Leading from the front, getting it in behind

Experience has taught me at least one thing: it always take me a while to re-adjust to playing live in Ireland after Vegas.

Doke's PocketFives Poker Player Profile

Click image above to check out my PocketFives player profile

Do you wanna be in my gang, my gang?

As you may have read elsewhere, I've been appointed the new Team Irish Eyes Poker captain. Click image above to find out more.

The end of the dream.....for now

Maybe I should stop writing mid tournament blogs as it never seems to end well.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

LaDeborah, Staples v Perkins, Twitch, WSOP

On my last night in Brighton at the Unibet UK tour, Ian Simpson made the rather laughable (I thought at least) claim that while I might have more live cashes than him, he had more final tables. Of course, rather than just laughing off this outlandish claim like any sane person would, I immediately set about disproving it. Which I did by Hendon Mobbing us both on my phone, which revealed our respective live final table counts as 15 for Ian and 68 for me. So kinda  close then. The fact that Iany took this surprisingly well led me to suspect the whole point of the claim was to make me count 83 individual entries across our two Hendon mobs on my ancient Iphone.


Our final table waving contest attracted the reasonable derision of Mad Harper and Deborah Worley Roberts. Debs, who had final tabled the Brighton event, then switched tack unexpectedly from how pathetic our discussion was to "why haven't you ever mentioned me in your blogs, unlike the rest of your honeys?"

Firstly I would like to register my approval of the idea that I have "honeys" in poker, irrespective of how ironically it was intended. Secondly this was definitely not a deliberate snub, even if the course of affairs between myself and LaDeborah has not always run smoothly. She first attracted my attention by berating me at length over bad beats I'd put on her online (I never have any memory of these bad beats but have no problem accepting responsibility for them as the type of thing I do). Next, she set fracked a friend of mine out of a tournament while I was at the table (drew to and hit a set on the river with half the stacks in after the turn). On the other hand, she does hang around with the wonderful Kelly Saxby, and the absence of a Saxby restraining order must mean something. She pointed out that her record (two UKIPT final tables and a deep run in WSOP Ladies event) was worthy of recognition. It was at that moment I recalled that she was on the final table of UKIPT Cork. The fact that that event was a double disappointment to me presumably meant I was less than magniminious in my blog of the event in handing out congrats. I took a particularly bad one early in the main to be crippled but recovered into contention only to bust three tables out, and Nick Newport (who was staked by myself and the other Firm lads at the time) dangled the prospect of a big score in front of us but was devastated to bust first from the final table. So devastated he not only endangered us all on the tilt drive home, but also took this awful photo of me passed out in the passenger seat (and made it his Stars avatar meaning I saw it nightly for the next few years).

If it's any consolation Debs, I seem to remember there was much discussion of you and your play in the car before I passed out, and hopefully this overdue shoutout on the blog makes amends.

Staples bros v Perkins

This prop bet has generated a lot of polarized opinions since it was announced that the Staples boys are going to try to get to the same weight (give or take a pound) in the next year. If they manage to do so, they will relieve Bill Perkins of a drop (150k) in the ocean of his wealth, while if they fail to do so they have to add a droplet (3k) to Perkins ocean. Most of the views I've heard are either "piece of cake" or "not a hope". I'm somewhere in the middle: I think it's going to be tough for Jaime to shed enough pounds to get within Matt's ballpark, and even tougher for weedy little Matt to gain enough weight to give Jamie a decent target to shoot for (there's a reason why lightweights in boxing don't bulk up to heavyweight in chase of the big dollars). Tough, but not impossible.

I'm particularly surprised to see numerous people suggest that the "within a pound" stipulation is the toughest part of the deal. The idea seems to be that even if the two lads manage to meet in the middle somewhere, manipulating their weights to within a pound or less would be the toughest part. I personally don't see it. Fighters make weight at weigh ins by dehydrating themselves. This means that on fight night boxers often weigh up to a stone heavier than they did at the weigh in the night before. So if the lads are within a stone or two of each other this time next year, then I humbly suggest it will be relatively easy to calibrate their weights by manipilating their liquid intake. Just dehydrate Jaime while Matt glugs down a gallon or two of water.

Feeling Twitchy

One of the questions I get asked most frequently is "When are you going to start Twitching?" Early this year I used to answer "Soon", because I expected to sign with Unibet and start Twitching for them as part of the deal. I did indeed sign as an ambassador, but unfortunately it turned out I couldn't start Twitching for legal licensing reasons (Unibet is not yet licensed in the Republic of Ireland). I'm hoping it will be sorted out later this year or early next year, but in the meantime I suggest you get yourself over and watch the streams of my Chip Race cohorts Ian Simpson and David Lappin. They work well as a duo as they love to take the piss out of each other, and Lappin's anti-Iany rants are the funniest things I've seen on Twitch.

I predicted in advance that Lappin would be perfect for Twitch, so if you want to watch someone who plays very similarly to me but is way more entertaining, tune in. It hasn't all been plain sailing though: his first stream was a memorable shambles as I explained to Jake Cody before we interviewed him for the Chip Race.

In Brighton, David and Ian were kind enough to help me out on commentary on the Irish Open Online event. It's fair to say copious amounts of wine were consumed and we perhaps weren't taking our commentary duties as seriously as we generally do, but the fact that we still managed to get over 1000 hits on Youtube for an online event that attracted 48 runners suggests people may have enjoyed it more than they should have. On the night we struggled to maintain our meagre live viewership in the face of direct competition from the Hall-Dentale grudge match. Our cause wasn't helped by David constantly reminding people what was on on the other channel. Every time he did so our viewing figures dipped, but hopefully he learned a lesson from that. Not sure though: the last time I tuned in to his Twitch channel he was talking up the appeal of the DTD Million final table and recommending people go watch it.

Vegas plans

With my WSOP plans now finalised (I'll be there June 6 to July 17) the plan for May is to prepare as intensely as I can. Physically I feel I'm back in peak shape (this blog is being written after I completed a 30 mile long run), I've put a lot of work and study into my game this year, and the plan is to keep the foot on the gas on that front throughout May. Just fun live poker trips planned before Vegas: MPN Malta this weekend, and Unibet Open Copenhagen at the end of May. Then it's off to Vegas to try to give myself another shot at a bracelet. As in previous years, I will be selling some action to reduce my exposure and variance, so if you're interested in a Vegas sweat, watch this space (or rather Twitter) in the coming week or two.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Fresh Open memories

Sam Grafton bouncing around the place in dungarees like a man whose cultural research on how to dress in Ireland only got as far as a viewing of a Dexy's Midnight Runners video. 

George Devine bringing me a thoughtful present (David Bowie commemorative stamps). 

Feeling relief that "Norwegian Donald Trump" Espen behaved himself in our place and so didn't get killed by Mrs Doke. So relieved I give him a free run through a satellite hand history of mine. Enjoying his consternation when I fold kings preflop.

Sameer arriving the next day and instantly making a more favourable impression with a very well chosen bottle of French wine. Doing some PIO work to prepare for the next day. Playing my first bullet at a table that includes Griffin Benger. Enjoying the reaction at the table when an angelic blonde dealer smiles at me and says "I remember you from Prague". Busting shortly after Griffin does in a flip against Espen.

Sitting in reception recharging my phone and my spirits hoping the hotel staff leave me in peace without trying to sell me a beverage. Looking blankly at the face of the hotel girl trying to work out what she is trying to sell me. Realising eventually it's not a hotel huckster but my friend Elena "The Groupie" Stover who has flown in to play and is about to late register.

Having more luck on my second bullet and bagging up a bit more than average and a day off. Celebrating a bit too long in the bar with Sameer, Elena, Fintan Hand, John Keown and Keith Cummins. As we finally leave hearing Griffin Benger (who everyone would be talking about by the end) say "Everyone is talking about The Dokester and there he is". Crawling out of bed the next morning and persuading a very ill Sameer to come with me for a three hour walk around Phoenix Park. Filming how unimpressed he is by the herds of deer.

Making a good start to day 2 getting up to close to 100k.  Changing tables 7 times in the day as it slowly goes pear shaped. Shoving queen jack over a small blind limp about 70 from the bubble and losing at showdown to ace ten. Late regging the JP Masters while keeping an eye on my swaps Sameer and Smidge as they navigate through the main event bubble. Bagging up a little more than starting stack. Spending a little too long at the bar with Sameer and Smidge making day 3. Depositing the proceeds of my satellite winnings in my green bag. Paul Carr joking that he was going to rob the bag. Settling a bet between him and Weesh as to whether his exit in the main was a shove on the bubble. Meeting Bridie Gribbin and Barry Foley and getting their feedback on the return of The Chip Race. Discussing six big blind shoving ranges with Sameer in the cab home. Grabbing a few hours sleep and running some simulations over breakfast with Sameer.

Busting the first hand of day 2 JP Masters to confirmed nemesis Espen. 

Getting the rubdown photograph taken as I slunk away. Finally getting to see Alex (Daragh Davey's baby son). 

Getting a brain teaser from Emma Simpson (both the brains and beauty of the Simpson marriage which was famously proposed at another Irish Open).

Getting a free hotel room from Paul H who won a package but is going home early (thanks Paul, was a lifesaver). Late regging the Liam Flood Memorial (appropriately enough a 6 max turbo). Mick McCluskey asking me how much I had with 18 left.

"14 big blinds"
"Not really. I'm chipleader"

Losing a flip with ten left for a lot of the chips. Railing Sameer who has survived in the main on fumes all day and is now closing in on an improbable final table, and Fintan who is proper beasting. Being joined on the rail by Elena, Christin, Espen and Canadian "Energiser Bunny" Giancarlo. Buying Elena a Cute Hoor because she feels self conscious about asking for one. Walking out after Sameer has made the unofficial final table telling him to smell the roses as we don't get them very often in life. Him taking it rather literally and asking me to take a photo.

Talking 9 big blind strategy with an understandably excited Sameer before catching a couple of hours sleep. Running some more simulations after we wake (What if it's folded round to me first hand? What if Griffin opens first hand? What if the first spot I get is over a Griffin button open? How much are ranges affected by ICM and how does it change them?) meant skipping breakfast and heading straight down to the commentary box. Commentating on the full final table alongside Parky, which was an item ticked off the bucket list. Feeling nervous given how dog tired I was after a few nights of sleep deprivation, but feeling reasonably happy afterwards with how I acquitted myself. Thoroughly enjoying spending 7 hours alongside Parky (nine, counting the dinner break). Feeling very proud of Sameer who short stacked ninjaed his way to sixth, and another player I coach who also performed brilliantly on the final table.

Seeing Chris Dowling walk away from the table as I went into the commentary booth (we were in a thirty minute delay).  Feeling very sad for him as I know how much he would have loved to win. I've known Chris for my entire poker career and we've had our ups and downs but there's nobody I'd root for more in an event like this.

Having a celebration drink with Sameer. Meeting lots of my favourite people I haven't seen in ages, and boring some of them to sleep. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was my talk on optimal three betting frequencies, who can tell.

Looking forward to next year's event already.

Related viewing

  • The full final table (commentary by me and Parky) 
  • Highlights on TV3 - available only in Ireland (commentary by me and Parky) 
  • Irish Open online livestream (commentary by me, Ian Simpson and Ian Simpson) 

Monday, March 27, 2017

Born on a school bus

The world's oldest continuous foot race is the London to Brighton ultra. When I moved from "normal" marathons to ultras, I therefore always assumed I'd one day get to Brighton on foot from London by whatever route the race took that year (it changes for some reason). My career as an ultrarunner ended up being more successful than I could ever have imagined, but also briefer. Two years into it, a new obsession was taking control of my soul: one which involved late nights and long periods of sitting (not conducive to the ultrarunning life and training regimen).

It's perhaps fitting then that when I finally did arrive in Brighton, it was on a train quaffing coffee with a pudgy poker player rather than pouring isotonic drink down my throat with other ultrarunners. I was there for the Unibet UK poker tour leg. The aforementioned pudgy poker player Lappin was looking a little less pudgy than when I last saw him in London, a result of a disciplined regimen of exercise and diet.....wait, that's not it. He'd lost weight because he followed up a bout of food poisoning with the unusual step of licking ant poison he found on the window sill of his bathroom back in Malta. It's a measure of how well I know Lappin that when he told me this the night before, I was neither surprised nor incredulous. Lappin gonna Lappin.

After checking into the studio where we intended to start recording for our new podcast, and the hotel, we went for a wander on Brighton Pier. It felt like a trip back in time (a motif reenforced by this Unibet clip) to when I was a kid and school educational trips took the form of trips to place like Tramore or Bray where the kids in my class learned to operate slot machines while eating their body weight in candy floss and rock.

It's a testament to how well Lappin knows me that our relationship has moved through three stages of anecdotage:
(1) I told him all mine, until he'd heard them all several times
(2) his patience with the Doke rerun channel broke and every time I cleared my throat to ask "did I tell you about the time..." he shouted yes
(3) after a period of moody silences during which I sulked about having nobody to tell my stories to while he tried to develop an appetite to stomach my reruns (he never got there) he came up with the novel idea of telling my stories back to me, presumably in the belief that I might not remember them any more, or the view that anything was better than having to listen to me telling them again, followed by a short review: "that's not one of your better stories" or "you should put that one in your blog".

After I remarked it felt like a trip back in time, he seized on the opportunity to tell me the story of how I used to become the most unpopular kid in the whole school by the end of each trip. He followed it with a "one for the blog" comment so if the rest of this blog bores you, send your complaint to Malta.

School trips were a big deal when you grew up in a small town in Ireland and the only other excitement was wondering how many slaps of the leather strap the Christian brother would give you for displaying intellectual independence. Kids saved up their money for these trips, or tapped up their parents. I saved up my money too, but had a very different approach to spending it.

Ok, first let's talk about what every other kid who had been given spending money by their parents did. Knowing that once they got to Tramore or Bray every remaining penny would disappear into a slot machine, they'd spend some of the money on presents for their family, and themselves. The idea was to prevent themselves from blowing all their dough in the slots and returning home empty handed to angry parents and siblings. A solid plan theoretically, but I saw an exploitative strategy.

When the bus pulled up outside whatever shop had been designated as the one where gifts would be purchased, all but one of the kids piled off. I alone remained behind on the bus, ignoring the looks of disapproval and comments like "O'Kearney is such an asshole he doesn't even buy a present for his little brother". Even at age 8, I had realised that most games are the long game.

Eventually they all returned to the bus laden down with goods feeling morally superior to Scrooge O'Kearney, and the bus headed on to the slot machine arcade. When it got there, the kids would pile out with indecent haste to lose every last remaining penny. While they did so, I wandered about the arcade keeping all of my money in a prissy little purse, guarding it like the Crown Jewels. Wind forward an hour or two and by now most of my classmates had gone full slot machine addict, and burned through their entire roll. This was the point at which O'Kearney slithered into action. Sidling up to a classmate looking hungrily at a slot for which he no longer possessed the pennies needed to keep playing, negotiations would start. What can you sell me to get more money to play? How desperate are you? How little will you accept just to hear that sweet sweet whirring noise of the slot machine wheel one more time?

Sufficeth to say the terms I offered were never generous. That nice 5 pound watch you bought for your mother? I'll give you 20p for it. That chemistry set for your brother worth 8 quid? Mine now, for 20p.

I sat alone at the front on the long ride home, fully aware of the pure hatred being beamed at me from almost every other seat on the bus. I didn't care if nobody wanted to sit beside me. It meant there was more room for the bag of cheaply purchased goods I had recently acquired. I was the poorest kid on that bus, from the most indebted family, and my little brother and I may have been born to stressed out parents who didn't love or even like us, but for at least one day in our year, we were no longer losers, and we had more toys and trendy trinkets than all the rich kids.

I may not have learned the rules of Holdem for another 35 years or so, but looking back I realise now that the mind of Doke the poker player was born on a school bus.

Monday, March 20, 2017

But it better not be shite, David

Two years ago to the day before I flew out to Brighton for the Unibet UK tour, the first episode of the Chip Race launched. Lappin, Daragh and I felt we had given it our best and hoped it would be well received, but nothing could have prepared us for the reaction over the course of its short run. For the next two months, everywhere we went people told us how much they loved the show. The reaction in Ireland was overwhelming and heartening: the reaction abroad was astonishing. Everyone I spoke to in the UK when I played there seemed to be listening and loving. When I went to Vegas that summer people recognised my voice and told me how much they loved the show. Genuinely baffling for a podcast that was intended for the Irish market.

We recorded only seven episodes over seven Monday afternoons. Given that Sunday is the busiest and often most tilting day for online players, Monday is not necessarily the best of days to be dragging yourself into a studio in Clonskeagh hoping to speak intelligently about poker. One day on our walk from Lappin's pad in Portobello, a total stranger stopped us on the street to tell us how much he loved the show. That's the only time in either of our lives someone has stopped us in the street because poker.

We wrapped our first season (or what we thought was our first season) just before I flew to Vegas for the WSOP. The plan was the company who commissioned the podcast would line up a sponsor over the summer to make it worth everybody's while to go on dragging our tired tilted Monday asses to the studio in Clonskeagh.

Vegas went well, and when I chopped event 45 headsup for almost 300k, one of my first thoughts was this should make it easier to get a sponsor for the Chip Race. My profile had never been higher. The first season went on getting downloads and rave reviews. Some big players in poker expressed interest. Even random Americans in Vegas were talking about the show.

It didn't happen. The company who owned the Chip Race had gone into liquidation, leaving us in a legal limbo. We put the relaunch on hold until the legal situation was clarified. By the time it had, it seemed the moment had passed.

When I go abroad to play live, and a total stranger at the table looks me in the eye and clears his throat in such a manner as to suggest conversation is about to break out, I can generally predict the opening line as one of the following:
(1) You're such a luckbox/fish/donk online (followed by some bad beat they expect me to remember)
(2) I read/like/love your blog
(3) Is your study partner Daiva as beautiful as she looks in photos?
(4) Is Lappin really that much of an idiot/gobshite/dickhead? (Or if I'm in the US, "Does this Lappin guy actually exist, or did you just invent him to make your blog more interesting?")
(5) Will the Chip Race ever come back?

With trademark arrogance I no longer get surprised that people read the blog. It's been the one constant throughout my career. This is my 460th entry, I've written close to a million words as I went through my poker career here, and have been seen by over a million eyeballs (the traffic counter on the front page only tracks the last few years). Add in the fact that most blogs fizzle out after a dozen entries and it's not too surprising most people see me as "blog dude".

It's more surprising that two years on people still ask about something we only made seven short episodes of. It's a testament to the incredible work David Lappin put into designing the concept and the format, writing scripts (seriously, who scripts a poker podcast? Lappin, that's who), and painstakingly editing my jumbled verbal Grampa Simpson ad hocs (we quickly realised I'm not a person who can stick to or even read a script) into coherence.

So when David came to me and said Unibet wanted us to make a comeback, I felt a bit like Ewan McGregor when Danny Boyle asked him to do Trainspotting 2. I of course immediately agreed, as did Ewan, who reportedly added "But It better not be shite, Danny". It's fair to say I feel a certain trepidation that we run the risk of tarnishing the memory of something that was pretty good if we are not careful. I guess it's up to us to work our balls off to make sure that that doesn't happen. That it isn't shite.

Actually, come to think of it, it's David's balls that will be doing all the work. They say you shouldn't mess with a winning formula, so I'll just keep showing up, saying whatever random stuff passes through my head, leaving David the hair pulling task of extracting some pearls of wisdom from my verbal dung pile. Good luck with that, David.

One of our first guests is Ian Simpson, and it's fair to say the interview was not without its contentious moments, as this picture of David literally taking it on the chins from Ian immediately afterwards implies. So tune in to see what got Iany so riled up.

Monday, March 13, 2017

No friends at the poker table

Irish Open Online championship

Before I wind up my Unibet London trip report, first the Irish Open (which is always one of my favourite events of the year) is just around the corner, and for the first time ever there's an online event. If you fancy becoming the first ever Irish Open online champion, it's a two day event starting next Sunday at 8 PM GMT and concluding the following day. It's on Micrograming skin Guts and there's an Irish Open main event package (€1150 seat to the Open and 5 night accommodation) added to the prize pool! Unfortunately I won't be able to play it myself as I'll be in Brighton (fortunately having a great time at the Unibet UK tour event there) but I will be doing commentary live on Facebook and Youtube on day 2.

OK, back to London...

After busting the main, I went with Lappin and Daiva for some food. Afterwards we all regged the 300 buyin side event together, which meant we were all put on the same late reg table. A bit of a rookie mistake as these kinds of tables tend to be much tougher than random ones. I had Daiva to my immediate left, Lappin next to her, and the table also included two other ambassadors, Espen and Dan Murariu, as well as Stuart from Glasgow who ended up chopping the event. So in Ev terms, the table from Hell, but at least the banter was considerable.

I decided I'd better tread lightly out of position to the two pros who best know my game, my current study partner Daiva, and previous study partner David. As it happens, I got off to a good start, winning a big pot first hand. Second hand, Daiva min raised utg, and after everyone else folded I defended pocket fours. The flop was pretty good for my hand, j32r, meaning I can beat second pair and have a back door straight draw, so I called a small bet. The turn was an inconsequential low card, and we both checked. The river looked ok too, a queen, so I checked figuring whoever was ahead on the flop was still ahead, and there was no point betting my hand as Daiva won't call with worse. So I checked and she bet quickly. The bet seemed fishy as she has very few queens in her range (I didn't think she'd bet ace queen for example on the flop), and she looked unusually nervous as I considered the call, but again I figured this might be her cunningly trying to reverse tell me, so I let her have it. This is an exploitative divergence from game theory (otherwise known as a mistake), as it's hard to make a pair and I'm so far up my range on the river if I fold this hand I'm folding too much and Daiva can profitably bluff any two cards.

Daiva mischievously showed a nine as she raked in the chips, an odd card as I didn't think she'd value bet pocket nines. She admitted it was 98s. I happily laughed this off, I have no problem acknowledging when I've been outplayed, even by a close friend, so well played Daiva. I jokingly tweeted that I needed a new study partner. Daiva twisted the knife being quick to point out the lack of immediate applications for the position :)

I recovered my composure to make day 2, as did Lappin (who took out Daiva with his underpair to her overpair to prove he doesn't just run well against me).  After another sleepless night under duck feathers I hung on grimly with my short stack until I got a full double up through Renee Xie (my ace king held against her ace queen). Unfortunately that was as good as it got, and I exited four from the bubble in a standard blind on blind spot.

An Irishman, an American, a Lithuanian, and some lads from Oop North

The High Roller was starting and my original intention was to jump in, but I was really feeling the effects of the sleepless nights by now so decided to skip it. Instead I rested up for the Players party, which is always a highlight at Unibet events. I started with some predrinking Chez Daiva where I had the pleasure of meeting her husband John's Bury crew, a truly great bunch of blokes. They do that particularly Blokey thing of relentlessly taking the piss out of one of their number, then as soon as he leaves the room going to considerable lengths to point out the many great qualities he has. That continues until Best Bloke Ever comes back into the room and immediately becomes Bloke We Take Piss Out Of Nonstop.

The only other invited guest going on to the Player party was the ever charming Kelly Saxby, which meant that I got to walk in with the two most beautiful ladies at the party. Or at least behind them filming them walking in on one of their phones.

Ain't no party like a Unibet party

The party was truly epic and the personal highlight for me was emulating my friend Mick McCloskey who got to hang out and have his picture taken with Viktor Blom a few years ago in Galway. Viktor is easily the nicest and most down to earth poker God I've ever met.

We stayed until the end, at which point Lappin did what he always does in these spots: tried to assemble a crew to join him in his pursuit of late night chicken. We made a half hearted effort to find him a Chicken Cottage until we were reliably informed that they were all shut.

He took the news with profound sadness.

Estonian Jesus

The following day I played my last event, the turbo deepstack and never really got going. As I played that, news from the main event was that a player the media was dubbing Estonian Jesus was performing miracles. I quickly realised this was Estonian Ben, with whom I shared commentary duties in the last 12 months in Tallinn and Mazagan.

Around this time I was also getting trolled on Twitter by my fellow ambassador Lappin who had spotted a statue on his London walkaround he felt bore a certain resemblance to a certain someone.

Ben ended up busting his final table around the same time I bust the turbo. Unibet's livestream commentary A team of Marc Convey and David Vanderheyden were in the market for someone who could come in for a couple of hours to let them grab some dinner, so Ben and I jumped in. After Ben's stint, Lappin joined me for the next hour. Two pretty enjoyable hours for me personal with two very different commentators. My stint starts at around the 5 hour 9 minute mark:

Really feeling the effect of sleepless nights under duck feathers now, I was intending an early night, but the hospitality of Unibet at their events makes a quick getaway almost impossible to execute. I got waylaid to the bar, and then the staff tournament, which was great fun despite the fact I was so tired I could barely see the cards and I got outrageously nit rolled by eventual winner Marc Convey (just kidding Marc: well done and I certainly don't hope you fall off the new bike you bought with your winnings).

The following day Mrs Doke flew in to chill out for a few days. We went to dinner with Daiva, John, Sameer and his lovely wife Fran, and hung out quite a bit with Daiva. Whatever her downsides as a study partner, she can't be faulted as a hostess.

Roll on Brighton!

Monday, March 6, 2017

Chinese whispers, duck feathers, awkward hugs

The morning after

The morning after the ambassador's SNG I got out of bed and promptly fell over. All the more alarming because all I'd had the night before to drink was a couple of beers and a shot of tequila. I'm well below average for an Irishman at drinking, but even I should be able to handle that. After crawling back into bed struggling to breath, I decided the best course of action was to catch an Uber to the nearest Accident and Emergency. But I ended up aborting that mission once I started to feel better and realised the long wait in A&E would present a bigger threat to my health, and in any case I was feeling better and breathing more freely. When Mrs Doke arrived the following Monday she quickly identified the cause: the duck feathers in the duvet I was sleeping under had triggered my asthma which I rarely get these days. Despite being incredibly allergic to these, I somehow hadn't noticed them, even after several sleepless nights coughing and wheezing.

Having decided to abort the hospital visit, I sent Marc Convey a message hoping to wind him up, saying his peer pressuring me into drinking tequila the previous night had led to my hospitalisation. I then headed off to meet my friend Sameer for brunch.

2 fellow ambassadors express alarm

A few hours later I can back to the world of wifi and a barrage of "Are you still alive?" messages. It seems my attempt to wind up Marc led to greatly exaggerated accounts of my "health scare". Lappin was so relieved when he saw me back at the hotel he felt compelled to hug me, something he does as rarely as Ian Simpson folds to threebets. While still very much alive and kicking, I was still feeling poorly so I had to skip the Welcome party in favour of an early night.

Obviously the early night didn't help a great deal as it was also a largely sleepless night wheezing under duck feathers, but I'm not one to make excuses and in any case I don't think it adversely affected my play in the main event the following day.

The main event

I found myself at the same table again as Ian Simpson  (the only player I recognised). After a couple of up and down early levels we got moved to the feature table. The hands that caused the most discussion afterwards:
(1) my decision to threebet 53s from the big blind over a button raise. Normally I'd just fold this hand as it feels a little too weak to defend. But this specific opponent seemed to be opening far too many hands and not defending or four betting often enough against light three bets. I had a very tight image because of my age and the fact that I'd been card dead up to this point. A hand that feels slightly too weak to call is always a decent candidate to turn into a light raise, so this seemed like a pretty good spot to go for a light threebet. This hand in particular has a lot of merit: it can flop a very well disguised monster on low boards (and I can represent high boards). He tank folded (k9 I later learned)
You can watch that hand and see my "5 high like a boss" face at around the two hour 27 minute mark:

(2) the same opponent raised under the gun and I again found myself with a hand not quite strong enough to flat (ace ten). For exactly the same reasons, I decided to threebet light again. This hand doesn't flop quite as well as 53s, but does benefit from having a blocker. The fact that I'm holding an ace makes it less likely either the opener or someone behind has a very strong hand. This is more important in this case where there are seven players yet to act (all of whom could potentially have a strong hand) after I raise rather than just one in the previous hand. Once again it worked.

Apart from that I was pretty card dead on the feature table and hovered around starting stack. After the dinner break, we were moved off the feature table. Unfortunately I lost half my stack first hand back. I opened a9s to 2400 at bb1200 in the cutoff. An inexperienced player on the button flicked in a 5k chip without saying anything, then after the blinds had folded said "Raise". Obviously this didn't count as a raise, but suddenly we are in one of those weird spots where it's unclear who the preflop aggressor is, as my opponent clearly intended to raise. Despite this, I decided to cbet the 985 flop, he threw in a 5k chip saying Raise this time, and I called his min raise getting getting five to one. The turn came a 6 and I can probably check fold to a normal sized bet now, but he again threw in just one 5k chip. Getting 4 to 1 on the call again, I still didn't think I could fold, so I didn't.

The river was a 7, so now I'm playing the five card straight on the board and can fold if he bets big. But he again threw in one 5k chip. Getting 5 to 1 on the call and losing only to a ten, I again called. As played I felt the only hand with a ten he could have was pocket tens. Unfortunately this is exactly what he had.

That left me with about twelve big blinds looking for a good spot to get them in. When a player opening too many hands opened early and was called just behind, sixes on the button seemed like a decent if not fist pump shove spot. Unfortunately the caller snapped with eights after the opener had folded, and promptly flopped a set to end my involvement in the main event.

I was sorry not to go further as it genuinely was a very fun live event, but as a consolation I was freed up to play side events, go to an epic Players Party, and do some livestream commentary.

In the next part of this trip report, I'll talk about the other event I played (the 300 buyin Deepstack), and how it led to me wondering to find a new study partner :)

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Unibet Open London (part 1)

My first outing for Unibet as an ambassador was Unibet Open London. Home to my favourite football team and birthplace to both my favourite singer and the first love of my life, London is a place I've been visiting all my adult life making memories. Some of the happiest from my early 20s are from a flat I shared in Hampstead with my first love Julie, and following her around the city like a lovesick puppy. After her untimely death, I found London a tough place to be, as those memories made me sad and lonely. In more recent years I've made some much happier memories, including coming second in the last ever UKIPT here. So no better place to make my debut.

First up on the felt was the Ambassadors SNG, a 10k prize pool freeroll being streamed on Twitch. We were up after another freeroll for Esports Twitch superstars. This kicked off in the afternoon, and the fact that they managed to get over 12k viewers at different points shows just how big Esports are on Twitch relative to poker (12k is a massive number for poker on Twitch: as a comparison one of the most popular poker streamers who is normally number one when he streams was number two with less than 4k viewers). Numbers dipped a bit for the ambassador SNG but we retained the number one spot.

I watched a bit of the Esports stream and had two strong impressions of the play. First, it was clear many of them had played little if any poker before. Second, despite this, they played surprisingly well, much stronger than a random selection of players of their experience. It seems that the skills that makes them world class gamers are transferable to poker, and I imagine that with minimal coaching most of them could play at a professional level. Chatting to one of them Thijs in the bar after, he said he had a newfound respect for poker players and the level of emotional control required.

The first SNG overran a bit which meant a bit of hanging around a bit. Once we got started I didn't exactly have the best seat sandwiched between the two favourites to win the event, Viktor Blom and Dan Murariu. I was unfortunately feeling under the weather and this coupled with me being card dead didn't make for particularly compelling viewing for the Doke rail.

The most interesting hand I played was against Viktor and Lappin.  Viktor opened in early position and I elected to flat call with aks.  Lappin flatted with Kings, at which point the Twitch chat was apparently divided into two camps, "What the Hell is going on here?" and "Why is this pot not bigger already?"  So I guess I should talk about my decision to flat here. I would often raise in this spot but I decided to flat instead for a number of reasons:
(1) This early and deep, my hand doesn't feel strong enough to get the lot in, especially versus Viktor who had barely played a hand at this point
(2) the hand plays very well as a flat. It's not a disaster if it sets off a chain of flats. The fact that it's suited means it flops a lot better multiway than ace king offsuit
(3) having a hand this strong in my flatting range protects it from light squeezes. If the action goes open flat flat flat and someone I know likes to squeeze light in these spots, I have a hand that plays well enough to get in versus that range with fold equity and lots of dead money in the pot
(4) it also protects my flatting range postflop on ace and king high flops. Many people won't put me on AK in this spot
(5) I don't particularly want to build a pot against the best player on the table

I can't speak for Lappin's thought process but from my point of view his decision to flat is understandable. I think he felt both myself and Viktor would play correctly if he squeezed (continue with the hands we are supposed to continue with, and fold the rest) but more importantly he had the most likely players to squeeze light still to act behind him. By flatting he set up a potential dream scenario where, say, Ian or Charlotte squeeze.

As it happens nobody takes the squeeze spot and the three of us see a qj4r flop. Not the flop I was hoping for but I do have four outs to the nuts so I won't necessarily be folding just yet. Viktor declines to cbet, I also check, and David takes a stab at the pot. Viktor folds and I elect to call. I'm not calling here just to hit my gutshot (or ace or king which are tainted outs that improve some of Lappin's hands to two pairs or straights). If I do hit my gutshot that's great and I could potentially win a big pot as David may struggle to put me on ace king. Most of David's range at this point is marginal at best one pair hands like ace jack, king jack, and underpairs to the jack, which I feel I can bluff him off by either check raising the turn, or betting the river if he checks the turn. (As an aside, the fact that most of his range is weak on this kind of board is another advantage of his flat preflop: flatting Kings preflop means he can also have overpairs on this kind of board). The turn is a 2, I check, and David fires again. We have now reached the point where I need to decide whether to bluff or not: with one card to come calling isn't a great option. I watch David as I decide. He sees me looking at him and starts pulling theatrical faces. He looks very relaxed and he's not talking (something I've noticed him doing in the past when he's at the bottom of his range) so I decide he's probably towards the top of his range and it's time to abort the mission. After I fold he jokes to Ian "You ruined that hand" which puzzled me at the time but made more sense after my friend watching the stream told me he had kings.

I was pretty card dead for much of my time at the table. With seven left I exited shoving pocket 3's from the hijack. A lot of people expressed surprise that I decided to go with the hand. It is the rock bottom of my range and I would certainly fold it at an easier table with a slower structure.  In this case the structure was fast and the competition tough, so I felt less inclined to pass profitable spots, even close ones. Another factor was that in the same spot one orbit earlier I'd opened AQo, Charlotte defended with 76o, and outdrew me. 33 is not a good hand to open when most of the players behind will threebet wide (it has to be folded to a threebet, and with two low cards and no blockers you will get threebet more often than when you have A3), and the blinds defend wide. So I thought the only way to play the hand profitably is to shove it hoping to get it through most of the time if the others don't realise I've been mostly card dead rather than just nitty up to this point.

Lappin tanks on the button and eventually made the correct call with AQs. I think most people probably don't realise that this is actually a very close spot. I ran the maths on the spot later, and AQs is only a slightly profitable call when you factor in ICM (AQo is a fold). When I saw David's hand I wasn't feeling too optimistic about winning the flip. Even after he bricked the flop and turn I wasn't optimistic as I have never won a major flip live against David and he's flipped me out of numerous tournaments. And so it proved once again on the river.

I was obviously disappointed not to go further but given the cards and spots I was dealt didn't feel there was much anyone sitting in my seat could have done. It was some consolation that David put my chips to good use coming third. Well done also to Viktor, undoubtedly the best player I've ever shared a table with and the most amiable and down to earth superstar I've ever met, who came second and Charlotte who continued a pretty sick record in these type of one table tournaments.

You can watch the entire thing on replay on Twitch with some outstanding expert analysis from Daiva Barauskaite on the early stages. If you enjoy hearing a pro level player clearly breaking down hands and logically explaining lines, do yourself a favour and listen carefully to Daiva's analysis.

Next up for me was a day off which proved to be more eventful than I imagined, before the main event, which will be the subject of part 2 of this trip report.


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