WSOP over the years
If you read parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 of my Tales From the WSOP series, then you will know how my tournament went so far. With the curtain finally closing on the 2025 edition, it is time to reflect.
When I started coming to the World Series of Poker (WSOP) almost two decades ago, the Main Event was not only the Main Event, but also the last one. In my first year (2008) I came for the full series, and was still in the beginner’s luck and blind optimism stage of my career, booking my return flight for the day after the final table. When I bust first hand of Day 2, that left me with a week of nothing more to play than $100 40 runners dailies in the Sahara across the road from Circus Circus (where I was staying).
Another memorable year was 2009, when I travelled over alone for the full series, again with a return flight the day after it all ended. For me it effectively ended a lot sooner: two weeks into the series I’d done all the money I’d brought with me, and had no option but to confine myself to my rather bleak little room in the Imperial Palace grinding 45 mans on Full Tilt until the Main Event (which I’d satellited into online) started.
had to spend a week haunting the halls of the Rio, playing their $100 daily
By now I realised just assuming I’d make the final day and booking my return flight accordingly wasn’t optimal. The following year I booked it for Day 3, on the grounds that I hadn’t made a Day 3 yet. Needless to say, this was not only the first time I made Day 3, but I did so with a big stack, so overnight I changed my flight to a week later. Obviously I then ran Aces into Kings early enough on Day 3 against the only stack at the table who covered me early enough that I would have made my original flight, but instead had to spend a week haunting the halls of the Rio, playing their $100 daily with 40 runners.
A eureka moment
Eventually the WSOP realised it might be an idea to have an event that started after the Main, that people could jump into after busting. And so the Closer was born, the most ill-tempered tournament ever created filled with very angry people p*ssed off about the fact they were no longer in the Main. One by one, more events were added, so that now there’s a full program of events after the Main.
I’ve always perversely enjoyed these after-thought events. I feel my edge in them is bigger when even if I’m not playing quite my best due to late series fatigue and post Main blues, I’m doing a better job of approximating it than most of my very tilted peers. My most recent WSOP final table came in one such event, the very last ever event at the Rio.
Just another tournament
This year I had my quickest ever bust out from the Main, busting before dinner on Day 1 despite having briefly chip led my flight very early on. This wasn’t completely unexpected as I went into this year’s event with a very different strategic approach and mindset than ever before. In the past I’ve always prioritized survival and slow accumulation, which meant I only previously bust on Day 1 once (right at the end).
the oft repeated cliche was the day you bust it was the worst day of the year
When I started playing the Main Event, the oft repeated cliche was the day you bust it was the worst day of the year. Over the years, that has become less the case, and this year I went into it with the mental mindset that it’s “just another tournament.” Over a sample of one, luck trumps everything else on tournament poker, and losing sight of that and thinking that any tournament no matter how big or how slow the structure is any different is a dangerous mindset. Placing too much investment, not just financial but emotional too, into any one tournament is just setting yourself up for a fall.
Immediately after busting I met my friend Lorena for dinner. When she asked how I was feeling after such an early bustout, I shrugged and answered truthfully that if I’m not going to cash, I’d rather bust early than late in Day 3 forty from the month (as was the case last year). It freed me up to do and play other things. This would not have been my attitude in the past when I would have placed some value on the experience of being in the tournament for longer but, well, it’s just another tournament.
These differences of strategic and mental approach to the event made it less likely I was going to go into Day 2 with my customary slightly-more-than-starting stack, but also more likely I was going to have a big stack. Go big or go home.
How it started… how it finished
My series had started on a more or less breakeven keel, with constant min cashes stemming the losses. They dried up a little in the run up to the Main, and then failing to cash the bigger stuff I played around the middle of my campaign (including the Main) plunged me far enough into the red it was going to take something big to get me out.
That something big almost came in the 800 Deepstack event. I advanced to Day 2 well into the money and above average, thanks mostly to the biggest donation I got all series. Folded to the button, he shoved 25 big blinds with Eight-Three offsuit. I found Tens in the big blinds and held. This was even more fortunate than it appeared at first as if he had just folded his hand like he is supposed to, the small blind was going to shove a mediocre ace, which would have got there against my Tens. There were two other crucial pots, one earlier in the day when my spidey senses told me to play Kings on a Ten-Nine-Eight board passively and I ended up losing two big blinds in a spot where I’d usually get stacked. The other was last hand of the night when I turned a set, but kept the pot small to minimise the damage of having the second best hand.
I was pretty card dead on Day 2, but in a fast structure took all the bottom of range shove spots I was presented with. They mostly got through, and when I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar, my King-Ten suited was not only in surprisingly good shape, but had slightly more equity than the best of the three hands on paper (Ace-Queen) and way more than the second best (Ace-Jack). I won the hand and they propelled me to last two tables, where I ultimately bowed out in 12th. After all the min cashes it was nice to get at least one proper run, and this represented my fourth best ever finish in a WSOP event (bettered only by my three final tables).
The margins are pretty fine when you get deep
It would of course have been nice to go a few further places. The margins are pretty fine when you get deep: if I’d advanced four more places I’d have got into profit on my own play for the trip, and a top three finish would have seen me clear six figures in profit.
A new approach
I went into this campaign having put a lot of work in away from the tables over the past 18 months to address what I saw as my two biggest weaknesses as a tournament player: deep-stacked play in the early stages, and not adjusting enough to exploit the weakest players. These two weaknesses tended to prevent me from building stacks in the early stages, but this time I seemed to build a stack in almost every event I entered early. Unfortunately, I then ran horrendously in the all-in portions. I haven’t done the actual calculation as it’s kind of a waste of time, but I’m almost certain I ran at least $100k below Ev in the allins this summer. Also, given all my early stacks, I think if I’d been able to “cash out” my equity in every tournament at the first or second break, I’d have finished up over 100k for the trip.
That’s not how tournaments work though, you need a sustained run of good fortune in one tournament to get the score that makes the real difference, and it just didn’t come for me this trip. I finished with a cash in the last event, which was won by popular Englishman Mitch Hynam who had a really good series, also running deep in the Main.
I went into this campaign, my longest in over a decade, in good shape physically mentally and strategically. This allowed me to weather the storm and keep grinding the volume even as the lost flips mounted up. However, the day after my deep run, I suddenly felt fatigued, and every one of my 60 years of age. I skipped a couple of small dailies to try to keep my energy up for the bigger stuff, but it does make me question the wisdom of such a long campaign.
Last Vegas
About a decade ago I noticed something I hadn’t noticed a few years ago. Every year more or less the sane Irish faces show up at the series, with the addition of a few new ones making their debut, and the subtraction of a few for whom the previous Vegas would turn out to be their last ever. That means that every year there are a few Irish faces having their last-ever Vegas, but (usually) not realising that yet. Often the signs are there, either in the form of a dwindling bankroll straining under a prolonged downswing, or a dwindling commitment or passion for the game.
hard to justify carving out a tenth of my year for what’s essentially an annual shot take
It’s possible this was my last ever Vegas. Even if it doesn’t turn out to be, I don’t see myself going for as long again. It’s very hard to justify carving out a tenth of my year for what’s essentially an annual shot take. The same upside could be achieved more efficiently in a 2-3 week period concentrated on the higher value events, and that would hopefully leave me feeling less drained at the end of it than I do right now.
When I look back on WSOP 2025, I suspect the deep run in the 800 is the only one I’ll remember. What I’ll also remember, though, is the many many great people I hung out with. To June, Rainer, Lorena, Katie, Jim, Lydia, Alex, Jennifer, Caitlyn, Nikki, Chris, Woody, Baard, Sid, Glenn, Ilana, Craig, Josh, David, Bob, Renee, Ray, Turlough, Michael, Matt, Jack, Andy, Sinead, Aaron, Mark, Danny, Paulina, Padraig, Aidan, and Kevin, as well as all the great people I met for the first time or who stopped me to say hi or how much they value the books or the other content I make, I thank you all. You made it memorable.
