Welcome back to Logan's Letter. Thank you so much for being a reader, without you it would be much harder to reach the milestones like the one we just hit! We have now cleared 400 hits, which is quite thrilling. At least my ego thinks so. My ego likes many things. One of the things that it likes is the fact that Logan's Letter has a new logo. The picture above is the handywork of Mark P, and I have to say I like how snazzy it looks. But I digress...
It's been quite the adventure this last month. At the end of May I went down to Las Vegas to compete in my second World Series, hoping to overcome my strong run last year. In a field of roughly 860 last season, I finished just shy of the money around 120th. My most notable achievement was the fact that I was chip leader after two hours of play. Needless to say, it was going to be tough.
I did finally see Men in Black 3...so expect that review later on. The next installment of the Shannara series is on deck, as well as the newest song that runs my life and the shreds of philosophy that I've gleaned from it. By the way, you know that song "Sexy and I Know It"? The one that is really catchy and annoying? Well, you really need to
check out this video, and try not to judge this kid....I have to say that I judged the guy, and I was taught a lesson. What a humbling moment.
Did you click on the link? Well do it dammit, I don't recommend things like this because it makes me young. It's normally for good reason. Click! Don't make me come over there. It was good wasn't it?
WASN'T IT!?
(if you want a great second serving, him and another viral sensation do a great rendition of
Somebody That I Used To Know)...what chemistry.
Well, here we go.
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Back into the World of Shannara.
So, I received a comment amongst the others in my facebook messages the other day that asked why I always talk about these books. Now, I try to review many things on this page, but the Shannara series has been a large focus lately. I understand that people have different have different tastes and that, but my life has been inexplicably changed by these books. My stories are primarily influenced by Terry Brooks, and if I finish by books one day, I will still refer readers to read his books over my own. Well..they can still buy mine hehehe.
"The Druid of Shannara" is a CLASSIC example of how his writing has changed since his early books. It follows the story that was set in "Scions of Shannara". The book starts in a different fashion, introducing you to a very enigmatic character, an elemental named "Quickening". Between the dark contrasts of Walker Boh and the purity of Quickening, this book really swings with new momentum. The story revolves around the Black Elfstone, a magic that absorbs other magic and converts it to it's own use. With new characters and unique challenges, this story is truly a great read and has more of an emotional pull than some of the others.
Read it. And if you don't want to, then go back and click the above links.
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Back In Black
You know what the difference between you and me is?
If you grew up in the 90's, you'd probably be able to finish this famous movie line. Men in Black was truly one of the first movies of it's kind with great action, funny lines and Will Smith. Let's face it...Will Smith just makes good movies. Men in Black 2 would have flopped if Will wasn't in it. That's not saying Tommy Lee Jones isn't great, but I'm just stating facts.
Men in Black 3 takes us back to 1969. I was a little apprehensive, as time travel movies are a dime a dozen. Now, the plot was fairly ragged and the movie did kinda look thrown together in some parts, but the movie made up for it by diving into Tommy Lee Jones' past. Cue Josh Brolin, who is acting as Jones' younger self, and does a truly remarkable job. With a formidable adversary in Boris, and of course Will Smith, the movie does achieve "satisfactory" status. It may even be worth "See in theatres" status.
Final thought: It probably won't blow your mind, but that's because you've likely looked into too many neuralyzers.
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There I am, standing in the middle of the famous Amazon room of the Rio Hotel. It is empty and quiet, save for a few people wandering about. The event was less than half an hour away, but I was giving myself time to absorb the surroundings. Last year, the Casino Employees event was held in the Pavilion, a room much larger than the Amazon. This year, however, we get to play in the room that has a history.
The World Series of Poker is legendary. Started in 1970 by Benny Binion, the World Series has grown into a worldwide national event. Back then, 7 players were invited to the main event. Now, it attracts thousands. The 2012 WSOP will run 61 events this year, and I am there to play the very first one.
I find my table. It has green felt. They all do. My table is nothing special. One in many. It reminds me just how many people are here to get in my way of besting last year. My success last year means nothing. I am one unknown who will have to prove himself all over again.
On the WSOP website, it says "Logan Robbins, 0 cashes". Since it doesn't have a near miss column from last year, I am stuck with a goose egg. If I win, I'll tell you right now, I don't care about the $70,000 prize or the championship bracelet. I just want that 0 gone. I want to be in the black. I want something saying success, not failure.
People are now flowing in, preparing for the long, tiring process of sitting at a cramped table playing cards for 14 hours. If you succeed in lasting that, you are rewarded by having to return the next day to continue playing. For me, it isn't an issue. I can stay my focus like a madman. I take my chair early, trying to find rhythm before the dealer even arrives. At this moment, I look up to see that the Amazon room has tapestries of notable main event winners hanging all around. I look to the far side of the room and I get chills. All the pictures were taken when the event gets won, and everyone is clearly recognizable. Yet on the west side of the room, one of the pictures is an old black and white photo. And it was the picture I was looking for.
The picture above makes my skin crawl. If your not a poker player, this would be likely meaningless. If you like to play poker but do not recognize this man, take the time to read about him. Stu "the Kid" Ungar passed before I knew about him, and while he is an unlikely role model, I find myself thinking about him constantly when I play. To see the ghostly image hanging there amongst the colored photos, I find myself filled with new life. Stu had walked into the 1980 WSOP not having much poker experience. In truth, he was a hell of a gin player. He ran out of victims, and switched to poker. He was nicknamed "the Kid" and wholly embarassed the large Texan crowd that played the events every year. Winning back to back, while much more possible back then, was still incredible.
The problem was that this incredible talent had a huge problem spending money. Unfortunatly, his money also went to feed the demons that plagued him. He was hard into cocaine even at that age. It got so bad that in 1990 there was an incident where he didn't show up for a consecutive day of play, and the World Series staff found him, overdosed in a hotel room. The funny thing is, he had such a commanding chip lead that even though he wasn't playing, he managed to still make ninth place and cash in from inside the hospital.
Once I started really looking at poker as somewhat of a passion rather than a casual game, I remember this story that I read, which still inspires me.
In 1997, the World Series of Poker had grown. The entry fee was still $10,000, just as it was in 1980. Stu Ungar was broke and in debt, and looking at him often made people queasy. So bent from years of drug abuse, his nasal cavities had collapsed. He had begged his friend Billy Baxter to loan him the money for the Main Event, who eventually gave in, admitting that Stu was desperate. It was almost if Stu would die if he couldn't play, and Billy didn't have the heart to tell him no. Stu played that year, and at times was so spent that he started to fade out at the table. In a game that requires such focus and meticulous attention to detail, Stu rallied. Holding a picture of his daughter, he muscled onward. Just before the final table, he wielded a huge commanding chip lead. Bookies even put Stu as the odds favorite over the
rest of the field. If you didn't already notice, the picture above has 1997 below it. Stu won the tournament, and still relapsed to his demons with his money, and it finally overcame him.
Stu Ungar, while definitely embattled, really lights a spark with me. My favorite story of his was when he played heads up with a pro named Mansour Matloubi (who won the 1990 main event). They tangled in a hand on a rainbow board that read 3-3-7-K-Q. Every single street had betting and raising, and onlookers prepared for some monster hands. On the river, Matloubi shoves his entire stack All In. It only takes Stu mere seconds before lifting his cards. He says "You have either 4-5 or 5-6, I'm going to call you with this" and flips over ten high. TEN HIGH. WITH $80,000 IN THE POT. Look at the board...he couldn't beat really anything else! He was so sure of his read that he risked his entire tournament chance on an incredibly weak hand. Matloubi mucked, and Stu scooped the pot.
The tables break down towards that wall, and I make a note that I want to end up down at that far end, playing for the money under the photo of Stu Ungar.
Shuffle up and deal. Four words that signal the tournament, and a round of applause from excited participant. First, the now-full room is silent, as players begin the road to the championship bracelet. After ten seconds, just like last year, the chips begin to clack all at once. Slow murmers are passed rather than conversation, and the cards are pitched.
As I tell many people, this event is definitely favored for me. I'm not dangerous at this stage, and I know this. If people want me gone, they should take me out now. This is when I am most vulnerable. Everyone has a starting stack of $3000, miniscule to any other tournament. With the blinds starting at 25-50, this has to be my action time.
For the longest time, nothing much happened. I stole tiny pots, but most people were too afraid to play.
Think about it, if you work in a casino, chances are you are not filthy rich. You also, since being a casino employee, are not a poker professional. So if you are paying $500 for a tournament, it may seem like a lot of money. Therefore you play less hands, and not get too crazy, unlike your cousin Jerry's house game where you throw chips around like frisbees.
I know this. I know this because it is dire to my success. I have to choose my hands carefully. When someone represents a good hand, natural instinct is to run away or avoid strength. If a guy who almost never raises finally looks at his hand and then reaches for chips, chances are he's got a solid hand. Chances are also good that I'm calling that raise with my 3-4 of hearts.
?!?!?!?
Yes. 3-4. I don't know what was more satisfactory, flopping the small straight, or living up to my nickname. You see, when I was just starting out, I had a hand that I panicked on. I had no clue what to do. There was about $300 in the pot, and I ended up rivering the nuts. (for non-poker players, the nuts refers to the best possible hand at that moment, given the two cards in your hand coupled with the board. The term comes from the vision that if you were unbeatable, you would be willing to bet the solid gold hubcap nuts on your wagon.) Anyways, I panicked. I had no clue how to play a hand of such magnitude. So I threw in the smallest bet possible. Two Bucks. The table erupted with laughter, including the dealer, who tried without success to stifle herself. The result was amazing. I managed to sit there, pretending like this was my entire battle plan. My intelligent adversary finally stops laughing, and then immediately stiffened up. He had never encountered this. He finally must have thought I was trying to stall because I was weak, and pushed all in. I called instantly, and I managed to have my first chip stack that was worth more than $1000. I cashed out an hour later, and he caught up with me outside, and in a weird way congratulated me on the hand, in particular the $2 play. He told me he never felt more lost, it reminded him of the fish that lives in the dark reaches of the ocean that lures prey with the light on it's antenna. He said his brain stopped working, all he could think about was the $2 and he was lost to everything else. I now incorporate a version of that into my current play.
The fish is called an Anglerfish. It lures prey to it, and doesn't move a muscle until it has the prey completely under it's control. I try to emulate that, trying to leave opponents bewildered until I can manipulate them into shipping me their stack. Yes that was a super roundabout way of putting it (but if you have read this far, I guess I dont have to worry) but we come to the point that buddy had no clue I was lying in wait with an odd little dumpy card straight, and HE felt like his one pair of Kings should be huge. Unfortunately, compassion is of little use on the poker table, and he left the Amazon room deflated. If kings were that good, we'd still have a monarchy.
Then, about an hour later, it happened. There is a moment in my style of play where my game takes over. Then it's bad news bears for opponents. Take Emo Kid for example. I don't know who or what he is, but my table breaks and I get sent to his table. He has a good stack. I also have a good stack. Since we started with $3000, I assume in this case I have about $6500, and he is about $6000. For twenty minutes, I hear nothing but Emo Kid telling people how to play their hands. Frankly, I am looking at his chips and thinking that it would be nice to take his stack. But alas, I cannot force miracles. Often people discuss the debate of determinism vs. free--DAMMIT...only when I join weight watchers does the dicky-dee ice cream truck actually pull into my apartment parking lot outside my door...I lost five pounds....SUPPRESS THE TEMPTATION!
SUCCESS! Anyways, long story short, Fate deals the cards, and free will chooses how to play them. Therefore, I make a mental note not to force a confrontation with Alexisnowhereclosetobeingonfire. His time will come....in the meantime though, I must endure his constant..as Mr.T would put it..."Jibba Jabba!"
After winning a couple of small pots, I pick up a pair of black sevens. Not great. But I'm in position. Lo and Behold, Emo Kid enters the pot voluntarily with a raise. He has now shut his mouth, which is an added bonus. Now...without trying to toot my own horn, but I've got a heavy read on this kid. Poker is not a game of cards. Poker is a game of people. I know from ten minutes of being here that this kid plays a very small amount of hands, only playing the good ones. I know his arrogance is mostly a show, and it is to hide the fact that he is nervous. Yet, he still seems willing to invest in this pot. I call his raise, and he slowly starts counting chips so he can shove them in when the flop comes. I now put him on one of four hands. A-A, K-K, Q-Q, or A-K. There are two sevens in the deck, and by calling this primary raise, I will see three cards. If a seven comes, and he has one of the first three, chances are I will get his whole stack. If not, I can get away without a care in the world. That's the true beauty of this strategy, it's low risk but high reward when it comes.
Flop comes out. I'm not looking at the cards, but more at the face of the young weezer with aviators, beats by dre. and a hoodie thats 4 sizes too big. He's like Eminem, except its unlikely that hes a good rapper, given the fact that his last speech was crap. So I notice that he is now concerned, but trying to hide it. Yet he still looks like he's planning a shove. ?!?! I look at the board and grimace.
Ace King Jack...ALL CLUBS.
My brain as usual goes to instafold. I had prepared to let this go since putting him on the hands. Even a seven now likely won't help since two of the four hands I put him on could already have a better three of a kind. Since he is betting, I nix Q-Q. So now I can rule it down to him having either Top two pair with A-K, or 3 of a kind of either aces or kings.
He shoves all-in. Damn. Oh well..I guess I fo-wait. I don't just have two sevens that could help. Since I know his three possible hands, I can 100% guarantee that he does not have a flush...nor does he have a club! He couldn't possibly since his paired clubs are on the board. My intuition bubbles. I feel a familiar sensation. The anglerfish wants out. It wants to send this kid home. I can take those chips. But...a price must be paid, and if my move fails, I must live with it.
VS. A-K. I have 9 outs of clubs, plus 2 sevens = surprisingly gives me about 45% chance to hit. (Not win, as even if I hit, he could technically still get a full house)
VS. A-A or K-K 9 club outs = 37% chance.
So realistically, I have slightly more than a 1 in 3 chance. Good news, if I call, I will be around $5000 in chips if things don't go well. Not to mention, I'm likely looking at 37% chance, which is my lucky number. AND my favorite card, the mighty Professor Kool, the Holy One of Poker, the King of clubs is right in the middle of the board, telling me that he is preparing a little surprise for mr. mouth. AND New Kids on the Block comes on my Ipod, although that really has no bearing.
I call and show my 7's. Not quite 10 high, but dammit Stu, I'm trying. He laughs, calling me a donkey. I just smile. I don't necessarily believe in Karma, but I do believe he deserves to be slapped, and that's not a reasonable option.
Turn: 4 of diamonds. D'oh. Funny thjing, he just notices I have a club. I guess he was so busy being poker god he forgot to read the writing on the wall.
River...2...of clubs. Retribution. Kid flips out, calling me a supreme donkey and takes off swearing before the tournament officials can remove him. Now, I try to be sportsmanlike on the outside....but on the inside, I allow the dark, twisted side to come to life. It enjoys the chips...they are my precious...
On the outside, I call after him, saying I'm sorry about the call. He glares at me, and I permit a smile to creep onto my face, and this pisses him off more. Sometimes the Logan giveth, sometimes he taketh away. Next time, don't be dumb.
From here, everything sets in motion. The antes kick in, and for most peoplewho don't play many hands, it's bad news bears. For Logan, it's like Christmas! I swear, I was so glad I had a workable stack for the start of ante's, because it quickly became the Logan show. I raise my wide variety of hands from 3-4 to 6-8...all those low risk hands that yield big reward. Funny thing, I got hardly any callers. I did this for 3 hours until dinner and I had 5 callers in that stretch. 5 callers, for realistically about 50 raises. Now I have a mountain of little $25 dollar chips that are used for the antes.
My game has now kicked into high gear. I own my table. They all make their decisions based on what I am going to do. Mike Caro would be so proud of me. I am a fluid, moneymaking machine. They didn't take me down when I had a reasonable stack, and they will suffer. As I said, the hour long blinds really help my style. For most people though, $3000 starting stack seems small. I would rather start there. Since I have succeeded in now getting a big stack, all these scaredy cats are still floating around with stacks around $3000 to $5000 because they dont play much. My stack is now about $40,000, and that's good news, since if I do want to go after someone, I just raise. They have to make a decision for their tournament life, whereas if I lose, it's an insignificant percentage of my stack. I love this game.
For many people, it gets intimidating being so close to the money. They start locking down in hopes to preserve their stacks until we reach the money. Not to quote Gus Hansen, but I have adopted his mantra. ATTACK! REPEAT! ATTACK! REPEAT!
BE DISTRACTED BY THE GREAT LOOKING GIRL WHO JUST SAT DOWN AT MY TABLE! ATTACK!
Now we are at the bubble. This means when one more person gets eliminated, we are in the money. It's exciting, since I am still leading my table and will not allow myself to become bubble boy. It doesn't take too long, we cruise through and settle down for some nice poker.
*Interesting note..I did receive a bad hit somewhere around here when someone sucked out an ace on the river, and it brought me to about even with the guy beside me. It's amazing. I instantly counted my stack as normal, and proceeded to plan my target of where I want to finish in the standings based on my new lower chip count. I am calculating rates of play and observing stacks when I realize. I lost half my stack and I am still very formidable. Why does one beat mean I am on the downward spiral? Interesting observation, it's like my entire mental process had instantly switched to, "Well we had a good run, good game, lets go out with a bang" mode. I had to take a walk and kick my own ass. I actually went outside and had to speak out loud to myself, saying "I'm still here to win, dammit." There's no coaches in poker. I really wish I could have had one to point this out many times in the past when I've fallen into the same trap.
Finally, my table gets broken, and for the sixth or so time I am moving. I am assigned table five. Right beside the wall. Right under....the Stu Ungar picture. I give pause to remind myself of what I came here for.
Here's the thing guys...I'm going to level with you. I am by far the biggest critic of myself. I weigh myself so heavily that I can't always feel the joy of success. I've had a long history of quitting things when I become good at them. I have never been good enough for my own eyes, let alone anyone elses. So as I look at the picture at the man who conquered the poker world, and still couldn't find enough strength to beat his own issues, I feel ashamed. I fight back a surge of emotions and before seating myself, I promise to myself not to have any ties to the outcome from here on in. If I bust, I bust. If I make a crucial mistake, I forgive myself. Winning isn't enough. I'm a person who constantly needs more. Needs more money, needs more chips, needs more peace, needs more friends. Enough.
Day one is almost done. I've been continuing my attacking and avoiding my fellow bigstack, who is on my right and content with avoiding me too. He doesn't play much, so it's easy enough.
Suddenly, I'm in the small blind and he raises his button. Wtf. He must have a hand. I should probably give it to him. Let's make sure I got a weak hand and...ah crap. Ace Four of hearts. It sounds weak...and it is. But it has so much potential in my hands. I decide that even though we have chatted and he is a nice guy, he still should donate his chips. Now granted, he probably has a legitimate hand since he hasn't ever raised me yet, so proceed with caution...and likely fold if I miss the flop. Another dude comes along, and it's now a 3 player party.
Flop: 2 clubs 8 hearts 9 hearts.
Shityahoo. I like it and I don't. At this point I normally bet my flush draw and hope to take it. If he calls, I still got flush outs. Big blind folds. He thinks, then raises. Problem: This is a sign of strength. I don't know how this guy plays, but I think he knows what he's doing. So, he gets some credit. Bad news, I`ve just crunched the numbers and my hand still merits a call. He likely has an overpair, meaning my ace could be good if one hits. If he has a set it`s just bad luck, but I still got the flush outs. I call.
Turn: 3 of spades. Oh goodee. I now can hit a five for a straight. He`d love that. I prepare to fire a larger bet, roughly a third of my stack. I need him to get the memo that I`m dangerous. He stacks his chips and says ``I only got one move``. Oh goodee. I still think overpair. He wouldn`t do that with a set. Well...I believe he actually will shove if he wants to. He isn`t sc-DAMMIT DICKIE DEE! I DON`T WANT ANY ICE CREAM! yea...he`ll shove if he wants. Perhaps I should check and maybe I can see a free river. Or maybe he`ll bet some and I can call at a lower price than all of his- Oh damn he went all in.
Questions: Does he want a caller? Doesn't look like it. It looks like he's trying to scare me out. He must have only one pair.
How much damage will this be? Well he has more than me, so I have to go allin to call.
How many outs do I have if I put him on an overpair? (I've now deduced he does not have aces)
3 aces, 9 hearts and 4 fives = 33% chance. This means I need to get roughly 3 to 1 on my money.
What am I getting? My stack is 28,800...pot is...oh wow 140,000. That got big quick. That's just shy of 5 to 1. Well I don't like it but here goes. Call!
I show my Ace Four of hearts.
Just as I suspected, he shows 6-8 offsuit.
?!?!?!?!?!? WHAT!?
He grins sheepishly. I misplayed it, "I thought you would fold".
Now I realize...oh shit...he did only have one move...it was fold when I bet the turn...OH WHY DIDN'T I BET THE TURN?
Fun fact: the winner of this hand will become chip leader of the tournament. Here we are, me and the best player I've seen all day, and we both were the big stacks and goofed our way allin. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves.
Well I'm sure you know what's coming.
River: 3 of diamonds. It almost even looked like the heart. He fist pumps before shaking my hand, I bid him good luck, and my run lands me in 56th place, netting $1083 for my trouble.
I am led to the cashier room and paid promptly. I have done well on my promise, not regretting the call. I didn't punish myself for the missed bet on the turn, although I would have probably final tabled it if I went at the continued pace.
The real funny thing? The buddy who busted me won the tournament.
Well congrats...I'll get you next year.
In the meantime...RIP Stu.
Oh yea...wanna see something?
And click the damn video from way back when if you haven't yet. Jesus. Don't tell me you don't have time.
