Coming to America
I have been going to the US once or twice a year for most of my adult life. As a college student in my early 20s, I spent a summer in New York on a J1 visa. As a Bowie fan, I attended a few concerts in Philly in my mid-30s. Bowie had a more select appeal in the States than the rest of the world, which gave his US concerts a very different feel, less mainstream, more niche.
As a runner in my late 30s, I announced myself on the international stage when I won my first ultramarathon race, the New York ultra. I remember how warmly the locals cheered me on when I broke away and ran alone for the last 30 miles.
one thing I’ve always appreciated is the openness and friendliness of Americans
Since I moved into poker, Las Vegas has been the destination throughout my 40s and 50s. It’s been a bit of a love hate relationship over the years, but one thing I’ve always appreciated is the openness and friendliness of Americans. That has, of course, waxed and waned down the years: I remember the middle of the last decade as a low point when the rise of the MAGA hats made the US suddenly seem a lot less welcoming. But things bounced back and the pandemic, in particular, seemed to remind us all how lucky we are to share one planet and be able to move around it.
Air rage
Things got off to a shaky start right from the get-go when the plane from Dallas to Vegas landed. I was seated towards the back, so as soon as we landed, I quickly retrieved my bag and scooted forward to where my Chip Race, Unibet and VSO colleague David Lappin was seated. We chatted as we waited for the doors to open. When they did, he moved forward. I tried to, but an arm shot out from the seat just in front. A guy who looked like he would be typecast as “Angry Old White Guy #4” in every movie shouted: “Wait your turn. There’s a whole plane that needs to get off!”
I shrugged, conceding the point. Where I come from disembarkation isn’t necessarily done in seat order, some people want to get off fast to make connections, others are happy to chill in their seats until it thins out a bit, but I don’t know what the American norms are, and I wasn’t in a rush so I was happy to let it slide. Even if any of those things hadn’t been true, I probably still would have let it slide, as the sweat on his brow and the veins popping in his neck made it very clear this was quite a big deal to him.
So I waited wryly while he struggled to get his bags down, taking so long there were rumblings of impatience from the half of the plane behind me he was holding up. I’d have offered to help, but something about his demeanor suggested he might not take kindly to help, or the suggestion he might need it.
Ground anger
When we finally disembarked just behind “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more” guy, we boarded a train to the main terminal with recent online WSOP Main Event final tableist Simon Wilson. Simon is a gentle young lad with no trace of ego who often gives the air of someone a little perplexed by the mundanities of life. So when we boarded the train he didn’t move far enough away from the doors for them to close, much to the annoyance of a middle aged lady who was seated nearby. Her face contorted in rage as she summoned her best scream, so I gently ushered Simon further in before there was a major international incident.
first impression of America this trip was that it was angrier than I’d ever seen it before
When we arrived at the Uber pick up part of the airport, the scene was bedlam. Angry airport staff were shouting at equally angry passengers instructing them to stay in an unclearly defined waiting area. So my first impression of America this trip was that it was angrier than I’d ever seen it before.
Sample size
Poker players know better than most the dangers of a small sample size, and thankfully this early sample was not representative. The vast majority of the locals I interacted with were warm, friendly and welcoming, particularly all the ones who knew me from the books, podcast, or webinars. It’s always a pleasant endorphin rush when someone takes the time to acknowledge that stuff.
Nevertheless, my Vegas experience this time was punctuated by local outbursts of anger that seemed disproportionate, reinforcing the initial impression that this is an angrier time. I also formed the impression that loneliness levels are at an all-time high: even friendly people seemed to have a deeper need for some sort of human interaction than I’d seen or at least been aware of on earlier visits.
The main event
Foreigner fear levels seemed at an all-time high too, with some evidence of this coming when one of the Americans deep in the WPT World Championship tweeted his resolve to take on what he called “the Euro robots.” In the end, the title did stay in the US with the much more “get it quietly” Daniel Sepiol battling it out heads-up with best of the Euro robots Georgios Sotiropoulos after the very zen Andrew “Lucky Chewie” Lichtenberger had fallen in third. Next best of the Euro robots was online GOAT Chris Moorman, who was fourth for a career best score. The fact that he won more than the WSOP Paradise Main Event winner (and almost double what my good friend Padraig O’Neill got for winning EPT Prague) should tell you who the real winners of this live spin and go between the three giant live operators were, missed guarantees or not.
it was plain sailing as I doubled my stack without any major incident or big pots
My own event got off to a much more stressful start than I expected. My plan going in was to use the same aggressive early approach that has seen me build stacks early in similar rec heavy events, and it was all going to plan when I added 25% to my stack in the first level without any major confrontations or even big pots. Then halfway through Level Two, I found myself having to call off the lot with one pair in a 4-bet pot. I did find the call to double and from there to the end of Day One it was plain sailing as I doubled my stack without any major incident or big pots.
Day Two got off to a dream start when I again doubled my stack in the early going to be one of the bigger stacks in the entire tournament. The rest of a day, however, was a frustrating battle as I kept getting knocked back in standard cooler spots or lost flips, and by the end of the day I was looking down at my now below average stack wondering if I was going to yet again fail to cash a 10k in America.
My worst hand
I played my worst hand of the trip towards the end of the second day with the bubble looming. I’ll save the details for another day, but it became clear to me my fear of bubbling was way higher in my mind than it should have been. In the end, my worst fears were not realized and I navigated through the bubble comfortably, even if after having almost reached 1 million in chips at the start of the day made bagging up just under half a million feel like a disappointment.
disappointing end to a tournament where I’d been up among the chip leaders for much of the first two days
Nevertheless, I went into Day Three confident, positive, and delighted to have the “never cashed a 10k in America” monkey finally off my back. They say confidence and positive mental attitude are vital to success…well on this occasion “they” were wrong. Just over an orbit into the day Igor Kurganov spiked a 2-outer on the river to send me packing, so near to a ladder I could probably have stalled my way to it. It was a devastatingly disappointing end to a tournament where I’d been up among the chip leaders for much of the first two days, but we go again and take the positives from it.
Once again, I proved my ability to quickly and quietly build stacks early on in these kinds of fields. My inability to do so is something I identified as the biggest flaw in my game two years ago, and much of my own study these past two years has been directed at addressing that. So it’s heartening that all year I have built stacks in almost all the slow structured, soft, big runner live fields I’ve played, rather than simply hanging tight hoping to be on the right side of coolers.
I played every day and never really felt fatigued, as I got there in reasonable shape and even managed to get out for a short run most days. I ate as well as I could and drank as little alcohol as I could without being a total social bore, meditated and slept well and avoided toxic people as best I could, even if it meant having to block some people I’d never have expected to need to do so. I drew a lot of strength from the people I did hang out or interact casually with. I focused all my energy on performing as well as possible, wasted little or no mental energy on stuff that wouldn’t help or could even potentially hinder my performance, and overall was very happy with my decisions on all fronts.
The event itself surpassed last year both in numbers, atmosphere and organization. Despite dealing with bigger numbers, big slow lines were never a thing. The dealers and floor staff were all top notch, and by Vegas strip standards, the prices weren’t egregious. The sponsors looked after qualifiers admirably and once again I’d nominate this event as the best live one I attended all year.
Free Rio
On my last day there, I was walking up the Strip from the Wynn to Resorts World when I was caught and passed by four young teens running flat out. The tallest stopped to ask me if I knew who Rio was. Figuring he couldn’t possibly mean Rio Fernandez, I replied in the negative.
“Rio is my brother, man. The cops just picked him up.”
I had no idea if this was some oblique reference to something that was flying over my head or not, so I just smiled and expressed sympathy and empathy.
“It’s ok though. We gonna get him out.”
“That’s good.”
Still unsure as to whether we were talking about an actual person or not, I figured it didn’t really matter, as the teens all seemed jovial and in high spirits rather than anything more sinister, so I walked at their pace as they asked other passersby if they knew who Rio was. My relaxation levels were at odds with almost everyone else they asked, who either responded with an aggressive No or just blanked them completely.
As we parted ways, the lanky one I had mostly been talking to asked: “You gonna give me a Free Rio one time?”
I did.
We are social creatures: if you just sit on your couch you die.”
On the plane home I was seated between a very chatty and incredibly charming older lady who seemed to have lived quite a life, and an equally chatty older Lebanese gentleman who had lived most of his life in New Jersey. Wisdom dropped from the lips of the older lady as she advised the gentleman “Life is too short to be sad,” and “We are social creatures: if you just sit on your couch you die.”
A native of New York, she’d gone west to California with her family when she was young, where she’d built a real estate brokerage and started a family of her own. She semi-retired to Vegas, where she still works conventions when she wants. One never asks a lady her age, but when she told me her first airplane flight was in the 40s (a three day trek to South Africa), some mental math was done after she responded to my question as to where they stopped to refuel with: “I don’t know. I was five!”
It felt the fitting bookend to a trip that had started with an angry old man yelling at me to wait my board to disembark.
