The Norwegian Championships
I always feel a bit odd writing my own personal experiences of a comp up as a ‘Tournament Report,’ because as an updater I am used to getting a nice overview of the ups and downs of the leaders and losers, so I reckon that my tales from the Norwegian Championships (held in Sweden for legal reasons) fit nicely into this Blog space. And I only really have the full story of myself, which fits in the ‘losers’ category. So here’s the story:
I heard about this rather underground (at least outside of Norway) tournament from young magazine entrepreneur BA Kildalen in Ireland: a $1,000 No-limit freezeout with around 400 runners held in a Mystery Location somewhere across the Swedish border. There was a little extra something to tempt me in the form of two WSOP packages, one for the winner of the tournament, and one given to the victor in a heads up battle between the runner-up and the longest-lasting female. Much though I would prefer no fuss to be made of the gender of a particular poker player, it’s probably foolish to ignore such bonuses, so I was sold. After a few short orders, so was Snoopy.
The fact that we didn’t know where we were going didn’t stop us getting on a flight to Oslo, a train to the centre of town, in a taxi to a certain hotel, and then onto a coach, entirely filled with young Scandies headed for Grebbestad, a kind of remote holiday camp complete with individual cabins, mini-golf and a scenic yet decidedly chilly lake. The tournament was held in a kind of warehouse, which, judging by the posters on the walls and basketball hoop wired to the ceiling was also a kind of sports stadium and gig venue/conference facility. To be honest, I don’t know what it was generally, but in this case it was filled with round poker tables.
Round tables…that looked suspiciously like, no, it couldn’t be. Yes it was – the whole thing was self-deal. My heart sank just a tiny bit. My experiences self-dealing in London have ranged from the slow to the very slow, from the friendly to the tense, and I know one of my weaknesses in general is inefficiency-frustration tilt. I can’t describe the relief when play started and with no fuss the Swedes and Norwegians dived in good-naturedly. None of that ‘chip-stacking when it’s your go to deal’ type stuff – everyone took their turn with no grumbling, and play progressed much more smoothly than I was anticipating.
It was slightly odd playing a tournament where English was not the main language being spoken, and when announcements were made I hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on and had to ask for a translation from the embarrassingly bilingual table. But there are only so many things “floppen” can mean, and I settled in pretty happily.
Though half the players looked younger than JP, and most seemed to have spent more time getting their hair tinted, perhaps, than reading Harrington, the standard of play was high. While wondering why the Scandinavians do in general seem more able at the table, it occurred to me that a great contributing factor to their success is their attitude and general character. Look at Johnny Lodden – online superhighroller, fearlessly aggressive tournament player – and generally chilled out guy. That’s the difference between the young Norwegians and a lot of young Brits – the even temperament which reduces tilt, and keeps focus in the face of outrageous luck, good and bad. There's also the way the Norsemen, for example, keep studying through discussion and analysis, rather than getting complacent that they have the one and only winning formula, which must help.
In fact, there was no discernable grumpiness at any of the tables I visited, and players seemed to take their fortune with an ease of which I was somewhat jealous. Anger, frustration, and general bad manners at the table have marred several otherwise enjoyable events for me over the years, and if the way these guys conducted themselves throughout the tournament is indicative of the general attitude of live play in Scandinavia, then I am tempted to move there. If the whole live poker thing weren’t quite so illegal.
As for my experience – it was one of short-stackedness, after I lost a chunk in the following hand: aggressive player (need it be said) to my right raises in early position. I decide to call with AK. The big blind also calls. The flop comes Ace-high, with no flush or straight draws. Check from the blind, autobet from Mr. Raiser, so nice healthy raise from me. All-in from the up-til-now disregarded big blind. Fold from the both of us. Down to 6,000 after two levels, and that’s where I stayed for the next seven hours. With a couple of gaps to double up and halve a few times, most notably with back-to-back pocket Jacks, the first lot of which doubled through from AK, and the second lot of which lost it back to AQ. Ho hum, good old probability.
I don’t think I play a short stack anywhere near as well as players like El Blondie (watched him turn a little into a lot more than once) and probably lose patience too early. Being aware of this limitation, I did my best to hang in there, doing the old move-in thing when a gap presented itself, but I have to say it was rather fatiguing, and by 1am I was almost relieved to be put out of my misery (a requisite button all-in with 8s against, as it turned out, the small blind’s Aces) – seven hours is a long time to feel like one is swimming through molasses, chip wise.
So it was off to one of our cabin bunk-beds (we hosted some randoms for a couple of days, notably the pleasant Norwegian Tommy) and a sleep like death, until 8am. The tournament’s second day began at 9am – another little detail which would probably send a lot of British players (including myself) into a whingeing tailspin. But no, not a grumble – they were all there and ready to go after four or so hours sleep, and another full day and night of play awaited those who finally made the money.
With such a large field and nice hour clock, it was good to see the organisers and players prepared to take the punishing schedule for the sake of a good structure. No last minute blind or clock changes, just straightforward marathon-like play. There were a couple of very helpful details I would like to mention just at the end here – like the fact that players were issued with a table card which they kept with them while they were playing, and only handed back (along with a piece of paper identifying them) to the TD when they were eliminated. This meant that everyone could keep up with exactly who finished where. And just before every break, the players themselves would take the few seconds necessary to write their name (or alias- they seem to like being called by their screen names over there) and chip count down for us reporters. So easy to do, yet so unbelievably helpful to Snoopy and me.
I would like nothing better than for a small piece of paper identifying players to be placed, perhaps, in a little holder on the back of their chairs during tournaments (moved when they are, of course), and for an accurate chip count to be provided at each break. But somehow I rather think that players over here might find some reason to feel affronted at the imposition on their time. Go on, prove me wrong at the next tournament you play – when I hand out a piece of paper at the break asking for your count, please think of me as entrepreneurial and efficient rather than just lazy.