Like a Salmon

Every year, at around this same time, I begin to feel a bit remorseful. The end of June and beginning of July represent one major, yearly event in my life since the year 2002. That's right, this is World Series of Poker time.

It did not always run during June and July however. It used to take place in the spring of the year. Spring time in Las Vegas is like heaven on earth. It is routinely 78 degrees and sunny. The golf is great, the pools are perfect, and walking from casino to casino is not a chore. The tournament was put on by Binion's Horseshoe Casino on Fremont street, which is part of downtown Vegas, removed from the strip by a $15 cab ride, a 45 minute bus ride, or a 10 minute "I'll pick you up in front of the Mirage" car ride with a friend. It was fun.

Now, since Harrah's purchased Binions, and also the rights to the WSOP, things have changed a bit. The tournament is now at the Rio all-suite Hotel and Casino. The Rio afforded the tournament the space it now requires to host the month and a half long series. The tournament now takes place during the summer months of June and July. I'm not sure if you've ever been in a desert during the summer, or not. Be sure though, it is a tad bit hot, and BRIGHT. The sun just bakes everything. Harrah's has decided to cash-in as much as possible and get all of us poker players into the desert at the exact time we, and everyone else, would rather not. Yay capitalism!

This is not the reason for any remorse I feel each year. The feeling is caused usually by the entire trip being a lesson in futility. I would gear up each year in the months leading up to the Series. I would scrimp and save, all the while building a big enough bankroll, so I could play in bigger than normal cash games and take a shot at a tournament or two. Each year the process would repeat itself over and over again. Save up money, nearly die of the anticipation of going to vegas, race out there, lose money, hate vegas, and go home with my tail between my legs vowing to give up poker, forever.

Why o why would I subject myself to this torture once every twelve months? This, I would ask myself, on the long, plane ride home to Jacksonville. It never seemed to make sense. I still don't understand it. I could always travel to Turning Stone in N.Y., or Tunica, Ms., and Biloxi, Ms., and maybe to Los Angeles or even Phoenix, and I would win much more often than I lost. I then head to Vegas, and can't seem to win a hand. I think you could see how this would become discouraging to an aspiring poker player.

Here I am, wanting to play this game as a primary source of income, and yet I am unable to win in the one place that is easily regarded as the Capitol of Poker. My Mecca. My Ground Zero. My shrine. My holy land. It pains me to even talk about it. I feel sick right now, as I write these words.

It's not like Vegas is much more expensive than any other place either. I mean, it can be, if you want it to. I'm probably the only guy who has been to Las Vegas more than 10 times in his life and has never seen one, single show. Not one. I almost went to see a show one year with my friend, Stevedini, but I bowed out at the last minute because I was playing in a great 40-80 limit holdem game at The Mirage. I never go to clubs, or really pricey restaurants. I'm there to make money, not spend it all on "hookers and drugs". I did go to a heavyweight title fight at Mandalay Bay one year with my buddy Reaper. We watched one of the Klitchsko brothers get knocked the fark out. But, that's it.

This year, at the request of my better half, I have decided to avoid Las Vegas. So far it appears to be working out. It looks like I'll turn a nice profit during June this year, as opposed to recent years where I regularly showed a big red number for this month. I wish I knew what happens to me when the plane lands in that oasis in the desert that is Vegas. I cannot, for the life of me, figure it out.

Do I play differently? I must! I must be doing something differently in Las Vegas than what I do in other poker cities. It is not a conscious thought. I have a friend, who is a Rounder and now resides in vegas, and he told me I was a "hometown hero" and unable to beat the vegas games. He may be right. I sure as hell hope not. I have never gone out there and used apathy as a strategy either. I think that is what I am truly remorseful about this year.

I need to be there. I need to take my game and put it up against all of the other "hometown hero's" of the world. I have worked on, and refined over and over again, my poker strategies and tactics to the point that I feel like a well oiled machine at the poker table. I fully expect to win each and every time I sit down to play. It was not always so. To Prevail Takes Apathy has been, for me, like removing a mosquito netting from around a bed and now being able to see clearly what is happening between the sheets in some bad, 'R' rated, B movie on Showtime. Unfortunately, To Prevail Takes Apathy has not been tested against the best Vegas has to offer. This not knowing is killing me.

How will I play against the rash, young guns of the poker world? I simply do not know. I will not know until I place my money on the table and gamble. I just don't think, right now, that I could use a kick in the balls. That is what I would equate another losing trip, in Las Vegas, to at this point. I think I'll just cross my legs and see if Jacksonville wants to let me hold a couple of grand for them this week. Remorseful, yes, and wise. Thank you Michelle.