I turned a corner and came face to face with myself.

I began the climb back up, out of the pools.

I rejoiced at being out into the air, the sunshine, tasting the breath of a new day and another opportunity to progress and become better than I am.

My conclusion?

The enlightened mind seeks answers to all things, searching the spirit for reckoning, peace, and reasons to exist and continue.

The mind that has not attained enlightenment searches only for excuses.

The world is full of people searching for excuses.

Yes, this has everything to do with poker. Poker is the greatest training ground the enlightened mind will ever encounter.

Poker can send you home talking to yourself. Poker can force you to rethink and replay a hand a few hundred times, then chew and twist it into shriveled threads in conversations with friends, and wake up in the night wondering how in the hell that player came all that way…and then…how in the hell did that ONE card out in the deck, pop off to beat you.

Poker teaches you that you are not the only person trying to win. Everyone entering into the competition is trying to win. That’s what it’s all about, winning, not killing someone or trying to belittle them, just win by using your skill and wit and playing the game.

Poker can teach you a lot of things, if you’re willing to learn.

See you there, the classes run 24-7!

Early in the week, I went through the shift feeling as if I could no longer function or think. The calculator in my brain was shot, burned wires sticking out through my hair in every direction, my ability to focus had disappeared about the second game I dealt. I was moving on reserve energy only, and the habits and pattern of my dealing, through years of doing the same routine, was the only thing that got me through the shift. Continue reading Farha, Devilfish, Minh “What’s in the pot?” →

My first game was $20-$40 Omaha 8 or Better, J.C.P. was in the 2s, blustering and fudding through being a Neanderthal…nothing new for him.

Double A was in the 1s and maintaining his usual charming, warm attitude towards everyone and anyone…that’s why I like this guy so much. At one point, Jeff P. was walking towards the table and Double A said, “Here comes your friend, Linda.”

Without looking up, I asked, “Who that would be?”

He replied, “Jeff.”

I chuckled and said, “I have a lot of friends, I just wanted to know which one.”

Double A gave me a refresher on being in the box, it was well put, and sincerely meant. He explained that all poker players are my friend, because without them being in a chair, there would be no game. On the friend part I disagree, on the other part, I totally agree.

I got pushed right into Hell for my next game. Phil I. – 2s, Jennifer – 3s, Todd B. – 4s, Barry G. – 6s, David B. – 7s, Curtis B. – 8s.

No one seemed happy but didn’t over react to anything…except Jennifer and Curtis. They were wound tighter than an Eight Day Clock. Jennifer was snipping cards and appeared to be ready to blow.

Curtis lost a hand and grumbled, “If one of them ever looks at me when I don’t tip them, I’m going to puke.” Repeat…repeat…repeat.

No reason for me to even reply to that one, he’s stepped into a realm that only the haunted and lost frequent. He burned the roadmap years ago…he can’t get out…

On to $100-$200 Holdem, they were jamming. Svi was in this game. He’s extremely funny and has the greatest smile. We still laugh over the night he was so drunk he could hardly sit in his chair, (a few years ago), and while dealing to him, he looked up at me with a crooked smile, barely able to focus on my face, and said, “I’m stuck in this game, Linda. I know you’re thinking, as good as he plays, how can that be?”

And then I found a little island of life in the middle of all the high limit. It was a friendly crew…joined together…just to laugh and play poker. Hello $4-$8 Holdem.

That was my last breath of fresh air…the rest of the night was all high limit. At 1 a.m. I wondered if I could make it through another two hours. My brain was fried, served on a platter without condiments, and I’d listened to the ‘microphone wars’ and poker room noise pound in an incessant drilling beat for so long now, that I feared I would go into withdrawal and my head would burst if I stepped out into the fresh and silent night air. So I slept under Table 16 and until I got kicked by players sitting down at a new game in the morning. NOT!

I had an amazing revelation during my first down tonight. I believe in Karma, spiritual growth and enlightenment, and reincarnation. Continue reading Karma bits and bites →

Poker, Poker, Poker! Twenty tables in the pit, 30 in the room, 50 tables jamming and ramming, give or take a few. The tables in the pit are licensed for regular games and it enhances the ‘ring game’ effect. I started in the pit tonight….sounds a little strange, even to me. Poker and the rest of the Casino are two totally different worlds. You might have to be there to get the full, mind boggling effect of it, but the ‘pit’ and ‘poker’ are as different as night and day.

There were only 422 entries in the No Limit Holdem Event. ONLY???? It’s huge! What a turnout.

Amazingly, a few of the players I dealt to tonight, the last time I dealt to them was in Aruba. Barry Shulman was at the final table in Aruba’s Ultimate Bet/WPT Tournament and tonight he made the final table. Sweet! He’s always cordial, easy to get along with, and just comes to play. Charlie is another one. Unfortunately he went to the rail when I was dealing…but that’s poker.

Another side of poker…I always am intrigued by people, why they play, how they feel about it, what their long term goals are with it or if it’s just a way to pass time and share a social structure.

Enter Ayad and Ema, brothers from Cleveland. They are gorgeous, healthy hunks, flashing eyes, well built/kept bodies, anger that can rage in a heart beat and forgiveness that replaces everything in the next few seconds. They light up the tables, no matter what limit they play.

I almost died laughing, about a month ago, when I sat down to deal a $30-$60 Holdem game and Ema was in the 2s. I stated, “Time collection,” He looked at me and went into this dialogue as he paid time, “Linda, I’m going to leave and take a shower, relax and shave, when I come back…I’m going to order wine…” his gaze was fixed on me as if I was the last human on Earth and he wanted me to BE there when he returned.

I went with, “Ok…I’ll wait here.”

It sounded as if he was making a date with me. He wasn’t. He was including/explaining to me what he planned to do.

Sometimes when I’ve sat down to deal, a player will tell me that ‘he’, in reference to Ema, will get mad at me if he loses. I just laugh, “No he won’t.”

He calls me ‘sweetheart’ and I feel the same way about him. He’s wonderful to have in a game and to deal to…action, action, action, and he’s very good to me.

His brother, Ayad, is just like Ema. They love life, they work hard, they play hard when they come to Vegas, and they are too kind.

I sat a Dead Spread in the tournament area and Ayad came to visit with me. He was seriously bummed because he had busted out of the tournament fairly early. He started out strong and won, breaking two players in the same hand and felt that he would win the whole damn thing.

Enter Cowboy! How to describe this person…no teeth is the first thing that comes to mind. A smoker, railbird, plays occasionally when he’s got a windfall or sucker to put him a game…$3-$6 and $4-$8…hangs on anyone’s coat tails that will tolerate him, always looking for a hand out, dealt at Binion’s during the WSOP last year, gives back rubs to players in hopes of getting hand out…yes, he dresses like a cowboy, hat and all. Come on! I didn’t say it made him a bad person. It’s just a portrait of a terminal railbird.

While Ayad is explaining the play of the hand that put him out of the tournament, Cowboy hits him up for $10. Ayad pulls out a $100 bill and gives it to Cowboy, asking him to bring him change. After Cowboy leaves for change, Ayad explains that he always makes sure Cowboy has something to eat…whenever he’s in town that is. Ayad feels bad for Cowboy.

Cowboy returns and gives the change to Ayad…Ayad is telling me of other tales of the kindness of his heart and giving to the degenerates in Vegas and Cowboy throws in a, “Him and his brother sure are good to me.”

I want to puke. My first and last raging thought is get a job, get a life, get the fuck out of here! I have never understood how anyone can mooch, bum, beg, and keep doing it. I would clean toilets and dig ditches before I expected someone to hand me money every time I saw them.

I love the Ayads and the Emas in the respect that they give from the heart…possibly there’s something wrong with my head…anyway, some of these people…I hope I don’t see them there. As in Cowboy!!!!

Good God! Major tournament doings will be going on tonight at work. I’m at the end of my Sunday night, it’s almost 7 a.m. and I’m having a glass of…you guessed it…wine…Umhhh!!

Truthfully, tournaments are very hard on me. Noise and confusion, microphones doing a dancing, competitive, nonstop duel, hour after hour, body heat and confusion, table changes, people waiting in line to be put on lists that are 30 and 40 names long, and every other game is high limit.
There’s no way out for me, it’s like looking for an escape hatch in a submarine when you’re 2,000 leagues under the sea. S-C-A-R-Y!!! But, I’ll be there. Along with all the regular room dealers and a whole batch of new ones.

Have mercy on us dealers, kids! I say this because I played on Friday night and had a few ‘new’ dealers come through my table. It was pretty sad. The guy on my left wanted to jump down their throat but how would the new dealer know the room protocol and rules? They get hired and slammed into the line-up. I’ve always felt that when I’m sitting in the ‘box’ and you bite my head off over rule and protocol, it doesn’t make the game run any smoother.

If you know something I don’t…doubtful as hell…but if you do, just approach me with your knowledge and I’m very happy to work with it. Biting at me doesn’t make the game any better and it’s going to put me on defense which means I could be more prone to making a mistake because I’m trying to dance around your ‘grouchy ass’.

This tournament should be huge, our Friday’s at 5 had 168 entrants with a prize pool of $81,480…damn big.

I’m on the run, sleep is waiting, and so are all of you…when I clock in tonight. Good Luck on all of your endeavors…hope to see you at the final table.