I register for the Epic Poker Mix-Max Event a day early to avoid the nuance of being seated at the same table as the geniuses who show up late.
Unfortunately, everyone has the same idea. After presenting Doyle with the first ever lifetime membership award, I make my way to table three and sit down in the two seat. We begin six-handed with household favorites such as Sam Stein, Yevgeniy Timoshenko, Shawn Buchanan, Nam Le, and young gun Pro AM qualifier Tony Gargano.
I splash around the first level and chip up from 50,000 to 55,000. Play is tough. Nobody gets a walk and three bets are as frequent as raises. On the break, I decompress with a game of air hockey and ping pong with Sorel Mizzi. He beats me for $40.
Level two begins and the two vacant seats are filled. Michael Mizrachi is seated two to my right. He raises nearly every hand and bulldozes his way to 70,000. With the blinds at 150/300 and a 25 ante, I finally get a chance to open in the cutoff with 6c 8c. Tony defends in the big blind.
I flop gin: 4d 5c 7s. Tony bets out 1,200, I raise to 4,000 and he calls.
A 5h pairs the board on the turn. I try to conceal a cringe. Tony checks. I’m scared of a full house, but I bet 6,500. Tony calls.
The river is a king. Tony thinks for a while before finally checking. I value bet 13,000 into a pot of 23,000. Tony methodically counts his chips. He slides them back and forth, tipping them over like a tower.
After thirty seconds he stacks them. “He’s going to shove,” I thought. He pushed forward his messy stack of chips toward the center of the pot. All 28,600 of them. His shove was reluctant, almost apologetic.
I’m disgusted. I almost call out of spite, getting 4:1. Before the tournament, I promised to breathe during each big decision and focus on patience and discipline. After pitying myself for my misfortune and lamenting at my idea of having a decision, I start thinking.
