How Long the Bubble Floats

Having spent more than 30 days in Las Vegas at the World Series of Poker (WSOP), I finally arrived home to Southern California and my family. To get reacclimated, I took my family to the park and rejoiced at the surroundings and the humidity. While sitting in the park, I took it all in: children playing, the smell of food barbecuing, a kite flying overhead, and a lone child sitting on the edge of the lake blowing bubbles. Some of those bubbles floated and popped, some hit the water and burst, and some were popped by the child's dog as he jumped in the air to get them. However, one bubble stayed afloat. It lingered in the air for what seemed like an eternity, moving in all directions with the swaying breeze, and not bursting, as nature intended it to.

I reflected upon my 2003 WSOP.

I came into this year's tournament with renewed confidence, having just won two limit hold'em events back-to-back at the Bike and at Bay 101. I had made a commitment to work the WSOP as the second-chance tournament director this year, so my playing time was greatly reduced. However, my Bay 101 win provided me an entry into the $2,000 limit hold'em event at the WSOP. We started with 422 players, and I was on top of my game. It's amazing what confidence will do, as I amassed chips and got very deep into the event. Then, I ran into Juha Helppi, who was riding a little confidence of his own after his World Poker Tour win in Aruba. He raised my big blind, and after everyone folded, I looked down to find the K Q, and called. The flop came 10 4 3. I checked, he bet, and I raised. He thought for a while, then called. The 2 came on the turn. I was representing top pair, so I bet. He thought even longer, then called. The last card was a red 10. Perfect card, I thought, so I bet right out. He thought for so long that I wanted to put a clock on him, and then he finally called with A-J offsuit. It was a call I couldn't have made in his spot, but that's poker, and I was crippled. I went out 20th. It was not exactly on the bubble, but it was almost as bad, as you get so few chances in life to win a bracelet.

The next event I played was the $1,500 no-limit hold'em tournament. There was a great field of 531 players and a pretty hefty prize pool. I got off to a good start by making a flush against Allen Cunningham early on and doubling up. I gradually increased my chip position until I was moved into the last quad. This is an area at the WSOP where the last eight tables are located, so if you get there, you are close. Then, I went card dead - for three hours! Every time I tried to make a move, someone came over the top of me, and rightfully so, because I was short-stacked.

The tournament was paying 36 places. We got down to 37 and were playing hand for hand. At this point I was extremely short-stacked, and everyone was waiting for me to bust out. I doubled through, only to be blinded/anted off again and again. Three other players went all in and were called, but in all three cases the shorter of the all-in stacks survived. After a full hour of hand-for-hand play, the crowd started to build and some rooting was going on. Come on, Warren, hang on! I stood up and said, "I have a lot of respect for the guy who goes out on the bubble; at least he's trying to win it, and not just make the money." So, I made my stand. I had the K 10 on the button and pushed all in. After a long thought process, Hans "Tuna" Lund called me from the small blind. He showed me A-5 offsuit. The flop came 9-7-6 with two spades; I had flopped 18 outs twice. When I missed and went out on the bubble, someone yelled, "Hey, the Tuna got the Karp." I shook Tuna's hand, said good luck to everyone, and got a great round of applause … or was that everyone else applauding that they made the money?

The No. 37 would haunt me in my next event, too, $1,500 Omaha eight-or-better. With 259 players and split pots, this was one of the longer events. I once again made it to the final quad when "river" city played havoc with my stack. In three hands, I had the nuts on the turn and nothing on the river, and my stack was cut in half. Once again, I was in short-stack mode and hung on until we were 10 players from the money - and out I went again.

Frustration was setting in, but I was determined to break this bubble.

My last event was triple-draw lowball. Last year I finished fourth in this event, and this year I was hoping to use it as my "supersatellite" to get me into the championship event. With 78 players, nine spots were paid. You guessed it, I finished 10th.

One of my last chances to win a seat for the "Big One" was in the last supersatellite of the WSOP. There were 198 players and I shot one bullet at it. Three hours later, I went out 17th, just 10 away from a coveted seat. Was I done? Well, never say die if there's a one-table satellite available, so downstairs I went. In a one-table satellite, 10 people put up $1,000 and one person gets the seat, so it is do or die. At this point I'm sure you've guessed that I finished second in that satellite, ending my WSOP on the bubble.

I drove home the next day instead of playing in the record-breaking 839-player event. I am, however, very satisfied with my game. Getting as deep as I did in all of the events I played showed me my game is intact, with perhaps just some minor adjustments needed.

As for the bubble, don't be alarmed if you see me at my next tournament with a safety pin in my hand.