On Tuesday, June 5, 2007, I did not win a single hand of poker. 

There was only one event at the 2007 World Series of Poker that I knew for sure that I wanted to play in, and that was Event 9: the $1,500 buy-in limit Omaha Hi/Lo tournament. I hadn’t played in a tournament of any significance in over a year-and-a-half, as I hate the idea of sitting there for eight hours, busting out and having nothing to show for it. That said, over the past 18 months, Omaha games in general have been my bread-and-butter, and I wanted to take a crack at the WSOP, if only for the experience.

To prepare, I decided it was a good idea to play a couple of smaller tournaments for practice. The results were good: A few weeks earlier at the Scotty Nguyen Poker Challenge III in Tulsa, I placed 6th in the $300 + $30 buy-in limit Omaha Hi/Lo event, which paid $1,952. I had arrived in Las Vegas on Sunday; and then on Monday, I took 3rd place out of a 283 player field in the $150 buy-in limit Omaha Hi/Lo tournament at Binion’s in downtown Las Vegas. In that tournament, we cut a deal after we got down to eight players, with 3rd place paying $4,341.

Maybe this tournament thing isn’t so bad.

And my whole week had been planned out. After the tournament at Binion’s on Monday, I would play in the $1,500 buy-in limit Omaha Hi/Lo WSOP tournament at the Rio on Tuesday. On Thursday, I would go to the Las Vegas Sands (NYSE: LVS) shareholder meeting at The Venetian; and on Friday, I would go to the Ameristar Casinos (Nasdaq: ASCA) shareholder meeting at Bellagio. So when I sat down at Table 1, Seat 5 at 5 p.m. on Tuesday, it never occurred to me that I would not be playing on Wednesday.

WSOP Event #9: The Tent and the Table
The day could not have gone any worse. For starters, there were so many players in the WSOP tournaments at the Rio that the $1,500 Limit Omaha Hi/Lo event did not begin inside the large convention center poker room, but instead outside in a flimsy tent. And from the inside of the tent, the 690 players in the tournament could hear and see the effects of the hurricane-force winds. The lights inside the tent were bouncing around, the TV monitors in the room kept going off and on due to power outages, and those metal frame doors that weren’t chained together had to be held together by security guards.
 
At one point, Harrah’s CEO Gary Loveman walked into the tent with an entourage; I noticed that he didn’t bother take a walk around the room.
 
The table I drew wasn’t so bad, though there were a few good players at it. The guy in the 8 seat has identified himself as Raymond Davis, who I see has a pretty good track record. Raymond has also identified the big black guy in the 7 seat as Frank Odell; Frankie could easily be mistaken for Fat Joe or Big Pun, except that he also happens to have a WSOP bracelet in limit Omaha Hi/Lo. I don’t know the name of the German kid to my right, though I recall that he got into it on TV with Dmitri Nobles during last year’s WSOP Main Event.
 
And yet, it wasn’t these guys that I had trouble with, and it wasn’t if I didn’t catch good enough cards to actually win at least one hand, either. The problem was that the old guy from Oklahoma in the 9 seat was just ridiculous. 

The Rundown: Johnny Oklahoma
So this guy from Oklahoma -- we’ll call him Johnny -- shows up a few hands late, and then he immediately wins the next three hands. And then he goes on to play every other hand, often for a raise. One time he raised with Q-J-T-8 single-suited under-the-gun, and put in four bets when he got re-raised. Q-J-T-8 single-suited, incidentally, is not a good hand in Omaha Hi/Lo.
 
But I just could not beat him. 

On one hand, I was dealt Ac-2h-7d-Kh in middle position. Johnny opened limped, and everyone folded to me. Ordinarily I would just limp in with this hand, but I like my chances heads up and with position against whatever Johnny has, so I decide to raise. The blinds fold and Johnny calls, and so we do get heads up. The flop comes Ah-Qd-5c, giving me top pair with a king kicker and a low draw, which is nothing stellar, but a monster compared to what Johnny has. Johnny checks, and I bet; Johnny calls. The turn is the 9h, giving me the nut flush draw. Johnny checks, I bet, and he calls again. The rivers is the Ts; we both check, and Johnny produces the As-Jd-Td-Tc, having caught a set of tens for the scoop. 

On another hand, I had Ks-6c-3d-2s in the small blind, and six of us saw the flop. The flop came 7s-5s-4d, giving me a straight with a low and a King-high flush draw. Granted, this is a weak hand in all directions with a low that does not figure to be best. But this hand, too, was a monster compared to what I was up against. I bet out and get two callers, including Johnny. The turn was the 8h; I bet again and both players call, and now I am a little nervous about my position in the hand. The river is the 4c, and it gets checked around. The other player has As-5h-6h-6c having called on the flop drawing virtually dead to a split, and Johnny shows 2c-3d-3c-Js for the same low as me and a Jack-high flush draw, which is ridiculous. 

Somehow, I ended up getting quartered by that. 

Later on, I open-limped with Ac-2c-7d-Th in early position, Johnny was the only caller behind me, the small blind completed, and the big blind checked. The flop came As-Qc-Jc, giving me top pair with the nut flush draw, a gutshot straight draw, and a backdoor low draw. It gets checked to me, I bet, Johnny calls, and the big blind calls. The turn is the Jh, and it gets checked around. The river is the 4c, giving me the nut club flush. The blind checks, I bet, but Johnny now raises. I think I could have folded against any other player, but after watching Johnny play, I wonder. Johnny shows the 7s-6d-4s-4h for the full house. 

That, too, is ridiculous. 

Final Straws
So you can see the straws coming apart here. Sometime later with Johnny in the small blind, I open raise from middle position with As-Qh-Ts-8h. This really isn’t an advisable play, but I was starting to get a little desperate. But the big blind was tight, and the player to the left of me had actually been knocked out, so the only players behind me were Frankie and Raymond, whom I figured would respect my raise. So anyway, I raised, and I don’t know why I was surprised when Johnny called out of the small blind. The big blind folded.
 
Johnny checks in the dark, and the flop comes Kc-Ts-6c. giving me a pair of tens with a gutshot and a backdoor low. Well I don’t know how I can check, so I bet. Johnny now raises. I’m not sure what I think of this, but I am a little suspicious. I call. The turn is the 7d, giving me a low draw with another gutshot straight draw. Johnny bets and I call. The river is the 2d, giving me a low. Johnny bets and I call instantly. 

Johnny: “Three deuces.”
 
Me: “Ace-Eight.”
 
Now I am not sure how much of that hand was brilliance, whether I called him down out or stubbornness or out of spite, or if there is actually a difference between the two. But we split that pot. And Johnny is beside himself, saying angrily that I shouldn’t even have been in the hand. The funny thing is that Johnny actually had Ac-Jc-2c-2d having flopped the nut flush draw with a gutshot and picked up the nut low draw on the turn, but I don’t really care at this point. 

A little over three hours into the event and with the blinds starting to climb, I am short-stacked. During the tournament, I never caught a flop when I had the A-2-4-T with a suited Ace or A-2-3-K suited, or A-2-4-5. And a few rounds later, I ended up all-in before the flop with A-3-5-9 double-suited and missed, ending my first World Series tournament.
 
When You Can’t Win…
The cash games didn’t go any better. After dinner, I sat down in a $10/$20 limit Omaha Hi/Lo game, and didn’t win a hand. A seat opened up in the $20/$40 limit Omaha Hi/Lo game, and I didn’t win a hand there, either. I couldn’t buy a pot; on one hand in the $10/$20 game, the board read A-J-7-K-T, and I had called down with 2-3-x-x for the nut low draw, which missed. We got to the river three-handed. Both players checked to me, I bet, representing the straight, and got called by A-K for top two pair. Great. This would set up the following hand, which came a few rounds later. 

I was dealt Kd-Qd-Qc-Th in late position in a kill pot. The guy from the previous hand -- an older Asian guy -- puts out $20 in middle position, thinking he is making a raise. However, in the kill pot, it is actually $30 to raise, so he instead just calls for $15. One player calls behind him, and I call, and five of us saw the flop.
 
The flop comes Jd-9h-7c, giving me an overpair with a 12-card nut wrap and a backdoor diamond draw. Everybody checked to me, and I bet. The next two players fold, but now the Asian guy raises. For some reason, the player in between us called. As I see it, the only reason the Asian guy raised was because I bet; he would have bet the straight himself if he had it. So I re-raise to tell him that I have the straight so he can fold, if not now then later in the hand. He calls, as does the other guy.
 
The turn is the 6h. Both players check, and I bet again. 

The river is the 9s, so there is no low. Both players check, and I bet again to represent the straight in order to bluff out A-A-2-x or trip nines or whatever. The Asian guy calls and the other guy folds; the Asian guy shows As-Ah-Qs-4c, having had just Aces and no other high draw whatsoever, and having missed a weak low draw. He couldn’t even beat a nine.
 
And then, to make matters worse, he starts yelling at me:

Him: “You bet and raise with nothing!” 

Him: “You bluffer!” 

Me: “You’re a moron.” 

My buddy Sid is on the floor laughing. Now normally, I don’t talk down to anyone at the card table. But in my defense, I was having a bad day. And on this one, I just couldn’t win. By the time I finally won a hand at 1:15 a.m., it occurred to me that on Tuesday, June 5, 2007, I did not win a single hand of poker.