YOU’RE AT THE FINAL TABLE OF THE WORLD SERIES OF POKER,
INSIDE THE MIND OF ONE OF THE WORLD’S BEST POKER PLAYERS…
by: Lou Krieger©
Most of us see poker as a game of cards. It’s always
that way in lower limit games, and sometimes it that way
in higher limit games too. But it’s a horse of a different
color in tournaments, particularly when the event in question
is poker’s most prestigious: the World Series of Poker’s
big kahuna, the $10,000 buy-in, no-limit hold’em event.
And for those who reach the final table after outlasting
600 entrants and surviving a grueling five-day marathon
to do so, poker is seldom about cards at all. It’s
about players, position, chips, and how well you can read
them while they are reading you æ and what you are
able to do about it.
It’s a mind game, pure and simple. For the participants
it is totally involving, intense, and tension filled. But
for those of us who have tried to reach the final table
and failed, the fact that all this stuff takes place inside
the mind, and is invisible to poker aficionados, can be
frustrating. All we are left with are interviews and afterthoughts
that read like coach-speak clichés. It’s the
kind of sound bite babble football coaches are fond of:
"We’re gonna take what the defense gives us."
Or, "We’ll play it one game at a time." Phooey!
That’s not journalism; it’s just pabulum for the
media.
So when a terrific hold’em player shares his successes
and failures with us in a completely unvarnished fashion,
it’s noteworthy and newsworthy, and that’s what
you have here. Because Russell Rosenblum is a guy I’ve
known for some time, I followed his progress though the
2002 World Series of Poker’s main event and was elated
when he made it to the final table in second chip position.
Russ didn’t win it; in fact he finished sixth. But
what’s fascinating about Rosenblum’s play was
that he was able to recall almost all of the significant
events that transpired and is willing to share this with
us all. And what he shares includes not only what happened,
but his innermost thoughts as well. Where he’s proud
of a play he tells us why, and when he’s critical of
his own actions æ and he does not spare the criticism
when it comes to himself, believe me æ he tells us
that too. Russell has given me permission to reproduce his
words just as he wrote them, so that you can understand
how deeply the wheels turn at the final table of the World
Series of Poker.
Here’s the story in Russ Rosenblum’s own
words, along with my comments, which are italicized and
in parentheses.
(Russ begins by analyzing a hand in which he was dealt J-6
on the button and raised all-in, trying to steal the blinds.
But Julian Gardner, who held a pocket pair of aces, called
him. Gardner had to sweat out a dangerous flop, because
Rosenblum flopped a pair with a flush draw. The flop was
so strong that Rosenblum æ who would have won that
pot with any jack, any six, or any club æ became a
slight favorite over Gardner’s pocket aces.) I played
a LOUSY final table, and it’s no surprise that I have
given this a lot of thought. Playing J-6 was not the problem;
the problem was the four hours leading up to the J-6. I
failed to adequately change gears at this table. (The problem,
as Rosenblum clearly points out, wasn’t the hand, or
trying to steal the pot; the problem was going all in. After
all, Russ could have made a more modest raise and released
his hand if Gardner or anyone else reraised him. Instead,
he was down to $92,000 and was eliminated on the very next
hand when his A-8 lost to A-K held by Ireland’s Scott
Gray.)
I had played with everyone at this table, except for Harley
Hall, for at least six hours. There was a consistent pattern
of Julian Gardner (who eventually finished second), Scott
Gray (the fourth place finisher), and Ralph Perry (who took
third) coming over top of my raises for two days. Rob Varkonyi,
who won it all, is very tough, because he simply pushes
all in.
The only thing I had to go on was that none of these players
had ever called my all-in raises, or even my reraises, except
for Julian who did so with A-K against my J-J at the end
of Day Four, and again at the beginning of Day Four with
his 6-6 versus my J-J).
If you’ve seen me play before, a big part of my game
is talking to manipulate my opponents. But for the first
few rounds I could not get anyone to budge. It was like
playing in a morgue. (Boy does Russ ever talk. He is sort
of poker’s version of basketball player and trash talker
par excellence Reggie Miller, who just loves to get under
his opponents skin, confuse them, and throw them completely
off of their game with his incessant chatter.)
I failed to realize that the players who were habitually
reraising me on Days Three and Four were playing very tight
poker at the final table and would not come over the top
with a reraise on Day Five. If I had properly changed gears
I would have been able to make raises of three or four times
the big blind in order to steal blinds. Remember, when I
tried that yesterday and the day before, I was re-raised
on three or four occasions and had to muck my hand.
So on Days Two through Four I had to be more creative to
find chips. I showed down an average of only three hands
a day between during the first four days: A-K, A-Q (when
Julian had A-K), J-J (when Julian had A-K), K-K (against
A-K), a set of sixes (on Day 1), and 10-5 when the 5 made
a wheel and I got a free ride in the big blind. I had an
EXTREMLY tight image going into Day Five. (There’s
a big, fat, message here for all of you who don’t realize
that you have to be very selective in addition to being
aggressive to play winning poker, particularly in tournaments.
Notice how few hands Russ actually showed down during four
full days of play!)
My goal was to avoid playing any hands at all for an hour
or so to reinforce my image as a very tight player, and
then revert to stealing once a few players had been eliminated.
But everyone was playing so tight that I could have, and
should have, opened up my game early. I finally opened up
against the eventual winner, and he took $250,000 from me
when he had as pair of aces in the big blind and I raised
under the gun with A-Q. He checkraised all-in on a flop
of J-J-x.
Here are my thoughts on the infamous J-6 hand. Obviously
I did not want to get called. But on Day Four Julian reraised
about seventy-five percent of the time I tried to steal
the pot with a raise, but he almost never called an all-in
raise by me. Leading up to this hand, I finally had the
table a bit looser and talking. I had commented that the
blinds were now big enough to make this game a crapshoot,
and he agreed.
My goal was to "appear" wacky æ this is
how I like it æ and then shut down for a couple of
rounds if I wasn’t catching cards. I believed æ
and still do æ that this would have enabled a couple
of players to bust out of the tournament, move me up the
pay ladder, and provide a reasonable chance to get into
a three-way battle for the championship, since Rob Varkonyi
(the eventual winner) had already indicated that he would
talk about a deal. (Russ, in essence, was "taking out
an insurance policy" and paying the premium for it
now by loosening up the table so he could sit out a few
rounds while some of his opponents eliminated themselves
from the contest.)
I was fairly confident that Julian would only call with
A-A, K-K A-K, and maybe Q-Q. Remember, A-Q was the WORST
hand he had seen me play for two days. I wanted to pick
up $75,000 in dead money. Could I have raised $75,000 and
folded to a big re-raise? Of course. But this was the problem:
on Day Four he made me fold so often my head spun. So I
stopped stealing his blinds unless I had a hand I could
reraise with.
My goal was to take Julian and Scott out of their game.
Ralph appeared unshakable. This was my analysis at the time.
In hindsight my analysis was completely wrong. Julian was
already way off of his game, as was Scott. They were playing
far tighter than they had in the past and were simply trying
to find a strategy. Ralph was trying to take control of
the table, but when Rob, John Shipley, and I reraised him
on three of six steal attempts, he shut down.
I had the best seat at this table, and had I realized that
the most aggressive players had shut down, I would have
changed gears and opened up. If I had done that, my play
with J-6 would not have even been necessary. That was my
great failure.
Why did I try to steal the pot with J-6? You go with what
got you there. I made this play for three days with similar
hands against players with similar reads on me. But until
I ran into Gardner’s aces, I hadn’t the misfortune
to run into that big a hand.
My plan was to shut down after that move. I still think
the probability of success was extremely high. But had I
changed gears earlier, I would not have had to play that
hand.
Why Robert Won: Robert was the only person at this table
æ either by skill or by chance æ who actually
opened up his game when everybody else shut down. He was
the only aggressor, and deserved to win.
Why Shipley called with A-J: Shipley had a tell on Rob,
who was clearly not happy that his all-in bet with J-J was
about to get called. Shipley took what he saw as a sign
of weakness as an opportunity to call. What he failed to
realize was that he held A-J, and could beat nothing. He
simply cracked. (John Shipley, who came to the final table
as chip leader with more than $2 million, cost himself nearly
half of it when he called Rob’s all-in raise with a
very weak A-J.)
Why I mucked J-J on Day Four: I cracked. There's no other
way to put it. Here’s the background. I had played
the best poker of my life, by far, on Day One, ending with
$30,000 in chips. I had shown down only 2 hands all day.
Although I never won a pot larger than $4,000, I was about
50th in chips (of 370 or so) going into Day Two.
On Day Two I got a terrible table draw. I had three bigger
stacks sitting to my left. I proceeded to get A-A cracked
and was down to $17,000. I was shaken. I shook it off and
ran my stack back up to $28,000 in four hours. I tried to
pick off a bluff from a guy who had raised six of the past
10 hands. I called his raise with 5-5 in the big blind,
and checkraised on a flop of J-7-2. He moved all in, and
he showed me a pair of aces when I folded. I was then short
on chips and had to play survival poker for the rest of
the day. With about one hour left in Day Two I was down
to $6,500. The blinds were high in relation to the chips
I held, but I built my stack back up to $15,000 and I never
showed down a hand.
With
10 minutes left in Day Two I had $15,000 in chips and was
happy just to be alive. I was not planning to play any more
hands that day, but I was under the gun and saw A-K. The
typical raise was maybe $1,500 or $2,000 at that point,
and I thought about folding for a moment, but moved all-in
instead. The big blind, who had enough of my moving all-in
three hands a round, called with A-Q and I doubled up.
I entered Day Three with about the same number of chips
as I had when Day Two began. I came close to busting out
many times but managed to hold on. At the dinner break on
Day Three I had about $15,000, and was fourteen places out
of the money. But it was very clear I would not be able
to blind my way there.
I worked my way up to about $26,000. The two other short
stacks were to my left. I decided I was moving in with any
two cards on my button because neither one of them had more
than $30,000 and probably didn’t want to risk missing
the money by calling without A-A or K-K.
On my button it was folded to Phil Ivey, who was seated
to my immediate left. He made it about $8,500 to go and
I folded. The small blind moved in, and Ivey folded. As
they were breaking our table and Ivey was racking his chips
he looked at me and said, "You should thank me; I saved
your whole stack."
I asked him what he said, and he said I knew what he meant.
And I did. How he knew I had planned to move in, I will
probably never know. I hadn’t even looked at my cards
yet. He is truly a gifted player.
At the next table I built my stack up to about $35,000 without
showing a hand. I was still four out of the money, and pretty
close to being able to blind my way there, which, of course,
was NOT my goal. Ross Boatman made it $15,000 to go under
the gun, and I picked up K-K on the button. I put on a big
show, which Ross said I should win an award for, and moved
all in. He called with 9-9 and I doubled up.
The cameraman wanted me to say something witty, and to be
honest I was drained. I could not even think straight. When
he asked my plans for tomorrow, I mentioned that my wife
was coming into town and wanted to see the Hoover Dam. Well
I don't really want to see the dam; I want her to see the
Horseshoe!
On Day 4, I had $86,000 in chips, one of the shorter stacks.
Money moves VERY slowly here. I was NOT playing to make
an extra $10,000, so I decided to gamble a bit in an attempt
to move up the pay ladder.
On the fifth hand, I had A-Q. The player under the gun made
it $10,000 to go; I raised to $30,000, and Julian came over
top for $70,000. The player under the gun folded and I took
a LONG time to think this one through. I decided that Julian
could have T-T or J-J and I moved in for $10,000 more. This
play was WORSE than my play with J-6. He had A-K. I flopped
two pair, turned a full house and doubled up. Right after
Julian turned his hand up and before the flop, I walked
over to my wife and told her we are going home; I was done.
I was on the verge of tears. I was sick; I knew my call
was awful, and knew I deserved to be busted. This is why
I was so overly ecstatic when I hit my hand. (When Julian
reraised, Russ realized that Julian probably had the better
hand. But he called, got extremely lucky, and instead of
finding himself eliminated, Rosemblum had doubled his chips.)
Twenty minutes later the J-J hand happened. By then I had
nearly $200,000 in chips and had Julian covered æ
but mentally I assumed he still had me covered. I raised
in middle position and he called from late position. The
flop was T-T-x. I bet $20,000. He raised to $50,000. I couldn’t
decide whether he had a ten, a big pair, or was bluffing.
Because I wanted to be sure, I made it $100,000. He immediately
shoved his chips to the middle of the table, splashing the
pot it a big heap. I felt sick. If I folded, I still have
maybe $55,000 in chips, and since I began with $83,000,
I believed I could still come back from that level.
I completely tilted and left the table, and went where no
one could see me. Twenty minutes ago I had the same feeling
when I thought I was going to be eliminated with A-Q against
Julian’s A-K. Julian had me covered æ in my mind
not in chips æ and I want to avoid that sick feeling
at all costs. I put him on Q-Q, and I wasn’t ready
to go home. I didn’t want to experience that sick feeling.
Not with J-J. I screamed, "Kill it, Fold it, I am out!"
I said this from a good 15 feet away from the table æ
from behind the wall for cocktail waitresses. I was GONE;
I have NEVER been that tilted in my life.
When I came back to the table they again asked what I wanted
to do, but the dealer had restacked Julian's chips and I
could see that I only had to call about $35,000. "Wait,"
I thought to myself, "he can’t bust me; I will
call." Tournament Director Matt Savage ruled that my
fold from the rail was binding. Matt made the correct ruling,
and I respect him for it, and told him so afterwards. Julian
then turned up 6-6 and took a HUGE pot. I was shaking after
this hand. It was the WORST hand I have ever played. Never
mind the fold. I left the table and made my decision from
behind a wall! I got here not by having cards, but by making
reads. What did I hope to read from behind the wall?
My entire goal immediately changed from one of making the
final table to moving up one more table at a time. I went
back to playing the way I had on Days Two and Three. I picked
spots and stole pots. I don't really know how I rebounded
from that debacle. I phoned Matt Matros æ he had been
my unofficial coach æ who told me I could rebound,
but for the first time I heard doubt in his voice. I spoke
to Scott Byron (another top-notch hold’em player) who
told me to shake it off and take it as a learning experience.
My wife, who had arrived late the night before, told me
I had played great and should be proud to have made it this
far.
Two people I had never really known before also motivated
me. Mike Matusow walked into the room, and I recalled his
quote after getting knocked out last year, "You can
be the best player in the world and NEVER get back to the
final table again." I just kept thinking that I might
never get back to the final 45 again! I had to make the
best of this and get back to my "A"game.
Miami John Cernuto then asked if I had been short stacked
in the WSOP before today. When I told him about my other
days, he said I must be like him æ better short stacked
æ and told me to do whatever I did then.
The rest of the story has been told elsewhere, but let’s
jump forward to Day Five and the final table. I was still
in the mindset of being short stacked on days Two, Three,
and Four. I never changed gears and never played the way
I should have. The now infamous hand with J-6 was the symptom,
not the problem.
Nevertheless, I hope to bring this thing home in the future.
After all, I won enough by finishing sixth to pay my entry
fees for the next fifteen years!
(So there you have it. The truths unvarnished for all to
see, and Russ deserves a loud round of applause for as honest
a first-person accounting as you’re ever likely to
read. Unlike many poker players, Russ was not, as the dramatist
and novelist Samuel Becket wrote, "…blaming on
his boots, the fault of his feet." You can see some
of the hands mentioned here if you’re fortunate enough
to catch this World Series Of Poker when it’s shown
on ESPN.
