Guest Blogger

Many of us on the World Poker Tour crew fondly refer to Foxwoods as the ninth level of hell. There is just something about the place that's off. It could be the employee dining room, which would benefit from 52 cases of nicorette gum for every single employee who makes the place their personal ash tray. The enormous place encompasses the better part of Connecticut, and I'm pretty sure it employs the entire state of Rhode Island, so it takes about twenty minutes to get to the tournament area and a half-hour to the poker room. In addition to these minor complaints, the real reason we have so dubiously nicknamed the world's largest casino is due to the growing conspiracy theory that they pump the place full of more pure oxygen than the MIR space station.

Knuckles start to crack and bleed, legs start to itch uncontrollably, and you drink water all day and still manage to be dehydrated at night. My face looked like "Ashy Larry" from the Chappelle Show one morning. Oh, and one last thing, YOU CAN'T FALL ASLLEP FOR YOUR LIFE! I spent 12 hours of my life this past week trying to fall asleep. When I wasn't contemplating suicide during that time I managed to watch three episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm, five episodes of Seinfeld, listen to the musical scores for Braveheart, Glory, Amadeus, and three chapters of Fahrenheit 451 on audio book (I could keep going here, and I'm not joking). I tossed, and I turned, and I counted sheep, when Foxwoods really wanted me downstairs attempting to count cards.

One good thing about the week came in the form of a free rock show put on by Foghat. The tournament was on dinner break for day 5 and I was walking back up to my room to catch a nap (what was I thinking). I got off the elevator on the casino floor and my ears immediately perked up at the distant blaring of guitars, bass, and drums. I wandered in and low and behold my timing was perfect, "Slow Ride" was the second song they played. In my opinion, it is one of the top ten rock songs of all time, so I was stoked. I returned to work and told Tony Berns, "I left here sick and expecting to take a nap, I ended up at a rock concert, kind of the same, but totally different."

Slow Ride could have also been the title for the last two days of the tournament. When you have calculating professionals like Allen Kessler and Ted Lawson trying to push the action against an amateur with a huge chip stack, who plays tighter than a cable holding up the Golden Gate Bridge, things will take a while. And they did. The chip leader in question, Rajendra Patel, checked down a full house and folded A-Q suited to a small stack all-in push. I have never seen Linda Johnson get impatient with conservative play at a final table, but this event broke all the rules. It was especially cute when Raj and Paul Matteo checked a board all the way down head's-up, and each player held an ace in his hand, Great poker! I'm pretty sure that Mike Sexton, Joe Sebok, and Gavin Smith all wanted to run down to the final table and strangle players at the final table. Sebok showed us some text messages between Gavin and himself that confirmed as much as the final droned on in the background.

I don't know if you'll want to watch this one on the Travel Channel. When the table ended I said, "Poker just took six steps backwards." Then I thought to myself for a moment, this show may single-handedly inspire thousands of more donkeys everywhere to step into card rooms around the country. In that case, "May all your draws be live, and your pots be monsters!"

Ryan "Force" Lucchesi
force@wisehandpoker.com

March has been my most lucrative gambling month ever, but I’m ashamed to say not a cent was earned at the poker table. I cleared $1,300.00 for the month when Florida beat Ohio State for the championship. After Texas A&M failed to reach the Elite Eight my bracket predictions matched the results exactly. As a result, I won the pool with my old college buddies, I won the pool among the poker media, and I took 4th place out of 416 entries in another. I know I may be tooting my own horn here, but I live for this stuff, and it pays to cherish even your small victories in life. With all that said, though, my March Madness winnings totaled $300. Where might that other $1,000 have come from?

Well…My birthday was on March 28th, and as you might have read in the coverage at worldpokertour.com for the World Poker Challenge, there was a small prop-bet between myself and Mark Newhouse. Newhizzle loves a good prop-bet (check out Gary’s blog to see his pending wager) so he bet me $1,000 that I couldn’t drink a drop of alcohol on my birthday. The terms were as follows:

-No alcohol between 12:00 a.m. March 28 and my flight landing in Connecticut for the Foxwoods Poker Classic on March 29.

-For me to lose the bet I must drink on my own free will, i.e., no one could sabotage my drinks.

-If I don’t drink I win $1,000

-If I do drink (here is the twist) I have to attend five AA meetings.

Now before you think I’m a raging alcoholic or something, let me correct you. Yes, I do enjoy drinks with friends, and yes, I’m a usual suspect on the party roster that surrounds the WPT. Also, I do value holidays more than your average bear, (just read about my St. Patty’s Day) so I savor the revelry that comes with turning one year older. The bet would definitely require me to derail my prior birthday plans, if even for a night.

The few friends I told about the bet prior to my acceptance were torn. The camps were divided between “Dude, its a thousand bucks,” and “But it’s your birthday!” In the end I couldn’t say no to the easiest grand I’d ever make, and by that point I’d look like an alcoholic if I didn’t take the bet, at no point of my consideration was not drinking for a night that big a deal to me. So…I called Mark, we finalized terms, and shook on it over the phone.

Our WPT crew went out for dinner at the casino’s Steak House the night before my birthday and enjoyed a superb meal. I dined on salmon topped with crab meat, while drinking a few Sam Adams before the clock struck midnight. (I felt like I had to make it back to my carriage by midnight or it would turn into a pumpkin). We got a private room that was so nice it prompted WPT photographer Brian Lowe to describe it as the ‘Godfather’ room. We had many birthdays on the tour that week between Lowe, Tony Berns, and me, so it turned into a nice celebration among our staff. We then hit up the bar at Chevy’s just before midnight for a few more rounds. I had Gary in tow as my official timekeeper and when he gave the word, I cut myself off at midnight.

I was sailing smooth through the first night, then things got interesting when there were three quick bust outs at the final table, and JC Tran had the lead. I texted Newhouse, “I hate you.” I knew the table was going to end early, and JC would win his first WPT title. There was going to be a party in Reno. Gary just kept laughing at me in the background. I still had no doubts I was going to succeed, but the timing was just impeccable. JC did win, and things did end early. I then proceeded to turn down a lot of birthday drinks that night at the driving range, then at the bowling alley, then at the bar where everyone ended up at to conclude the night. Most of these offers came from JC, and certain members of the media, who I will only refer to as LA Mike at this time. In lieu of being able to buy me a birthday drink, JC did offer me a no-strings-attached $100 prop-bet if I hit a strike on the spot. I choked, but thanks for the friendly offer JC.

I’ll tell you one thing though, I was throwing back Roy Rogers likes it was nobody’s business. Coke and grenadine, WOOOO!!!! The most hilarious moment of the evening came when I was standing in the middle of 30 people who were taking a shot to toast JC’s victory with my infamous non-alcoholic elixir in hand.

I made it through a 3:30 a.m. breakfast and back up to my room by 4 a.m. unscathed and sober as an altar-boy. I then showered, packed, woke up Tom “The Canon” Bostic, (you have to watch this man bowl) and was downstairs by 5:30 a.m. to catch our taxi to the Reno airport. Fifteen hours later (it’s a long story involving mechanical problems and missed connection flights that could be another blog) I was in Connecticut and $1,000 richer for the wear. Newhouse was true to his word, he peeled ten $100 bills off his wad of many the second he saw me at Foxwoods. Cheers Mark! I definitely owe you a round next time we’re at the bar.

Ryan "Force" Lucchesi
force@wisehandpoker.com