20 September, 2010

In Order to Live…

This is the 20th installment of Viewfinder, my weekly column for Yahoo! India, and was published on September 9.

It’s 8.30 am on September 5, and I stand up. I am at a poker table in Casino Royale in Goa, and I sat down to play at 9.30pm the previous night. Fifty one players began the main event of the India Poker Championship, and now there are two men still standing. Indeed, these two men are literally standing. We’re heads up for the title, and I am all-in with As8s. My opponent has 9h6h. I am favoured to win the hand 60-40, and will have a huge chip lead if I do. But this is poker, the heartless game. There are two hearts on the flop—and a third on the turn. The new IPC champion, Avinash Rajpal, hugs his friend next to him. I smile and shake his hand, and mean it when I say “Well played.” I’m relieved it’s over. It was some trip.

I’ve written a few pieces in this space about poker before (1, 2, 3), but they’ve been theoretical and impersonal. In today’s column, I’m going to talk a bit about the practical aspect of playing a tournament, seen through the lens of my second place finish. The main event of the September IPC was my ninth tournament in Goa—and my third final table—since the start of June. My learning curve in this time has been steep—and I must be a supersized sucker to be sharing it with you, revealing how I think. You can now take full advantage of me when you next see me at the tables. Ah well.

The first proper live tournaments I played were in the previous edition of the IPC at the start of June. After blanking in the first two events, I reached the final table of the main event. My play there was straightforward, notable more for discipline than for initiative and adventure. I was super tight before the flop, and suitably aggressive after it. I folded JJ preflop as many as four times, and each time my opponents turned out to have better hands. I also made tough hero calls, and got it mostly right. My reads were good, and I got the right hands at the right time. But I misplayed the final table.

NIne people sat down at the final table, and only six would make the money. I was a midstack, sitting in about fifth position. I had 44k in chips, and the blinds were 2k-4k. That made for an M-ratio of 7.3, with the blinds going up fast. I had two ways of tackling this situation: One, fold everything but super-premium hands, wait for others to be eliminated as the blinds went up and desperation set in, and make my way into the money; Two, forget about cashing, be bold and make big moves while everyone is scared of the bubble, giving myself the chance to accumulate blinds and antes and maybe double up, thus making a strong play for first or second place, but with much greater risk associated with it.

It was my first live tournament final table, and I was keen to cash. I took the safer route, folded my way to fifth place, but then found myself short-stacked. I pushed with 88 and lost a race to AQo. It was good to finish so high—but next time, I told myself, I would make a play for more.

The next time came in July, when I played in the India Poker Series, also held in Casino Royale. I reached the final table of the second event there, and overall played better this time. I was more aggressive as the tournament reached its final stages, attacked blinds and antes from position, though I was one of many short stacks when I finally got to the final table. Every hand there saw someone of the other pushing all in. My turn came with seven people left, when I woke up to see AhJh under the gun. The blinds and antes amounted to about 22k—I had about 24 left, and pushed. Everyone folded to the big blind—where, unfortunately for me, Rajesh Goyal sat. Rajesh had won the IPC main event where I’d finished fifth, and I regard him as the best tournament player in the country. He sat on a stack of about a lakh. He looked at his cards, and then he looked at the chips in the middle of the table. It was clear what he was thinking: given the pot odds of calling my move, considering that he was the big blind, any two cards would do. “Let’s gamble,” he said, and called. He showed 85s.

An 8 came on the turn and knocked me out in seventh place. I suppose you could call it a bad beat, but I wasn’t going to go off whining about how someone sucked out on my AJ suited with 85 suited. Given the pot odds, Rajesh’s move, which elicited gasps at the table, was absolutely correct—and may not have been made by most of the others there. Had I won the pot, I’d have been in a healthy chip position, able to contest for the win. But that’s tournament poker—over the long run, good play gets good results, but in the short run, you need your share of luck.

By the time the September edition of the IPC began, I’d arrived at my approach to tournament play. I was going to be tight in the early stages, selective about the hands I played, not taking undue risks for small pots. When the tournament was at a relatively deep stacked stage, with my M at 20+, I’d try and avoid all-in moves unless I had the absolute nuts or a really good read. I’d play suited connectors and small pockets for implied odds, and not over-commit with holdings like top pair, top kicker. As the blinds and antes rose, and the average M got closer to 10, and then dropped below it, I would get more aggressive. I’d use position, attack the blinds and antes, and be willing to get my chips in the middle with a wider range of hands. I’d eschew set mining and suited connectors, which would no longer have value given that there would be no more cheap flops, and everyone would be relatively short-stacked. Also, as the final table approached, when everyone else was playing super safe to get past the bubble, I’d up the aggression, using the fear of others to build my stack.

The first of the IPC events had a wonky structure, with the blinds going up way too fast. As a result, at a time when the average stack was 10k, the blinds were 500-1000. Almost every hand saw someone pushing their chips to the middle, and it was bingo time. I reached the final 18 (out of 112 players), and with 16k chips and the blinds at 1.5-3k, pushed with 77 from early position. I got called by KTo, and lost that race. One more final table out of my grasp. The next day, in the second event, I made a bad read and a boneheaded preflop all-in call early in the tournament with TT, and lost to AA. That was bad play on my part, and I slunk off to the cash tables suitably embarrassed. The main event was still to come, but this wasn’t going well at all.

The organiser had changed the blind structure for the main event, and we started relatively deep stacked, with the blinds going up slowly. This was fun, as there was lots more scope for proper poker to be played, as opposed to all-in bingo. Three hours into the tourney, 45 of the 51 participants still remained. And then, as blinds went up, the field narrowed.

Halfway through the action, I was shifted to a table where there seemed to be an elimination every five minutes. As the dust settled, Rajesh Goyal arrived at the table, and sat on my left. This was bad news for me. At just the phase of the tournament when I planned to up my aggression, the most aggressive and fearless player around would have the advantage of acting right after me. And indeed, as the final table approached and the table became extra cautious, Rajesh went into overdrive. At one point, he made 12 raises in a row, four of them all-in moves. When he showed down hands, they were worthy, such as queens and eights. Or he’d flip one card over, and it would be an ace. Because he was acting after me, and had a much bigger stack than mine, I couldn’t make any moves. I got a crucial double up, but the blinds hurt me, and I was on 24 k chips when the final table was announced. Like last time, six people would make it to the money. The other short stacks had 11k, 17k and 25k respectively.

As the tournament went on break, my friends at a cash table advised me to try and get into the money somehow. “Not this time,” I said. Tournament prize structures are typically top heavy, and the big money goes to the first two or three places. Coming fifth or sixth just gets you two to four times your buy-in. I didn’t see any point in that. Last time, I’d been cautious, and played for the lesser places. This time, I decided, I would be hyper aggressive, and would take my chances.

Also, as seats were drawn for the final table, I found that I was seated to Rajesh’s left. Now I had position on him, and would act after he did. I felt this might be a crucial advantage for me—and so it turned out.

* * * *

The final table gets underway with a bad beat. My friend Jasven Saigal, with 17k in chips, pushes in early position. Everyone folds to small blind Avinash, with 71k in chips, who calls. Jasven shows KK. Avinash shows 78. The flop has one seven; the river has another. One part of me feels awful for Jasven; but another part is relieved, because we are one player down. Also, I’ve won a prop bet I have with Jas at every tournament, about who will last longer. But hell, kings losing to 78 has got to hurt, and I feel for him.

A hand or so later, I look down at KJ, both clubs. The blinds are approaching me (2-4 or 3-6, if I remember correctly), and if I wait too long, my stack will be so small that I won’t have fold equity left. This is a good hand to make a stand with—in fact, better in this situation than a hand like A8, which will often be called by a higher ace that has it dominated. I push. Two places to my left, Manish Bajpai calls. Everyone else folds. Manish shows AhQh. 60-40 to him—till a king comes on the flop, and his hand fails to improve. I double up to over 50k in chips, and am back in the hunt.

There is a famous poker saying, attributed to different sources in different poker books (Amir Vahedi is one of them), that sums up the right attitude to late-stage tournament play: “In order to live, you must be willing to die.” You can play impeccable poker all the way through a tournament, making all the right decisions, taking only winning hands to showdown. But in the end, you have to win those coin-flips and 60-40 battles to get through. Some days you will win them, some days you won’t. At my last two final tables, I’d lost with 88 against AQo and AJs against 85s, both hands in which I was favourite. And now, finally, the board has fallen in my favour.

Soon after this, both the other short stacks, Sameer Rattonsey and Girish Ganganna, double up. And I get a hand that demonstrates the advantage of my having position of over Rajesh. I am in the big blind, Rajesh is small, and everyone folds to us. He makes an expected raise of 30k. I look at my cards. The first card is an ace. The second card, well, what a coincidence, is also an ace. I raise all-in to 38k. Rajesh is forced to call, and show A9 of clubs. My rockets hold up.

A few hands later, I find myself seeing a flop with 83, both diamonds. (I must have been one of the blinds, as I wouldn’t play this otherwise.) The flop comes 876, with one diamond. Only Girish Ganganna, two places to my left, is in the hand with me. I bet the pot with my top pair, which is almost a third of his remaining stack. He calls. The turn is a diamond 7. I have top pair and flush draw, so I put him all-in. He calls, and shows two overcards with QJo. Diamonds don’t help him, so he has four outs, and none of them turn up. He’s eliminated in eighth place. I have to say that his move, limping with QJ, was rather strange. When you’re so short-stacked, you either push or you fold. There’s no point seeing a flop, and especially no point continuing with the hand after you don’t connect. I guess he read me on a total bluff—and I am perfectly capable of making those as well, so who can say?

This hand puts me in the chip lead, with around 120,000 chips. A wild cheer goes up from the Mumbai contingent as Craig Wildman, the tournament director who is also providing live commentary, makes that announcement. I’m feeling on top of my game now, and making the money is far from my mind. I want to go all the way.

I lose about half my stack after this to a misplayed hand against Rajesh in a battle of the blinds. The flop comes KQrag, and I have the rag. He doesn’t bet, so I assume he has neither the king nor the queen. (He would certainly bet middle pair in a position like this.) The turn is another queen, he bets, and I raise with what I figure to be the best hand. He calls, and then makes an obvious value bet on the river. I’m probably beat, but I make a hero call, and he shows me a queen. I was outplayed by him on every street.

Meanwhile, Gaurav Bhagat’s AJ loses a race against Sameer’s TT, with the flop coming AJT, and he is out in seventh place. The genial Manjeet Asrani busts out shortly after in sixth place, and then Manish pushes all in from the big blind. After everyone’s folded, I find I have the odds to call with any two cards. I call with Q5, he shows 68, and fails to improve. He was crippled from the time his AQs lost to my KJs, but that’s tournament poker. In order to live…

The key hand in four-way action comes shortly after this, when Rajesh and I are in the blinds, and Avinash and Sameer fold. Rajesh makes his expected move from the small blind, going all in. Only, I am now not the circumspect Amit Varma of the penultimate table, sitting to his right, but a fearless Amit Varma out to win the whole damn thing, sitting to his left. I look at my cards. JT. I know he’s just making a move, and doesn’t have a premium hand. My JT, at worst, is 40-60 against him. I am one of the two smaller stacks left, with about 50k, and I need to make a move soon. Also, someone’s got to take a stand against Rajesh. I call.

A look of alarm spreads across Rajesh’s face. He didn’t expect this. He has K8 and is, indeed, a 60-40 favourite in the hand. But his 8-5 busted my AJs in the IPS, and it’s payback time. There’s a jack on the flop, I double up, and the best player at the table is now crippled. He has 12k chips left; the blinds are 8k-16k.

A couple of hands later, he pushes from UTG. I look down at 79s and instacall. Normally I would chuck this hand away, but the imperative of the moment is to eliminate Rajesh. The usual tactic in such a situation is for multiple players to be in the pot with him, and to check it down to the river, thus maximising the chances of eliminating him. To my surprise, Avinash folds from the small blind—it’s only 8k more to him, and he has more than a lakh in chips. Sameer, the other short stack, checks from the big blind. We check it down, and I hit a 9 on the way to end with the best hand. Rajesh mucks, but it’s entirely possible that if I wasn’t in the hand, he’d have doubled up and become a force again. We’re down to three now.

Two hands later, Sameer, visibly frustrated at being card dry at a crucial phase of the tournament, pushes from the small blind. I need to call 15k into a pot of 45, and any two cards will do. I call with T4, he shows 34. A 4 comes on the flop, but that’s that, and we’re heads up now. That lasts all of three hands, and phew, it’s over. A massively stressful penultimate table, with stacks short and blinds rising, was followed by much hyper-aggression on the final table, and it’s worked out well for me. I gulp down half a bottle of water, duly hydrating, and then settle down at a cash table, where a friend asks me, “You just can’t stop, can you?” Well, like, duh. Of course not!

* * * *

The IPC report on the event is here. You can also check out their Twitter stream, which provided live commentary. And ah, here are my previous articles on poker:

Poker and the Human Brain

Throw a Lucky Man into the Sea

The Beautiful Game of Poker