Before moving to Las Vegas, I played poker professionally in home games in North Carolina. I always wanted to attend the World Series of Poker (the mecca of the poker world, especially back in those days) to see how I would do. But, because I coached Little League baseball (the love of my life), and the beginning of Little League season clashed with the WSOP, I didn't go.
Finally, in 1984, I took a week off and went to my first WSOP. I made the final table in my first WSOP event (finishing sixth in stud eight-or-better). I also finished fifth in pot-limit Omaha a few days later. I played in three events on that trip and made two final tables. I knew right then that I would never miss another WSOP.
It's been almost 19 years since then, and I remember the hand I lost in that pot-limit Omaha tournament as if it were yesterday. (Excuse me for telling a bad-beat story, but just thinking about that tournament automatically makes me reflect.)
With five players left, we were all fairly close in chips with between $40,000 and $50,000. The blinds were $1,000-$2,000. Tom McEvoy, the reigning world champion at the time, was raising every pot (a unique strategy for Omaha). He brought it in for $7,000 and I called from the button with A-K-Q-8 double-suited in clubs and diamonds. The flop came Q-8-3 with two hearts and one club. He fired away and bet the pot, and I moved all in on him (with my heart pounding).
He quickly called and turned up 8-5-4-3 with no hearts. It was top two pair vs. bottom two pair. (You can't get your money in much better than that.) The 7
came on the turn and the 6
came on the river. Wham! He made a straight and I was out. My heart sank. It was my first case of tournament depression (and is still on file).
Shortly after I returned from that WSOP, the games in North Carolina started to slow down. I believed that if I was going to be a professional poker player, it was time for me to move to Las Vegas (and I did so in January 1985). For years, I played mostly in $30-$60 and $50-$100 stud eight-or-better games. I also had a craving for a WSOP bracelet, and was determined to get one.
In 1989, my dream came true, as I captured the WSOP stud eight-or-better title. To this day, it was the best tournament I've ever played. I honestly don't think I made a bobble in that tournament. To me, winning that bracelet and the way I played in getting it put a stamp on my professional career. It was far and away my biggest thrill in poker (and I've won larger prize pools and more prestigious titles, including a $10,000 buy-in no-limit hold'em championship, two $5,000 buy-in no-limit hold'em championships, and several best all-around player awards).
Here's a word to the wise: Playing poker for a living is not easy. In fact, it's very tough. And if you have any vices, such as drinking, doing drugs, playing in the pit, betting horses, or betting on sports, you'll be trying to canoe upstream without a paddle. I was broke for years, not because of poker, but because I bet on sports. It was my only vice, but it only takes one.
People have asked me, "What happens if you go broke?" Well, as I see it, you can do only four things: (1) max out your credit cards; (2) borrow; (3) get staked; or (4) get a job. No. 1 is self-explanatory. No. 2 or 3 takes knowing people with money who respect your game and trust you. And just thinking about No. 4 gives poker players headaches.
When you are "between bankrolls," you obviously have to get back in action. Getting staked means that you get only half, or less, of what you win. This makes it more difficult to make a living playing poker (contrary to what some might think). If you're a winning player, getting staked means giving up 50 percent of your income. It's a necessity at times, but I would recommend that you get back to playing on your own as soon as possible, even if you have to drop down a limit or two.
The tournament trail is the path that a number of pros take. Tournaments test your mental toughness, and require traveling, time away from home, and incurring additional expenses. You must have the right mindset to play tournaments. They are great when you win, but you don't win them very often, and therefore they can be very frustrating. They are time-consuming, and even when you finish in fourth or fifth place, you're still not happy, as you know you were close and could have won.
I was in the "tournament mode" for years. Although I've had my share of success in tournaments, I believe I would have done just as well or better over the years by playing solely in cash games.
After being a player for such a long time, I have moved toward the business side of poker the past few years. Doing so has provided challenges for me and created enthusiasm within me for a different aspect of poker. I'm currently the executive host of PartyPoker.com and a commentator for the World Poker Tour, and I really love my job.
A career in poker has been good to me, and I hope it's as good to you. Take care.
Mike Sexton is the executive host for PartyPoker.com and a commentator for the World Poker Tour.