On The Bubble

If there is one thing a tournament poker player doesn't want to be, it's on the bubble.

While I have no idea who invented the phrase, it's a good description. If you are on the bubble, you are the last person to get knocked out of a tournament before making the final table and achieving payday status.

Let's say you entered a tournament at Wild Horse Pass like I did last week. You are one of 100 players in the tournament. Under tournament rules, only 10 percent of the players will be paid. I found myself in that position, having outlasted most of the other players until there were only two tables and 12 players remaining.

I was down to about $4,000 in chips. Blinds were set at $1,000-$2,000. If I could just last a little longer, I would be in the money.

Well, I didn't last. I got knocked out at the same mment a player at the other table got knocked out.

I got up, thinking I would n ot collect any cash that day. I was wrong. A smiling tournament director came to me and said, 'Congratulations. since you were knocked oout simultaneously with another person, the two of you will share the 10th place money.'

The payoff wasn't big. In a small buy-in tournament, it never is. But we got our buy-in money back, plus a return on our investment. More importantly, it was the first tournament this year that I have been able to finish in the money.

As the other number 10 finisher and I were paid off, we smiled at each other.

'I've been knocked out on the bubble many times,' he said, shaking his head. 'But this is the first time I ever tied for last-place money. Maybe it's a promise of better things to come.'

In the 1990s when I lived in Lake Elsinore, CA., I played in a lot more tournaments than I do today. Tournaments were hot stuff in Lake Elsinore, Pechanga and San Diego in those days, and I was within easy driving distance of nearly a dozen card rooms in that part of Southern California.

On weekends, I would often play the noon and 7 pm. tournaments Once I won two tournaments in one day, pocketing over $2,500. There were other times, of course, when I wasn't as lucky.

I remember going through a losing streak when I ended up finishing on the bubble in seven straight tournaments. It was unbelievable. I was one position away from the being in the money and I would make a dumb play that would kayo me. I felt like a punch-drunk fighter who was knocked out of the championship and it wasn't a very nice feeling.

If there had been such a thing as a poker psychologist, I would have gone to his office and paid for advice.

'Doc, what's wrong with me?,' I would implore. 'I play brilliantly and make it to where there's just 11 or 12 players left. And then I blow it. What am I doing wrong and how can I stop this madness?'

I did ask some of my fellow players at the Sahara Dunes Card Room for advice. Seriously. Several of us were living at the card room's motel along the highway leading from Lake Elsinore to Pomona, Pechanga, San Diego, Carlsbad and Los Angeles where the other card rooms were located.

The late Puggy Pearson gave me the best advice anybody ever gave me. 'Son, nobody can help you except yourself,' he told me on one of his trips in his PokerMobile to San Diego. 'Its all situational and no two hands will be the same. If you want to break that bubble, you need to show some courage and intelligence and they need to hit at exactly the right time. It's all up to you.'

The following Saturday, I bought into another tournament. I confess I didn't have a lot of confidence that I could break the bubble, but I planned to give it my best try.

Buy-in for the tournament was $120. I had hoped to accumulate a lot of chips and sweep right into the final table with no ifs, ands or buts. Such was not the case.

There I was again, with less than $4,000 in chips, blinds set at $1,000 and $2,000, when I found myself staring at a pair of pocket deuces. I was on the button, meaning I would have to post a big blind on the next hand. The player in seat four made a raise and three players called. The player in seat eight to my immediate right re-raised. I started to throw my small pair away. Then I remembered Puggy's advice.

I called, shoving in all my remaining chips. The flop came seven...ace...deuce.

Well, I won the tournament and pocketed first-place money of $6,000.

'You finally broke the bubble,' said card room owner Nick Notos as he paid me off. Congratulations.'

'Congratulate Puggy Pearson,' I said, putting the money into my pocket. 'He gave me the courage that I lacked.'

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter. If you have a unique gambling story to share with him, you may qualify for a cash award. Send your story with all the details to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).