|
Phil and I are in Costa Rica. Bodog flew us out here for an all-expenses-paid freeroll. Winner: half a million dollars. Forty players. Ten celebrities. Ten pros. Twenty internet kids, who – get this – were cast for their personality. We can’t believe our luck. I make a little trigger with my right hand. “Bang!” I say happily.
“What’s that?” wonders Phil.
“I’m shooting fish in a barrel,” I explain.
Costa Rica is windy and overcast. The last time we were here was also for a tournament (because of its lax tax legislation, Costa Rica is one of the gambling meccas of the world). The previous visit, Phil and I never made it out of San Jose. The only sight I remember is the preponderance of tranny hookers in the park adjacent to the hotel.
This time Bodog has put us up at the Intercontinental, a swanky place that is still under construction. We like it because there is little concern about lawsuits. The gym is open 24 hours a day with no attendants; you can jump in the pool at two in the morning, and they’ll give you keys to any room without asking for ID.
The Bodog driver runs after us as he drops us off. “Please, I beg of you!” he entreats. “Lock up your valuables!”
After Phil puts his computer and bricks of money in his super-secret place (the air vent), we put on our swimsuits, and head outside for a midnight swim. Apparently the pool is for decoration only, because it is so icy cold; we can’t take it.
We retreat to the lobby and sit in the bar enjoying nachos and banana daiquiris. We are approached by a genuflecting waiter. “Are you…actress?” he wants to know. It turns out he knows me from some of my more obscure films. “You kidnap woman, and laugh at her…”
Oh… Hide and Seek! With Daryl Hannah.
“Yes…and another…you cannot see…and then you ride bicycle…fast!”
Ummm…Music From Another Room? I played a blind woman?
“Yes!” Out comes the omnipresent camera phone. “I take picture?”
As we pose, and wait for the camera to focus, he explains happily, “I like you…you have funny voice!”
Well, if he likes funny, I think how excited he’ll be to see Willie Garson and Cheryl Hines, but when I try to describe who they are, he looks puzzled. Apparently Costa Rican TV is a little behind on current releases. I find this out when we turn on the pay-per-view, and Goonies is one of the choices.
We wake up early the next morning to participate in a Bodog-sponsored excursion. A bus is taking us out to a jungle where we will zip line through the trees, and hike to a waterfall.
Everybody on the bus is exhilarated about the half million. Josh Malina is teaching a model hand values. The more experienced actors are trading bad beat stories. Ultimate Fighter Chuck Liddell is one of the celebrities, and a discussion ensues about how much you would have to get paid to let Chuck choke you until you pass out. Willie Garson says he will do it for 50k and there is a brief flurry of excitement, while some of the poker players try to raise funds; but that idea is eventually abandoned.
The jungle is great. It’s overgrown and lush, with massive amounts of water cascading down the mountains. We hike with bamboo poles and whiz through the trees on wires. I feel like I’m on an episode of Survivor; a feeling that is further amplified by the presence of Rob Mariano, two-time Survivor alumnus.
Phil has taken a shine to Rob. He runs over to me at regular intervals with reports: “Baby, this guy rocks! On Amazing Race, there was a car accident and he didn’t even stop! He just drove on by!”
“…They were on a bus, and he bribed the bus driver not to let anyone else get off! Everybody was so mad but what could they do?”
“…Guess how much he sold the rights to his wedding for? That’s right… two and a half million smackers!”
Every time our little group argues about which way to go, Phil pipes up, “I don’t know about you, but I’m following the Amazing Race guy.”
That night there is a big party at the “Bodog Compound.” There are Bodog Bodyguards, Bodog Babes in bikinis, and plenty of sexy dancers with exposed midriffs. “It’s just like the Playboy Mansion!” whispers an internet kid, thrilled.
We find out that not only does the winner of the final table receive 500k, but the winner of each table receives an additional 50k. Phil works it out in his head. “That means our EV (expected value) is 18,750! This could be the biggest freeroll in poker history!”
The next day we drop by the studio to see what’s happening. We watch as Josh Arieh mops up the competition. He has an enormous chip stack, and everybody keeps folding to his constant pressure. On the monitors they look like frightened little rabbits.
Rob Mariano is also there taking notes. He is watching very intently and commenting on the action. He seems like a pretty smart guy. It worries me a little, as he is at my table.
“He’s neuro-netting what Josh is doing,” warns Phil. “Expect him to be really aggressive tomorrow.”
As it turns out, it is David Williams I need to worry about. He is under the weather, and not in the mood. Unfortunately, he is sitting to my left, with his gigantic tower of chips. When I get shortstacked, I can’t even steal. I am sidelined in no time.
Phil fares a little better. Third hand into the match, he takes the model’s entire chip stack, and then he starts running over the table. Everybody capitulates to the tsunami that is Phil.
Phil has told me repeatedly never to take a bet without clearing it with him first. “If a guy comes up to you and wants to bet that he can make the ace of spades leap out of the deck and shoot lemon juice in your eye, just walk away. Guaranteed, he has figured out a way to make that happen.”
Nevertheless, when a producer offers me $50 - Phil against the field - it seems like too good of an opportunity to pass up. I mean, look at him go! He has everybody outchipped, he’s on a roll, he’s…uh oh…what is he doing? Phil is all in against Evelyn Ng, the other big chip leader. A few hands later, it’s all over. I have to pay the producer discreetly, so as not to cause Phil further pain. I don’t think Phil will be too happy to discover we haven’t just lost 50k; we’ve actually lost 50k and $50.
That night, however, he cheers up somewhat. There are three consolation matches: one for pros, one for celebrities, and one for the internet players. The winners will be seeded into the final table. Phil does further mental calculations and comes up with a number.
“Our revised expected value is $8,900. Of course that’s a big parlay,” he says wryly. “To collect we have to win the consolation table, and then win the final table.” It doesn’t seem likely, but stranger things have happened.
Phil is out on the second hand. He goes allin on Mike Mizrachi with A-K suited. Mizrachi flips pocket aces. After Phil goes, it is awfully quiet. For the first time in my life I have been qualified as a pro, not a celebrity. I stare wistfully at the celebrity table, where a cute girl is happily calling a huge river bet with a ten high, and wish I was a celebrity again.
Once again I have the most aggressive player with the huge chip stack on my left (Mizrachi), but in the end it is Jean Gluck who takes me out. Because of the accelerated structure, I am shortstacked almost immediately. I go all-in on the button with Q-9, and she calls with Q-J. Goodbye 500 thousand dollars.
I drag myself over to Phil to tell him I’m also out of the tournament. We look at each other sadly. “This is what 0% looks like,” I say. And then we laugh.
|
