The Sweat

I sat down. I stood up. I paced. I went to the Poker Kitchen for some cookies and Red Bull. And then I paced some more. I half-heartedly read an abandoned copy of Bluff Magazine. And then I gave it away to some other guy who seemed to be in the same mindframe as I was.

Sit down. Stand up. Pace. Look over at the table. Breathe when he finally folds his hand/drags the pot/ stacks his chips. Give encouragement with a reassuring smile.

This is what giving birth must be like for fathers. There’s absolutely nothing you can do except worry that no one bleeds to death and that the baby comes out with one head and five fingers and five toes.

I was more nervous sweating Pauly in Event #38 of the WSOP than I would have been was I playing myself. At least before the dinner break I was working and covering the event for PokerNews. Between Pauly’s double-ups and hammer bluffs I could at least focus on other things– managing the reporters, writing about other players, trying to keep the chip counts right, listening to some of Schecky’s bad jokes. He was up to 6,000 early. A good sign. Then 9,000. Then 14,000. Then C.K. Hua gets moved on his left with a ton of chips. Then he loses 2/3 of his stack when he makes two pair with Q-J on a K-Q-J flop… and runs into K-Q. At least there were other things for me to focus on during all that drama.

After dinner, it was a different story. I was off work. I had the next day off. Pressure=lifted for at least 36 hours. But Pauly was still in. 580 players left, 270 would money. If he could just double up once, he’d have a great shot at cashing.

I decided to go sit in a $4-8 game just to distract myself from the action only five tables down from me. I got kings cracked by a runner-runner straight and then a runner-runner flush in back to back pots by a guy who didn’t understand why the bet was $4 on the flop and $8 on the turn and river. After that I was getting up every five hands or so to check on him. And one of those times… he was standing up. My stomach hit the floor. I lurched over to see the board… but it had been mucked, save for the pocket sevens now sitting underneath a mass of chips in front of Pauly. His hands shook as he tried to stack them. He smiled like a little boy on Christmas morning. And C.K. Hua’s stack suddenly looked a lot thinner. Every junior reporter on the PokerNews team stood around the table, frantically scribbling out the details of the hand. I went up to one of them and learned he had won a coinflip against C.K. for his whole stack. 7-7- vs. A-J.

He was right back in it. And he’d made exactly the move he said he wanted to make at dinner– double through C.K., who at the time, was the chipleader with 49,000.

I went back to the cash game. Clearly my demeanor had changed from grumpy-girl-on-tilt, to giddy-happy-smiley girl beaming with pride.

“What happened to you?” the donkey on my left asked.

“My boyfriend doubled through C.K. Hua!” I exclaimed with a smile.

“That in the $1,500? I played that.”

“So did I” said the donkey on his left.

“Yeah, me too” said the guy who didn’t know why the bet was $4 on the flop and $8 on the turn.

I flopped trip aces with A-J on an A-A-5 board and got rivered when an 8 hit and some douche turned over A-8.

Only I didn’t care.

What the fuck? I ALWAYS care! I’ve kicked holes in walls over lesser beats.

Not tonight.

I picked up the chips I had left, dumped them into my purse and took a seat two tables behind Pauly. They were about 30 spots to the bubble. He’d busted another dude on a coinflip in the time I’d been gone. A-K vs. his Q-Q. Q-T-T on the flop. Good God.

When play went hand-for-hand at 275 players remaining, the media were cleared out of the aisles inside the ropes. They were all sweating Pauly now. Felipe, our photographer hovered around his table, along with Otis and Steve Hall. 273…shuffle up and deal. Still 273… shuffle up and deal again. Many players, including Pauly were out of their seats, pacing, making phone calls, chatting with the rail. 271… shuffle up and deal.

Some guy at Pauly’s table puts his last chip, yes, his last 100 chip into the pot after posting 200 on the ante and wakes up to pocket kings. They hold up against pocket nines. The table goes totally nuts. And three tables over there’s a huge commotion as the bubble boy gets knocked out. People start to clap… but there are still hands in play at other tables… don’t get too excited yet. Wait wait wait… longest 2 minutes ever before the TD gets on the mic and tells everyone “Congratulations! You are all in the money!”

Pauly hugs everyone. He can’t stop smiling. Neither can I. Now the real work begins for him… and I am free to start drinking. I get a Corona from the bar outside the Poker Kitchen and take a victory gulp for my boy.

When I return he’s all in with A-Q against pocket kings. The flop comes down 5-5-6. And one of those feelings overcomes me… when you just know what card is coming next. I know that ace is coming. I feel deadly calm as he burns and turns. It’s the ace of hearts. I clap my hands together and turn away from the table.

“Yeahhh! Ship it!” I nearly grunt. A queen falls on the river for good measure and Pauly doubles again. He’s got 34K and an excellent chance of making Day 2.

Pauly’s table broke soon thereafter and his new lineup featured Men “The Master” Nguyen, Erica Schoenberg, and some guy called “Action Bob” Hwang that Pauly knew from covering the WPT Borgata. He survived another 30 minutes of play and, for the first time, got to bag and tag his chips. Cue the little boy on Christmas morning look.

Since I had Sunday off, I went in to the Rio with him at 2 PM and grabbed a spot on the rail next to our friend Friedman. To my surprise and delight, Joe Speaker appeared out of nowhere. He was in town for a bit of business and showed up to sweat Pauly. We stood right behind Erica Schoenberg, who was immaculately dressed in a white ruffled blouse, a black vest, and slim black trousers.

When Erica raised UTG, Julie Deng (who final tabled the Ladies Event) moved all in, and Erica insta-called, we all uniformly cringed when Deng turned over Kd-Jd in the face of Erica’s pocket kings. Erica’s an extremely solid player… an UTG raise means something coming from her. Erica doubled up and Deng was left with about 8K.

Deng wasn’t the only one kicking herself after that hand. Pauly folded A-J and would have made trip aces, tripling up at a crucial juncture. Right move, wrong result.

Shortly after than hand, he made a sort of curious UTG raise to 5,500. The action folded to Men the Master in the small blind. He called, along with Robert Cheung in the big blind. Speaker and I sort of looked at each other thinking the same thing– our boy’s got a monster. The flop was A-9-4 with two diamonds. Before Men the Master could take his action, Cheung made a motion with his hand that looked like he was going to check… only he then saw that Men hadn’t done anything and he froze his hand in mid-air. He stayed in that position for almost a minute, looking like he was preparing to karate-chop the table before Men finally checked. Cheung immediately fired out 8,000.

“I’m all in” replied Pauly, just as quickly. Men the Master mucked and Cheung mucked.

“Come on… show me A-4 ” begged Men.

“Nah. You can read about it on my blog tomorrow” Pauly replied. The Master broke into a giggle.

Pauly had 45K after that hand and had survived another pay jump. It was at this point that I decided it would be a good time to pee.

When I came back, I saw Friedman walking out of the room. He told me Pauly had busted.

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that I didn’t see it happen.

I found him in the Payout room and he told me Erica had done the deed. She raised with 9-9, he moved in with Ac-9c thinking he could move her off the hand, but she called. Two clubs flopped, the turn gave him a gutshot too, but his 15 outs missed the river. 119th place. $4,740. Chris “Jesus” Ferguson had busted right behind him in 118th. His face was a mix of disappointment and pride in his accomplishment. Any poker player knows that feeling. There’s always some element of sadness after any tournament you don’t win.

But the top 4% of a massive WSOP field? That’s damned impressive. At least to me it is.

“You know, something like this is nothing to a pro” Pauly said.

“Yeah, but that’s the thing. We’re not pros. We’re just writers.” I replied, as we walked to the car.

My sweat was over. Pauly had to immediately transition to covering the $50K H.O.R.S.E. event and I don’t know how he did it. Because I didn’t even play and I was so exhausted I went home, lay down on the couch and slept.

For five hours. And then another ten.