#165: “Such a Beautiful Horizon”

My trip to Barcelona was intended to be a mixture of work and play but, in the end, poker very much took a backseat to holidaying. There is so much to do in what is one of the great cities of the world – so many sites, so many tapas bars, such beautiful beaches and, on this occasion, such a well located swimming pool on the roof of my hotel. Also, my instincts about the Grand Casino and Pokerstars were spot on as the double whammy of both Estrellas and EPT tours completely overwhelmed the organisers. Victims of their own success, they created the perfect storm as mid-stakes Estrellas grinders stayed on to play EPT sides and Main Event satellites while EPT regs traveled early, treating the Estrellas Main and High-Roller as ideal preliminary events. An administrative nightmare, this put insane pressure on a venue that could only hold 600 people.

In the case of one tourney – the Estrellas 300 side event – such was the chaos, the Spanish police had to be called. With registration opening just an hour before, 700 players congregated on the main casino floor, creating a queue that traveled back up to the top of the staircase. There was pushing and shoving, yelling and gesticulating. The cashier cage was ensconced. With the process of registration underway, it became a free-for-all – a moshpit more becoming a Swedish House Mafia concert. Sweaty Spanish men were crushing and trampling other sweaty Spanish men and in the thick of it, one sneaky sharp elbowed Irish poker pro was throwing sly digs and manufacturing a path to the front. After a few minutes, the casino cashier closed the cage and came out to address the masses. He told everybody that they would all get a seat, that the tourney was being delayed by one hour so they could all be accommodated. Then he asked them all politely if they would stop pushing, encouraging those at the back to go get a coffee and return in half an hour. Some of them did but many still battle-rammed their way forward. He then began a process of handing out red cards which were essentially tickets to ensure you got a ticket. After 280 of them were dispensed (one of which I managed to get), he declared the tournament full. Needless to say, all hell broke loose. The police were on the scene within minutes and several men were escorted off the premises. I understood the frustrations of the would-be players, many of whom had traveled hundreds of miles to play, but at the same time, the intervention of the cops was a necessity as the place had become a death-trap.

So, red ticket in hand, I registered for what I assumed would be the softest tourney of my career – figuring that the feeble, pale-faced internet geniuses hadn’t stood a chance versus the testosterone-filled, meat-headed alpha-males. My assumption might have been correct but I didn’t get to find out as I busted pretty quickly, having never got anything going and probably making a poor call with AJ pre-flop. I took a stroll over to the Main Event table of my friend Tim Farrelly only to find him in a hand. Standing back so as not to get in his eye-line, I watched a grotesque hand play out in which he was river 2-outered, holding QQ vs 88 on a J77-3-8 board. Needless to say, he was gutted, a feeling that was not helped by the fact that he was made queue for almost one hour to get paid. We necked a few consolation beers in a nearby bar before returning to the casino for some late night grub.

Before leaving, I noticed that the casino had switched policies, allowing for pre-registration 24 hours before the tourneys. I seized the opportunity to avoid yet another queue and put my name down for the following day’s Deepstack Turbo. This was a better system but I could already see how this would disappoint and frustrate those who rocked up the next day to find their tourney was sold out.

The Deepstack went as they usually do, giving the players way to much play in the first hour, a subsequent hour of 30-60bb poker, an hour of 20bb reship-stack/pick your spots maneuvering until it disintegrates completely into a sub-10bb farce. I successfully navigated my way through these phases and with the bubble approaching (30 left and 24 paid), I decided to take some risks, hoping to take advantage of everyone’s tightness. I shoved or opened almost every hand for an orbit and without showdown had chipped up from 58K to 160K. I had all but one player at my table covered and there was now 26 left. The short-stack shoved 45k (about 4bbs) UTG and I sheriffed with A6s. He had 77 and held. Two hands later, the table chipleader opened to 4.5x from UTG+1. I looked down at QQ. Figuring this was a typical donk play with 9s, 10s or Js, I was super happy to shove (expecting a 82-18 way more than a 70-30) and super shell-shocked to see him snap and flip over Aces. He held and with another bustout happening simultaneously on the adjacent table, I was the bubble-boy – a pretty miserable feeling, not because I care one iota about missing out on a min-cash but because I had a top-5 stack just minutes earlier and a real shot at back-to-back Estrellas Turbo Deepstacks Final Table.

Freddie Mercury famously described Barcelona as possessing ‘such a beautiful horizon’, a lyric I have always chosen to believe is about the potential in something new, an optimism for the future. I will thus refrain from getting morose about my recent poor run on the live felt and focus positively on what is ‘on the horizon’. In two weeks time, I will be returning to Barcelona and the Grand Casino in for the EMOP upon whose leaderboard I am currently sitting 9th and in good shape to earn a top-16 spot (which earns a prize of some yet to be announced type). Between now and then, I am playing the UKIPT in Newcastle, a city which I have been promised is way nicer than Nottingham. Hopefully the next few weeks will bring either a Geordie Score or a Spanish Celebration.