An Ode to WCOOP

September 29, 2011


Editor’s note: Nearly everyone we’ve encountered in the past few days is dealing with the World Championship of Online Poker hangover in a different way. Some people are taking a break from poker. Others are diving headlong back into the fray.

Some people are eating a lot of junk food and rolling around in banana-flavored marshmallow cream (that’s just me, I think). And then there is Team Online’s Andrew Brokos, who has turned to poetry. He penned this on his personal blog and graciously allowed us to reprint it here. Enjoy.

An Ode to WCOOP

Three weeks gone by and thousands spent,

I fled my homeland for this event,

matched wits with the pros and the keyboard droolers,

but fell to a series of beats and coolers.

Pay attention, friends! Don’t let those eyelids droop,

as I sing to you of my WCOOP.

On September 4th, bright and fresh,

I sat to find Liv Boeree on my left.

Immediately my equity took a dive,

without the benefits of meeting her live!

Nothing doing, quickly busted.

Have my long-dormant skills have gone rusted?

Another 6-max, another chance for Yahtzee,

Another seating draw beat, as I met with Raaszi.

He 4-bet shoved, my Queens held out,

and that was the end of de heer Veldhuis.

I ran over the table, never let up,

got down to two, and crushed it heads up.

Second table the same, got it heads up again,

but he made Kings and Queens, when I had Queens and Tens.

‘Twas was not the end of the sweat for me,

a player I backed was heads up at table 3!

But the bad beat fairy was right on track,

And he bubbled the final table Ace-King to Ace-Jack.

The $1K no limit proved a dud,

and I got no help in the triple stud.

Ante Up is loads of fun,

until you get run down by the calling station.

I cashed the Razz, whiffed the 6-max,

Got the only river I couldn’t bluff for stacks.

Five hundred no limit, ran up a stack,

lost it all to two gin cards, back to back.

In my next event, I chose to ignore

The way people play at a table of four,

bet and raised and like a klutz,

bluffed my stack into the nuts.

It’s fun trying games you don’t usually play,

a chance to run bad in whole new ways!

Not just beat but scooped, quartered and snowed!

I got Razzed and then I got PLO’ed.

Eight games sounds like so much fun,

but really it’s eight times the bad ways to run.

And lest my spirits feel too jaunty,

Lady Luck found a cruel new way to taunt me.

I staked a player who won an event-

Surely such luck was Heaven-sent!

But wait, our deal was for no-limit, all.

He won his bracelet in triple draw.

I persevered, could not be routed!

Cashed the 200 rebuy, then got 3-outed.

In 8-game my third draw did not deliver.

Undeterred I check-raise bluffed the river!

Thirteen remaining, final table in site!

Made trips in Stud, but the draw won that night.

Five hundred heads up, won the first match first hand.

Second guy barreled off, but I made my stand.

Third round was costly but plenty of fun,

’till I gave all my chips to buck21.

My heads up luck was pretty squalid.

No money there; everyone’s solid.

My 29th birthday came and went;

’twas nine long hours at the tables spent.

A five hundred rebuy and a PLO8?

Ice cream and cake will have to wait.

Ask luck for a present and what do I get?

Wrapped and delivered, ’twas set under set!

Bad luck? Bad play? All of the above,

lost two different stacks on thin value shoves.

Then the event I final tabled last year,

had him trapped ’till he turned a second pair.

Top pair and nut draw, what can you do?

Bound to lose it all when he’s got top two.

Despair not, friends, and dry your eyes.

The Main Event approaches; deliverance is nigh!

One last chance for a million dollar prize.

It’s that or my online bankroll’s demise.

Hundreds of runners, hundreds of wishes,

hundreds of sharks, hundreds of fishes.

I woke Sunday morning with the will to crush,

a great table draw, and an early rush.

Trips, a set, full house turning gin,

and suddenly I’m chipleader, four hours in!

With the weak players out, the table got tougher,

The pots got bigger, the action got rougher.

‘Twas a great time for cards but I couldn’t catch any.

Thankfully I’ve got short-stack skills a-plenty.

3-bet, shove, push chips around,

Run up a stack with no showdown.

Then my raises got 3-bet, I got no traction.

Finally picked up Aces, but this time no action.

19 big blinds, 1 hour left in the day,

30 players to go until we got paid.

Card-dead for hours it’s a beautiful thing

to finally look down at an Ace and a King.

I welcomed a flip, but there’d be no races,

my big Slick ran into a pair of Aces.

12 hours of play, was it worth all the trouble?

A fitting end to my series, to cooler and bubble.

So much misfortune, it hardly seems fair,

though I’ve got to admit, the opportunity was there.

Despite all the misery, pain, and despair,

I can’t wait to do it all again next year!


Andrew Brokos, PokerStar Poet


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